Page 19 of Invasive Species
“Right. You’re always super prepared. Very smart.”
My scales heat, and it’s nothing to do with me warming them.
She tips her face up to me. “Want me to buy a drysuit for him?”
“That would be… extremely generous, but I can scan the material and replicate it.”
“Oh, yeah, do that for sure. I, uh… I don’t know how much money I have left anyways.” She chews her lower lip. Hard. Too hard. I resist the urge to tell her to stop before she splits her skin. Again.
And what does she mean money? It translates as credits via my nanites, but she's a female. Credits are for clones.
Arture and the Parthiastocks arrive, having walked down the hill in a statelier manner than my headlong dash. Dom glances from me to Arra-bellah, then toward the waters of the lake.
“Arture, come here. The rest of you can start your exercises,” I tell them.
“Please,” Arra-bellah chimes in.
I blink at her. “Please what?”
“Arture, come here, please,” she emphasizes. “I thoughtyou were only a sourpuss with me, but I guess everyone gets the Gara glower.”
Gara glower? I touch my face. I’m not frowning all the time… am I?
“If you’re wondering if you frown all the time, I need more data,” Arra-bellah says, grinning as she rocks onto her heels and stands. She waves Arture to sit in front of me, and the bewildered pilot obeys without hesitation.
“Is there a performance issue you need to discuss with me?” Arture asks her.
“Nope. Gara’s going to make you a dry suit to cover your… wow.” Just like that, she’s enthralled by Arture’s replacement right arm, a masterpiece of betrillium struts and minute hydraulics. “How does it work? What's it made out of? How'd you lose your arm? Wait, not that last question, I'm sorry.”
Another apology. It rocks through me. Her constant questions might be viewed as attacks, but instead they seem born from… curiosity.
Arture looks as confused as I feel. “I don't recall how I lost my arm. All I know is I'm proud to serve: data from my prosthetics is used to aid females should they need a replacement arm.”
He flexes his fingers. The sleek metal framework houses advanced neural chips which mimic sensation so precisely, he can feel the ghost of a breeze against the alloyed fingertips.
Pulling out my scanner, I run it over Arra-bellah’s suit. Arture is yet another example of a perfectly indoctrinated clone. I'll never know his true feelings, whether he really is pleased to be used as a test subject. Not with Dom around policing us.
I point the replicator beam at the grass next to us. “Avert your eyes to protect them,” I warn. My eyelids film over with my protective lens so I can monitor the beam as itrearranges local molecules from basic elements into complex hydrocarbon chains.
Once the beam's finished, I pick up the sample of fabric, just as pliable as hers.
“Wow,” she breathes at my shoulder. Her scent washes over me again, spicy and sweet. I pass the fabric to her, and she grins.
I start fitting the newly made material over his arm. “I'll need some kind of seal at the shoulder, and I'll need to somehow allow for your digits so you can still use them,” I muse as I work.
“Are you a seams…master? Good at sewing?” Arra-bellah asks, hunching close.
“Not at all.” I sink back on my heels. Here I am trying to treat Arture, but it strays into areas I have no expertise or experience with. I'm not an engineer or a clothier.
“Always good to learn,” Arra-bellah asserts, and once more she robs me of my thoughts.
She has a point. “I'm a Selthiastock, built to acquire new knowledge. Especially where it'll help my patient.” My fingers flex. I’ll learn what I can to treat Arture, even though it's outside my purpose. A small rebellion.
Arra-bellah’s nose wrinkles. “Built? Do you mean, educated? You talk like you're educated, like, Oxbridge graduate or something. I could totally listen to you reading an audiobook all day.”
The dizzying twists of her mind reminds me of riding a hoverbike through a ravine. Even unshakable Arture gives me a wide-eyed look.
“I was educated,” I answer her. “Through a rigorous process ensuring only the best Selthiastocks survive.” But that came later in my life than for most clones.
