Danger at the Clone Academy

PROLOGUE
Dastardly Mr. Snickers

Life was quite civilized in the year 3002 E.C. (Earth Calendar). War had been outlawed in the Milky Way Galaxy for two hundred years. Violent crime was nearly non-existent; so were homelessness, excessive poverty, and religious intolerance. No species had gone extinct in one hundred and forty-four years. Disease was all but eradicated. And only historians knew the meaning of the word smog.

Best of all, in 2897 humankind rediscovered the secret to creating a no-calorie chocolate that satisfied all but the most persnickety of tastes.

Life was sweet.

For five years in a row, Earth had been voted the second best planet in the galaxy to raise a family, and all the nations of Earth were excessively proud of that title. They were determined to dethrone Glagcha, the current Milky Way Galaxy champion, through a planet-wide campaign labeled “Gotcha Glagcha.” Someday, who knew, they might even be able to place strongly in the inter-galactic survey. If only the Xlexuri Galaxy, which held spots one through sixty-two, would get sucked into a black hole.

But there were still lower members of the human species who remained greedy for more. It wasn’t enough to be healthy and to have the promise of a long, productive life. It wasn’t enough to live in a world of peace, a sphere of beauty. Even no-cal chocolate couldn’t make these individuals happy.

Some people didn’t want to just live in such a paradise; they wanted to own it. For some, power was still prized above all. And virtual currency was power. The more you had, the more you owned.

At times, officers in the Cyborg Police Squad were forced to step in and reprimand the worst of these offenders. For greed could not be tolerated on this world. Not if Earth was going to be voted best planet in the Galaxy any time in this millennium.

On the morning of April 12, 3002, Cyborg Officer Lilituck paid a visit to just such a culprit.

“Sir, it is my grave duty to inform you that your time travel days are over.” The officer folded her arms and narrowed her eyes in displeasure. Half human, half processor, she was perpetually tapped into the Galactic Knowledge Bank and knew down to the virtual penny how much profit this perpetrator had gained through his illegal activities. He had zero chance of escaping her. All of her reflexes had been enhanced and her muscle magnified by a power of ten. No one messed with a cyborg officer of law.

“Is this some kind of Slarmi joke?” asked the troublemaker. The Slarmians were known throughout the universe for their practical jokes. “What about my research?”

Officer Lilituck laughed humorlessly. “Research, pah! You’re nothing but a petty cheat, tampering with the past with no thought to the consequences. How dare you take so lightly the heavy responsibility of time travel? How dare you abuse your privilege? Don’t you realize that your actions could cause the Galactic Council to rethink time travel exploration? Because of you, whole fields of study could be abolished. Worse, this world could lose its status as second best planet in the galaxy. You irresponsible fool.”

She stepped closer, raised her silver hand, pulled back his shirt, and pressed her palm against his bare shoulder. He gasped. Standing back, she watched a colorless, glutinous substance seep into his pores until it disappeared altogether.

“You are now tagged. We will know where and when you go. You cannot escape us,” she flasered him with her sternest look, “so don’t even try. Your plastic scavenging days are over. If I hear so much as a hint of even one unexplained mint condition Barbie showing up on the collectors’ grid, I’ll be on you like slime on a bogdog from Sleztar.”

Backing up even further, she let her gaze drift to the far wall as she spoke to her distant partner, “Officer Gelarg, please remove me and the confiscated time travel vehicle from this vlem’s presence.”

Over four hundred years ago, the Vlemutz humanoid species had unsuccessfully attempted to wipe out all of mankind on Earth. The seventy-five year war had been followed by a two-hundred year long Age of Darkness and Despair, and only in the last two hundred years had Earth managed to flourish again. There were no worse insults in the English language than “vlem” or “vlemutz.”

Without another glance at the man, she and an ancient gray beat-up 1988 Honda Civic that had been converted to a state-of-the-art time travel machine were transported to Cyborg Police headquarters. She only wished she had been granted the authority to take the criminal in, but this was his first proven offense, and the people of Earth prided themselves on being both tolerant and compassionate.

She, however, would be watching him.

Left behind to contemplate his crime, the man in question craned his neck to look at the spot where the cyborg had inserted her tag, then stared thoughtfully at the priceless tapestry hanging on his office wall. He drummed his fingers on the one-of-a-kind, carved wood throne-room chair. Over fifteen hundred years old, the item was still in mint condition. Since wood was protected on planet Earth in the year 3002, wood furniture could no longer be replicated. One was forced to go to the source. And that source was the past.

He’d been lucky up until now, but that luck had dried up.

Now he would have to rely on wit alone. He grinned, revealing a perfect set of pearly white teeth, none of which were those he’d grown as a boy. He’d had them regenerated ten years ago.

The power, prestige, and virtual currency he would derive from his next foray into crime would be that much sweeter now that the stakes had been heightened. He selected and bit into a no-cal chocolate to celebrate, but it wasn’t quite as satisfying as a candy bar, or even better, a dark chocolate truffle from the twenty-first century. For him, it wasn’t because caloric chocolate tasted better—it was just so much more satisfying to eat something forbidden. He should have smuggled more of the real thing in on his last trip to the past.

“System, please locate Mr. Kisses for me. Tell him Mr. Snickers is anxious for a little chat.” He wasn’t worried about the police overhearing his conversation. His crime hadn’t been grave enough for them to be given the authority to violate his privacy to that extent. Cyborg police had an enhanced sense of honor, which could be used to their disadvantage.

On his desk under a soft spotlight, a miniature man suddenly appeared sitting in a tiny nanofiber chair. Mr. Snickers derived much pleasure from configuring Mr. Kisses as small as possible. It gave him such a lovely sense of power. On the slim chance that a cyborg officer of law would one day confiscate Mr. Snickers’ log, the man wore a ceremonial Pallaccii mask to protect his identity. The Pallaccii lived three galaxies away and were known for their extravagant parties. This man was no Pallaccii.

“You rang, Mr. Snickers?”

Mr. Snickers knew that as an extra safety precaution, the voice was disguised as well, as was his.

“I did indeed. Mr. Kisses, it appears that my traveling days are temporarily on hold.”

The man settled more comfortably into his chair, resting the ankle of one leg across the bent knee of the other. “You must be devastated.”

“That I am.” The man, who called himself Mr. Snickers, cracked the knuckles of his left hand, then his right. “I have a list of no fewer than sixty clients anxious to transfer vast sums of virtual currency to me for a rare and whimsical plastic from the twenty-first century. I would be delighted to share my wealth with the right partner. You come highly recommended by our mutual friend, who is unfortunately unable at this time to lend me aid on this particular project.”

“I’ve shown myself to be made of the right stuff in the past.” The man who was known as Mr. Kisses picked up a water vial sitting on the miniature table next to him and sipped. “Of course, since I will be taking all the risks, I’ll expect a generous portion of the profits.”

“I’m a reasonable man,” Mr. Snickers replied, dipping his head. “You may have twenty percent.”

“Fifty-fifty is more what I had in mind.”

Mr. Snickers laughed heartily, then his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Thirty percent for you, and you’ll be grateful for it.”

“You strike a hard bargain,” Mr. Kisses said amiably, apparently unfazed by the underlying threat in Mr. Snickers’ words, “but I accept your terms. So which Barbie do they want now?”

Mr. Snickers shook his head. “Barbies are rather hot at present. I have something else in mind—something equally rare, equally plastic, and equally desirable. I think your situation will lend itself beautifully to our endeavor.”

Mr. Kisses leaned back with his hands clasped behind his head. “I’m all ears.”

As Mr. Snickers filled him in, Mr. Kisses began to laugh softly. “Nothing could be simpler.”

“I need the items no later than two weeks from now.”

“No problem, Mr. Snickers, no problem at all.”

“There better be no problem. Understand me well. I make a very good friend, Mr. Kisses. But you don’t want me as an enemy.”

 

CHAPTER 2
A Painful Goodbye

Fredrick Lester-Hauffer, Justine Basker’s much older half-brother, was both founder and chief administrator of the Academy of Superior Learning. For over sixty years he had presided over the school, which catered particularly and almost exclusively to “children of the clone persuasion,” as he liked to refer to them. Due to strict laws and astronomically high costs, cloning remained quite rare. The use of clone technology required no less than approval from the United Nations of Earth, and prohibitive royalty payments to the original were mandated. In the year 3002 EC, less than one thousandth of one percent of the population was cloned. And a good number of that group had done time behind the walls of this academy.

Elsie’s first impression of her uncle’s boarding school was better than she had anticipated. It was a large estate surrounded by an ancient tevta wall, a smooth as glass lavender substance that she vaguely remembered had been popular right before the first Vlemutz invasion almost five hundred years ago. The gate into the academy was engraved tevta depicting a herd of running horses, their manes flying in an invisible wind. What must it have been like when herds of horses had roamed free?

How had this place survived the Vlemutz attacks? In history last year, she’d learned that at least eighty percent of all the buildings in the Northern California Bay Area had been leveled by that monstrous race. It had taken hundreds of years for Earth to recover from that invasion and regain a level of sophistication.

The extensive gardens were meticulously groomed, and a combination of April sunshine and regularly scheduled nighttime rain had them bursting with new growth and vibrant with color. Fragrant flowers made the place smell pretty too. In the middle of the property, a large tevta building loomed, a simple rectangle with two identical towers, the mirror-like walls perfectly smooth, reflecting the day’s beauty and the garden’s charms. Other smaller buildings dotted the landscape, but the towers drew the eye.

In silence, the Baskers walked up a jewel-toned gravel path, Elsie and Everest exchanging nervous glances. For reassurance, Elsie kept her hand on Pooker’s silky head.

The few times Uncle Fredrick had chosen to visit them, he had shown an avid desire to, well, groom them. Specks of dust had been brushed off their shoulders; smudges had been bluntly pointed out. Last time, he’d gone so far as to request that Elsie do something with her hair before joining them for dinner. Then he had lectured them on the virtues of cleanliness and tidiness. For an hour! Living with Uncle Fredrick would be about as much fun as growing teeth replacements—over and over again.

Since this was a Wednesday during school hours, they didn’t have to deal immediately with the other students. Elsie had never met a clone before. She didn’t think Everest had either. Once, a scientist had come to their school and lectured then on the topic of yocto physics. Afterward, the hot rumor had been that he was a clone of a famous physicist from the twenty-ninth century. She had never been sure whether the story was true or not.

They reached the massive front door, another intricate example of engraved tevta and, sensing their presence and identity, the door dissolved to allow their entry. On the other side, a hologram of their uncle stood in greeting, his lips turned up slightly in a stiff smile. He had the same excessive height and hunched shoulders, the same pinched nose, sunken cheekbones and narrow, dirty brown eyes. He even managed to give off a slight but nasty odor. But the shimmery quality around his edges clued them in to him being a hologram. Plus, he looked a little handsomer than Elsie remembered her uncle being, as if he’d been enhanced, though not nearly enough.

His eyes widened when he saw the bobcat. “Welcome, please come with me to the second floor.”

Since Elsie didn’t know whether the hologram merely emulated her uncle or provided him with a steady stream of information, she suppressed the desire to grimace at Everest.

The entrance hall was spacious, with distinctive light murals on the two side walls. On the far end was an impressive staircase. The floors were tevta, too, with a thin slip-proof jellach coating. The hologram led them across the room and up the main staircase to the first landing. He escorted them down a long corridor, pointing out the staff room and library in a mini tour. When he reached Uncle Fredrick’s office, he requested admittance, then as the door rearranged its atoms for entry, he disappeared with a slight bow.

Behind the door were Uncle Fredrick and two other adults, a woman of indeterminate age with curly black hair and a rather large nose, wearing a silver pantsuit, and a young very handsome man in blue vlatex who could have been mistaken for a student. He had milk chocolate skin, high cheekbones and auburn hair. Elsie found herself staring. When he smiled at her, her cheeks got hot, which really was embarrassing. She hoped Everest hadn’t noticed. The last thing she needed was to give him something new to tease her about.

“Welcome, welcome.” Uncle Fredrick rubbed his hands together as he crossed the room. “Let me take a look at my young niece and nephew. So grown up since I last saw you.”

Elsie felt as if he studied her under a quarkscope, and it was all she could do not to stick out her tongue and cross her eyes. Instead, she sucked in her breath in defense against his strong smell and focused behind him on tevta shelves that held an extensive collection of perfectly lined-up Vlemutz invasion miniatures. No question about it, the hologram’s appearance had been zetta-enhanced. Why in the universe were they stuck with this suzo-shrimp as their guardian? Wasn’t there anybody else?

“Elsinor,” he said, waggling his finger, “posture, posture…” He leaned forward and flicked something off her shoulder.

She flasered him with her eyes, but he had already turned his attention to her brother.

“And Everest, my good man, I hear you will be an excellent addition to the Academy’s skyball team. Most impressive height.” He bobbed his head to punctuate his words.

What about her? Elsie thought. She was her brother’s equal in any sport.

Everest mumbled an indecipherable response, his expression pained.

With relief, Elsie realized that Uncle Fredrick had switched his attention over to their parents.

“Justine and George, as robust as ever, I see,” he said. “Let me assure you, Elsinor and Everest will be well taken care of while they are under my academy’s roof.”

“We do appreciate that, Fredrick.”

Elsie’s jaw dropped at her mother’s relieved and even grateful response. What was it with adults? Why didn’t her parents see what she and Everest had seen immediately? Their uncle was a freakazoid alien.

Uncle Fredrick motioned over the other two people in the room. “Justine, George, do let me introduce you to a couple of my staff members. Instructor Sura,” he pointed to the large-nosed woman, “is my right hand in charge of students and staff. The efficient day-to-day running of this academy is largely due to her competence. And this,” he gestured again, “is Instructor Gerard. He is responsible for our enrichment programs—sports, field trips, dances, theatricals. Since he’s come on board we’ve become quite well-known for such programs. The rest of the staff is with the children right now, but they come with the highest of credentials and recommendations.”

“We’re pleased to make your acquaintance,” Elsie’s father said mildly, leading them all to shake hands and exchange light pleasantries.

Once the conversation had dried up, there was an awkward pause. Then Uncle Fredrick added, “I take it your research has gone well?”

Elsie thought her parents looked a little startled. Finally, her father said, “We’re cautiously optimistic about our progress.”

“Excellent. If you need a safe haven to store your backup notes while you are gone, look no further. We have exceptional security. You could do no better.”

“We appreciate the offer,” Elsie’s mom said, “but we’ve already made arrangements.”

For some reason, her mother’s response seemed to irritate her uncle. It was odd how someone’s eyes could harden and cool. Elsie couldn’t wait to discuss his reaction later with Everest.

“I see,” Uncle Fredrick replied. “Perhaps you should tell me these arrangements, in the unlucky event that something untoward happens.”

Elsie’s hands fisted. How dare he even think such a thing, let alone say it? Why didn’t her dad get angry? She could have screamed when he just smiled and answered that safety precautions already had been taken.

Uncle Fredrick took a while to respond, and when he did, he simply said, “Excellent,” again, his thin nose pinched. He glanced down at Pooker, then back at Elsie’s mom. “And what arrangements have you made for your animal?”

Elsie clutched Pooker’s scruff and sought her mother’s eye, panic doing an odd sort of stomp in her belly. She felt rather than saw Everest draw near. Sensing her distress, Pooker gave a very low growl.

Her mother replied evenly, “We had assumed that Pooker would remain here with Elsie and Everest. She’s suited up with the latest pico-trainer, which makes her extraordinarily well-behaved.”

Their uncle shook his head emphatically, conjuring a mournful expression. “I’m sorry, that is out of the question. Pets are forbidden.”

“I’m not leaving Pooker!” Elsie shouted. She swung to her parents. “You can’t make me. If Pooker goes, I go.”

Uncle Fredrick’s tone changed immediately. “Now, now, let’s not get carried away. Elsie, do calm down. I realize you are attached, but how will it look to the other students if I let my own niece have a pet while forbidding my other boarders the same pleasure? Surely, you don’t wish me to show favoritism?”

“I’m not staying here without Pooker.” They were asking too much. First, the loss of her parents and friends, then the loss of her pet? She told her bobcat all of her deepest secrets, things she had never told another human soul, not even her twin. She swallowed back tears, determined not to cry.

Her mother sighed. “I’m sorry, Fredrick, we should have anticipated this. We’ll just have to rethink our plans, delay our assignment for a couple of days until we can find another situation that is more flexible on the issue of animals.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” Instructor Gerard inserted smoothly. “Perhaps we can contrive a suitable arrangement.”

Uncle Fredrick’s lips barely moved as he asked, “What do you have in mind, Gerard?”

“What if we include the bobcat as an enrichment program? Make it the B12 pet? We could settle it somewhere in the garden. I suspect the children would be thrilled to learn about one of our more unusual domesticated beasts.”

His gleaming smile directed full-force at Elsie made her forget to be annoyed by his use of the word “it” in reference to Pooker, as if she were an inanimate object.

Instead, she responded weakly, “Pooker sleeps with me. She always has. She’ll be miserable sleeping outside.”

“You’ll see the creature every day,” Gerard replied cajolingly.

“What do you mean by B12 pet?” Elsie asked.

The instructor looked a little taken aback, then he chuckled pleasantly. “I’m sorry; we’re so used to our terminology here at the academy, we forget when we use a word that is not widely known. Since we board children from the time they are born, we have our own way of classifying them for their learning programs. A0 through A6 include newborns through six-year-olds, B7 through B12 comprise our middle years, which consist of seven-year-olds through twelve-year-olds, and then there are the senior children, classified as C13 through C18. You and Everest will, of course, be included in our B12 program. And therefore, the bobcat will be the B12 pet.”

“Elsie,” her mom interjected, her eyes pleading, “what do you think? Could you make this compromise work? We don’t want you to be miserable.”

It was her parents’ duty to go on this assignment. She would feel horrible if she made their mission even more difficult.

“I guess so,” she agreed reluctantly.

“Excellent notion, Instructor Gerard,” Uncle Fredrick said, but something in his tone and the way his eyelids flickered made Elsie think he wasn’t actually thrilled by the suggestion.

At her side, her brother was even more quiet than usual.

Too soon, it was time for them to say goodbye to their parents. Now Elsie couldn’t stop her tears from flowing, but it didn’t seem to matter. Her mom’s eyes were all watery, and her brother cleared his throat over and over.

At least Uncle Fredrick had the sensitivity to leave them alone. He excused himself and his associates from his office, informing Elsie and Everest that he would be back for them in ten minutes.

Their mother offered them a reassuring smile. “I admit your uncle isn’t the easiest person to warm up to, but I can promise he will take good care of you while we are gone. He takes his responsibilities very seriously.”

Elsie hunched her shoulders. “I don’t want to be someone’s responsibility!”

Her mother’s hand gently trailed over her hair. “He doesn’t really know you. We haven’t stayed in touch as much as we should have over the years. I’m sure you’ll all be the best of friends by the time we return.”

“But when will that be?” Elsie cried.

Her dad laid a hand on her shoulder. “Longer than we would like,” he said cryptically. “We’ll do our best to send you periodic transmissions, but it won’t always be possible.”

Elsie stared with horror. “But if you’re sending us transmissions instead of holocomms, that means you’re not even in our galaxy.”

Their parents exchanged helpless looks. After a few seconds her mom said, “You’re a little too smart for your own good. That should work to your advantage here. You’ll be able to hold your own with the clones. Remember, they are humans too, so don’t treat them like oddities. They’ll have special skills, that’s all. You’ll need to work hard to keep up, but it’ll do you good to be challenged.”

Elsie rubbed her new and very unusual pendant, trying to find solace in its warmth. Wasn’t it enough of a challenge just to live without their parents for who knew how long?

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.