"Why bother?" Ki asked. "What good does keeping records do?"
Marta glanced up from the journal and grinned. "No harm,
either. Look, you don't have to guard me."
The tall ebony-skinned woman chuckled. "Is that what I'm
doing? I often wondered why you chose to clone me so many times."
"Each according to their function and fitness," Marta
quoted from the Articles of Covenant. She'd written most of them, though, in
spite of Liam's claiming she didn't know how, some were compromises with the
other Alphas.
From outside her compartment came the sound of raised
voices. Ki stood and inserted her long hard body between the threat and her
leader, putting a lie into Marta's claim of not needing a bodyguard.
Kirsten burst in with Justine and Carmencita in her wake.
"I am in charge of the work schedule. It isn't fair and I won't put up with her
shit."
"Problem?" Marta asked. Two years of juggling egos and
coalitions in order to stay in command of the Enclave had made Marta both more
diplomatic and more impatient with petty peeves.
"Kirsten thinks so," Justine drawled. Hers was a
personality Marta hadn't figured out. The sheer ordinariness of her belied the
original specifications of the colony. The leaders had intentionally sought out
intelligent, highly motivated, talented, and handsome individuals for the
sleep-trip to Verdant. Justine's talent was for conspiracy and sharp dealing.
She knew which way to duck when the shit hit the fan. Even her appearance was
startlingly plain but the woman, Marta admitted, had always had plenty of men
willing to warm her sheets.
The buxom blonde threw a disgusted glance toward Justine.
"She never does her part. She has skipped every work detail I assigned."
The other woman shrugged. "The work gets done."
"But not by you."
"So what?" Justine lounged comfortably in Marta's only
other chair, while Kirsten paced. Carmencita leaned on the wall and watched the
fireworks.
"If you don't do it, how does it get done?" Marta asked.
Justine raised a languid hand. Kirsten blushed to the
tips of her ears. Carmen laughed and said, "Her friends do it for her."
"Clones!" Kirsten spat.
Marta stood. "Don't make any distinction, Kris. Original
or not, each of us has the same status."
"They're stupid. They don't know what she's doing to
them." Most of the clones were as brilliant as the original, if lacking in life
experiences. They looked and thought as adults but, frequently, acted as
compulsively as adolescents. But a few of the copies came out of the tanks as
Deuce had, damaged or limited.
"What is she doing?"
Marta caught an amused look on Ki's face. So everyone
knew this secret but her, but none of the women present seemed amenable to
disclosing it.
Finally, Marta locked Carmencita in her sights. The
sultry dark beauty shrugged. "Sex, of course."
"You trade sex for chores?" Marta asked Justine, shocked
more by the vocation than by the homosexuality. She hadn't really expected
everyone to give up relationships and love simply because there were no men.
She made a quick examination of the situation. "How entrepreneurial of you."
She turned back to her journal and picked up her pen.
"That's it?" Kirsten whispered.
"As long as her work gets done it is." When Justine's
lovers tired of the arrangement and if the woman refused to do her own duties,
Marta would have an opinion. A low growl warned her, but Kirsten was fast and
already moving before Marta could dodge. She went down under the heavier woman
and saw the flash of a blade from the corner of her eye. Twisting, she brought
up her wrist and back-handed Kirsten's throat, and then slammed her elbow into
her ribs.
The Nordic ice princess choked once, gasped and looked at
her chest in disbelief. The handle of her own knife protruded from between her
breasts. Marta's elbow had driven the weapon through. Blood splattered as
Kirsten coughed. Dazed puzzlement filled the perfect face as she fell backward.
Ki sprinted for the door, screaming for a medic but, as the animation ebbed
from Kirsten's expression, Marta simply watched her rival die.
She raised her eyes to meet Carmencita's, who hid any
emotion behind a face as blank as the one on the corpse.
"She challenged. You responded." Justine slipped from the
room with a final comment.
Carmencita nodded. "I concur… This time." She took a step
toward the door but stopped to let Ki usher in a pair of medics, Mek and a
young Barbara clone.
Her parting comment, spoken in a whisper, carried to
Marta, "But there will be a next time, you know."
Yes, she knew.