The Light of Emeronir

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 4 (v.1)

Submitted: April 21, 2010

Reads: 51

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Submitted: April 21, 2010

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The Light of Emeronir
Chapter 4


"Later, you resorted to the rather unorthodox method, to raise the last surviving clones in a public environment. You simply ignored the possible dangers!"

"It was the best way for a normal development. At no point in the last nine years a risk had been obvious- "

"Well, there you have been obviously wrong!" quipped Falk.

"Let's come to the 8th June 2006..." began a calm voice.

Chris was taken aback, the incident took place on the 10th June... THIS date he could remember! Also, Chris had acted completely right. It wasn't his fault what had happened at Area 51 afterwards. After all he had already been fired then.

"Just before the end of the project you hired a new man," the person with the calm voice began, "A person with the name Felix Peck."

Chris suddenly had a really bad feeling. He was hot and he got a dry mouth. It wasn't about who was responsible for the escape of the clones, insubordination or giving wrong orders...
It was about collaboration with the enemy!

"You initiated him in the project, without checking him!" incited another person. Now Chris was sweating.

"No! The documents came from the Pentagon -"

"That's what you thought..." the calm voice replied, "In truth, the Pentagon never ordered the relocation of Felix Peck. This person does not exist at the FBI!"

"You enabled access to highly secret information to an adversary agent," another voice rushed, "You may know the result!"

"The question we have to discuss here today is whether you have been fooled, or if you knowingly committed treason against your country," said another assessor.
Chris swallowed ...
Treason... For that he would spend the rest of his life behind bars. Now he finally lost his usual sovereignty. The lack of sleep, the irregular meals and the weeks in the hospital took their toll.

"I had no idea ..." he said silently.

"Please describe the events of that day" said the person calmly.

This day ... this day a few months ago had started so well. But the events that followed, had been completely unpredictable.

**************************************************

Thursday, 8th June 2006, Las Vegas.

Chris was awakened by the noise of an incoming fax. Why did they always send these faxes so early in the morning? As always, it was about the research in Area 51 and other information... and the confirmation of a relocation! Chris had to rub his eyes to assure himself that he wasn't dreaming. Relieved and happy, he stretched. It had been a tough battle to get this relocation!
Although he was the leader of the project, it was difficult to get people out of it. They knew too much and the headquarters didn't particularly like it when they left the project, because they were serious security risks.
Chris was not often at the base anymore. He had better things to do than to sit around 300ft below the surface and watch scientists at work. There was not much to do, so Henry Falk led the research department representatively, while Chris worked here "at the front".
He managed the entire project from here and he delegated all orders and instructions by phone. He had spies everywhere to report him, he always knew exactly what was going on in his absence. For everybody who was involved with the project, it seemed as if Christopher Miller was an anonymous, omniscient superiority, always and everywhere pulling the strings from the background, probably living secretly somewhere on a caribbean island.
Of course that was nonsense. Chris lived in a tiny, dingy apartment in Las Vegas, which just served for sleeping. Countless records, reports and boxes piled up everywhere with hard drives, videos and photos of the last nine years.

Like every morning his cell phone rang even before he had drunk the first cup of coffee.
After he had made himself ready, he took some documents and his laptop, left the apartment dozily, and went over the street to the little café with the tasteful name "Exile".
Breakfast at the Exile. That was no ritual anymore, it had become a tradition already. The last nine years the Exile was the place of their team meetings in the morning. Of course, they had checked the staff and the regular guests. Everything was okay, nothing eye-catching, no secret agents or spies. With such an important project they couldn't leave anything to chance.
Chris sat down at the same place as always, right at the window, and waited impatiently for the others.
He could hardly expect to tell them the good news!

Chris had just opened the laptop and started reading the new reports from Area 51, when the rest of his team arrived and sat down to him.
The team consisted of Freddy Marlowe, George Kelley, Michelle Nichols and Sam Kinsey, an FBI agent who came to the project about four years ago. It was a rather small team, but that was on purpose. The less people knew about the project, the lower was the possibility that an unauthorized person would find out about it.
Even the scientists at Area 51 had no idea where the clones were. The only persons who actually knew what was going on were Chris' team, a few people from the Pentagon and Falk.

"Morning Boss!" Sam greeted.
Chris didn't returned the greeting, but gravely handed Freddy the fax.

"I'm sorry ..." he said, and tried to sound as disappointed as possible. Freddy's usually so cheerful expression became gloomy. Disappointed, he drooped - without looking at the fax.

"Oh great ... thanks for trying it anyway ..." he said, gave a disappointed sigh and stared into his coffee cup.

Chris tried to suppress a smile, biting his tongue. George noticed anyway and gave Freddy a slight push.

"Don't you want to read it?"

"No, what for?" Freddy cried suddenly, waving the fax, "It's always the same! 'We regret to inform you -" he paused when his gaze finally fell on the letter. His eyes widened, his facial expression changed instantly.

"I can't believe it! That's fantastic! How did they manage this?" He cried thrilled.

Chris was glad that the young agent was seated already, otherwise he feared that Freddy would have glomped him.

"All you need are contacts..." Chris said calmly, and the others began to grin. 'To have contacts'was agent language for blackmailing.

"You two can immediately start packing your bags. Then nothing stands in your way to found a little happy family."

"Thousand million thanks!"

"When will the baby come actually?" asked Michelle and sipped her mocha.

"In three months ..." said Freddy, slightly uneasy.

"And where is your new job?" George said, taking the fax from Freddy curiously.

"In the administration office of the Pentagon! Yeah!" Freddy exclaimed, as if he had just won the jackpot.

"Regularly working time ...?" Sam said in disgust.

"How boring!" George cried sarcastically.

"You can hide your envy really well!" Freddy grinned.
"Wait! Who will replace him?" George asked, suddenly serious, and a little worried.

"A guy named Felix Peck ..." Chris mumbled thoughtfully, searching the file.

"And more...?" Michelle asked curiously. Chris found the file he was looking for.

"32 years, FBI agent, worked on witness protection, married, two children ..."

"Oh man .." George sighed sympathetically, "I already feel sorry for the guy. This job is a relationship killer..."
That's how it was. The irregular times of working and the strict secrecy made it hard to have a longer relationship. Except of Freddy everybody of them was divorced at least once. They were married with this job. There was no time for something like a private life.

"How are the kiddies?" Chris changed the subject.

"The night shift was quiet, nothing extraordinary ..."

"Very good ..." Chris said, and then went to the daily planning, "The research department started a new series of experiments. This means?"

"It's time to visit the doctor again!" Michelle said and stretched.
They had handled it always the way, that they let the clones and their foster parents believe, that the children suffered from a low immunity, which is why they constantly had to go to the doctor and got medication. The pills were only placebos of course, and the consultations with the doctor only served to get blood samples to extract the genome.
Actually, Chris should have been really suspicious at that moment. The new experiments were funded by the military. This was dangerous because the military cared a damn about his command. He had a bad feeling.
The genome could not only be used for medical research, but also in a much more practical way... like creating weapons. A few people even dreamed of this invulnerable super soldier. But that wouldn't happen as long he was in charge... But when the military took over the project, he would lose control...

He was roused from his bitter thoughts, when the waitress came over to take their order. But something was different ...

"Sorry, but isn't Rosie here today?" He asked the young brunette slightly worried.

"I have no idea. She didn't say anything about that she wouldn't come today. I guess she'll be late ..." she replied, carelessly chewing bubblegum. After she was gone, Chris noticed that the others were grinning at him knowingly. But he didn't particularly whish to talk about this issue with them.

"Change of subject," he said dryly, "Back to the shift schedule."

**************************************************

Rosie was too late. That was a disaster. Actually she was very precise and accurate.
She hurried across the parking lot and entered the café through the back entrance. But because she was in a hurry, she didn't notice the disadvantageously placed cooling tank behind the door in time and stumbled over it, bumping her shin painfully. The pain was strong, and she cursed.

"Rosie!" Mac complained, the owner of the cafe. Actually, he was never here, but just when she was too late she had to meet him. He probably feared that the guests could hear her.

"Who the heck puts that damn piece of trash just right behind that fucking door?!" Rosie hissed even more cursing, while she rubbed her aching shinbone. It was not only the strong pain, but the fact that somehow everything seemed to go wrong... Today was such a day when she had the feeling that everything had gone wrong in her life since birth.

Mac apparently decided to ignore her and bent over the book-keeping again, like every month.

"Three pancakes, scrambled eggs with bacon, and - oh my God, Rosie! What have you done with your face?!" Mandy cried suddenly, almost choking her chewing-gum.
Mac also turned around, apparently he hadn't even noticed the fat patch that covered half of Rosie's forehead. The cook Hank and Bertha (another waitress) turned around and stared at her too.

Rosie's mood became even more lousy (although she had doubted that this was even possible).

"I don't want to talk about it ..." Rosie murmured and turned away, even though she knew that the others would ask anyway.

"How did this happen?" Bertha asked horrified.

"Did you fall down the stairs?" asked the cook.

"Did somebody beat you up?" Mandy said, in her unique stupid way.

Rosie ignored the questions and put on her apron silently. They should believe what they wanted, as long as they didn't know the truth. Otherwise, they would have laughed at Rosie for the rest of her life.
She asked Bertha and Mandy to serve the customers, while she cleared away and washed the dishes in the kitchen. She had no desire that everybody asked her about this head injury.
Rosie could have moved with closed eyes through the Exile, she knew the store like the back of her hand. Finally, she worked here long enough...

"Damn Exile..." she cursed under her breath. She was stuck here for years already. She had only started here because she needed a job quickly, she actually had never imagined to stay here for longer than three months. Well, that was 12 years ago now and in the meantime this stupid cafe had become part of her life ...
One morning she woke up and realized that she was suddenly 33, still single, and still a waitress.

*************************************************

When things become daily, people tend to take them for granted very quickly and accept it as unchangeable routine. They start to delay things on tomorrow, next week or next month. And suddenly years have passed and nothing had happened...
But not today!
After Chris and the others had finished their breakfast, they stood up and paid. But Chris didn't immediately follow them outside.
He went up to the bar, and was surprised that he was not nervous. He tried to remember his studies at college... was that a good or a bad sign?
Rosie was in the kitchen and turned her back to him.

"Good morning Miss Rosie ...!" he said, and he couldn't help to give her charming smile.

Rosie stopped abruptly, but didn't turn around immediately.
'Thanks for reminding me, that I am NOT married!" she thought, annoyed. Actually, she thought it was sweet and very gentleman-like how he always called her 'Miss', but today she was absolutely not in the mood for this.
Slowly, she turned around and walked to the bar. Nevertheless, she tried to return the smile... with deplorable success.

"Morning..." she greeted unmotivated.

"Oh my God, what happened to you?!" Chris cried in shock when he saw the big plaster on her forehead.

Rosie smiled wryly, she knew this question would come.

"Laceration ... has been sewn with five stitches ..." Rosie began, "That's why I'm late. I have sat all night in the emergency room, "she added with a sarcastic, bad-tempered smile.

"Oh no... I'm sorry," Chris began, smiling sympathetically. Rosie would have liked to disappear in the kitchen again. She didn't want to get pitied...

"Then you certainly have missed the wedding of her cousin," he continued.

Rosie was taken aback ... she had told him about that? She shouldn't talk to costumers about her private life, but with him it was different. She saw him almost every day, more often then her friends or her family...
Her head ached and she was tired, somehow her memory didn't want to work properly. She leaned wearily against the bar.

"Actually I was there ..." she began hesitating, "I've even caught the bridal bouquet!" she continued, pointing proudly at her head injury.
Chris tried to suppress a laugh.

"It's okay, you can laugh..." Rosie giggle herself now. Actually the whole situation was rather funny than tragic.

"My mother is convinced that this is an omen..."

"Oh, nonsense ..." Chris said soothingly.

"Slowly I believe she's right ..."

"Can I do anything to cheer her up?" Chris asked sympathetically.

"No, but thank you ..." she replied, her mood a bit better. But this was apparently not the answer he had expected. He hesitated.

"Uhm ... would you like to go out with me tomorrow night anyway?" he asked, a little insecure.

"What ...? With me?" Rosie asked in surprise, almost in shock. For nine years this guy came over here every day and now he suddenly asked her out?
That was high time! A giggling voice inside her said.
Then she managed to pull herself together.

"Uh, yes, sure!" she said quickly, her voice almost cracked from excitement, "How about 8 o'clock?"

"Okay, I'll pick you up," said Chris and smiled.

"Okay," grinned Rosie back.

"Okay!"

Chris approached the door backwards, because he somehow couldn't stop looking into her blue eyes, however, he failed to see the stairs right in front of the door. He stumbled out.

The others were gone already, only George was still standing outside. When Chris stumbled out, he snorted, trying to suppress a laughter.

"Be quiet!" Chris said, trying to sound strict, but he couldn't stop smiling himself.
George cleared his throat when he regained his composure. Then he nodded in the direction of the parking-lot.

"Is that him?"

Chris put on the sunglasses to better see. On the parking lot between the cars, a guy was standing casually, waiting for something... or someone.

"Yepp, that's him. All right ... Then I take care of the newbie now ..." Chris said with little enthusiasm and patted George's shoulder. George yawned.

"Yo, good night..." he said yawing, and then went to get his well deserved sleep after the night shift.
Chris approached the newbie Felix Peck, trying to look not as happy as he really was. He wanted to look serious, intimidating and authoritarian!
But he simply couldn't get rid of this smile.

Today was a good day.


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