The Never-Never
*
I - Birth
*
Monitors clicked on and off throughout the course of a frantic half hour, humming their electric songs of power and technology. Men and women outfitted in white worked feverishly, desperately trying to stop the process.
Too early!
Premature!
Unsafe!
It was ironic that millions of dollars in funding would be powerless against the emotionless way of nature. Thousands of babies were born premature, so why not twin clones? But while an infant would be born small and fetal, the clone sisters would be birthed at the physical age of thirteen instead of the seventeen years aimed for in the blueprints.
"Damn!" cried one man and the blonde-haired one snapped open her blue eyes, floating naked in a crystalline tube filled with the thick liquids needed for a fetus' maturing. Her sister followed after a paused second, dark obsidian eyes piercing and compelling.
"Get them out!" ordered a woman - the project director - and procedures that shouldn't have been employed at this time were thrust into motion, machinery warring against programming so as to prevent the twins' untimely deaths.
They were asphyxiating.
The blonde one, the girl they had named Ry, seemed to be studying the tank while struggling to remain conscious. Diabla, her sister, kicked at the glass, clawing off the wires and clammy tapes glued to her skin.
"Get them out!" the woman screamed again.
Glass shattered and scientists ducked, stomachs growing queasy as waves of the liquid spilled across the tile floor.
"Are you all right, my dears?" the woman asked tentatively, edging her way over to the two coughing bodies curled on the floor.
Ry glanced up, mouth forming a yes.
Diabla hissed.
"Call Bennett," the woman called clearly to a visibly shaking assistant, "and tell him his two newest agents are almost ready for early delivery." She smiled, kindly, but in an almost predatorial way. "Come, my dears. There's so much to do."
*
Paperwork.
Lee ran a hand over her face, silently counting to ten. If a mountain of paperwork needed to be filled out annually for continued service in the NSA, then so be it.
How, she wondered idly, does West do it? The guy was probably the most eager person she'd ever known. She needed some of the coffee he drank in the morning, she decided. Whatever got him going, she needed it.
Leafing through the pages, she noticed something peculiar.
There was an unmarked manila folder between the medical history sheets and the current personal economic standing requirements. What made it peculiar, though, was the fact that it was near bursting with hundreds of sheets of computer paper.
Curiosity got the better of her and she flipped it open.
And found herself staring at a thirteen-year old girl exactly the same as her.
*
Ro fiddled with the straw of her soda, trying hard to dissuade the odd feeling of déjà vu creeping along her neck. Was it déjà vu, she mused, or a foreboding sense of danger? Most likely the latter, what with Bennett in town.
*
Ry and Diabla were given rooms, clothing, and food...but they were not given answers.
*****
So it's short. Gimme some time! Please leave me some CC&C!
*****
*
I - Birth
*
Monitors clicked on and off throughout the course of a frantic half hour, humming their electric songs of power and technology. Men and women outfitted in white worked feverishly, desperately trying to stop the process.
Too early!
Premature!
Unsafe!
It was ironic that millions of dollars in funding would be powerless against the emotionless way of nature. Thousands of babies were born premature, so why not twin clones? But while an infant would be born small and fetal, the clone sisters would be birthed at the physical age of thirteen instead of the seventeen years aimed for in the blueprints.
"Damn!" cried one man and the blonde-haired one snapped open her blue eyes, floating naked in a crystalline tube filled with the thick liquids needed for a fetus' maturing. Her sister followed after a paused second, dark obsidian eyes piercing and compelling.
"Get them out!" ordered a woman - the project director - and procedures that shouldn't have been employed at this time were thrust into motion, machinery warring against programming so as to prevent the twins' untimely deaths.
They were asphyxiating.
The blonde one, the girl they had named Ry, seemed to be studying the tank while struggling to remain conscious. Diabla, her sister, kicked at the glass, clawing off the wires and clammy tapes glued to her skin.
"Get them out!" the woman screamed again.
Glass shattered and scientists ducked, stomachs growing queasy as waves of the liquid spilled across the tile floor.
"Are you all right, my dears?" the woman asked tentatively, edging her way over to the two coughing bodies curled on the floor.
Ry glanced up, mouth forming a yes.
Diabla hissed.
"Call Bennett," the woman called clearly to a visibly shaking assistant, "and tell him his two newest agents are almost ready for early delivery." She smiled, kindly, but in an almost predatorial way. "Come, my dears. There's so much to do."
*
Paperwork.
Lee ran a hand over her face, silently counting to ten. If a mountain of paperwork needed to be filled out annually for continued service in the NSA, then so be it.
How, she wondered idly, does West do it? The guy was probably the most eager person she'd ever known. She needed some of the coffee he drank in the morning, she decided. Whatever got him going, she needed it.
Leafing through the pages, she noticed something peculiar.
There was an unmarked manila folder between the medical history sheets and the current personal economic standing requirements. What made it peculiar, though, was the fact that it was near bursting with hundreds of sheets of computer paper.
Curiosity got the better of her and she flipped it open.
And found herself staring at a thirteen-year old girl exactly the same as her.
*
Ro fiddled with the straw of her soda, trying hard to dissuade the odd feeling of déjà vu creeping along her neck. Was it déjà vu, she mused, or a foreboding sense of danger? Most likely the latter, what with Bennett in town.
*
Ry and Diabla were given rooms, clothing, and food...but they were not given answers.
*****
So it's short. Gimme some time! Please leave me some CC&C!
*****
