Fuller was seated in his office, elbows on the table while one hand cradled the ever present coffee mug. He had just placed a call on his desk comms unit while his eyes scanned the data slate in front of him.
“Mac, I need to ask you something. There’s been a lot of reports landing on my desk of incidents of petty theft from the pilot’s quarters across our clans. Have you heard anything about it?” he queried.
The response was slightly slurred with interference and Fuller grimaced as he tried to understand the reply. “Am I on speakerphone there Boss?” came the response. Not entirely what Fuller was expecting.
He frowned. “Yes, why?”
“Is anyone else in the room with you?”
Fuller shook his head in bemusement. “No, just me. Look, do you know anything or not?” he demanded.
The voice came back and the words were again unexpected. “Yes, I do. It was me, and it’s necessary.”
Fuller was caught completely off guard by the admission, especially coming from somebody who was generally classified as ‘prime suspect’ followed by ‘slippery git with an alibi’. “What the… Mac, how many of the guys have you stolen from?” he asked in a stunned voice.
Even over the static, the tone of voice was disgustingly smug. “Everyone, including you. Trust me, it was necessary. I promise I’ll tell you everything shortly, but I need you to send out a full pilot recall back to Prime Base, OK? Let me know when everyone is back. Mac out.”
“What the…,” Fuller just managed to repeat unnecessarily as the line went dead.
****
Even at the ungodly hour of four in the morning, Fuller and Toenjes were already in the pilot’s ready room as the door opened to admit two figures, one male, the other female and carrying a large suitcase.
“General, Colonel, allow me to introduce Pilot Iskanslet of the Light Brigade,” Mac gestured around all three by way of greeting. His demeanor had little of the usual flippant insolence that was the norm. Instead, he got straight to business and declared, “We have something to show you.”
“This got something to do with the thefts and the full recall Mac?” demanded Toenjes.
“Yes it does sir,” confirmed Mac. “We are about to check who, if any, of our senior pilots are clones.”
That brought both senior officers up short and they glanced at each other. “OK, I’m listening,” stated Fuller, standing up from where he had hitched a hip on one of the tables while they had been waiting.
Karen, the female and most junior pilot in the room deposited the suitcase on the now vacated table and popped the lid back so the full contents were displayed. Inside were row upon row of crudely made, yet each distinctly individual dolls.
With a complete lack of preamble, the pilot known as the ‘Combat Momma’ began her presentation.
“Observe,” she said, selecting two in particular. One was sporting a cowboy hat, while the other was holding what appeared to be a large mug. The word coffee had been scrawled on the outside. She held both dolls in her left hand while her right drew a combat knife from its boot sheath and flicked it end over to catch it lightly by the blade.
“Cute…” growled Toenjes sarcastically, “but this isn’t the time for jokes or toys. Tell us how you are planning on... HOOOPH!!”
Toenjes had doubled over, heavily winded, clutching his stomach and gasping for air as Iskanslet had rapped the cowboy doll smartly in the stomach with the knife hilt.
Fuller was too much of a combat veteran and simply reacted. Seeing his number two go down he drew his sidearm and pointed it at the female pilot. Karen was faster and a second wrap with the knife hilt aimed at the other doll’s arm sent Fuller howling in pain as he clutched his gun hand, his weapon skittering uselessly across the floor where he had dropped it.
His gasp was cut short as he felt a sharp pressure across his throat. She had flicked the knife again, and this time had the blade pressed lightly to the dolls neck. The Combat Momma raised an eyebrow, as if to invite further action.
The tableau remained frozen for a few seconds until Mac broke the silence. “Stand down please Pilot,” he said calmly. The knife was removed and Fuller breathed easier.
Mac smirked coldly. “I take it we have your full attention now?” he inquired, then noting the grudging nods he continued. “Good, then an explanation is probably in order. As you can see, well, have felt, there is a link between these dolls and the person they represent. Don’t ask me how, but it exists. To some extent that link is facilitated by a personal possession which is used in the manufacture… hence the minor round of pilfering I’ve carried out.”
Fuller had a distinctly foul look on his face as he kept glancing at the doll Iskanslet was holding, even as he rubbed his still numbed hand. “So how does this help us flush out clones?” he asked grudgingly.
It was the female pilot who offered an explanation in a dispassionate, offhand voice. “First, a clone is not the true person. They were a part of that person to start with perhaps, like an old toenail or a hank of hair were, but those parts cannot feel in and of themselves… they are mere reflections. A cut toenail feels no pain. The possessions provide a link to their true owner, providing the possession is old enough that it predates the cloning.”
Seeing that Karen’s explanation was doing nothing of the sort, Mac interjected. “So long story short, these dolls are linked to real people, not clones, and what you do to the doll is felt by the actual person they represent,” he summed up. Then beaming at the two senior officers he added, “Congratulations by the way, you both passed.”
Toenjes shot him a foul look while still clutching his stomach. “Great, thanks for that. OK, next question, do both of you have dolls?
Karen raised an eyebrow. Mac replied smoothly, bypassing the full extent of the question. “Of course I do. General, here’s mine,” he said as he handed a doll over to Fuller.
Fuller regarded it from all angles for a few moments, then sharply twocked it on the side of the head.
“Ow!” Mac yelped as his head jerked to one side.
Toenjes shrugged. “Proves nothing, he was watching and could have just reacted to it,” he stated.
Mac scowled, rubbing his temple. “Very true Colonel, well observed,” he conceded. “In which case I suggest that you do it again at a random point in the future when I’m not looking and see if there is a reaction. Does that suit?”
Toenjes shrugged again. “I can live with that I guess.”
“Good. Now, if you could get the other pilots to assemble in the main hanger, we can get this over with.” He started to turn towards the door, then had second thoughts and turned back. “Come to think of it, it may pay to clear the area of all other personnel too. Just in case.”
****
The pilots stood in loose groups in the main hanger area, grumbling and looking disheveled and mostly still half asleep due to the early wake up call. The hanger itself was cathedral like, its high vaulted ceiling dipping to side concourses where personal hangers and associated workshops lay. The effect was perhaps even more pronounced in that the area was unnaturally quiet; no hubbub of repair or upgrade, machinery all dormant, no people rushing to and fro on various errands. In side bays, mecha stood like sentinel statues in their alcoves, watching ever vigilant over the central nave.
Footsteps echoed loudly and the various conversations subdued somewhat, only to pick up again when it had been noted that there was little urgency around the arrival of senior officers or the two pilots accompanying them.
Mac peeled away from the group of newcomers and headed towards a gaggle of Support and Prime pilots who were renewing acquaintances.
“Chong, how are you man?” he nodded to one of the senior pilots and received a bob of the head in return. “LEG HUMPER!! I hear you’ve been traumatizing the newbies that have been rotated up!” he grinned, then broke into laughter as the pilot in question threw him a one finger salute.
Mac ignored the up-swept digit and thrust forward his hand to shake that of his old comrade and sparring partner. Eric smiled grudgingly and accepted the grasp, only to be pulled off balance as Mac drew him into a rough embrace.
“I knew you’d missed me!” Mac declared, then grinning wickedly continued, “Here you are, just for old time’s sake!” and with that started vigorously thrusting against the other pilot’s leg. Eric was not amused in the slightest, but the rest of the gathering broke into peals of laughter.
A voice rang out across the hallway. “Cut the crap Mac. Let’s get this done,” ordered Fuller.
With a wink, Mac let go of Eric and still smiling headed over to where Iskanslet had propped the suitcase open on a waist high tool trolley, its lid obscuring the contents from the rest of the assemblage. He stood and turned back around to face the gathered pilots.
“Look guys, sorry about this, but we had word from Q that there could have been some glitches in the neuro-callisthenic feedback machines we use in training.” A few looks of concern passed across the attentive faces and there was more than one sideways glance to see how this news was being taken.
Mac waved his hands in a palms down motion to try to put a damper on any kind of panic. “Listen, Q told me it shouldn’t be too much of a concern, maybe just a few twitches and some clumsiness, and it can be very easily reversed. We just need to know if anyone has been affected and if so what the extent is. If you could all just sort of…” he paused a second, “line up I guess, try to relax and we’ll see if the remote unit here throws anything up.” He finished his speech off with a flash of a grin.
He turned back toward Combat Momma and stated, “Miss Iskanslet, you may proceed.”
Karen stood there for a moment with both eyebrows raised, incredulous at the bare faced lie that had just spewed from Mac’s mouth. It took the prompting of another encouraging nod from the senior pilot before she turned her attention back to the contents of the suitcase. Toenjes and Fuller edged closer in order to see which doll she selected first.
Choosing a doll at random, she started to lightly scratch it at the hairline of its unnaturally spikey hair. Looking up, the quartet noted that Spike, the top dog from H2 had started rubbing his forehead then removed his hand to glance at his fingers. Another rub and he glanced upward, stepping slightly to the side as if he could feel something dripping on him from above.
She then selected a doll holding a model sandwich that was implausibly large for the scale of the mannequin and tapped it lightly on the leg. In the line-up, Skoob grimaced and rubbed uncomfortably at his thigh.
Mac let out a startled ‘Oww’ and rubbed the back of his head. He glanced back at Fuller who shrugged and nodded.
Karen continued manipulation of the dolls in front of her. Squeezing one on the shoulder she noted that Pete started to look uncomfortable and began to rotate his own shoulder joint as if to alleviate stiffness.
Mac yelped again, drawing all eyes on to himself. He glared over at Fuller who was trying to hide a certain doll behind his back while looking all around the hanger, attempting and yet failing completely to portray an air of innocence.
Karen struck another doll on the ankle and in the line Kev’s eyes shot wide in surprise. He looked down towards his foot, shaking sensation back into it.
The assembled pilots were by now definitely realizing that something was very wrong. Some were checking out the uncomfortable movements of those who were feeling unseen effects while others were starting to murmur and throw poisonous stares across at Karen and the two senior officers.
Noting that things were starting to go to pieces, Mac attempted to calm the situation. “Its OK guys,” he called out, “just try to relax, we were sort of expecting th..hrrrgh!!!”
Mac felt as if his left leg was being torn from its socket while simultaneously his chest was being constricted to the point he couldn’t breathe. Barely able to turn, he saw Karen staring at him with a raised eyebrow, however over her shoulder Toenjes and Fuller could quite clearly be seen wrestling with his doll. The squabble was more like those of pre-schoolers rather than fully grown men. Fuller had tight hold of it while Toenjes was pulling its leg trying to get it off him while they argued through gritted teeth.
“I want a turn…!
“I’m not finished yet..!”
Realizing what was going on behind her, Karen turned and glared at the two officers. Her voice was like a whip crack. “Gentlemen! Kindly stop playing with the toys!”
Toenjes let go of the doll’s leg as if it had scolded him and both men mumbled a ‘Yes m’m’ while finding a new and fascinating interest in their feet. Fuller was starting to blush from the collar upward.
Iskanslet turned back to her work but Mac continued to glower at the two officers. Fuller poked his tongue out in response.
By now the pilots were close to an all-out mutiny, and comments of “What the hell was that?” and “What’s going on?” could be heard up and down the line. It was old timer ‘Gampy’ Bob who supplied the answer.
“Are those things voodoo dolls?” he demanded. “I’ve heard about those, they’re dangerous! What kind of crap are you trying to pull on us Mac?”
“I don’t have to put up with this!” Eric pointed out forcefully. “This has got nothing to do with mechs. Count me out, I’m getting a drink!” he added as he stepped out of the line and made to head off towards the hanger bay exit.
“Pilot, this may interest you,” Karen informed Mac in a voice that while soft still managed to slice through the furor that had erupted. She had selected a doll that for some reason had been made with some rather obvious additions in the trouser department and was flicking it rapidly in its mouth.
Lifting the doll from the suitcase, Mac smiled almost sadly. “You’re right Eric,” he called loud enough to be heard over the chaos. For some reason at that point the noise calmed momentarily.
“You don’t have to put up with it,” Mac continued in softer tones, then in an unexpectedly harsh movement slammed the doll’s head down onto the trolley frame. “After all,” he continued, “these things only work on real people, not clones.” He raised the doll and regarded it before looking back at Eric. “Want to guess who’s one this is?”
Silent shock reigned for just a few seconds longer before the assembled pilots realized what had just been seen and heard. As one, shocked faces turned towards Eric.
Snarling, the pilot copy pulled his firearm and the cavern echoed as he pumped shot after shot at Mac.
To be continued…
Submitted by David McCallum id# 701548