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Saph’s newest patient sat in the chair next to the monitor displaying the results of his most recent scans. His back was straight, his hands were clasped on his lap, and his face was expressionless, his eyes blankly staring at the observation window.
To anyone else, he seemed like a model patient. Saph wasn’t fooled.
“Your scans look normal, Theresa,” Saph began, keeping his tone measured. Inside, he nursed aspirations of punching something. Preferably his boss’s face. “Your stress level seems a little high, but that’s understandable. Being woken from cryosleep is a stressful process.”
Finally, Theresa turned his green eyes to Saph, who resisted the urge to shrink away from them. Instead, he braced himself and met Theresa’s stare head-on.
He owed his patient that much.
Actually, he owed his patients, particularly this one, much more, but his hands were tied. If all he could give them was the respect to not hide from his actions, to face their judgement head-on, then he’d do that.
“I still cannot remember anything.” Theresa’s voice was low. “Surely that is not normal?”
Saph glanced toward the observation window, behind which waited Theresa’s two aides. Or guards, as Saph preferred to think of them.
Saph rested his hand on Theresa’s shoulder. “It’s normal,” he assured Theresa. It was. It was normal. Even intended, though Theresa didn’t know that.
There was a lot Theresa didn’t know.
“You really don’t need to worry about it,” Saph continued. “The UF will look after you. You can get dressed now.”
Frowning, Theresa stood from the chair and shed the white gown he’d worn for the examination. Saph politely turned his gaze elsewhere though he’d seen Theresa naked many times before. Many, many times that Theresa wasn’t even aware of.
Out of the corner of his eye, Saph saw Theresa retrieve each piece of his uniform. Once Theresa had put on his shirt and was buttoning it, Saph faced him fully.
“You’ll have to keep to a strict diet,” he said. “We’re still trying to get your nutrition levels right. I think we can start to squeeze in a few treats, though.”
“Is the UF’s idea of a treat anything that isn’t tasteless slop?” Theresa questioned. “If so, that’s a broad category.”
Saph laughed. “We grow fruit and vegetables here in the hydroponics lab. I guess you haven’t been there yet. It takes up the entire fourth floor.”
“I have not been past the third floor of this facility,” Theresa replied.
“Yes, I suppose you’ve been busy. Ask your aides to introduce you to the hydroponics staff,” Saph said. “They often let us help with the planting and harvesting.”
Theresa’s frown returned. “What will the public think when they see an admiral getting his hands dirty?”
Saph shook his head. “They won’t see it, so don’t worry about it.”
It was understandable that Theresa was concerned about public perception. The United Federation, the corporation that both Saph and Theresa worked for, had drummed it into his head that he needed to look prim and proper at all times. As the face of the Federation’s interstellar expansion efforts, Theresa was under a lot of pressure.
“You’re right,” Theresa agreed, shrugging into his jacket. As he began to tie his hair back, Saph wiped Theresa’s data from the monitor. As he did, he felt a stab of guilt. Several stats lingered in his mind, each one indicating high stress and poor health. Theresa’s stats weren’t normal, but Saph was supposed to ignore that.
He was a doctor, but it wasn’t his job to fix Theresa. It was his job to reassure Theresa. To lie to him.
Admiral Theresa Albion had not been awakened from cryosleep three weeks ago. Theresa’s memory loss was not caused by the cryo-tech. Theresa was, technically, not even Admiral Theresa Albion.
As a fully-dressed Theresa offered Saph his hand to shake, Saph gripped it, once again squarely meeting Theresa’s emerald eyes.
“As usual, thank you for your care, Doctor Dion,” Theresa said. “I suppose I’ll see you in three days.”
“Yes.” Saph smiled, even though he really wanted to break his boss’s nose. He wished he had the courage to quit his job, but if he did, he’d be sent back to Earth, back to the slums where he’d have to beg and scrape for scraps of food. Saph had been incredibly lucky to be one of an increasingly-rare few who had a comfortable life with a safe job and a steady income.
Though UF promised that there were endless opportunities in space for those brave enough to enter the unknown, Saph knew that was false. All that awaited those pioneers was starvation, brutal conditions and back-breaking, soul-destroying work.
The UF paraded Theresa around as a hero, a shining example of what any ordinary person could become—should want to become, but if those people knew the truth…
They wouldn’t want to be Theresa.
Saph held Theresa’s hand for longer than necessary, wishing that he could apologise for all of the horrendous things this man had been through, for all of the things Saph had done to him on the orders of his boss, the CEO of the UF. Saph knew that, very soon, he would have to do more horrific things.
And Theresa, poor, innocent, duped Theresa, had no idea.
He had no memories to lose because he wasn’t Theresa Albion. He was a clone. Genetically identical to the real Theresa, but still just a copy.
The real Theresa slept in cryosleep, only brought out when they needed to harvest genetic material from him. The real Theresa was far braver than Saph could ever be. He’d had the courage to try to stand up for the people of Earth, to try to expose the UF.
And he’d failed. Now he paid the price for that bravery. This Theresa would too, before long, because, clone or not, Theresa was a decent person who wouldn’t let fear stop him from taking action—unlike Saph, whose fear kept him paralysed.
Theresa’s aides entered the room and Saph released Theresa’s hand. “Make sure to meet the hydroponics staff,” Saph reminded Theresa, who deserved a little peace and joy before the nightmare began again. Once this clone discovered UF’s secrets, he would be disposed of, just like the others before him. Even Theresa’s clone was braver than Saph.
“I will.”
Theresa left the room and Saph began to clean up, readying for his next patient, a corporation employee who’d been injured on his last moonwalk. Those who had to venture out of the facility to maintain it or conduct research on the moon’s surface had it tough, too.
Things were bad, but Saph was aware that they could be worse for him. Much, much worse. The UF was as cold and heartless as the moon they’d imprisoned Theresa, Saph and everyone else in this facility on.