Invaded (Alienated, #2)(19)
Cara glanced at her tablet and read aloud, “‘The Primate Connection: A Thesis—’”
“‘Regarding L’eihr Lineage,’” Helm finished. “Written by a scholar named Larish. He argued that L’eihrs are related to your ancients, who in turn evolved from animals.”
“Exactly,” Cara said. “Humans and L’eihrs share ninety-eight percent of their DNA with chimpanzees. Earth scientists believe we all descended from a single ancestor and developed differently over millions of years. But on L’eihr, you have no close primates. It’s as if you were dropped here by an alien race. You evolved differently from humans, but that’s mostly due to organized breeding and—”
“A fascinating theory,” Helm interrupted. A tiny muscle twitched in his jaw. “Are you in humanities class now?”
Cara cleared her throat. “No, sir.”
“And will Larish’s dissertation help you with my exam tomorrow?” He pointed to his white-rimmed instructor tablet, where he kept his lectures and testing materials.
“No, sir.”
“Then perhaps you should make use of your translator and focus on the subject at hand.”
Cara nodded, willing herself invisible.
But understanding the language didn’t help her absorb Helm’s lesson. His words—genetic port, reverse micro-sequencing, inverted bioethnicity—had no context for her. It was like trying to decipher gibberish. Cara hated to admit it, but she didn’t belong in this class. She needed to take a massive step back and master the prerequisites of L’eihr science. Too bad she’d have to join the preschoolers to do that.
An idea came to mind.
Maybe she should request a rotation working in the Aegis nursery. She’d pick up some basic concepts that way, and besides, she felt sorry for all those motherless kids, taken straight from the artificial wombs to a quasi-orphanage. They were so darned cute, and she wanted to snuggle the toddlers when their caretakers weren’t looking.
After class, she jogged to the headmaster’s office to fill out a rotation request and then double-timed it to the novice obstacle course, relieved to discover she’d made it there before the fitness instructor. The man had a name, but Cara preferred to think of him as Satan. He loved making her suffer. Pain is good, he’d told her. If no hurt, you do it wrongly. Satan didn’t speak very good English, but he was fluent in whoop-ass. He wore his ponytail extra tight and probably flogged himself for fun.
“Sweeeeeney.”
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear…from behind a climbing wall. She hadn’t beaten him here. Fabulous. That meant an extra lap. At least no one would be around to watch her stumble over the balance stones and yack in the bushes. The other clones had long ago graduated to proficient courses.
“Today we try new technique,” he said, rubbing his massive palms together. “Make you win time and move to intermediate course.” He patted his tunic pocket. “I fasten t’alar on your shoulders. Make you fast.”
Unless he had a jet pack in there, she didn’t see how that was possible. “Is the t’alar an antigravity device?”
“No.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a simple black strap. Then he smiled in a way she didn’t like at all. “Is motivation.”
That didn’t sound good.
“Human lung,” he continued, “it hold less air, yes? But still the body do great things when provoked.” He lumbered over to her and snapped the t’alar across her shoulders like a handgun holster. “You run course, and I watch from above.” He pointed to a small platform built into the trees. “To keep time. When you need boost, I do this.” Then he clapped his hands loud enough to make her jump.
At first, Cara didn’t understand. But when a jolt of electricity ricocheted down the length of her spine, she yelped and nearly wet herself. The t’alar was a torture device? Holy crap, he really was the devil! “You’re going to make me run faster by shocking me?”
Satan shrugged. “Eh, we try.” Without giving her a chance to reason with him, he pointed at the climbing wall. “Now begin,” and he followed with a clap.
Zzzttt!
Another sharp current shot through Cara, and she lurched toward the wall like a marionette that’d had her strings pulled too hard. “Oh my God,” she whimpered as she grabbed the first hold. “This is so messed up.” But she didn’t stop. After reaching the top, she scaled down the other side and set off at a sprint the instant her feet touched solid ground.
The balance stones came next—two dozen round slabs set one stride apart in zigzag fashion, each designed to tilt thirty degrees in all directions. She leaped onto the first stone with her right foot, crouching low to distribute her weight, then immediately jumped to the second and third. With each rapid leap to and fro, she made her thighs do all the work and kept her arms extended for balance. She didn’t hesitate or second-guess herself like before. She cleared her mind and let her body take the wheel. Before she knew it, she’d reached the last stone and jogged around the bend toward the impact bags.
Zzzttt!
Correction: she sprinted around the bend toward the impact bags, veering left when the first body-shaped target came into view. With a savage war cry, she tensed her shoulder and collided with the sack. The force of the blow knocked aside her target, and Cara dodged to the right before it had a chance to bounce back. This was her favorite part of the course. She pictured each target as a sneering professor or a haughty clone, knocking the snot out of each one until her anger dissolved. When she reached the last bag, she hit it extra hard in honor of Satan. He must have known, because he zapped her again.