Building the Collateral - 91 - Early Access (Patreon)

By now, it was safe to say that clones had become part of the Cavian identity. Not in the sense that they exclusively dominated them, but their own presence did contribute to forming a proper culture in those days following the previous regime. It was they who helped keep things in check while our government was busy forming, they who thanklessly served even as my brief interim governorship navigated our early financial difficulties. It was they who still put themselves on the line to protect against threats to the fledgling civilization.

So they didn’t deserve to be simply forgotten. Not that I would ever do something as heartless as discard them of course, but there are other ways where their memory would simply die a quiet death. As we continued to take on fresh recruits from the local populations, the clones would naturally be slowly relegated into a minority in a stark contrast to how we started out. Without an active replenishment program, their numbers would simply fall.

One could argue that they would never be truly lost, as their part in forming the Cavia of today would be immortal at least. At the same time though, it didn’t escape my notice how apart the clones still stood from the others. Not out of jealousy or rivalry, but something more...quiet. A quiet ‘they wouldn’t get it’ when it came to little habits or tells that only those belonging to the same genetic code could understand. An almost invisible bond, formed in those cradles that birthed so many of them.

So, let’s at least try to offer an alternative to being relegated to mere memory.

Taking some steps back, how the Half Committee ran their clone program was quite institutionalized. Our logistics corp provided some insight into the process, a few of them having worked in those facilities directly itself. The clone embryos had been given a specialized cocktail to their sequences that would see them age and mature quite rapidly, becoming an able-bodied soldier in a fraction of the time it took for natural human growth to achieve. They were drilled and trained in military cadres once able to walk, minds made especially pliable to loyalty in service by other targeted edits to their genome. Combined with their original donor having been known for extraordinary martial talent and it was safe to say they were an effective force.

However, even that was actually fleeting. It was honestly almost genius, I had to admit, as the Half Committee both saved further expense while also nipping the potential for things to go awry with the clones themselves. I’d mentioned before that flash cloning had its drawbacks, like accelerated genetic degradation which required further monitoring. A stated side effect of those genetic cocktails.

But what was left out was that those could theoretically have been neutralized from the very beginning. Deeper conversation with the SSC revealed how they could just as easily produce a cure or even tailor the original cocktail to specifically reduce those unfortunate additions. It was all a matter of expertise and resource availability, which translated into basically being more expensive and costly.

Whoever helped created the program must have seen the numbers, considered the service lifespan, then made the decision to not include this extra fix. Thus dooming generations of clones to accelerated lifespans that would see them ultimately live only a fraction of human lives outside regular care. Which the Half Committee armed forces would helpfully provide.

Yeah. Talk about an incentive to not get discharged. Because if you’re a flash clone soldier without access to free military doctors, then the ones in the private sector would probably charge an arm and a leg to keep you alive with what you’ve been birthed with.

How cleverly horrific.

Alright, enough of that downer bit. Let’s actually get into how we’ll be running things differently.

The proposed clone program on Cavia would discard the notion of flash-cloning entirely, practically going back to basics of just duplicating the genetic sequence and...that’s it. At least in the sense that was our most base rule in that there would be no accelerated growth hormone injected into the embryos to create entire platoons so quickly. We also strongly laid our recommendations against any form of genetic conditioning, encouraging a more hopeful natural interest in matters instead of the affection being programmed into them since birth. But that latter part was less a rule and more a guideline that could bend if the circumstances deemed appropriate.

The important thing in the end was that those who requested to partake in the cloning procedure had to undertake the responsibility of being a parent for a new life too, with those burdens that entails. That they couldn’t just skip out on all those little things that mattered during one’s natural growth from baby to child to adult. It additionally was a way to make sure we didn’t have anything like agitators or exploiters using our offering as a means to make armies of fanatics before somebody noticed.

There always still was the risk though, meaning that access to this program would have to be carefully limited, but not too much so. I didn’t want it only available to our clones after all; there were those on Cavia who could want a child but didn’t want to do it the traditional way or adopt an orphan. It was out of spirit of them too that I wanted these gene cradles available as an option as well.

How the program eventually came together after much politicking took the form of a new government enterprise, something that did please my Department of Economics. The gene cradles and the geneticists technically did belong to Smith-Shiamno Corpo, but were made available to my administration for only a nominal fee thanks to their charity outreach. Yet as we lacked a direct need for them personally, it didn’t make sense to just leave them gathering dust about in our part of space.

So we turned it into a state-owned business, where one could purchase usage for access. However, unlike our hydroponic facilities which charged basically at just above cost for generating budgets, we set the prices of access to be far higher starting out. It was then through our personal subsidies and grants depending on the circumstance of the individual that the cost was gradually lowered, sometimes even to something close to being just the expense of labor and materials. The reason for this was twofold.

Firstly, this was the starting ceiling price that Veronica had calculated as being more expensive than engaging with Smith-Shimano Corpo directly. We were mindful that there could be rich private citizens who might try to gain access to the program, and simply made it more inconvenient for them to go with us over than just going straight to the megacorporation. Look, if you want to make a clone army, that’s on you- leave Cavia out of it.

We didn’t want to be responsible for you ‘filling the galaxy with beauty’ or some other lancer bait like that.

And secondly, this high starting price being reduced by our subsidies was a way of demonstrating how much we appreciated those who served; but also letting us mind the rewards all the same. Our clones who had served would qualify naturally for those great reductions for one, maybe two goes with the cradles. Yet they would have to perform further service to the public sector to qualify for additional usages again. It was our way of making sure that one errant soldier didn’t abuse this very powerful gift to them.

I suppose that maybe I’m a little cynical of the possible dangers of making this technology available, though I would argue for good reason. It is one of the great ethical unknowns of the setting, a gray area in which so much can happen, for good or ill. All I could do was hope that this program and business could become a welcomed public service in time- and maybe even provide a new revenue stream too. The government always needed more of those as we grew to encompass more duties with more communities.

At the very least, it helped me gauge the sort of individual that now ran my Department of Healthcare, as the lead geneticist was now also Morgan’s care doctor.

“Erroneous and ridiculously hair-splitting,” Hermetic bluntly told me when I asked for their opinion on the matter. “You presume much in those potential clients of this program. Vetting them plainly would be a more simple solution to the entire matter, like how Smith-Shimano perform such service.”

“But it would also be the most burdensome, requiring something like active government connections to even make that request then. I’d have to personally overlook each and every matter, which might work in the short-term; I’m looking for something that could still work years down the line,” I rationalized before raising my eyebrow. “Plus, the SSC happens to miss a fair bit too with that method doesn’t it?”

“Hardly the problem of the genetics division,” grumbled the quadruped, flapping their wings briefly in agitation. “We could handle a much greater volume, you realize. Do you truly insist on such stringent measures to forestall a problem that may not even arise?”

My lips pressed together into a thin line as I briefly hesitated, then resolutely nodded. “I do.”

“Then I suppose that the scientist will defer to the business in question so.”

The Egregorian as I’d come to know them was...unhesitatingly blunt. Not in the way of ‘I don’t care unless I’m paid’ like Erica was, but more in the way of ‘it is beneath me to care unless it involves genetics.’ The sort of attitude that one acquires upon reaching a certain level of intellect, maybe. But at the very least, they don’t brag about it incessantly.

Unless Kishi is around, then all bets are off it seems.

As she was not present, then Hermetic was cool and collected, receiving my decision with just a nod of acquiescence. They might disagree, knowing themselves capable of much more in volume- able to make those vaunted clone armies if need be- but will adhere to my administration’s standards. Which was better than being a cackling mad scientist, honestly.

That being said, they weren’t entirely placid either. “I trust that a portion of whatever revenues are generated from this will be remanded back into the budget for healthcare?” they asked directly. “I would not protest if the greater volume goes into other matters, but I believe it only right that our work be at least rewarding.”

“I’m actually thinking that most would go back into your department,” I mentioned with a nod. “Think of it as an incentive that if you really are so capable as claimed, then satisfactory results from the program would grant you more leeway in managing the population’s state of health. Plus whatever other genetic treatments you are likely working on for Cavia.”

“...Hmph. As expected.” Because a ‘thank you’ is apparently alien to this alien, eh. “Moving on to more productive matters, I have the results of Morgan’s genetic testing here. The results are most intriguing.”

While they did have access to the previous tests conducted by Lieutenant Nasir’s logistics corp, Hermetic had insisted on conducting a full suite of their own examinations with their own methods and tools. I was about to protest, only to notice that Morgan was already rolling up her sleeve nonchalantly with what could only be described as a well-practiced notion. It had become clear that in her prior living conditions, she was quite used to having her blood drawn and studied on the regular, practically to the point of it being practically assumed whenever she met a doctor now.

That was a slightly depressing realization to see my niece already conditioned so.

Hermetic took the samples they wanted, ran a few other tests, then shooed me out of the room for patient confidentiality. I was hesitant at first, but rationalized that this was a good sign of them taking their caretaker role seriously. Any chance of there being some sort of trickery was surely illogical, as my soldier were present in the facility and ready to pick a fight with those accompanying SSC guards if need be.

But what if there was something like a secret code phrase that Hermetic knew about? Like a sleeper agent trigger that would make Morgan go ballistic? Utterly ridiculous, but given the setting I was in…

Thankfully, before those paranoid thoughts of mine drove me to action, Hermetic had emerged and we’d had that brief chat about the state of the clone program. With that now out of the way, they presented the apparently more detailed analysis of my niece’s condition. It was undoubtedly far more insightful than the limited glimpse our medical corp could provide, showcasing the vast gulf between those trained in understanding genetics- and those who dedicated their lives to the field.

It also was more worrying, the more that was revealed.

“To begin with,” Hermetic started, “Allow me to make a most important correction. Morgan is not a daughter of Morrigan. She is, in fact, a genetic clone of Morrigan.”

That threw me for a loop, as while there was a definite visual similarity between the two, more than a few little details differed. “Really? The eyes don’t even match, hers are red while my aunt’s was a similar shade to mine.”

“A reasonable error. But data reveals what the eye cannot.” They tapped their findings with a finger. “While there does appear to be some significant deviations in certain sequences, the nature of them suggests those portions as having been spliced in rather than being naturally forming. They appear to be attempted edits to coax further out her latent talent.”

“...You’re saying that she’s my aunt then, but better?” I checked after going through that deduction a few times. At their nod, I let out a thoughtful hum and crossed my arms. “Hmm. I still think she probably would be more her mother’s daughter than her clone though.”

“Call it however you like,” they blandly told before resuming the science. “Those are not the only adjustments I observed though. Quite relevantly, there are signs of accelerated aging cocktails included within her strands.”

A chill ran down my spine. “She’s a flash clone? Stars…she’ll be older than me soon.”

“Not necessarily.” Here, both irritation and admiration colored Hermetic’s tone as they gave me the surprisingly good news. “Francois, her suspected creator, is capable of far more than just simple growth hormones. Among his many accomplishments is a personal blend that would accelerate a subject in short order like a typical flash clone- but then slow down the growth back to regular levels somewhere before full maturity.”

They turned to glance at the door that led to where Morgan probably was waiting. “Your...niece appears to have reached that stage, with all metrics demonstrating expected development levels equivalent to her current appearance.”

“Meaning...she’ll be fine.” A great weight slid off my shoulders and I exhaled in relief. “She’ll just grow up and be normal now.”

“As normal as one can be while in possession of such talents, yes. Though just in case, I would recommend further observation to monitor her status. There might yet be latent or unrealized additions that I would not put beyond Francois including.” Hermetic set down their datapad and folded their arms behind their back. “Which so happens to put this discussion at a more...dire crossroad, regarding Morgan.”

Ah. Here’s that long overdue custody battle now.