Jasvinder Krishnan

I watch in silence as Sammie sleeps peacefully on the hospital bed while Jackson waits patiently by her side to wake up. As Jackson adjusts the blanket covering Sammie, I catch a brief glimpse of the Valkyrie's bandaged legs with the attached metal splints. Jackson could not drive me out of Sammie's room, after all he wasn't the boss of the hospital that had performed the surgery on her. But it was nevertheless made clear that I was not welcome. Watching from afar was the most I could do. A firm hand clasps me by the shoulder and almost pulls me away from the scene. 

"You shouldn't be sticking around. It would just cause them more pain."

"I feel terrible." I sigh, "Sammie's injuries are something that should Not have happened."

I follow my companion out of Sammie's ward and back into the hospital's reception area, once again impressed by the cleanliness and how well equipped the facility is. I had originally thought that the Citadel led the world in almost every field, but this experience in Coalition controlled territory was proving me wrong. 

After we had left Jackson's village, the Blue Ocean operative had taken Jackson, myself and the unconscious Sammie to a truck hidden in the depths of the concrete desert. After we had all piled inside the vehicle, the operative assisted in tending to Sammie's wounds before driving north, towards the territory claimed by the Coalition. Other than the four of us, the truck was laden with canisters filled with petrol and rations for the the long journey. Both Jackson and I took turns fueling up the truck but other than that, neither of us spoke a word to each other. I had tried to start a conversation with his several times, but was greeted only with icy silence. 

The trip north was uneventful, though a certainly hungry one. The Blue Ocean operative had only packed enough rations for himself. We were fortunate enough to stop over at a small beast folk settlement to trade for more food and water, but the journey remained tense and generally unpleasant. And so the days passed in this tedious fashion until we reached our destination. 

Rais Land. 

"Thanks for taking Sammie to the hospital the moment we got here." I say to the Blue Ocean operative, "It means a lot BO, uh ..."

"BOI-69." the man standing beside me clarifies, "Addressing someone by their call sign can take some getting used to, I know."

I turn to the Blue Ocean operative, taking in the visage of an unexceptional looking man with brown hair and green eyes. With an average physique and average looks, nothing about BOI-69 stands out of the ordinary. If you walked past him on the street you would not have given the man a second glance. 

"Don't you have a name?" I ask as both of us walk out of the hospital, "If you want me to work for the Blue Ocean Initiative, some level of trust needs to be shown."

"Trust me, its easier to refer to me by my call sign." BOI-69 rebuts as we board the waiting chauffeured car, "You'll understand later."

"Where to sir?" the beast man driver asks BOI-69 courteously. 

"Back to base." BOI-69 directs, "Its time to put our latest hire to work."

.....

It turns out that the base was nothing other than the Coalition's embassy. A towering structure with high concrete walls and painted battleship gray, the embassy resembled a fort more than a consular building. Auxilia man the gates and waive the car inside without any ceremony. The driver takes the car along a winding path, eventually stopping in front of a low building that serves as an annex to the embassy itself. I had suspected the Blue Ocean Initiative had serious resources in Rais Land after Jackson and I were lodged in a nice hotel after we arrived, but this is something else. 

BOI-69 leads me into the building, where the foyer has been converted into a operations room, with computer consoles mounted against the wall and maps strewn about a long rectangular table. A small group of people made out of both humans and beast folk have gathered around the table, clearing waiting for the meeting to start. 

"Sorry, we're late." BOI-69 apologizes, "Traffic in the upper city is absolutely crazy."

"You live here, and you're still late." a good humored voice responds as the crowd moves aside, allowing me to get a good look at the speaker. 

And he's a spitting image of BOI-69, with the exact same facial features. A literal carbon copy as far as looks go. However, the loose, casual way the speaker carries himself is a stark contrast to the prim and proper bearing BOI-69 has, making them out as clearly distinct individuals. BOI-69 laughs quietly to himself as he takes in my dumbfounded expression. 

"Jasvinder," BOI-69 announces between snickers, "Allow me to introduce you to BOI-75, my brother in this dimension. As well as the rest of the Coalition - Rais Land task force of course."

"Twins?" I ask, with my jaw hanging loose. 

"No way." BOI-75 chuckles, "I could never bear having number 69 as a real sibling, or even having hosts who are siblings."

"Then how? And does everyone here know what you do? And have no problem with it?" I stutter, my mouth opening an closing like a guppy, eyeing the beast folk standing about for any signs of anger or hostility at the admission from the two operatives that they have been hijacking bodies. 

"I suppose we could tell you," BOI-69 shrugs, "I wasn't lying back at Jackson's village when I said we did not need to prey on the locals. These bodies number 75 and I are using? They aren't actually natural." 

"Not natural?" I muse, my mind going through the possibilities, "but that could only mean one thing ..."

"That's right newbie." BOI-75 smiles broadly, "Clones. Number 69 and I are puppeteering freshly minted clones, hot out of the vats back at the Arcology."

"75, please. You spoiled the revelation." BOI-69 reprimands lightly, "There was no guarantee that Jasvinder had correctly guessed the answer."

"But that's impossible!" I exclaim, "Cloning is a discredited technology. All clones are born without the spark provided by the Divines. This has been proven even before the Age of Strife. Without a living soul in them, a clone's body will start breaking down on a genetic level."

"True, true." BOI-69 acknowledges, nodding sagaciously, "But isn't an Operative a living soul?"

"Wait." my mind short circuits at this new piece of information, "Are you saying that the clone bodies are stable as long as you're in control?"

"Damn straight." number 75 affirms, "Blue Ocean is far more advanced than the rubbish tech Earth Initiative is blundering about with. We don't need to hijack the bodies of children. And we have the advantage of getting physically mature hosts which do not need to be mentally overpowered."

"Interesting." I comment, "And how do you use your operative powers without serum?"

"That's classified." 75 looks worriedly to 69, who grunts non-commitally. 

"As my brother said," 69 takes up the conversation once more, "That information is not shared readily."

"But I need my operative powers to be of use to you." I protest. 

"Not for the present." 69 shakes his head, "We have tasks that are suitable for an Auxilia. Remember Jasvinder, trust is not a right. It must be earned."

"Alright then." I reply affably, "But I've noticed your powers are weaker than those of a Directorate's operative. Is it a side effect of not ingesting serum?"

"As I said, all that is classified." 69 keeps his expression flat, "Prove yourself, and your questions will be answered in due course."

I mutely agree to this condition, taking note of the most important point. That there was no denial to my statement. If I am to make a future for myself here, I'll need to get in tight with the Blue Ocean. So that means stifling my curiosity and being a team player. 

"Don't worry Jasvinder." 69 reassures, "Blue Ocean is committed to living alongside the natives of this world. We see ourselves as partners to the locals, not like the predatory Directorate. You're on the side of the good guys now."

"Yeah! So welcome aboard, fam!" 75 enthusiastically follows up, "Glad to have you here!"

"Thanks." I grin bashfully as the room breaks out in applause, "So what's this job you need me to do then?"

"The Coalition and Blue Ocean are supporting the people of Rais Land in their efforts to remain independent." 69 begins, "That means providing them with bulwarks and the needed pilots to allow them to stand at parity with the Citadel."

"Right, you see us locals as partners." I murmur, "Makes sense that you would ally with the Coalition."

"Anyway, BOI-75 had run into a group from the Citadel during one of his patrols," 69 continues, "searching for someone very important to us."

"You need me to help with the search?" I ask. 

"No." 69 demurs, "We have people doing that already. We want you to start off by tracking these infiltrators for us. We know they haven't left Rais Land, but don't know where they're hiding. A good task to ease you in."

"I'll need more information than that to perform the mission." I answer carefully.

"Of course." 69 agrees, "That's what this briefing is for. We'll also need to debrief you later on all you know about the Directorate. Now -"

"Woah, hold up!" 75 yells as he reaches under the table, "We need to induct the new guy first!"

"You just want an excuse to drink." 69 frowns at the antics of his 'brother'. 

"Drinking is part of being a soldier." 75 rebuts as he begins pulling out a bottle and several glasses, "Or so I read somewhere. Anyway, new guy has to drink at least once with the rest of the task force to make the whole thing official."

"Fine." 69 sighs with a rueful smile on his face, "Please humor my brother Jasvinder."

"That's the spirit." 75 cheers as he begins handing out shot glasses filled with dark liquor to the entire task force, "Now, here's to you Jasvinder and your future with us."

I grin broadly and down my portion of the drink in a single gulp. The future may remain murky for me, but one thing is clear. I've found a new place to belong and a new mission. So whatever tomorrow may hold, let's do our best. 

For now.