Rios lowered her voice further. "I tried. The magistrate… wasn't helpful. I think Arcadia leaned on Station Administration. I got an unofficial message from upstairs to drop any far-fetched 'clone' theory and hand the case over to Corporate Liaison for a quiet resolution." The distaste on her face showed what she thought of that.
Thorne closed his eyes briefly. This was worse than he thought – Arcadia's influence was high, as expected. The powers that be wanted to sweep this under the rug fast. "So they want us to pretend one Jacob Halley simply assaulted himself? It's absurd."
"I know. But they're calling it an 'internal corporate matter' now, pending some legal jurisdiction review. They might try to claim the clone – if it exists – is Arcadia property or some nonsense."
Thorne's hands curled into fists. "Over my dead body." He immediately regretted the phrasing, given the circumstances.
Rios put a hand on his arm. "Vic… be careful. You've rattled some very big cages. Captain Herrera just called me—he's furious. Said you're jeopardizing station stability by antagonizing Arcadia. They're pressuring him to rein you in."
He snorted. "Let them pressure. We have a duty."
She smiled faintly. "Glad to hear it. I've got your back. But watch yours too."
Before he could respond, his comm buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID – an unknown encrypted number. Thorne answered warily, stepping a few paces away. "Thorne."
A distorted voice filtered through, scrambled electronically. "Detective Thorne, I presume. If you want to find the truth, come to Arcadia's Sector 12 lab building. Sublevel 3. Right now. Come alone."
Thorne's pulse quickened. "Who is this?"
"You know who," the voice said. Despite the distortion, Thorne recognized the intonation instantly – it was Jacob Halley's voice. The other Halley.
Rios noticed his posture stiffen. "What is it?" she whispered.
Thorne covered the mic, speaking softly. "It's him – the clone. He wants to meet, inside Arcadia."
Rios's eyes widened. She shook her head vehemently. It smelled like a trap.
Thorne returned to the call. "How do I know this isn't an ambush? Give me a reason to trust you."
A pause crackled. Then, "I… I need your help. I don't have anyone else. They lied to me, Detective. Arcadia lied. I think they're planning to get rid of me." The raw fear in those words sliced through the distortion.
Thorne believed him. The clone's paranoia was likely justified; he was as expendable a loose end as one could be, from Arcadia's view. "Alright. I'll come. Sublevel 3, Sector 12 labs. Give me ten minutes."
"Hurry. I'll leave a door cracked at the east delivery bay." There was a brief hesitation, then a quiet, plaintive plea: "Please come, Thorne. I don't want to be... alone when it happens."
The call was cut off. Thorne stood for a moment, the weight of that statement settling on him. The clone sounded nearly broken – a man on the brink, possibly contemplating something drastic.
He turned to Rios, who had clearly deduced the gist. "You can't go alone. It could be a trick or a suicide mission."
"He's frightened, Rios. Arcadia might already be moving to eliminate him. This might be our only chance to get to him before they do. And if I bring backup, he might bolt or Arcadia's goons might spook."
Rios clenched her jaw. "Then I'm coming nearby at least. I can't let you waltz into corporate hell by yourself. Unofficially, of course."
Thorne managed a small grateful smile. "Stay on comms, keep a perimeter. If you hear shooting, then you come in."
She nodded, though her eyes remained troubled. "Vic… just don't get yourself killed. You know what these corps are capable of."
He did. Too well.
Half an hour later, Thorne found himself approaching Arcadia's Sector 12 research labs, a sprawling complex connected to the main Arcadia Tower by skybridges and utilities. At this late hour, the area was quiet, running on night-cycle minimal staff. He skirted past pools of white light cast by street lamps, sticking to shadows along the loading docks at the east side.
As promised, one of the heavy service doors was ajar, its electronic lock overridden from inside. Thorne slipped through into a dimly lit corridor that smelled of cleaning agents and ozone. The hum of distant machinery and ventilation ducts filled the air.
He tapped his comm twice softly – the agreed signal to Rios that he was inside and okay so far. She would wait outside with a couple officers on standby, unable to officially enter but ready to raise hell if needed.
Step by cautious step, Thorne moved deeper into the belly of Arcadia's secret labs. Red emergency strips along the floor provided scant illumination. A map on the wall indicated the elevator bank to sublevels was around a corner.
Reaching it, he pressed the call button. To his surprise, the elevator opened immediately – and inside stood Jacob Halley.
This Jacob wore no corporate suit now. He had donned a gray Arcadia technician's uniform, perhaps to blend in. But his appearance was disheveled – hair mussed, eyes bloodshot, and a crude bandage taped over his left side, where a dark stain of blood had seeped through. The knife wound from the fight, Thorne realized.
Halley (the clone, Thorne mentally corrected) stared at him, a complex mix of relief and terror in his identical blue eyes. In his hand he clutched a plasma pistol, the muzzle jittering slightly as he struggled to keep it aloft. "You came…" he said, lowering the weapon when he recognized Thorne.
Thorne held his hands open and empty. "I'm here, Jacob."
At the sound of his own name, Halley flinched and grimaced, as if unsure he deserved it. "I— I didn't know who else to trust. They're going to kill me, Detective. Kelland and the Arcadia security team… I overheard them. The plan was to 'decommission the duplicate' once they had everything they needed." His voice broke. "Decommission. Like I'm a broken piece of equipment."
Thorne stepped into the elevator with him, gently pushing the door close button. "I won't let that happen. But you need to help me by coming in safely. I'll protect you."
Halley looked at him with a hollow gaze. "Protect me? I attacked him… I attacked myself," he said, voice thick with self-loathing. "Is he… did he survive?" It was almost a plea.
"Yes," Thorne said softly. "He survived. He's badly hurt, but alive."
Halley's pistol hand trembled. He slowly sank against the elevator wall, sliding down to a sitting position as adrenaline left him. "Thank God… I thought I killed him. I thought I committed murder. But what does it even count as? Suicide? Fratricide? It's all so... monstrous."
Thorne carefully knelt, prying the pistol from Halley's slack fingers. The man didn't resist. "Listen to me. You are not a monster. You're a victim in this, too. Arcadia manipulated you. But I need you to focus now – we have to get out of here."
Halley shook his head, a spark of defiance or perhaps obsession lighting in his eyes. "Not yet. Not without exposing them. There's a lab down below where Dr. Mercer keeps the core of the Gemini data – embryonic growth vats, memory upload servers. We destroy that, or get proof of it, and maybe Arcadia will actually face justice." His face twisted. "Otherwise, they'll bury everything. They'll claim I was just a deranged impostor, hush up the project, and start over elsewhere."
Thorne realized this was true. Arcadia would already be sanitizing their operation. This might indeed be the only chance to grab evidence or sabotage their ability to continue. And Halley, with insider knowledge, was the key.
He offered Halley a hand up. "Alright. Show me."
Halley accepted the hand, rising unsteadily. There was a resolve in him now, steeling over the despair. Thorne recognized it – it was the same look he'd seen in countless victims who decided to fight back against their abusers. In this, clone or not, Jacob Halley was as human as anyone.
They descended to Sublevel 3 using Halley's biometric clearance. The halls here were colder, lined with reinforced doors and extensive warning labels about biohazards and high voltage. Emergency lights cast everything in an ominous amber glow.
As they moved, Halley whispered, "Most of the staff were pulled out once they initiated the protocol with me. Only Mercer and a few loyal techs have been around. There's likely automated defenses, though."
He pointed to a heavy door at the corridor's end marked "Gemini – Authorized Personnel Only". It stood ajar, and beyond it spilled a flicker of fluorescent lighting.
Thorne crept forward, weapon drawn (he had unholstered his sidearm after relieving Halley of the pistol). He pushed the door wider with his foot, and his stomach tightened at what he saw.
The laboratory was a large chamber filled with machines that looked torn from a fever dream. Along one wall, glass cylinders rose from floor to ceiling, filled with bubbling nutrient fluid. In two of them, indistinct things floated – pale, half-formed human shapes the size of adult men, their features blurred and twisted. One had multiple limbs sprouting at odd angles, twitching gently in the fluid. Another lacked a complete head, a mass of brain-like tissue exposed and pulsating slowly. It was a tableau of grotesque failures, suspended in amber liquid and lit by eerie green luminescence.