17:55 CNS Vigilant - Executive Boardroom 2

John yawned in his seat. His portion of the debrief was over, but he was asked to stay behind to speak to four officers. Captain Ward had been staring daggers at John throughout the meeting. Peretz and Mizrahi also stayed behind and they, like Ward, clearly had questions but were holding them back.

“Blur the windows please,” Mizrahi said as Peretz nodded and pushed a button at his terminal.

Peretz began playing a video when Mizrahi looked at him. In it, John was running out of the laboratory, but then the video feed shut down. The three officers looked directly at John.

“Why did you restrict data that was sent to our feeds during the fight with the clone?” General Mizrahi asked, “And why was that data not presented to us for review?”

“I do have legitimate reasons to shut the feed off. I’d prefer to not delve into them though.”

“We can seal the information, if necessary,” Colonel Peretz looked confused.

“Apologies for not being more concise in my initial statement. I have some very personal reasons for not sharing that information. I do not want anyone, not even the officers in this room, knowing those details.”

“Cadet, we need to…” Captain Ward looked surprised when she was interrupted.

“Let us move on to the next subject,” General Mizrahi said firmly.

“Against both my better judgment and recommendations certain actions were classified and were clearly not brought up during the open debriefing. Cadet, how did you justify this?”

The video screen went to black for a moment then began playing a video recorded from John’s armor. Ward paused it after John had fired his blast gun. She was squeezing the bridge of her nose.

Ward pointed at the screen, then fast-forwarded to when he killed the other five, “Or that. What possible justification could you possibly have to do any of this?”

John sighed and answered simply, “Fuck.”

“John,” General Mizrahi said, “I’d like to hear the justification as well.”

“I forgot about the camera feed and neglected to turn it off then,” John said without any emotion.

“You must be kidding me,” Captain Ward said incredulously, “You commit six brutal acts of murder, and your justification was ‘I forgot.’ That defies belief.”

John stared down Captain Ward, “And what were the other options Captain? If we arrest them, we need to put them on trial. That exposes this whole sick situation to the other powers. Everyone in this room knows the Alliance would use any bullshit reason to start another war with us. They were dead men and women walking. I simply hastened their end.”

“What about the clones? Do we know why they were cloning you?” Peretz asked.

John shook his head, “This wasn’t Norman’s operation. All the scientists, save one, were citizens of the Confederacy. The exception was Alliance, apparently here on a medical visa.”

“My understanding is that they got your DNA from him and were in contact with them though?”

John nodded, “That’s a far cry from active participation as the intel suggested. Honestly, it’s kind of brilliant. He gets a shitload of credits and someone else owns the risk of the unsanctioned and treasonous research. Luckily for us the last time they sent him any information was six months ago.”

Captain Ward picked up a data slate and was scrolling through it, “That means he wouldn’t have known about the three successful clones.”

“Correct. The pair of Naval Intelligence attachés looked pissed,” John looked at Mizrahi, “I presume they were expecting or hoping for failure?”

“Yes,” the general answered directly, “the estimated that the odds of success were less than forty-percent and we’d have an unacceptably high rate of casualties.”

“Mission accomplished then,” John smiled.

“Are we really skipping over these murders?” Captain Ward brought them back to the main subject.

“His actions are reluctantly condoned, the confederacy cannot let this information be viewed by the other powers,” General Mizrahi sighed after he spoke.

“The last clone you fought was reported to have exhibited telekinetic abilities,” Colonel Peretz leaned forward in his chair, “Would you care to speak to that?”

“Officially I was a Level 4B telepath. I was admittedly sandbagging that result by a noticeable amount, something all telepaths do. I was closer to a 5B in actuality,” John was lying but did so very convincingly, “As far telekinetic abilities, it is curious that the clones showed any psychic capabilities in general. Cloning was thought to have neutered that ability.”

“You didn’t deny that you were telekinetic in that statement,” Captain Ward interjected.

“I believe I did. I stated what I was officially recognized,” John turned ever so slightly to look at Captain Ward, “Telekinetics are graded differently.”

“Do you have any explanations for what we saw?” Colonel Peretz asked.

“Only assumptions at this time, I’m hoping the autopsies of the bodies we brought back will shed some light on that. They are ongoing at the moment. I plan on writing an addendum to the doctor’s report when they are finished.”

“What we just spoke about is not to leave these doors. I’ve already briefed the fireteams and their new COs, they are aware of the consequences,” Mizrahi said, “Lieutenant, I believe you are wanted in the morgue.”

John stood up and saluted the officers, then left the room. Peretz and Mizrahi began the process of sealing records. Ward stood up and replayed the video of John murdering the scientists.

She turned to face the general, “Sir, you wanted him on this mission because you knew he’d do this. Didn’t you?”

The general leaned back in his chair. Colonel Peretz was about to say something, but the general motioned him to stop. He stood up and looked out at the blurred figures in the command center.

“Yes, I did, but not only because he could be relied on going off the script like that. I told you that he was a unique cadet. During the mission planning with Naval Intelligence, it was evident from the onset that compromises were going to be made,” the general turned to face Ward, “Tell me captain, how many officers on board this vessel, Navy or Marine, could do what he did? And how many would you want to do that? How many could survive an attack against a psychic that powerful?”

“I would never order my subordinates to commit an act of murder. It’s never…”

Peretz sighed and finished her sentence, “Justified? The harsh and ugly truth is that John was right. Confederate citizens purchased the genetic material of another citizen from a Union source. They then conducted some rotten experiments and escalated that by using some locals. This is a nasty business we’re in.”

“I asked for John specifically because I’ve been privy to information neither of you is aware of. This was rather tame compared to some of the vicious things he’s done. He’s said to others that his hands are bloody already. He’ll be the boogeyman so others don’t have to dirty their hand,” Mizrahi sighed as he leaned over the table and looked at a data slate, “I ask you, Captain, with an asset like that available to you, would you not want to use them instead of your own people?”

Ward looked down at the floor and sighed. The answer was simple. Don’t damage your own people, using damaged goods as a means to an end works. But it's dirty work, dirtier than anything she had signed up to do in the Marines.

“Sir, I understand the justification, but I’m offended by it. We are better than this. And what happens when this asset of ours breaks down? He’s also deliberately hiding information from us.”

“I appreciate your concerns captain,” General Mizrahi said curtly.

“I have some paperwork to finish, I’ll drop it off when I finished before my shift is over.”

Ward left the room silently. The mission may have been successful but her optimistic views of how honorable the Confederacy is had been forever shattered. The two senior officers looked at one another. She was right; they should be better than what they had shown today. But both knew that the simple reality of the mission precluded any notions of honor or moral behavior.

2:15 Medical Ward – Room 4C

John was looking at x-rays of a shock trooper that was recovered. Bone density was lower than expected and its cardiovascular system appeared to be underdeveloped. Pictures of the organs painted a similar story. They were obviously clones of John, but they didn’t appear to be very healthy ones.

“You noticed that as well?” Major Oswald said from the operating table.

“Were they incomplete? Or incompetent in making them?”

“I’d say the more accurate adjective is rushed. Come over here and I’ll show you why.”

The major set down his tools on the table. The headless clone that John had brutalized was split open on the table. Most of his organs had been removed from its corpse.

“Here, what do you see here?” Oswald pointed at the screen on the wall.

“That’d be my DNA,” John said as he saw the image rotate lazily about the screen.

“Look closer.”

“Doctor, my specialty is command and killing people, not in genetics. It looks like DNA to me.”

Oswald pointed at two strings of markers, “These aren’t natural. They were being used as a replacement.”

John looked confused, “Why would they bother doing that?” his eyes grew large, and looked at the Major, “That would result in some nasty side effects or mutations wouldn’t it?”

Major Oswald laughed, “Bingo. If I had to guess I’d say they were trying to induce psychic potential in clones. It was thought that cloning couldn’t create that mutation in people, but they found a way around it. Come over here.”

Oswald was humming to himself as they walked down the room. Hundreds of scan results were displayed there. Presumably from the shock troops that were shot to pieces by the air assets. A disturbing trend was seen in them.

“Hold on doc, are these right?” John was pointing at the wall.

The cheerful pathologist nodded his head.

“Fuck me. Those minor changes in DNA mean that these guys would live four to five years tops.”

“It’s a combination of factors. The rapid growth in relative age always hurts a clone’s lifespan and not just from the years they missed out on growing naturally. But we’re talking about three percent of your gene structure. That is an enormous amount of biological data to change.”

John leaned back onto a clean and empty examination table. Oswald continued to scroll through the initial data on the more powerful clone. Suddenly a great many things came to focus.

“Now it makes sense,” John said as he was staring at the screen.

“What does?” the Major was surprised at John’s response.

“These guys were outsourced to solve a problem. Create clones with psychic potential. They came up with a rough solution to solve their problem. The next steps were to refine it. What do you think the average lifespan of a clone would be with just two markers changed?”

“Presuming they were forced into adulthood? Sixty to seventy years. A far cry from what our estimates have for you.”

“Find anything else?”

“The shock troops didn’t seem to be very good clones. I suspect they were the first wave of ‘successful’ clones. Though they all lack the same psychic capabilities based on the mobile CT scans we’ve run,” Oswald began moving back to his autopsy, “I’ll see to it that Captain Ward receives this information when I’m done. You’ll be happy to know that all of the clones of you back on the surface were incinerated.”

John walked over to the terminal and began looking at the findings once more. Eventually, he left the temporary morgue to head to his room. It had been a long day. He was physically exhausted from the fight and his mind was just done with discovering more messed up bullshit. Things could wait for five or six hours.

8:52 Officer’s Mess

It was Sunday morning and the six hours of sleep John had was hardly enough. His stomach woke him up with an Earth-shattering growl. For better or worse he was now up. After getting cleaned up he was in line to eat.

Every third meal service changed to a buffet-style breakfast meal. The other two meals were served restaurant-style. The quality of the food and service was slightly higher for the officers. A reward of sorts for going through the Academy.

John snorted at the thought of that. It was more like the right connections or being in the right place at the right time for the commoners. Irrespective of what hypocrisy exists, John was looking forward to having a plate full of eggs, bacon, and potatoes and then another plate with waffles or pancakes.

The servers gave John some evil glances when he asked for the food to be served. A junior chef agreed but told John there’d be consequences if he didn’t finish the meal. The joke was on them though, this would be John’s first of two servings he’d get.

A pair of Navy ensigns and Marine third lieutenants sat next to John. The marines were oddly impressed at the amount of food on their plate. They grew more impressed, with the Navy officers growing in equal amounts of disgust, at the speed John finished his meal.

“Morning sir, hungry today?”

John smiled, “You have no idea. I am bloody famished. Missed the last meal because of work.”

One of the ensigns spoke quietly, “Do you know what was going on here? Everyone is really tight-lipped about it.”

“I am vaguely aware of what happened,” John said before filling his mouth with breakfast potatoes, “And it’s also why I went nearly a damn day without a proper meal.”

“I heard there was an attack on the surface. Sketchy shit was going down,” the other marine officer said.

John had to shut this conversation down, “I understand the desire to know things when you’re not on the inside. But trust me, sometimes not knowing what is really going on is bliss.”

“I told you assholes we should keep our damned mouths shut, but noooo,” the other ensign hissed at his friends.

“It’s all good. Being curious is natural,” John ate a piece of bacon, “But now you to treat it as out of sight, out of mind.”

“Roger that,” the first marine said.

John flagged down one of the kitchen staff. He handed his plate to them and asked for more bacon and potatoes. Then he poured some syrup onto the small mountain of pancakes. The other officers chatted amongst themselves. They finished their meals just as John was cleaning his third plate of food.

John walked to a secure room to finalize his reports. There weren’t any other meetings scheduled, which delighted John. Barring any issues, in six hours he ought to be done with his work related to the mission.

It would still be another five days before they got back to the Sol system though. John figured that would mean the military would find some random assignments to assign him while he was on board to help “kill the time.” John sighed and redoubled his efforts, the sooner he was done the better.

4 Days Later. CNS Vigilant – Officers Lounge

Not all military vessels had an officer or enlisted lounges. Usually, alcohol in cramped quarters was a recipe for disaster. But in most Confederate capital ship designs, there were usually two to three lounges available to the officers. Drinking privileges were tightly regulated onboard those ships.

John was delighted at the irony that cadets actually had access to the senior officer lounge. It was nicer than the junior officer one and also had a better drink selection. Aside from the staff, the other officers were paying no heed to John.

He was sitting at a table near an oversize window. He had changed the window to display in the infrared spectrum. It caused slip space to look entirely different than it did in the visible spectrum. You could actually see tidal waves ebb and flow as the ship flew through the seemingly soupy mess.

“Lieutenant, is this seat taken?”

John turned to confirm the voice that he heard, “It’s all yours Captain. Surprised you even want to be anywhere near me.”

Captain Amy Ward sat down and set her drink of choice on the table, “I’d be lying if I said you were the person I wanted to talk to. Especially after that mess, but I need some closure for my piece of mind.”

John wore a surprised look on his face, “What’s your poison?”

“Eagle Rare Bourbon.”

“Good choice. Laphroaig Quarter Cask here,” John took a sip of his scotch, “What kind of closure would you be looking for?”

“Why would you agree to this mission?” Amy took a large swig of her drink.

“General Mizrahi told me he’d include me on any mission to get that asshole. Then he asked me if I wanted to go.”

“That’s it?” Amy didn’t believe his simplistic excuse.

“Norman and I have history. I intend to end him. Simple as that.”

Amy shook her head, “Even if you throw your humanity away to do so?”

John chuckled and took a drink, “That implies I had any left in the first place. Decisions and actions have been made in my life. While I’m trying to be better now, the simple fact is I’m damaged goods.”

“Seems like you’re justifying your bad acts too easily,” Amy didn’t agree with John’s statement at all, “I’ve sinned in the past; therefore, it doesn’t matter if I sin in the present.”

John laughed and took a drink, “When you put it that way you make me sound like a sociopath. Captain, humanity is capable of great and amazing things while at the same time inflicting atrocities upon itself too. You obviously know where I fall in that overly simplistic view.”

“That is not your justification. Your far too intelligent for that.”

John raised his glass to toast the Captain, “You are right, I dirty my hands so certain secrets and evil actors can be buried. I willingly condemn myself, so others don’t have to compromise themselves. Heinous as they may be, I do them for the greater good.”

Amy looked disgusted, “You actually enjoy it don’t you.”

“There was a time several years ago where I nearly lost myself to the violence. When I started at the academy, I finally made friends my age and met my better half. At the end of the day, I will do anything in my power to make sure she lives. Even if I have to damn myself to an eternity of torment, that’s a small price to pay.”

Amy stared at her drink. Prior to today, she viewed the Confederacy as a morally right and just empire. Now, its moral compass had been stained in her view. Worse yet she was ordered to participate in a coverup.

“I can see that your eyes got opened to the dirty business that we can get involved in,” John said looking at the window.

“We are better than this.”

John sighed, “Dr. Norman was at one time employed by our military. His official role was as a lead geneticist on a program to improve our soldiers. Gene therapy and whatnot.”

“He was one of us?” Ward slammed her drink on the table and turned to face John.

“In a matter of speaking. He was conducting a eugenics program unbeknownst to the other civilian scientists or military advisors. His work led to some really interesting gene therapies. Many of which we all get when we’re children,” John took a drink and looked back out the window.

Amy sighed and took a drink, “The path to hell is filled with good intentions.”

“How could his peers know that he was a madman. Up to that point, he had hidden his sociopathy perfectly.”

“That doesn’t entirely explain your hatred of the man. There’s more to this story.”

“Sure is. He had twenty mechanical uteruses that he was using in his experiments. We’re not sure how many children were born, then killed and recycled, but in the end, twenty were found. Two were dead when they found him, he absconded with one of the children. One of the babies they saved was my grandmother.”

Amy sat there with her mouth agape. On one hand, she felt that this was a bit too convenient, but it was also very convincing. This new revelation didn’t excuse John’s actions in her eyes, but at least there was some room for understanding.

“Now the next part, which I’m presuming, but he had twins with the girl. I doubt he did it the natural way but who knows. I killed the boy last year, at the cost of my gifts,” John finished his drink, “They had a rare psychic bond, and she went comatose when he kicked the bucket. It turns out that sick fucker found a way to wake her up.”

“You joined up because you wanted a chance to kill her? You can’t be serious.”

John nodded as he waved to the bartender, “Damn right I did. She needs to be put down like the rabid dog she is.”

Amy wasn’t feeling any better about this mission, “Good lord, talk about a shit show. Did you know about Naval Intelligence’s odds at success before accepting the General’s request?”

John shook his head, “After the fact I did. Whoever calculated that was a no-talent assclown. Glad I was there to prove them wrong.”

Amy finished her drink and stood up, “This conversation hasn’t made me feel any better about anything. I won’t bother you anymore.”

John looked at her, “Captain, you aren’t wrong to loathe my presence. You aren’t even wrong to believe that I don't deserve to be a commissioned officer. But you can’t deny how useful I can be when crazy bullshit like this happens.”

“That actually doesn’t make help me accept any of this at all,” Amy said before she sighed and walked out of the lounge.

John stared out at slip space through the window. He wasn’t happy that he was responsible for a fellow officer’s existential crisis, nor was he about how wrong the intel was on their mission. But Dr. Norman was still thwarted, and valuable cloning information was kept from him. John just wanted the remaining days on board to go by without issue.