Against All Odds (11 page)

B
oney looked around the room. “What’s happening now?”

“Who cares?” Itchy said. “I’m not standing around to find out. Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed Henry, stuffed him into the sling, and bolted toward the door, his skinny legs flailing.

“Itchy, wait!” Boney called after him. “You have no idea where you’re going.” He picked up Tiger and placed him in his sling before chasing after his friend.

Squeak and Sam picked up their kittens and did the same. They skidded through the green slime as they shot out the door, only to find Boney and Itchy staring, bewildered, down the corridor.

“Do you remember which way we came?” Boney asked.

“Veer left,” Sam said.

The four friends veered left and ran down the corridor until they reached a fork in the hallway.

Boney growled in frustration. “Now what?”

Squeak produced the electro-node-a-metre and handed it to Sam.

“Hey, where’d you find it?” Sam said.

Squeak smiled. “You dropped it on your way into the ship.”

Sam threw her arms around Squeak, who instantly blushed.

Boney stepped between them. “I hate to interrupt, but could we hurry, please?”

Sam flipped the switch on the wandlike device. The arms rose and began slowly turning, the little lights glowing.

“We don’t have time for this,” Itchy moaned.

“It’ll only take a second,” Sam promised, staring at the lights. “Go left,” she finally said.

Itchy dashed to the left and ran smack into Boney and Squeak.

“Hey! How’d you get in front of me?” he said.

But then Boney and Squeak came running around the corner and slammed right into Itchy. Itchy stood, his head cranking back and forth between the two sets of identical friends — one in camouflage, the other in the same T-shirts and jeans the boys were wearing the day
of the test flight at Starky Hill. Itchy stepped back in shock. “Tell me I’m having a nightmare.”

Boney did a double-take. “What the heck is this?”

The four friends stared in awe at this new set of clones. The clones walked toward Boney and Squeak, until the two boys appeared to be looking in the mirror. The kittens hissed as the clones gazed at the Odds with the disaffected curiosity of a velociraptor.

Sam whipped a magnifying glass from her knapsack and began examining the clones. “Just as I suspected. The aliens are raising the stakes. These clones seem more advanced than the Itchys.”

Itchy scratched his bramble-bush hair. “What do you mean ‘more advanced’?”

“They likely have rudimentary speech capability,” Sam explained. “Nothing too complex. Probably more like a tape recorder than anything else.”

“Fascinating,” Squeak said.

“Fascinating,” his clone repeated in the exact same manner.

“He sounds just like you!” Boney exclaimed.

“He sounds just like you!” Boney’s clone said.

Sam peered into the clone’s ear. “I imagine they’re building a database of sound bites by repeating your words so they can interact more successfully with real people.”

Squeak frowned thoughtfully. “Do you think they simply parrot everything we say, or will they be capable of independent thought eventually?”

His clone frowned, repeating the question identically.

“I don’t know,” Sam said.

Squeak adjusted his goggles. His clone did the same.

“Do you think we’re in any danger?” Squeak asked.

“Do you think we’re in any danger?” his clone said.

Sam sniffed the clone’s skin. “I don’t think so … as long as we don’t do anything stupid …”

“What’s the square root of five million and six?” Squeak suddenly asked his clone.

“What’s the square root of five million and six?” the clone asked back.

Itchy smacked himself on the forehead. “That’s all we need—two of you guys.”

“This is really creepy,” Boney said.

“This is really creepy,” his clone repeated.

“Actually, it’s incredibly annoying,” Boney said.

“Actually, it’s incredibly annoying,” his clone repeated.

“Hey, stop that,” Boney snapped.

“Hey, stop that,” the clone snapped back.

“Stop repeating what I say,” Boney demanded.

“Stop repeating what I say,” the clone demanded back.

Boney gritted his teeth. “I don’t like people copying me.”

“I don’t like people copying me,” the clone said. Boney stuck his tongue out. The clone retaliated. “You’re a stupid meathead!” Boney snarled. “You’re a stupid meathead!” the clone snarled back.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Boney taunted. “I know you are, but what am I?” the clone taunted back.

“Cut it out, you stupid clone!” Boney shoved the clone in the shoulder.

The clone shoved back, copying his words and actions exactly. Boney raised his fist and the clone raised its fist, too. They were about to punch each other when an entire platoon of Boneys and Squeaks appeared around the corner.

“Now we’re really in trouble,” Itchy wailed. He turned as though to run, but Sam stopped him.

“Wait,” she said. “We don’t have to fight. We can use this to our advantage.”

“How?” Boney and Squeak asked together.

“How?” all their clones repeated.

“Would you please stop that?” Itchy pleaded.

The Squeaks and Boneys stared at him scornfully.

Itchy shook his head. “This is insane. What is the
purpose of replicating clones that just act exactly like the people they’re cloned from?”

“I can think of several applications,” Squeak said, his clones repeating his words.

“So can I,” Sam agreed.

“Now everybody is repeating everyone else,” Itchy groaned.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Sam said. “The clones simply reflect the behaviour of their originators in order to fit in. So … why not be kind?”

“What do you mean?” Boney asked.

“What do you mean?” his clones repeated.

“Give your clone a hug,” Sam said.

“What?”

Boney’s clones mimicked his surprise.

“Just do it,” Sam said.

Boney stared unsympathetically at the clone in front of him. All the Boney clones stared back.

Sam nudged Boney in the ribs. “Go on.”

Boney pursed his lips. His clones did the same. He hesitated, then stiffly raised his arms. The clones raised their arms together as though performing a strange ballet. Boney twisted his face like he was swallowing a bitter pill, and then put his arms around the clone and gave it a quick hug. The Boney clones twisted their faces and made a hugging motion with their arms.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sam said.

Boney shrugged, his clones shrugging together in front of him.

“This is so weird,” Itchy said.

“Now hug each other,” Sam told Boney and Squeak.

The Squeaks looked uneasily at the Boneys.

“I’ve spent a whole lifetime learning to hide my feelings,” Squeak said, his clones repeating his words.

“This is no time to be Spock,” Itchy blustered. “Just give Boney a hug.”

The Squeaks faced the Boneys. They stared at each other for a few moments, and then hugged, stepping quickly away from each other.

“Do it again,” Sam directed. “But this time put some feeling into it.”

The Squeaks put their arms around the Boneys and squeezed, hugging as though they hadn’t seen each other in years.

“Good, good,” Sam encouraged. “Now tell him you love him.”

The Squeaks looked at Sam with mild concern showing through their goggles.

“It’s okay,” she said. “We’re making really good progress here.”

Squeak cleared his throat. “I love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you,” his clones softly chanted.

The clones kept hugging on their own, even as Boney and Squeak pulled away.

Itchy sniffed, holding back a tear. “This is so beautiful.”

Sam tugged on his sleeve. She pointed down the passageway to the right. The four friends slowly tiptoed away, leaving the clones hugging happily in the corridor.

B
oney, Squeak, Itchy, and Sam crept along the corridor, careful not to draw attention to themselves. Itchy craned his neck, as though expecting the hugging clones to appear any second. “You told us before that we needed to turn left,” he said to Sam.

Sam pushed her hair behind her ears. “I know. But we don’t really have a choice now. I’m hoping this passageway connects up with the one we were on—or that we’ll find another way out altogether.”

“Haven’t these aliens ever heard of signs?” Itchy grumbled. “How do they find their way around this white jungle?”

“There’s another passageway around the corner,” Squeak said, indicating an identical-looking corridor to the left. “Perhaps it will lead us back the way we came.”

The four friends took the new route. But they hadn’t travelled more than a hundred feet when they heard the
same strange whistle they’d heard in the blob’s room, followed by a series of odd clicks and beeps coming from some unknown location in the corridor.

Boney searched for the source of the sound. “What
is
that?!”

“I don’t know,” Itchy said. “But whenever we hear that whistle, something bad happens.”

Squeak looked at his feet. “The floor is starting to shake.”

“It’s the Itchys!” Sam cried, pointing to the end of the corridor. “Run for it!”

The red-headed clones appeared, stomping their slime-soaked sneakers robotically as they marched.

Itchy took off, Henry bouncing and squawking in his sling. “Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

“You tell me!” Boney shouted. “They’re your clones.”

Squeak ran, his messenger bag bouncing against his back. “I’m really getting tired of this.”

“There’s got to be a way out of here!” Sam sprinted to the front of the group, her legs a blur.

The clones growled and moaned, the gunshot of marching feet reverberating off the walls of the ship.

“They’re gaining on us!” Boney yelled.

Itchy gasped for air. “I haven’t eaten all day. I have no energy left!”

Squeak pushed him from behind. “Keep running!”

The whistle sounded again and the clones began to shriek as they marched, stomping faster and faster.

“We’re doomed!” Itchy wailed.

“There’s some kind of button up ahead,” Sam said. She ran to a point in the hall that looked the same as every other part of the ship except for a silver disc on the wall.

“How do we know what it is?” Squeak asked.

The clones surged, gaining on the friends.

“Just push it!” Itchy howled.

Sam slapped the button as hard as she could. An opening appeared in the wall. “It’s a door! We can hide in here!” She yanked Boney, Itchy, and Squeak into the room, then found an identical silver button on the other side of the wall and smacked it, shutting the door against the rising hordes. The clones hit the door in a rush, banging and pounding viciously. Doubled over, hands on knees, the four friends choked and wheezed, trying to catch their breath.

“That was close,” Squeak rasped.

Boney puffed. “You can say that again.”

Itchy coughed. “Please don’t.”

“Oh!” Sam suddenly exclaimed.

Staring back at them from behind a white console were two startled blue aliens, their faces the very picture of anguish. They were tall and thin and hunched
over, their bulbous heads seemingly too large for their thin bodies. They’d obviously been caught off guard, as they’d barely had the opportunity to right themselves from whatever it was they were doing before they were so rudely interrupted. One was leaning toward a microphone of sorts, a silver whistle dangling from his horrified lips. The other sat poised, a coffee mug held midway to his mouth.

“Fifth-level Blues,” Sam whispered in awe.

The four friends shifted uncomfortably on their feet. The aliens seemed equally uncomfortable, staring awkwardly back, until the one with the mug gave a half-hearted wave. Boney, Squeak, Itchy, and Sam waved limply back, the Itchy clones pounding relentlessly on the door behind them. The alien with the mug continued to stare as he slowly leaned into the microphone and gave a series of hesitant clicks and beeps. This caused the pounding in the hall to mysteriously stop. It was immediately replaced with muffled shuffling and meeping outside the door. No one said anything for the longest time until Boney stepped forward.

“Um … are you in charge here?”

The aliens looked nervously at each other and turned to look at Boney, shrugging and blinking their eyes.

Squeak leaned toward Boney. “They may not speak English.”

Boney cleared his throat, then spoke, slow and loud, exaggerating every word. “Are … you … in … charge … here?”

He waited for the aliens to answer, but they just kept bobbing their heads back and forth and looking at each other and flopping their hands around. After a long stretch of this, Itchy grew frustrated and stepped up beside Boney.

“Well? Are you in charge here?” he demanded. “Because we want some answers!” He flung his hand toward the aliens, sending a glob of green slime arcing across the room and splattering in a large starburst on the pristine white console.

The aliens shrunk back in disgust, blinking and bobbing until the one with the mug eventually placed his cup on the console and picked up a clunky headset. He wrestled to put it on and began talking, a stream of Punjabi and then Spanish gibberish blaring over the loudspeakers. The four friends covered their ears as the alien twisted a dial on the device and smacked it several times.

“Well,” he finally gurgled in the Queen’s English, “I suppose we’re it, yes.”

“So you DO understand us,” Itchy said.

The alien shrugged and nodded. The one with the whistle put a headset on, too.

“We can communicate in over a thousand forms of language,” he gurgled.

“A thousand and one if you include Simultus,” the one with the mug corrected him.

“Right, of course,” the first one agreed. “I always forget to include that one. It’s really just a dialect.”

“Right.”

“So … you run this ship?” Boney interjected.

The aliens looked at each other, covered the microphones on their headsets with their hands, and began arguing furiously in their own language.

After much arm waving and several exchanged shoves, the one with the whistle spoke into his mic. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

“Why did you clone me?” Itchy jumped in. “Do you think you can just go around cloning people and get away with it?”

The aliens slouched with shame.

“We’re actually quite sorry about that,” the one with the mug said. “We didn’t mean for things to get so … out of control.”

“You never should have seen the clones,” the one with the whistle explained. “It was meant to be an ‘up and down’ sort of operation.”

The alien with the mug gave a high-pitched laugh. “‘Up and down’? You mean ‘in and out.’ Adjust your translator!”

The alien fumbled with the dial on his headset. “Errr … uh … yes … okay … there we go. It was just meant to be a quick job.”

Itchy scowled. “Well, your ‘quick job’ has caused me a lot of trouble. There are copies of me everywhere—I’m wanted by the police—not to mention the fact that you almost killed us in the room with that …
blob.”

The aliens nodded sympathetically.

“It’s so hard to find good help these days,” the one with the whistle said.

“Yes, quite difficult,” the other agreed.

“But not to worry,” the first one continued. “We would have disposed of the clones when we were finished.”

“Yes,” the other said. “You would never have known we were even here.” He waved his hand through the air to show how painless the whole operation was supposed to have been.

“Then why did you clone me and Squeak?” Boney asked.

The aliens froze. The one with the mug spoke. “That was just a fail-safe, in case the redheads didn’t work out.”

The alien with the whistle tapped on his temple. “And they almost didn’t. They’re not very bright.”

“Hey!” Itchy protested. “I’m standing right here.”

“Oh yes, of course. Sorry.”

“What exactly were you trying to achieve with all of this?” Squeak asked.

The aliens lightly tapped their fingers together.

“Nothing too universe-shattering,” the one with the mug said.

“We just needed a little fill-up,” the other explained. “We were almost finished when you arrived … unfortunately.”

The alien with the mug shot his colleague a worried look. “Not that we’re unhappy to see you,” he said. “It’s just … we’ve hit a bit of a snag.”

“If by ‘snag’ you mean … your blob blowing up … I can explain that,” Boney said.

The aliens waved their hands politely. “Oh no, no, no. No need to apologize.”

“But … we never expected you to show up armed,” the alien with the whistle said.

“Armed?” Sam questioned, joining the conversation.

The alien pointed to Henry and the kittens.

Sam looked puzzled. “You’re kidding, right?”

The aliens shook their heads.

Sam walked toward the console. “But these are helpless little creatures. They wouldn’t hurt anyone.” She held Fluffy up for the aliens to see.

“Please, no!” the aliens cried, recoiling in fright and hiding behind one another. “Don’t make us look at it.
Please!
We’ll tell you anything you want to know!”

“Yes,
anything!”

“But he’s a harmless little kitten,” Sam cooed, taking another step closer.

“We needed some gas!” the alien with the whistle blurted out, then cowered behind his hands.

“Gas?”

“I don’t get it,” Itchy said.

“To run the ship?” Squeak suggested.

“Yes, yes!” the aliens confirmed, pointing at Squeak. “The weird kid with the stupid goggles gets it.”

Squeak blinked indignantly. “My goggles aren’t stupid …”

Sam placed Fluffy back in his sling. “You mean … all of this was for gas?”

The aliens nodded like bobble-heads.

“So … you’re not trying to create a human-alien hybrid?” she asked.

The aliens gave her a questioning look.

“Whatever for?” the first one said.

Squeak and Sam looked at each other and shrugged. Boney pulled on his long chin. “This has been a very odd day.”

Itchy sighed impatiently. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”