Glad You're Born

Chapter 1-2

I could have sworn it was watching me.

An escort ushered me and my labgrown into the Governor's office.

“Allison!” Mother turned from the window, ran to me, and pulled my head to her shoulder as she had done so rarely in years past. “Oh, Allison, gladborn bless, you're all right! I was so afraid when all the clones froze.”

Father strode over from his desk. “What the labgrown happened out there, Allison?!”

I stepped into Father's embrace. Mother hugged me so rarely I was uncomfortable when she did. She colored slightly, as though also uneasy at her display of affection.

Father's chin above my head, I felt his arms tremble around me. My own shaking began to subside. “I'm still not sure what happened. One minute, everything was fine, and the next, they all sat down.” I shivered at the memory and looked up at Father, searching his face. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Twenty injured in a hovercraft wreck.” Constantine Strange was tall, much taller than Mother—when he stood up straight. His face was sharp and thin, like a blade, and he was known to s***h an enemy to pieces with his gaze. “No gladborn deaths.” Now his eyes were hollow, his gaze distant.

“A couple of clones expired.” Tall, erect, and rigid, Madeleine Strange carried herself as though born to rule. “Too bad more of them didn't. What about your clones? Did they behave?”

“They responded just like the others. Identical.” I looked over at Ember, who stood by the door with Salts and Bonnet. “Then the gravrail braked and I fell on top of them. I might have gotten hurt if they hadn't cushioned my fall.”

“But they did come out of it?” Mother asked. “And they're obedient and working again? If that's called work, the lazy slobs.”

I nodded to both questions. She didn't ask the labgrown. Neither Mother nor Father looked at my clones, or even acknowledged that they were in the room.

“Why did the gravrail stop?” Father said. “No gladborn in his right mind would've stopped for a labgrown!”

“The driver should've plowed right through them!” Mother sighed and cupped my cheek in her palm. “Anyway, I'm glad you're safe, Allison.”

“So am I,” Father said, looking down at me. “And your clones need to be examined at the first opportunity. I don't want you to be alone with them until the situation is under control.”

“But what about the ball? How will I get ready without Salts and Bonnet?” I'd planned to bathe and dress in the dressing room adjoining the office. After the parade and the tumble I'd taken, I needed to change and bathe.

“What do you think about rescheduling the ball, Stan?” Mother asked.

“I think we should—at least until we're sure the sedition is checked and we've found out how they coordinated their actions.” Father frowned at Mother.

“I'm sorry, Allison,” she said. “It just wouldn't be right to have your ball after this. I know these social events aren't your favorite.”

I shrugged. “I could do without the attention. But I think we should go ahead with the ball,” I said, surprised to hear the words coming out of my mouth.

“What?!” Father's brow furrowed.

Mother gawked at me. “Just last week you were complaining about 'all this nonsense.' ”

“Well, I might think it's nonsense, but we'd be ill-advised to let this protest accomplish its aim.”

“The clones wanted to disrupt the ball.” Father's gaze grew hollow again.

I nodded. “If we don't hold it as planned, they'll have accomplished their goal.”

“We hold it as planned,” the Governor said. “I'll have a statement prepared.”

Father's Chief of Staff, Andrea Johnson, knocked and peeked into the room. “Lord Governor, pardon the intrusion. Lady Langley is asking to see you immediately.” Cecilia Langley was the Energy Minister.

“What is it?”

“A moss bloom in the singularity inductor, Lord.”

Father exchanged a look with Mother. “I'll handle this. Don't you two worry.” He gave me a brief hug, touched his cheek to Mother's, and strode from the room.

Mother shuddered visibly, watching him go.

“It's only a moss bloom, not a full-grown flourish.”

Mother looked at me. “That stuff is vile! Oh, I know Strange Corporation wouldn't dominate the clone market without it, but I still don't like it.” Mother turned from the door, rubbing her arms as if cold. “You're sure you want to go ahead with the ball?”

I nodded, turning as she walked toward the window. “We have to be strong in the face of adversity.” Father's office smelled of old leather. Thick couches lined two walls, and opposite his desk was a partitioned alcove. Behind the partition stood an all-purpose terminal, tied directly to the master unit buried deep beneath the Capitol. “Besides, this function won't be nearly as unpleasant as that Troubadour state visit three years ago.”

Mother winced and looked away. “Uh, I forgot to mention that Jason will be here tonight.”

She hadn't forgotten for a minute. “Mother!” I said, exasperated. “How dare you invite him?”

Second son of the Troubadour Governor, Jason Lakeland was my betrothed—the person my parents intended me to marry. I'd met him at the state visit three years before, and the meeting had been a disaster. A year younger than I, he'd been fifteen, tongue-tied, and heavily pimpled, with shy green eyes below a shock of wild red hair. Afterwards, I'd told Mother I'd rather marry a sewage reclamation clone than that simpering i***t.

Mother frowned at me. “I'd be happy to un-invite him, except that it might disrupt relations with an important trading partner—whose contract is up for renewal. He'll be here a half an hour before the other guests. I'll send him here so you can greet him personally the moment he arrives.”

“Mother!” I said again, indignant. Her tone implied I had no choice. I was as hurt by that as by the inconvenience and the humiliation.

“Yes, Allison?” she asked, perfectly prim.

I hated it when she refused to respond to my entreaties. “Oh, all right. I'm not happy about it, but I'll do it. Oh, dear me, look at the time. I'll barely get myself coiffed before he's here.”

“I'm sure your behavior will be above reproach. Oh, just one more thing. We still have to know that you'll be safe with your clones.” Madeleine Strange strode over to Ember, my governess.

Mother and Ember both carried themselves with an innate regality. Ember had become my governess when I was five but had initially been given my mother's imprint. The imprinting process imposed some of the owner's characteristics—hence, their similarity. Clones were imprinted toward their owners as a means of establishing affinity and control.

Mother drew back her hand. Ember dropped to her knees, her arms up as if to fend off a blow. “Please don't hurt me, Lady Strange.”

“Mother!” I protested.

Madeleine Strange turned toward me. “Always be sure about your clones, Allison, particularly those close to your person.” She turned to Bonnet and drew back her hand.

Bonnet collapsed to her knees. “No!” she begged, her head down, her arms up, her eyes closed.

“That's enough, Mother.”

Madeleine Strange raised an eyebrow at me. “Come here, Allison.”

“No, Mother, I'm not going to threaten my clones! And you'd—”

She turned, drew back her hand, and slapped Salts with all her strength.

Whimpering, the bathclone fell against the wall and slid to the floor, her arms over her face. She hadn't had a chance to dodge.

“Happy?” I said, my jaw tight, my gut clenching.

“I'm satisfied their imprints are working, if that's what you mean.”

“Tonight I become an adult,” I said through my teeth, my hands sweaty and shaking. “You will never strike or threaten to strike my clones again. Never! Do you hear?”

“Yes, Dear,” she said, her voice calm. “See you tonight.” Smiling, Mother walked from the office.

I leaped to the door and smashed it closed behind her, and then turned to help Salts to her feet. “What the labgrown did I do to deserve her for a mother?”

Ember frowned at me. “Thank the gladborn you have one.”

A half-hour before the festivities, I greeted Jason Lakeland in the Governor's office. Beyond the window, a gigantic canopy covered the central Montalban square. At least a kilometer around, the canopy would provide cover for the thousands of guests invited to the festivities. Grav units and guy wires supported the structure, suspending it above the square against a rain sure to come. Dark clouds gathered west of Montalban, as they did three or four times every day throughout the year.

Jason looked much taller than I remembered. His face had long since cleared of acne, and his wild red hair was controllably coiffed. The green eyes were less shy, more guarded. And for this occasion, he was perfectly dressed.

He and I were alone.

“Lord Lakeland,” I said, bowing to him, freshly bathed and coiffed.

His gaze hadn't left my face, and he didn't return my greeting. His not returning my greeting was not the gaffe it could've been with others around.

“Lady,” he said, his voice low, soft, and sultry.

I stepped toward the center of the room, extending my hands toward him.

He took my hands in his. His eyes hadn't left my face. “You've become so beautiful, Lady Strange.”

“You've become much more handsome, Lord Lakeland.” Labgrown! I thought. That wasn't what I'd wanted to say. I might have to marry this simpering i***t, but that didn't mean I had to like him—and I certainly had no need for him to like me. Spouses among the ruling classes, whether male or female, were rarely expected to meet more than a modicum of their spouse's needs. The less he likes me the better, I thought, hoping my smile hadn't slipped.

He frowned.

Father's always telling me I'm too easy to read, I thought.

“My apologies, Lady Strange. I'm finding it difficult to say what I need. May I be frank, Lady?”

“Certainly, Lord Lakeland.” Uh, oh, here comes the marriage proposal—which I'd known was on its way the moment Mother had told me I'd have to greet him personally.

“Very well.” He looked down and away, sighing. “To be truthful, I never liked contacting you, Lady Strange. We're betrothed, but through no choice of our own. We don't know each other and won't have much opportunity to get to know each other. After that tonight, you'll be an adult, and I'm already an adult, able to make my own decisions about my life.”

The sanctimonious prick! “So you're thinking, why maintain any pretense, let's just tell everyone we're not interested in each other?” How dare he? I struggled to get my feelings under control.

He returned my gaze. “Yes, exactly.”

“Well, I like your candor.” I wanted to rip into him for attempting to dump me. “And as you noted, after tonight, I'll be an adult. But I'm not right now—not yet.” I shrugged and smiled shyly. How do I keep him interested? I wondered. “So, if I may, Lord Lakeland, I would like to request your company for this, the last evening of my childhood.”

“I would be honored and pleased to see you into adulthood, Lady Strange,” he said, bowing.

“Well,” I said, giggling, “a bit more than I asked for, but it's certainly a possibility.”

His face turned bright red. “You're incorrigible, Lady Strange.”

“Thank you,” I said, grinning. “Listen, Lord Lakeland, whatever happens tonight, I encourage you to stick by your decision.” I'd better find some way to talk him out of it.

Troubadour produced extensor cranes and clone factory harnesses, two items central to the Catalonian economy. Strange Harvest, Incorporated, harvested moss with the cranes from the four-hundred-meter tall forest at the Ciprian Frontier. And the clones hung suspended from the harnesses while they matured, for six, sometimes seven years. Definitely an important trading partner.