CHAPTER 3
The Basker Twins Meet the Clones
Slumped in chairs made of slick nanofiber, Elsie and Everest faced each other in the B12 recreation room. Instructor Gerard had explained that B7 through B12 students were housed in the North tower, and C13 through C18 were housed in the South. Because the twelve-year-olds were the oldest on this side of the building, they lived on the top floor. A0 through A6 students were housed in separate cottages in the gardens, and were for the most part engaged in separate activities.
The instructor had also run through the more basic rules. Unless they had special dispensation, by 19:00 students had to be inside the building, and by 21:00 they had to be in their dorm rooms. Lights out was at 22:00. He gave them a litany of other regulations, but the only one that made them sit up and take notice was that neither holoputers nor Virtual Entertainment Devices, better known as VEDs, were allowed in the dorm rooms, and usage in specially designated locations was limited to a few hours on the weekend. Everest felt bad about all the hologames he would miss, but he felt even worse for Elsie. She lived for her friendships, and even before this move, she’d spent hours holocommunicating with her friends. He might tease her about her constant talking and h-comming, but he’d never wish this on her. The VED restriction wasn’t as big of a deal, since their parents had already been limiting their weekday access.
After laying down the law and indicating that he would send up some students to show them their rooms, the instructor had swept off to organize quarters for Pooker with the promise that Elsie would see her pet soon.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Everest finally managed to mumble.
“No holocomms? I’m going to die,” Elsie moaned. “Our lives couldn’t possibly get any worse.”
The softest of noises brought their attention to the door as it dissolved. Five bodies clothed in gray vlatex entered and ranged themselves in an intimidating wall.
Everest groaned. It could always get worse.
The middle student stepped forward. She was tall—as tall as they were—and flasers, was she muscled. Her hair was scraped back in a tight ponytail, and she had jammed a sports cap on her head so that her face was shadowed. With arms crossed over her chest, she glared at them as if they were suzo-shrimp from Suzorq. And her nose was wrinkled as if they smelled that bad too.
“If it isn’t the little niece and nephew, slumming at their uncle’s home for freakazoids,” she said.
“Is that what this is?” Everest asked mildly. “I thought it was a boarding school.”
He had the feeling he’d heard her speak before. He might even recognize her if she took off her cap. Or at least he’d recognize who she’d been cloned from, assuming she was a clone.
When he realized that Elsie had leaped up and was on the verge of doing something rash—no surprise there—he hastily rose and grabbed her wrist.
“We know what you ute-babies think of us dupes,” the girl snarled.
“Ute-babies?” Elsie asked. “Dupes? What in asteroids are you talking about?”
The tall girl snorted. “Ute—uterus—get it? A natural baby? Dupe—duplicate—a clone? I guess it’s true that brains are few and far between for you utes.”
“Maybe our brains just aren’t as prejudiced as yours,” Elsie responded tartly. “We don’t label people.”
“Sure you do,” the girl replied. “We’ve been called clones all our lives by people like you.”
“You don’t know us. You can’t possibly know what we’re like.”
Everest shot a warning look at his sister. Their parents would not be happy if they got in trouble their first day at boarding school. He reluctantly joined the conversation. “You don’t want us here, and we don’t want to be here. But we’re not looking for trouble, so just leave us alone, and we’ll stay out of your way.”
The girl laughed, exchanging wide grins with her gang. “Oooh, the itsy bitsy ute-baby wants to be left alone. He must be scaredy.”
Their shouts of laughter had Everest gritting his teeth, and he had to react quickly when Elsie tried to yank free from his grip, her own hands fisted. He wasn’t much stronger than Elsie, and she could be tricky.
“We’re not scared,” he said, pushing down anger. “We just don’t see a reason to fight.”
“You being here gives us all the reason we need,” said the shorter, wiry boy standing to the left of the leader.
“Course, it won’t be much of a fight,” the lead girl drawled. “Let’s face it, ute-babies are soft. They’ve got their parents to take care of them.”
“Not these ute-babies,” Elsie yelled. “We’ll kick your behinds to the next galaxy.”
“We’d love to see you try.” The girl in the cap jerked her chin toward the far door. “Fight room’s through there. Let’s see what you’re made out of, little ute-twins.”
Without a word Everest and Elsie pivoted and marched across the room toward the indicated door. From the age of two, every child on Earth practiced the fighting arts daily. For the past two hundred years, ever since the end of the Age of Darkness and Despair that had followed the defeat of the Vlemutz, Earth had managed to avoid war and had almost abolished violent crime by getting aggression out on a daily basis through controlled confrontation and attack.
Everest was plenty happy to show these clones a thing or two. He and Elsie were top of their class in both singles and doubles when it came to fights.
Sensing them, the door dissolved, and he stepped inside in tandem with Elsie. His initial impression of the room was good. This was first class fight space, with a ten-meter ceiling that left plenty of room for jumping. Strong ropes hung from the ceiling, hooks climbed the padded walls, and a thick pad covered the floor. Top rate.
Light-weight jellach bodysuits hung on hooks. As they walked past, Everest and Elsie grabbed a couple, then dragged them on. When they reached the center of the room, Everest turned around and bowed to the five teens who had followed them in. “So what’s it to be? Two on two? We’re happy to take the five of you on if you’re too chicken for a fair match.” He grinned at the leader’s scowl.
“I don’t need a partner,” she replied. “I’ll take the two of you solo and eat you for lunch.” She sneered at their feet. “And it won’t do you any good to be wearing those fancy skyboots.”
Everest hadn’t even noticed till then that the clones’ athletic boots were outdated and lacking in the latest pico-spring technology and ankle support. Their older models didn’t even shoot off sparks. “We don’t take unfair advantage,” he said. “You want to fight, you find yourself a second, and we’ll go barefoot.” He yanked off his ultra-thin, super springy athletic boots, and Elsie quickly followed suit.
Without taking her eyes off him, Dar said, “Fine. Vlas, let’s have some fun.” As she spoke, she toed off her footgear too.
After he got rid of his boots, the wiry boy stepped forward, and the other kids drew back behind the see-through pad that protected spectators from the action.
“Referee,” he called, and a short, bald, black and white striped Clegl humanoid appeared in the room, his edges shimmering ever so slightly, the only sign that he was actually a holographic projection, an avatar that embodied a particular system--in this case, the fight room’s extensive rules and regulations.
Everest was impressed that their referee avatar was a Clegl. Since Clegls had eyes in the back of their heads, they made the best officials for fight matches, but they were much more expensive.
The girl who had challenged them ripped off her cap and flung it through the door. When he got his first good look at her without her cap, Everest struggled to breathe as if she’d already managed to kick him in his solar plexus. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, with skin a soft shade of gold, huge green eyes, and hair a perfect match for her skin. Even scraped back it looked thick and shiny. Her face was sculpted like some ancient statue of a forgotten goddess. He gulped, feeling his face heat up. Why did he feel so weird? She was just a girl.
“Shadara!” Elsie whispered, her tone awed.
No one alive could not know who Shadara was. The most famous beauty in the past ten decades, her music had made people weep, and her tragic death had been mourned by seven galaxies.
“Don’t-ever-call-me-that,” the girl spit out. “My name is Dar. Call me anything else and I’ll take you out.” With blinding speed she shot out her foot at Elsie’s gut.