The Demise of Gowa.

Devlin leaned forward to look at the woman across from him because his vision was getting worse. She didn't have the appearance of a spy—she was tall, thin, and soft-spoken.

His mentor had assured him that Deborah was excellent, saying "Trust me on this one, Devlin. Although she appears to be sweet as honey, on enemy territory, she is—well, you'll find out soon enough.

In his chair, Devlin shifted about. He was uneasy with the entire affair. Even though Deborah was the sole candidate for the position, he was aware of how risky the endeavor was. He seems to have little option. Devlin gave in and recruited her because of the pressing necessity to get into Gowa's headquarters and get the design for their HC2 prototype.

After the interview, Deborah stood up, brushed a blonde hair out of her face, and grinned, saying, "It'll be a joy working with you, Sir."

Gowa's Chief John was anxious to finish the HC2 project. When tested on his crew, the most recent prototype produced fantastic results. No longer did any of them challenge his authority or quarrel with him.

He grinned as he realized that he will soon be able to replicate the outcomes on every individual. The RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) chip modification has failed due to significant security flaws. Subjects expressed dissatisfaction at unauthorized access to their personal information. In addition, most people disliked having chips inserted beneath their skin. At that time, John had developed the HC2 (Human Control Code).

John was aware of the dangers of any romantic relationships because the project was in such a delicate stage.

Depending on the chosen program, the painless operation changed a subject's DNA, making them prefer one person or thing over another. It included passing through a doorframe that had unique electromagnets imbedded in it, which started the modification.

John was aware of the dangers of any romantic relationships because the project was in such a delicate stage, but Deborah was unique. He had reasoned that life is for living and that the first step is the start of a thousand-mile trip. He enjoyed being with her and had even revealed a few top-secret information to her—more to let out his annoyances than to impress her. He was certain that he didn't need to be concerned about information leaks. Her IQ was rather low. Her sole hobby was raising bees. He was a little taken aback since he had always assumed that Venusians living outside were intelligent.

John moaned as he sat in his office and scratched his jawline with his fingers.

Have you seen the news, Chief? His helper quickly entered his office and flipped the TV remote.

John watched the news inadvertently as his mind wandered back to that terrible day. The evening had begun nicely at Deborah's flat. If he hadn't discovered the folder beneath the coffee table, it would have ended well as well. It must have dropped accidentally, he reasoned, and he squatted to pick it up. To grab more wine, Deborah then gone to the kitchen. The word Gowa was written on a single sheet of paper that fell out. Coincidence? Maybe not. His curiosity ultimately won out.

He slid the folder beneath his shirt and said, "I'm just popping into the restroom." John slammed the door behind him and hastily glanced over the paper. Sweat began to accumulate in beads on his forehead. As blood flowed through his veins, causing him to look hot, he clinched and unclenched his hands. He had to take action. Fast! He instantly came up with a plan while acting rapidly.

It was unfortunate how their final night spent together had ended.

John was pulled back to the present when John's aide pretended to cough. He raised an eyebrow and glanced up.

What makes you believe that I am particularly interested in the passing of a woman I don't know?

In her residence, a classified folder was discovered. She seemed to be a spy hired to snitch on Gowa.

John looked for signs that the man didn't believe he was a suspect on his face. He pretended to be surprised and sympathetic once he saw his secret was secure, dismissed him, and took a big breath. If Deborah's mission had been successful, Gowa would not have had a chance, he thought. John lived for Gowa. It was still a terrible pity that she had to pass away.

The instant the door closed, it opened once again to display his assistant's horrified visage. When a flurry of action stopped him in his tracks behind him, he was going to reprimand him.

Devlin sat at his desk with his head between his hands. He felt as if he was carrying the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. Deborah was dead. He knew he should have trusted his professional instincts. It was too late now. He stroked his chin as he contemplated his future, before a tap on the door interrupted his thoughts. When Deborah walked in, he couldn’t hide his surprise.

“Didn’t the news reports say you were dead?”

Her lips formed just enough of a line to let him know she’d smiled. She handed him a folder.

“Here’s the blueprint you wanted. The military have been deployed to arrest John and seize all property belonging to Gowa. I believe the operation is underway now.”

“You have to tell me how you did this!”

Even with his intelligence, explaining herself would probably be beyond the old man’s comprehension, she reasoned.

“Seeing is believing,” she said simply as she stood up. She looked into Devlin’s eyes and blinked. Devlin could have sworn he saw two sets of eyelids but then again his eye-sight was failing him. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. This time two Deborahs stood in front of him. He let out a faint cry of surprise. The question he was going to ask hung in mid-air as Deborah spoke.

“Self-cloning. Where I come from our “real selves” are known as Queen Bees. We clone ourselves when undertaking dangerous missions. The queen never leaves the hive unless absolutely necessary. You know that Deborah means bee, don’t you?”

She certainly wasn’t called Deborah for nothing.