Blowback

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

So obvious and he had missed it. Of course. If they had a practice bombing here in Armstrong for their Moon attacks, then they might be running a practice bombing—or attack—somewhere else.

  But the universe was a very big place. He had no idea how he would even find another practice attack or if he would recognize it if he saw it.

  Still, something to think about.

  And then he set it aside, as he headed to the Office of the Headmistress to collect his daughter yet again.

  Nine

  The Office of the Headmistress wasn’t big enough to hold everyone. Students sat on the floor outside the office, some with legs splayed, others with their heads leaning back, eyes closed.

  Talia had pulled her knees up to her chin. She watched everyone else, her breath shallow. She felt exposed now, as if they had discovered her secret, when in reality no one had.

  The Chinar twins sat beside her, looking as frightened as she felt. They were good kids, those twins. They felt like this entire mess was their fault, when in reality, they were the ones being bullied.

  Talia wanted to explain that to them, but the security guards enforced the no-talking rules.

  Since Anniversary Day, the security guards at the school had changed. In the past, the school had a mixture of human guards, androids, and an amazing security system that Talia’s dad had upgraded after a little kid got stalked.

  But Anniversary Day changed everyone’s attitudes toward everything (otherwise, she wouldn’t be sitting here) and especially toward security. The android guards worked only at night now, and then as a backup to the human guards. The human guards changed too, from the friendly folks who greeted the kids every morning with a smile to these military-type goons who stood with their backs to the wall, arms crossed, and faces turned outward.

  They never responded to a hello. A few of the older kids got in trouble for harassing the guards, by standing near them and saying things like “Hello” or “Why aren’t you answering me?” or “You could at least look me in the face, you know.”

  Talia had watched the whole thing, privately cheering them on, but in accordance with her no-calling-attention-to-herself policy, she hadn’t joined in.

  Not that her policy worked anymore. Not that she had followed it today.

  Of course, if she had followed it, then Kaleb Lamber and his friends would have completely terrorized the twins, and they would have gotten even quieter. There was some old Earth quote that her dad liked, something about evil flourishing when good people did nothing.

  She believed that.

  And look where that belief had gotten her. On this cold floor with stupid security guards standing beside her, arms crossed, ready to enforce some stupid silence rule so that the kids wouldn’t run amok again.

  What she hated the most was that she’d had to contact her dad. She had kept the links on audio only when she reached him so she wouldn’t see his face. She knew he would have this expression of disbelief, disappointment, and sadness. She’d seen it too much before, like he always expected better of her and she always failed him.

  Maybe if he expected less, he’d think she was a better person.

  She sighed, and leaned her head back, resisting the temptation to bang her skull against the wall just to make some noise. She felt trapped, both here on this floor and at this stupid school. She should be working with her dad, not dealing with some kid who couldn’t keep his bigoted mouth shut.

  She looked over at him. Kaleb Lamber sat cross-legged, hands upward on his knees, in one of those “relaxation” positions. His cheeks were red, either from exertion or emotion, and one of his gorgeous eyes had swollen closed.

  The headmistress, Ms. Rutledge, wouldn’t let the kids fix their bruises. (No one had been hurt worse than that.) She wanted the parents to see the results of the melee, as she called it.

  She’d been furious. She was a short woman, at least by Talia’s standards, but she had a big personality. She was one of the toughest women that Talia knew, and Talia knew her dad’s friend Noelle DeRicci, who was super tough.

  Still, Ms. Rutledge scared Talia. Ms. Rutledge had gotten really angry, not just at the fight, but also at what the fight was about.

  “We didn’t bring you here to train you to bully,” she had said. “You don’t pick on people for what they look like or who they are. We are going to have a school assembly about this and it looks like we’re going to have to change some policies, yet again. For right now, though, I’m going to send you all home. I can’t stand to look at you. I’m ashamed that you’re all a part of Aristotle Academy.”

  That had gotten to Talia. How come she didn’t get credit for standing up to a bully? How come the Chinar twins had to go home? They were the ones bullied.

  But she hadn’t asked any of that, even though one of the kids next to her had nudged her, like he expected her to say something. Or maybe he was just adding a “yeah, right,” to Ms. Rutledge’s comments with his elbow.

  Kaleb saw Talia looking at him. He sneered, but it was clear that his heart wasn’t in it. If anything, he seemed a little scared.

  You’re an idiot, she sent through her links on the in-school network. She didn’t know his private link. The school was probably monitoring all of this, but she didn’t care. She was mad, and she had to take it out on someone before her dad got here.

  Besides, what could they do to her? Send her home? They were already doing that.

  You’re a self-righteous prig, Kaleb sent back. If you had minded your own business, everything would be okay.

  Yeah, for you maybe. What’s wrong with you? Why do you like picking on people?

  His eyes narrowed. I think certain things—

  And then the communication cut off. A bunch of kids looked startled, so she and Kaleb weren’t the only ones who had been using their links.

  His cheeks got darker. Later, he mouthed.

  Screw you, she mouthed back.

  You wish. At least, that was what it looked like he said. She couldn’t tell for sure. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

  Her dad was taking forever to get here. He usually could almost teleport when he thought she was in danger. But she wasn’t in danger, and they both knew it. Except maybe from the school. Her dad would think it an issue if they didn’t want her here anymore. For some stupid reason, he thought school was important.

  She sighed. She could learn all this stuff on her own and more, and she wouldn’t have to deal with idiots like Kaleb. She would be able to look up stuff and learn stuff and work with her dad on important things.

  Then she bowed her head. That’s what was taking him so long. He was working on all the Anniversary Day stuff at the Security Building, and something truly important happened. He wouldn’t be happy that she had pulled him from his work.

  “Talia?”

  She opened her eyes. There he was, standing over her, looking—perplexed? Why would he look perplexed? Didn’t anyone tell him what happened?

  He held out his hand, and she took it, letting him pull her up. Everyone else watched. She hated it when they stared. She knew that her dad looked different—there weren’t a lot of blonds with pale skin and blue eyes—and people sometimes commented on that. Usually the sideways comments were mean, too, like her dad’s family had done something weird to preserve its recessive gene pool.

  She had the same hair (slightly darker) and the blue eyes, but her skin was copper like her mom’s, which made her not nearly as exotic as her dad. Except when they stood somewhere side by side, like right now.

  “Ms. Rutledge is going to see us now,” he said, and he wasn’t yelling at her. Not that he would yell at her in front of anyone anyway, but still. He didn’t look like he wanted to yell at her either.

  Talia held onto his hand—she knew that was baby stuff, but she didn’t care; she never got to be a baby with him—and they walked into the Office of the Headmistress.

  The front part of the office was big. Plants and desks and furniture arrangements s
ubdivided it into sections. Ms. Rutledge didn’t have secretaries or anything—the desks were smart desks that did a lot of the work without being told, plus they recorded nearby conversations, no matter how soft.

  A lot of kids had convicted themselves of whatever they’d been accused of by talking to another kid in what they thought was an empty room.

  Ms. Rutledge had another office off to the side that was her personal sanctuary. Talia had never been in there. No one had, so far as she knew.

  Ms. Rutledge stood in the doorway of it now. She looked tired, which surprised Talia, since Ms. Rutledge was always this tower of strength. Her dark hair was pulled back without any loose strands like it had earlier, so she had redone her appearance. She wasn’t even wearing her trademark cape (which Talia thought was kinda creepy—the cape, not the fact that she wasn’t wearing it). She had on a white blouse with the school’s logo on the left, and a dark skirt that went to her knees.

  “We’ll meet in here,” she said, and stepped away from the door.

  Talia looked at her dad in surprise. He had done some work for the school, so maybe he had gone back there before.

  He wound around the desks, still holding Talia’s hand, and she followed, her heart pounding. She had no idea why she was nervous, except that this was all weird, and she didn’t like weird.

  Talia’s dad put his hand on her back and propelled her into Ms. Rutledge’s office first. She wished he hadn’t. She always felt awkward in a strange place. She never knew where to sit or what to do or how to behave.

  The office smelled like vanilla. Talia had read that vanilla was a soothing smell, but at the moment, it wasn’t soothing her at all. Some real plants sat on the windowsill, their vines and leaves trailing all the way to the floor. Three chairs formed a semi-circle in front of the desk, and behind it, a huge couch took up the entire back wall.

  The couch looked used, like Ms. Rutledge slept on it or something. There was even a blanket folded neatly across the top, and a gigantic pillow pushed to one side.

  Ms. Rutledge sat in the huge chair behind her desk. She kept her hands clasped on the chair’s arms as if it held her up.

  “Miles,” she said to Talia’s dad. “I don’t know if you know what happened today—”

  “I only know what you sent to us,” Talia’s dad said.

  Talia’s stomach clenched. What had Ms. Rutledge sent?

  “Let me show you,” Ms. Rutledge said.

  A holographic security image rose on her desk. A fight had already started near the table where Kaleb Lamber stood. Students ran toward that fight, as if they were being encouraged to do so.

  The image had no sound, but it didn’t need any. Talia winced as she watched friends get punched, people fall, and one kid pick up a chair to hit someone else. Fortunately, one of the lunch room workers grabbed the chair just in time.

  “I don’t see Talia,” her dad said.

  “I’m afraid Talia started this,” Ms. Rutledge said. “She—”

  “I did not,” Talia said. She hated being falsely accused. “Kaleb Lamber started it. He was calling the Chinar twins names, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Kaleb is one mean kid and he hurts people and you don’t do anything about it.”

  Talia’s dad put a hand on her arm. It was his shut-up-and-let-me-handle-this gesture.

  Ms. Rutledge sighed. “I haven’t interviewed everyone, but Talia is correct. She was defending the Chinar twins.”

  “Thank you,” Talia said with sarcastic emphasis. Her dad’s grip tightened on her arm. She didn’t care. If Ms. Rutledge wanted to expel her, then Ms. Rutledge could expel her. She could do important stuff then.

  “Nonetheless,” Ms. Rutledge said to Talia’s dad as if Talia hadn’t spoken, “her actions caught the attention of the entire lunch room, and the entire fight escalated from there.”

  “Talia’s not fighting anyone,” her dad said. “I don’t even see her here.”

  “I got the Chinar twins out,” Talia said. “Kinda. Security grabbed us.”

  Her dad’s grip tightened again. Then she realized that he had been defending her. Maybe she should shut up, after all.

  “Talia’s actions in the lunch room are not the reason I brought you in here,” Ms. Rutledge said. “What happened today pointed out to me a problem in the school that I really hadn’t acknowledged until now.”

  Talia sat very still. So did her dad. He loosened his grip slightly. Her arm was sore; he might have bruised her. He never did that. He had to be really tense, which was weird all by itself. Her dad never got tense like that.

  “The problem is cloning,” Ms. Rutledge said.

  Talia froze. Her dad’s hand didn’t move and neither did his expression. She wondered if hers had.

  “Not cloning itself per se,” Ms. Rutledge added, “but the prejudice toward clones.”

  Talia felt her cheeks heat. Damn, she was blushing. She didn’t want to be blushing. It felt like a confession.

  She hoped Ms. Rutledge wouldn’t see it that way. She hoped Ms. Rutledge would think it a reaction to the fight in the cafeteria, not to the facts of Talia’s birth.

  “The prejudice has become rampant,” Ms. Rutledge said. She seemed to be talking to Talia’s dad, not Talia. Ms. Rutledge hadn’t met her eyes once. “I’m concerned. If the children are reacting this forcefully and violently to the presence of clones in their world, then what are the parents saying?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not following,” Talia’s dad said. “The presence of clones?”

  “Ever since Anniversary Day, clones have been in the news. People overreact. If one group of clones attacked the Moon, then all clones are going to be evil.” Ms. Rutledge frowned. “I thought you understood how people can be, Miles.”

  “I’ve been in my own bubble,” he said, but there was something off in his tone. Talia didn’t want to look at him—she didn’t want to distract him. It sounded like he had poked Ms. Rutledge to see what her beliefs were.

  “I understand that you’re working with the Security Office. This is something they should be aware of as well. Today’s events frightened me,” Ms. Rutledge said.

  “In what way?” he asked in that strange tone.

  “If the students realize they have an actual clone in their midst, I don’t know what they’ll do.” Ms. Rutledge looked directly at Talia.

  Talia held her breath. She was trembling. Her dad’s hand rested on her arm, but he didn’t grip anymore.

  “Why are you telling us this?” Talia’s dad said. “It sounds like my daughter tried to prevent the bigotry, not add to it.”

  Ms. Rutledge’s glance went from Talia to her father.

  “Miles,” she said softly. “I have looked at student entrance papers for decades. Talia’s are irregular, and you never did present her birth certificate. Does she have one? Or does she have a day of creation certificate?”

  Talia swallowed. She couldn’t help it. How did Ms. Rutledge know?

  “We’ve had this discussion,” Talia’s dad said. “My daughter’s documents come from Valhalla Basin. Her mother died in rather horrible circumstances, and my daughter was not allowed to return to her home. We’re missing many important documents from Talia’s life. You waved some of the restrictions when you approved her application. Have you changed your mind now?”

  Talia didn’t move. Her dad was really good. He hadn’t answered the question at all, but turned it on Ms. Rutledge.

  “All I’m saying, Miles,” Ms. Rutledge said slowly, “is that you and Talia need to be very careful. I’ve never seen children erupt like this. I’ve learned in my decades here that children learn their prejudices and their fears from their parents. So if children are on such tenterhooks, then the parents must be even more volatile. I will do my best to quash this. Children Talia’s age make their own decisions once they have the right information, and I will do my best to make sure the children here at Aristotle Academy have the right information.”

  Talia swallowed again. She cou
ldn’t control that reaction. She was terrified, and she was sure Ms. Rutledge could see it.

  Just like she was sure Ms. Rutledge could see Talia’s clone mark.

  Talia really had to hold still to make certain she didn’t touch that mark.

  “I will do my best to make certain everyone in Aristotle Academy is safe,” Ms. Rutledge said, looking briefly at Talia.

  Talia’s cheeks heated again.

  “But,” Ms. Rutledge said, “I can’t control Armstrong or the reactions here on the Moon. And what these children have taught me today is that right now, the Moon itself is a very dangerous place for clones. And for anyone else who might be mistaken for a clone.”

  “Like twins,” Talia’s dad said.

  Ms. Rutledge looked a little sad. Then she nodded.

  “Like twins,” she said.

  “Is that all?” Talia’s dad asked.

  “For now. Take Talia home. Take care of her.” Ms. Rutledge turned to Talia. “You have good instincts, my girl. But sometimes yelling at someone will not make a difference.”

  “He was saying crap,” Talia said. “I couldn’t let him do that.”

  Ms. Rutledge smiled at her. “I know.”

  Ms. Rutledge was being kind to her. Talia hadn’t expected that. Talia’s dad stood. He took Talia’s hand again, and pulled her toward the door. When he reached it, he stopped and looked back at Ms. Rutledge.

  “Thanks, Selah,” he said.

  Then he put his hand on Talia’s back and propelled her outside the room. He didn’t say another word, and neither did Talia.

  She wanted to cry, but she wasn’t going to.

  She wasn’t going to let any of this get to her.

  She didn’t dare.

  Ten

  They escaped the room like refugees from a war. Zagrando wanted to take a deep breath as he closed the door behind himself, but he knew better. The Emzada’s skin cells followed him, rising off him as if in that hour, he had become Emzada himself.

  Whiteley had started up the stairs, leaving a gray cloud behind. Whiteley was covered in gray. He looked like he had been dipped in some grayish gel and told not to remove it.