Translucent blue jelly gagged him until the tube was retracted from his throat. Once the tube was clear, the violent heaves of his stomach cleared his throat of the lubricating irritant that also covered his body. They did not stop until he finished lurching the contents that had been pumped into his stomach for his last free meal.

            Jason had never had such an awful experience and was unsure why he was having it now. Perhaps it was a reaction to the procedure that he was having done. He couldn’t quite remember what procedure it was, though. His mind was fuzzy on the details, so he attempted to open his eyes and was blinded by small lights flashing around the room. Whatever liquid he had spewed from his body was now being drained out of the smooth, clear tube he felt himself inside.

            When his mind started to return to him, he realized that he had been cloned, or rather he was now a clone. He had often wondered what it would feel like to wake up as a clone. Jason also knew that if he were to be of any success in life, he would have to experience it eventually. There were only a few reasons why a clone would be awakened. He would be able to understand the reason for his awakening by grasping at his most recent memories.

            He wondered how long it had been since his original body downloaded the memory that this clone now possessed. Had he become rich, famous, or grown so old his memory would have been downloaded and put into a newer and younger body? He had no memory of being rich or famous, so he was left with the alternative. His clone had been awakened because his original body had died. Jason’s latest memory was paying for this clone and uploading his memory.

            The straps keeping his body suspended in the center of the cloning tube retracted, letting his back hit the smooth surface behind him. He slid to a squatting position, resting against the glass tube. The front half shifted and then rotated open, letting the cold air flow assault him. Outside the tube were towels, water, medicine, and clothing. A digital display on the wall showed the last vital readings from his new clone body. Everything in the room was cold with sharp edges and austere surfaces.

            Slowly, Jason crawled out of the tube, still not at full strength. His vision was fuzzy and as he moved it created two images of everything in the room. If he moved his head, one of the images would follow the other until he stopped and focused his eyes. The movement made him nauseous, having to wait for the two images to catch one another. He began to dry heave and tried to control his involuntary action. Outside the tube, the floor was grated to let the fluids drip off of him so the floor would not need to be cleaned. A bench lay next to a table that held the only items in the room. Otherwise, it was clear of all other objects.

            He had only made it halfway to the bench before exhausting his energy. He sat still for a moment and started to shiver as the warm fluids evaporated off of him in the cold air. An automated female voice chimed into the room, “Good morning, Mr. Brannon. Welcome to your new body. This clone is a grade Delta with no upgraded implants. In the room you will find two injections; red is for discomfort and green is for stabilizing the mind. Thank you for choosing Aquarius Clone Solutions.”

            Jason had not even noticed the pain until the voice mentioned it. He crawled towards the small table and found an injector and loaded the red vial. He slumped against the metal chair bolted to the floor and took a couple of breaths. Placing the injector on the thickest part of his forearm, he pulled the trigger. Any pain he felt subsided and left his mouth dry and sticky. He tried three times to grab the cup of water and missed each time. Putting his hand on the table, he managed to sweep up the green vial and repeat the process, taking his time to slide the vial into the injector. The images of the room slowly came together, and his body started to feel more energized.

            Finally, picking up the cup from the table, he greedily drank its contents. The water had a gritty taste to it. He knew it wasn’t pure water. Pure hydro, as most called it, was free of contaminants and was very expensive. The drink did nothing to quench his dry mouth. Snatching one of the towels from the table, he dried his upper body and reached for the shirt.

            He remembered buying this shirt. This specific type of garment contained electrodes that, while piloting, would stimulate your muscles. He could keep his body in shape while sitting behind the stick of a ship. He slipped the shirt over his head and felt no resistance from where he should have had hair. Then he remembered clones only start to grow hair after they are activated. Imagining what he looked like, he struggled to get each finger into the proper hole on the end of the sleeve.

            The shirt and pants were a mix of black and silver and skin tight for his body to make contact with the electrodes. The second pair of utility pants covered the first and would help keep him warm. A black jacket laid over the arm of the chair. He put it all on in hopes that his shaking would soon stop. Sitting down, he tried to summon some saliva to wet his mouth. None came.

            “Computer,” He said to the empty room.

            “I am online. How may I assist you?”

            “Asset check,” he said, looking around the room searching for more water.

            The female computer voice answered back, “Station, system, region, or all?”

            “Station, if any.”

            “Your assets are as follows: eighty gallons grade three hydro, three hundred thousand cubic meters of lanthanum, two thousand thirty-seven cubic meters of iron.”

            Jason waited, but the computer did not say anything else, “Computer, you cut off. The last asset I heard was the iron. Continue the list.”

            “I have listed all assets on this station.”

            “List ships I own in the system.”

            “There are no ships owned by you in the system.”

            “List ships in the region that I own.”

            The computer was silent a few moments as Jason stretched, waiting for the response, “I show no ships owned by you in the region. There is no record of you currently owning any ship.”

If he did not have a ship, he would be confined to the station conducting odd jobs until he could afford one. He hoped the market was good enough that he might be able to buy a ship with what ore he had left.

            “Are there ships available for purchase at this station?”

            “There are currently thirty-seven ships available for purchase at this station.”

At least he was at a hub that still sold ships. If there were ships for sale, then there would be other things for sale as well. He zipped his jacket and attempted to run his hands through his hair but felt only smooth skin. He hoped his hair would grow back soon.

            When he placing his hand on the electronic sensor, the door slid open and allowed him into a brightly lit hallway. Jason moved through the hallway following the scrolling line on the wall that pointed to the exit. He passed door after door, each labeled with a number that descended as he walked until he reached a room marked number one. Besides the room, a woman covered in a vulcanized gray suit operated the front desk. Jason stopped to talk to her.

            “Good day, Mr. Brannon. Can I assist you with anything?” The pupil of her right eye rotated unnaturally, and a green light danced off its surface from time to time as he looked. She had implants allowing her to see computer readouts in her vision. Implants cost a lot of money, something he had none of.

            “How much would it cost for me to buy another clone today?”

            “I am sorry Mr. Brannon. We are booked, and we have a waiting list of at least two hundred and eighty hours. The spot your current clone occupied was filed the instant you activated it.”

            The woman did not look up from the computer screen and did her best not to look directly at him. He was sure she put up with new clones all day and had other things to do than entertain him. Jason knocked on the desk twice before turning out the door, “Thanks.”

            The medical bay might not have been busy, but as Jason walked out into the trade hub, he was bombarded by noise. People stood almost shoulder to shoulder, each trying to shuffle about their own business. If there were a place to trade his ore, this would be a prime location. He immediately went to a kiosk set up for making trades and used the holo screen to start searching.

            Most of the ships were single person transport ships. He found two built for hauling goods. A few were set up for deep space mining. He had some skills in mining and decided to look at one of the two.

            A man a couple of Kiosks down started arguing with the man next to him. The agitated man also had the smooth bald head, indicating he too, had just activated a clone. His neck had a cybernetic port protruding from it that allowed his brain to be connected to a computer terminal. They were used for mostly piloting large ships in which the pilot could look through one of many cameras attached the to ship’s hull. “I am telling you; it was Juice!”

            The name “Juice” drew his attention. It was a name he had acquired in his military training academy. During his military academy, he had been able to make three successful narcotics runs. To do that, he had to sneak past military security without being caught. He brought the juice, or narcotics, and that is where he received the nickname. It had continued to follow him outside the academy, but only a handful of his friends knew its meaning.

            Jason moved down a kiosk to get closer so he could listen in. “No, I had the cargo, and he came out of nowhere and took down my engines. I was a sitting duck, so I did the only thing I could do and fought back. The idiot crashed his ship right into my cockpit! When I get into another ship, he is priority number one.”

            He didn’t understand what cargo or why in the world he would intentionally kill another person, so he started to look up his journal entries on the kiosk. The machine took a retinal scan, then accessed his personal files. His bank account was empty, but he already knew that because the computer did not list it in his assets. He checked it anyways, hoping for error.

            He opened his journal and saw no entries written to himself for updates. His email box was flashing with a couple of requests to chat. He ignored the requests and opened his status reports. Jason was surprised to find out that he had gone through more than two dozen clones in the last month, and three times as many ships. He thought no wonder he didn’t have any money.

            Jason’s mouth almost hit the floor when he saw his employment status: The Simerson Corp. The Simerson Corporation was a well known pirating corporation that avoided security retribution by large payoffs. If you operated as part of the corporation, you would be immune to being detained for smuggling illegal goods, killing other pilots, or other illegal activities.

            The two men were walking away from the kiosk and through the crowd, so Jason lifted the ear buds that were attached to the kiosk to his ears. He opened one of the chat windows and accepted the chat request. “Jason, I see that you got cloned, yet again.”

            “Yeah,” He said, running his hand over his smooth head. He decided to keep his mouth shut and see what information he could get before offering up anything himself.

            “Well, good to know you still have some out there. I have some good news and some bad news. We were able to collect the cargo from your last contract so that you will be getting paid for that, and your debt has been wiped out.” Jason opened his ledger and saw he had been in the negative for close to an entire Earth year. “The bad news is that you were flying a company vessel and had been charged for that. I spoke to the boss, and he has decided to call it even.”

            “Yeah, that is real good.” He was trying his best not to sound sarcastic.

            “We have a hand full of contracts that could use your skills in spectral tracking. The boss is willing to pay you eighty million credits each.” The man awaited his answer. Jason didn’t have any skills or knowledge in spectral tracking. If he took the job and they found out, he was most likely a dead man.

            “Hey, let me just come clean. I don’t know who you are.”

            The man stared back a moment, then started looking off the screen while glancing back at Jason. The second communication request cut off. “You don’t know who I am?”

            “Yeah, the guy you know as Jason didn’t upgrade this clone’s memory. I am a grade delta clone with no memory of the last few years, and I don’t know anything about spectral tracking.”

            The man on the other side of the screen looked irritated. “Well, I guess we do not have any contracts you can fill. Good luck, Jason.” The video window went black and left Jason staring at a blank screen. The way he said good luck sounded ominous.

            A new mail showed up in his mailbox. A termination letter from The Simerson Corp. He had no ship, no job, and no implants. What’s worse is the incoming mail he saw below it. The Regional Security Group or RSG was taking out heavy bounty contracts in his name. Jason’s former name owner had taken on quite a lot of enemies. The security group would handle the money for any capture or elimination of this clone, but they would not engage themselves. Hiding would be difficult, and he knew security would not stop anyone from killing him in not only the station but anywhere in the star system.

            He opened the mail and found no pictures attached to his name. At least no one would know what he looked like. He knew once he was in his ship he would be identified to anyone in the area as the pilot. So if he left the station, he would most likely be hunted. If he stayed, sooner or later someone would find a picture and send it to bounty hunters to the station to kill him. He had no time to waste. He needed to get out of the star system and hope that there was not a bounty on his head in the next one he went to.

            Opening the trade market on the kiosk, he found the highest bidder for lanthanum and sold the entire stock. Credits soon deposited into his account. Twenty-six million credits would be able to get him something to fly out on. One of the mining ships was set up for deep space travel. It seemed to have everything he needed. Which meant high speeds to transport minerals, great maneuverability to avoid damage, electromagnetic impulse shields for small object collisions, and a dark matter collider for prolonged energy. He wasted no time in purchasing the ship and having it transferred to the maintenance bay.

            He hoped his escape into space would not require his military skills but just in case, he purchased a quality grade laser turret and checked its capacitor and power grid requirements before transferring it to his ship. He had very little credits left over from the purchase but decided to buy some low-quality extras like a mining laser, and an extra shield booster.

            He would have an hour or so before the pieces he ordered were attached to his new mining ship, so he stopped off and bought some nutrient packs. He bought enough to last him a week if he maintained a strict diet. Moving through the terminal, he found his way to the maintenance bay and watched the men assemble his pieces. He wanted to be ready to fly as soon as they were done. Sitting outside the bay, he watched as the other newly cloned man walked past where he was sitting and moved down to another ship where he climbed inside. The man wasted no time in disembarking and pulling out of the station.

            Jason arranged for the hydro and iron to be transferred to the cargo bay to his new ship. It wouldn’t completely fill it, but close enough. The hydro would fill his ship’s internal water storage for his personal use. It was more than he would need for a month and a half once filtered and reused.

            The drones being operated by the bay’s mechanics pulled away to their recharging stations, and his ship was given a green light, indicating it was complete. He gathered his nutrient packs and walked down the gangplank to the ship's door. Looking into his retinal scanner, the door unlocked and allowed his entry into the cargo hold. Iron bricks were being held down by straps. He moved to the back and unlocked each stack of bricks and walked around to make sure the ship's condition was in good working order. It was clean and free of rust on the inside. In many places, there were welds and a mix of new and old pieces being fit together. He didn’t mind; it just meant someone took care of their ship by replacing bad parts.

            The cockpit was no different. It was clean and well organized. He stowed his nutrient packs and took a long drink of hydro from a straw protruding from the pilot's chair. Without sitting down he powered on one section of the ship at a time, watching the capacitor and power grid. He knew he was going to need a lot of energy soon, so he started the dark matter collider to get it to full potential before he left the bay.

            Carefully he watched, no fluxes in power, no flickering lights, and the engines made a constant hum of vibration. So far the ship seemed to be in good working order. It was a good thing too because things usually started to shake apart when rocks or bullets started bouncing off the hull. The computer voice filled his cockpit, “The maintenance bay has indicated all work on your ship as complete and your hull is filled as requested. A service fee of two thousand credits has been deducted from your account.”

            Jason’s new ship was called an Ogre. Most ships looked skinny and sleek. The Ogre style ship was full of jagged lines to accommodate the ships various interior features. A large cargo hold for a frigate was one its major features. Most ships did not come with sleeping quarters, but the Ogre contained areas for eating, sleeping, and washing. Potentially, he could operate out of his ship for long periods of time if he filled his ship with supplies. Right now he had a good amount of water, but that was about it. He would need to get more food when he had his next opportunity.

            He was finished with his check of the ship, so he sat down in the pilot's chair. The seat restraint straps were imperative in a small ship due to the loss of artificial gravity upon undocking. The second he flipped the locking mechanism he would be free floating in the cockpit, and his ship would free float in the bay.

            Gravity is not the only thing he would lose while undocking from the ship bay. He would also lose his right to privacy. Security maintained a list of all active pilots in the area. If you operated without your name in local channels, you would be shot down by the station's turrets or local security ships. Doing this kept violence to a minimum around security controlled space.

            Jason opened the storage box next to the chair and pulled out a dusty pair of glasses and headphones. His previous body had built in ear wicks and eye mods so he could see computer displays in whichever direction he looked. He would have to use the old, more obsolete version of getting information from his ship by wearing extra equipment.

            It took him twice to synchronize his eye movement with the ship's heads up display on the glasses. Only once did he have to adjust any special commands for voice activation. He always liked his father's maneuver to turn around in asteroid space. His father always yelled out “U-turn” before the ship spun one hundred eighty degrees and thrust in the opposite direction. The command had come in handy twice in military training scenarios and once on a narcotics run. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it today.

            “Locate nearest zero security space with least amount of jumps,” He said while adjusting the microphone to stop resting on his cheek.

            “Nearest zero security space is within four jumps of this system. The X210-Y90-Z1467 system is currently a low traffic area. Shall I set this as your destination?” The information was shown in blue text on the upper right of his display and a list of planets and stars within the system in question showed to the side.

            “Set it as our destination and as private.” He did not want anyone to see where he was going. As a former pirate and a man with bounties, he was sure there were some interested in cashing him in. He needed to lay low for a while, an area with no security would be the best place to stay off the radar and out of communications channels. Low security would also be the most dangerous because there would be no repercussions for killing someone.

            The location and names of the gates and systems he would travel through showed on the left side of his vision as well as a capacitor, energy, and heat displays. On the top of his vision, he could see his existing shields power and laser status. Everything on his ship was at full capacity and ready for flight.

            He held his hand over the communications switch. When he flipped the switch, his name would show up in a list along with every other active pilot in the system. The instant his name showed up he would know just how much trouble he was in. If he were flagged as a pirate to the security company, he would be immediately attacked upon leaving the stations bay. The least of what could happen would be other pilots seeing his name and any bounty along with it. It was not uncommon for even the least powerful miner to get tempted by a bounty. His father had thought to accept a bounty twice with him on the ship but did not because of the risk to Jason.

            Jason swallowed, then flicked the switch lighting it green. He immediately held down the button, “Requesting permission to undock?”

            Jason’s vision flashed red as a danger indication from his computer. The female voice, calm and collected, spoke again. “Jason, your contact’s list shows several hostiles in the system. I have displayed their names in red.” Sure enough, five pilot names in red were thrust to the top of his priority list in his coms display.

 “Track their location,” Red lines filled his vision stopping to pinpoint each hostiles ship as they moved outside the station.

The computer brought up a location on his glasses so that as he looked around the inside of his ship. He could see a dot and the pilot's name as he looked in their direction. He couldn’t see through his ship or surrounding station, but the dots gave Jason an idea of where they might approach from.

The docking manager clicked on the private channel Jason had opened when requesting permission to undock. He was laughing before he spoke in his professional voice, “Your request to undock has been granted. Good luck out there, Juice.”

If Jason had hair on the back of his neck, he was sure that it would have stood on end. The docking manager had known his name, and that meant that surely others outside the station did too. He disconnected the channel and charged his shields. “Bring up the gates location. I want to align as soon as possible.” The gates location popped up on his display. It was at a slight angle to stations dock exit. Jason smiled, at least he had that going for him. The alignment for warp drive wouldn’t take a very long time.

He reached up to flip the switch to release the lock holding his ship in place, but instead released his seat restraints. Moving to the cargo hold, he walked amongst the bricks of iron and released the straps holding them down. Once he was in space, the bricks would drift around in his cargo bay. The bricks could cause him a lot of damage to the interior if he made sharp maneuvers, but not as much as what was waiting for him outside. Pushing himself back to his seat, he released the lock and released the ship started to free float in the cabin. Pulling the straps over his head, he watched his ship float away from the dock. “Open local comms,” The communications channel for everyone in the local area flooded his ears. Some of the pilots were taunting Jason already. A couple was telling everyone to stay clear, that he was going to get the first shot. They were waiting for him to undock.

His narcotic run schemes in the military academy had paid off in a few sticky situations. This time, he didn’t have to fool anyone or sneak past. He simply had to survive the day. Flipping the switch, he disengaged from the fitting bays dock and exited into the undocking corridor. A door sealed behind him and pumped the air around his ship back into the station leaving him in depressurized space. A small bolt floated into his vision. It was inside his cockpit. He hadn’t noticed anything important missing a bolt. He sure hoped his new ship held up, and if it did he would try and find where the bolt was missing.

The launch bay doors opened, and he was immediately targeted. He provided the slightest thrust to the side with the stick, not so gently pinning his ship against the bay’s sidewall. As long as he kept in contact with the station’s walls his ship would look like a part of the station. They couldn’t target him until he was ready.

Jason checked the coms. The pilots that belonged to security were not hostile towards him. He apparently did not warrant a reason for them to engage him. He knew with a bounty on his head that they wouldn’t protect him either.

He carefully pinned his ships back corner along the station's wall while angling the front of his ship away from the sidewall, so he was already aligned with the jump gate. “Computer put in a request to jump at the Stargate.”

“Your request has been accepted. You are the only pilot in que for a jump.” Jason smiled and pushed the throttle forward, scraping his back quarter along the station's wall but picking up speed. When his ship cleared the bay doors, warning flashes and buzzers began sounding in his headphones. He was being targeted, again.

The first impact hit but his new shields held. He heard nothing, only saw flashes of light as the projectiles bounced off his shields. A heat warning flashed across his vision indicating the side panel’s armor was being damaged. One of the attackers was using lasers to melt his armor. The Laser burst was short, and it would take more than one blast to cut through his armor. Jason rotated his ship so that the next attack would heat a different panel.

He was now rocketing away from the space station as the voices of pilots yelled curses as he sped for the jump gate. Some shouted commands into the radio rather than at their computer by accidentally leaving their comms button engaged. It gave him a couple of seconds of notice before e.m.p. rockets were armed. They were trying to fry his electrical systems leaving him defenseless. He flipped the switch to open his cargo bay as his ship still aligned to the jump gate.

A green flash indicated he was aligned, which was good because he started to hear the occasional ping of projectiles hitting his ships heavy armor. “Pressurize the cargo bay.”

The computer made a buzzing noise, “Caution. The cargo bay door is open. You will lose oxygen if you attempt to pressurize.”

“Override, and pressurize the cargo bay for three seconds,” Jason said as he pushed the ship’s stick to the right, throwing his ship into a spiral. Watching the gates indicator dot spin ahead of him and flashes of projectiles on shields from behind, he waited. He felt an odd jolt as the cargo bay was pressurized and then he stopped hearing the projectiles bouncing off his hull. A camera on the rear of his ship was activated and started showing data in his glasses display. Bricks of iron were spewed out into space. The iron was now taking the damage from the projectiles and blocking the pursuing ships, making them go around the now spreading mass of heavy bricks tumbling through space. The thinly armored vessels targeting him could not take the impact that the armor of a mining ship could withstand.

He flipped the cargo bay doors closed as the green circle flashed around the jump gate’s indicator dot on his display. He clicked the now green button on the throttle. The dark matter collider began to whizz as it powered up the ship's warp drive. Objects around the mining ship began to look distorted and blurry but only for a moment before his ship was hurled through space. Once in warp, the only thing a person could see was stars moving across the sky. Planets seemed to grow out of nothing only to fade from existence as he warped past.

The warp slowed, and thrusters took over Jason’s speed. He pushed it to maximum thruster speed while directing it the last few kilometers to the warp gate. The power taken to warp drained his shields and lasers. It would take a couple of minutes to power them back to full. If anyone managed to warp after him, he would have to try and outrun them. His only hope was the massive jump gate ahead.

Jump gates had three components. An operator, magnets, and a massive power source. Jason flew his ship directly towards the center of the jump gate. Once inside it would take only a moment to send him to a far away region in the galaxy. The power source would power the magnets, bending space around his ship. Space behind would be pushed away, and space in front of his ship would be pulled towards him, creating a hole in space at wherever the two magnets were aligned.

Jason put a reverse thrust on his ship to slow him to a centered position inside the gate.    Space bent at the magnets commands and then the energy was released. It was a strange feeling being at two places in almost an instant. Jason looked around at the beacons that cordoned off the area to keep other ships safe from incoming vessels. He thrust forward and started to align to the next gate. He had to survive three more jumps before he could even fight back. He watched the loose bolt that floated near the glass of his cockpit. He hoped his new ship could handle it.