Making the Galaxy Great
Custodial Care

The custodian’s closet smelled of dirty mops and chemicals. A set of metal shelves packed with paper towels, rags and bottles of various types of cleaners stood against one wall. A galvanized mop bucket on wheels nearly blocked the door.

“Cozy,” Jason muttered to himself as he pulled several towels off the shelf and set them on the floor to make a pillow for himself. He tried to settle himself into the least uncomfortable position so he could possibly doze off for a while. He found himself thinking of Shelby and Evie. And his own bed.

There was a knock on the door, and McCauley’s face peered in, a silhouette against the light from the sanctuary. Jason looked up in surprise. “Did you come to gaze in envy at my four star accommodations?”

“I . . .” she began as she entered the closet, trying not to step on his legs. “I just came to say that, you know, I’m sorry you got dragged into this. You’re really not a totally awful person. I mean — no, you’re way more than that. And you should be home with your daughter and that girl.”

Jason tried to smile but his cheeks were too tired. “Listen, I would have died if you hadn’t taken me to A-69 after those Russians shot me with an alien weapon. Although, come to think of it, I drove, because you’re a secret agent who can’t drive a stick shift. And now—”

“Please shut up,” McCauley said quietly but firmly. “Why do you always have to talk so much?”

“It helps me forget how terrified I am,” he admitted. Then an odd thought crept through his brain. Would he rather be at work right now, listening to Morris Ambling drone on in his uninformed way about social media and market share? Or would he rather be here, on the floor of a custodian’s closet, waiting to sneak into a super-secret government base with a partner who was so good at taking out bad guys she was practically a super hero?

Jason put his head on the towels and turned on his side, facing away from the door. “Well, good night.”

He heard the door to the closet shut. But then he heard movement and felt something brush against his leg.

“McCauley?” he whispered. “What the hell? Are you still in here?”

“I don’t want to sleep on a balcony with a bunch of strange women,” she told him. “Besides, if the men in black track us here you’re toast without me.”

Jason rolled over onto his back. His eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness and he could vaguely discern McCauley’s outline next to him. “Was that more foreplay?” he asked.

“Go to sleep, Fleming.”

Instead of closing his eyes, Jason sat up and stared at the sliver of light under the closet door.

“Do you want some of these towels to put your head on?”

She reached over in the dark and found Jason’s hand and took the towels. “Now, Fleming, we need some rest.”

Jason continued to sit up. “I think I’m too keyed up to sleep. What with seeing a bunch of people get killed — and almost getting killed myself — and now being a fugitive . . .”

He was waiting for McCauley to scoff at him, but instead she sat up, too, and emitted a long, weary sigh. “I guess . . . what you told your daughter, about how the truth never lives up to your—”

“Expectations,” Jason finished.

“Right. I guess we really proved that, didn’t we?”

“Actually, I’ve seen some amazing things over the past few days that blew away my expectations. Things that almost nobody, ever, in the history of humanity has seen. Of course, some of it was pretty terrible. But some was pretty thrilling.”

“Hmm,” said McCauley, in a tone that expressed less wonder and more weariness. “Glad you think so.”

“This stuff was new to you once.”

“Longer ago than you think.”

Jason frowned. “You’re younger than me. Surely you were a normal, non-secret agent person until recently.”

Jason heard a partially suppressed groan from McCauley. “I’ve never been normal. And honestly, I’ve always felt like a fugitive.”

Jason wasn’t going to let her just drop that verbal bomb and go to sleep. “Explain please?”

“Long story, Fleming.”

“Umm, we have all night. And I can’t sleep, remember?”

“Well, I can sleep.”

“But I’m your partner. You need to tell me this stuff.”

There was silence and Jason wondered if he’d pissed her off. Again. But at last she said, “Okay, you asked for it. You’ve already met my mother, so maybe you’ll understand.”

Jason rolled over to face McCauley, even though he couldn’t really see her in the dark.

“When did I meet your mother?”

“At the labs, at A-69. She would hate that, by the way . . . anyway, she runs the labs.”

“Wait. Dr. Ashwood is your mom?”

“Not mom. Mother. We don’t have a ‘mom’ relationship. It’s more like stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

Jason ran his hand over the top of his head. “I can’t believe it. Does anybody at A-69 know?”

“Of course they do. Everyone knows. That’s where I was made.”

Where I was made.

The words seemed to bounce off the metal shelves and the walls of the closet. He waited for McCauley to say more. When she didn’t, he asked: “Would you like to . . . explain?”

McCauley sat up and pulled her knees close to her body. “I’m a clone, Fleming. A fucking clone.”

By now, all thoughts of sleep had vanished from Jason’s mind. He felt as if he’d had been mainlining espresso. “An actual clone? Who — who are you a clone of? Not your mother.”

“My sister,” she replied so quietly he almost couldn’t hear.

“You have a sister?”

“Had.”

McCauley explained to Jason that when her sister fell terminally ill with leukemia, her mother decided to clone her, and took steps to make sure the clone would be resistant to leukemia — and most other diseases known to humanity.

“She’s all about technology, you know, and the Marjans have some really advanced cloning tools. The funny thing is, they stopped doing it a long time ago, because they decided it was a really bad idea. But that didn’t stop my mother. And while she was making me disease-resistant, she decided to add a few bonuses, like enhanced physical and mental abilities.”

“Ah,” Jason’s said. “That’s why you can learn alien languages so easily, and kick ass and all that.”

“Yeah, and it’s also why I’m angry at everybody and everything all the time. I’m like an athlete on steroids. I’m basically hard-wired to be anti-social.”

“Did you always know you were a clone?” Jason asked.

“I found out by accident. When I was about thirteen, I found some photos on their home computer and I thought it was me, but the dates were all wrong. When I confronted them, my mother denied it at first, but my father came clean.”

“Your father, is he still . . .”

“Living? Yes, at least I think he is. He finally got tired of my mother’s love affair with alien technology and her other obsessions. When he left, I wanted to go with him, but she insisted I stay here, so they could observe me and all of my special attributes.”

“Maybe your mom — sorry, mother — would help us,” Jason said. “If we make it to A-69. When we make it.”

“She’d be the first one to turn me in. She’s probably furious about all the chaos we’ve caused. She just wants to do her research and be the only one in the world who knows about all the cool alien tech.”

“You don’t know. She might actually feel some maternal—“

“Fleming, do you want me to break both your arms and shove them up your ass?”

“I’m going to have to say no to that,” Jason replied.

“Then shut up about her.”

Jason fell silent. He thought about Shelby and Candice. Even though Candice was usually fighting with Shelby, at least she wanted to be a good mom.

“Sorry,” McCauley whispered after a couple of minutes. “That I snapped at you.”

“I get it. Sore subject.”

“I doubt if you do.”

“Maybe not.”

Jason assumed their attempt at getting to know each other was over, but then McCauley spoke again.

“I know you think I’m a scary, emotionless assassin—”

“McCauley—”

“But just so you know, I’d never killed anyone before tonight.”

Jason had to admit he was a little surprised. “They were going to kill us, remember?” he reminded her, repeating what she’d told him.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No, I’m not. You were right. I’m sorry it had to happen, but neither of us would be here if you hadn’t.”

McCauley slumped down and put her head on the towels Jason had given her and turned on her side, facing away from Jason. Once again it seemed he’d said the wrong thing to her. For several minutes he listened to her slow even breathing while waiting for his brain to slow down so he could sleep. But before that moment arrived, she reached back and pulled his right arm across her taut stomach. He rolled onto his side and nestled his face into the surprisingly fragrant folds of her hair.

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