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  The brothers let out some slack in their draglines and delicately levitated above the dock. For a moment all communication ceased. The adventurers temporarily forgot about their worries and concerns as they gazed in amazement at the sun, the glow of the lights far below, and the clarity of the oncoming night.

  “Hey, Riggs. What’s that big glow to the east?” Titan shouted.

  “Phoenix, then Albuquerque with Santa Fe just to the north. After that you come to Amarillo and Lubbock to the south. Then Oklahoma City and after that they all kinda blend together. If we left you right where you are, you would watch the sunrise with the inhabitants of Nova Scotia and watch the sunset with native Hawaiians. Eighteen hours of uninterrupted sunlight is what you can look forward to when you’re deployed for EVA.”

  “Hey, Riggs? Not to change the subject, but why is everything in our inventory on the hover dock painted black?” Titan asked.

  “Don’t any of you ever ask questions besides Titan and Armada?”

  Another droll and lackluster “Yes, sir” rang in Riggs’ ears.

  “The eyes of the world are watching us. They’re watching you. They’re listening to us. From a satellite a thousand miles above us with infrared cameras to telescopes with heat sensitivity capabilities we’re being watched. The less we’re heard and seen the safer we are. Hence the black paint. Now, I want all of you to go to the stacks of 40-foot quarter panels.”

  The Evans clumsily dragged themselves along the grid wires to the monstrous hovering pile of panel assembly units.

  “Now, all of you, take a close look at the exterior surface of the panels and tell me what you see.”

  “It’s not shiny … like it’s a matte finish,” one said.

  “The surface doesn’t feel smooth. It’s got a rough and dimpled texture,” another volunteered.

  “Except for the joining seams, there are no right angles,” Titan chimed in.

  “What you’re touching is, in essence, stealth fabrication. The first of its kind. Resilient to motion–, heat–, and sound-sensitive cameras, scanners and radar, even gamma and X-rays … these panels, once fully assembled, will enable us to work in complete secrecy,” Riggs stated.

  “Then that means, if I may summarize, we build what we want, bring up whatever and how much we want with as many people as we see fit and no one will see us, hear us, or scan inside to find out what we got going on,” Armada confidently confirmed.

  “Yep. The only knowledge any one person, entity, or foreign government can hope to ascertain about our operations will be what they observe from the outside. Now, find your crew leaders and break out into your assigned units. In a few moments, your coordinator here at EVA Control will delegate your group tasks and assembly guidelines. All right, ladies, let’s dance.”

  It was as if an invisible conductor was leading an orchestra. The clones swiftly maneuvered themselves into their work groups. Riggs stood behind his desk, stretched his arms, and began to pace about the operation center. How delighted he was to listen in as the coordinators verbally instructed the clones with no resistance or backtalking, and no break in the chain of command or complaining.

  Digital construction schematics were downloaded to every helmet. Team leaders had live video feeds streamed to their holographic visors inside their helmet so they could watch the entire assembly process from different perspectives. Quarter panels, electrical conduit, thermal barriers, wiring for radiant heat, communication kiosks, plumbing; it was a magical moment for Riggs, his trainers, and coordinators.

  ***

  “Sir?” one of the coordinators called, pointing to his video screen, “You should see this.”

  Riggs stepped closer and leaned over the desk. “Go back and look at the time stamp.”

  The man reversed the video feed until he came to the point where the first quarter panel was removed from its stack on the hover dock, “Eight twenty, sir.”

  “Okay, now go to live stream.”

  “Ten twelve,” the man stated.

  “In less than two hours they assembled more than half of the entire arena outer shell?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Show me an interior view. Who’s got interior video feeds?”

  A woman a few feet away raised her hand, “I do, sir.”

  “Put your monitor up on the big screen,” Riggs requested.

  The female division coordinator sent the video feeds coming to her desk directly to the large monitor in front of the control center.

  The clones worked together just as a colony of ants building a nest. As quarter panels were attached together, electrical conduit and wiring harnesses were applied to the interior. Radiant heat wiring was laid over the remaining surface area, with insulation padding added as the last layer.

  “How many sections have they connected thus far?” Riggs inquired.

  “They’re three shy of completing the cylinder, minus, of course, the caps, pressure hatch, corridor, plumbing, and amenities,” the woman replied, smiling broadly.

  “We still have another six hours left on this EVA,” another coordinator piped up, also smiling.

  “Wyczthack has gotta hear this!” Riggs exclaimed, nodding his head. “Don’t stop ‘em, keep ‘em going!”

  ***

  “Would you mind repeating that, Mr. Woodburn?” Cain asked as he motioned for Dr. White to come and listen to the conversation. He put the phone call on speaker while Dr. White pulled up a chair.

  “Not at all,” Riggs stated. “I wanted you to know that we deployed the first EVA team five hours ago and they’ve already finished the outer shell construction for Arena One. And to be perfectly honest, sir, I think that I, we, grossly underestimated the capabilities of this batch. I mean, heck, they’ll have the end caps mounted and both of the hatches and corridor connected by night’s end.”

  “What was the original projected time for completion of the Arena?” Dr. White inquired.

  “One hundred twenty hours, sir. It was our belief that, given that this would be the first EVA assignment, the time frame was fair and realistic, but more important, it was an achievable goal. But after what we’ve seen here tonight? I can honestly say that, based on what I’ve witnessed firsthand, we’ll complete your remaining projects with an overall reduction in production time of maybe fifty percent or more.”

  “Excellent!” Cain proudly stated.

  “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot to mention … one of your experiments is acting up.”

  “Define ‘acting up,’ please,” Dr. White interjected, smugly.

  “Now don’t misunderstand me. They’re smart as all get out, but they don’t talk, don’t engage, and they absolutely don’t show any emotion. However, to their credit, they complete their tasks as ordered with zero problems and no resistance. But one of your boys in particular is … what I’d label as … sarcastic.”

  “Sarcastic?” the surprised doctors repeated, and fumbled to open their notepads.

  “Yeah, sarcastic. This one has a real cowboy mentality, like he’s not afraid to try anything. He’s already a genius and knows it, and shows that he has self-confidence but isn’t cocky about it.”

  Dr. White opened his mouth to speak, but Cain raised his finger to his lips.

  “And my team loves the guy! He jokes around with them, looks us in the eye when we talk to him, he asks questions … we like him. I’ve seen this guy smile more in the last eight hours than any employee of this company for the past month. And the weird thing about this guy is … he acts and behaves more like a human than the humans do … and he’s not even real!”

  Cain stopped writing, paused, and asked “What is his name?”

  CHAPTER 7

  BOYS, GIRLS, AND GRAVITY

  The red warning lights flashed on and off several times as the speakers emitted a harsh, high-pitched pinging sound.

  “Attention, please, attention!” the middle-aged female voice pleasantly announced. “All personnel are required to assemble in the arena at twenty
hundred hours.”

  “What now?” Armada asked out loud to his brothers, flopping his book onto his lap.

  “Attention, please, attention,” the voice repeated. “All personnel are required to assemble in the arena at twenty hundred hours.”

  “Probably a debriefing of some sort,” Titan answered, releasing the clasps of his mattress restraints.

  “Don’t you guys get tired of these impromptu briefings and assemblies?” Armada inquired, also releasing his restraints.

  “No,” his brothers lifelessly answered.

  “Well, I don’t know about y’all, but I for one wanna finish the EVA objectives and get down to the surface!” Armada declared, putting his book in his foot locker with a slam.

  “You said it!” Titan exclaimed, pulling on the zipper of his jumpsuit as he hovered next to his closet.

  “They won’t ever let us out,” one of the twins solemnly stated, floating beside his bed.

  “Why do say that?” Armada probed.

  “I just know it. They’ve never let us out of their sight. We’ve always been on the inside and we always will. I mean, let’s face it, we’re quarantined; we’re lab rats!”

  “Oh, don’t take it so hard. You never know … things change,” Armada comforted his brother with a pat on his shoulder. He and Titan pulled themselves along the ceiling rungs and floated into the corridor connecting their dormitory to the main transfer tube and Arena One Commons.

  “C’mon, boys, last one there is a rotten egg!” Armada challenged his roommates as he and Titan joined the other clones in the transfer tube.

  “Do you think he was right?” Titan asked, following close behind Armada.

  “About what?”

  “Getting out. Going to the surface.”

  “Nah. He’s like everybody else around us. And I mean that; he’s just like every one of our brothers. They all have a dismal outlook. It doesn’t seem to matter what we’re talking about, they all think the same. You and me? We’re the ones that are different. You and me, that’s it. You and I will get outta here … just wait and see.”

  Armada, Titan, and two hundred of their brothers sailed through the passageways until they eventually merged with the main activity area of Arena One. They began living in the adjoining cylindrical dorms after the completion of their ‘community center.’ As soon as Arena One was assembled and successfully pressurized, Cain and Dr. White instructed Riggs to implement a program for a constant inhabitant presence. Beginning with the first batch deployed to the CARBEL, Arena One became an open living quarter until the Evans completed the construction of the first dormitory. Riggs made sure to include Armada, Titan, and eight of their brothers on the inaugural assignment.

  Riggs remained on the SUBOS and thought it best for the clones, socially speaking, to develop their communication skills. The large pod of twins would have a prime opportunity to operate and function as a unit without, of course, the presence of an educational overseer.

  Armada and his twins assembled their 20-foot diameter living quarters in a mere four hours. Adding on the end caps, pressure hatch, and corridor was simple enough and took a relatively small amount of time, while marrying the three pieces proved to be the most challenging. Right after the integration and pressurization of the dormitory and corridor, Riggs sent up another team of a hundred clones along with the internal components for the first sleeping quarters and a supervisor to assist Armada, Titan, and the new batch.

  Within sixty days, Garret Brock, the new on-site director, had seen to it that all twenty dormitories were constructed and fully operational prior to projected deadlines.

  “C’mon, guys, let’s shake a leg!” Garret demanded as the clones spilled into the arena.

  “Coming, Mother!” Armada announced, passing through the portal separating the corridor from the activity room.

  “Very funny, Armada.”

  “Hey, Garret, what’s going on?” Titan asked, not far behind Armada.

  “You boys have a surprise tonight.”

  ‘Surprise! Yeah, right,” Armada commented to Titan. “He thinks showing us Close Encounters again is a surprise.

  “All right, boys. C’mon in and pull yourselves into four groups, two at each end.”

  The twins divided themselves into two groups, with the first hundred moving to the far end of the 80-foot long vessel.

  “Tonight we’re doing something a little out of the ordinary,” Garret announced. “Doctors White and Wyczthack think that you clowns need to exert yourselves more than just going out on your nightly EVA adventures. So they, along with Riggs and I, have come up with a game for you to play.”

  The twins erupted in applause and whistles.

  “There are several games we play down on the surface; I bet you’ve heard about football, right?”

  Garret was met with another round of energetic clapping.

  “Well, how about basketball and hockey?”

  The twins were almost giddy with excitement and began banging their hands on the arena surface.

  “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna have a demonstration, kind of a mock scrimmage, after I’ve gone over the rules of the game.”

  “What’s it called?” shouted one of the clones.

  “We’re thinking about naming it ‘ZG Ball.’ That’s short for zero gravity.”

  “How many players do you need?” someone hollered.

  “If y’all will shut up, I’ll explain. Okay, first off, there’ll be two teams of ten. The objective of this game is to get this twelve-inch dodge ball through the thirty-inch hoop at the opposite end. You can throw it, kick it, bounce it, or float with it.”

  The brood of anxious and rambunctious men turned to each other with nods of approval.

  “The two teams will scatter themselves on the walls and wait for one of two captains to initiate the play. That occurs when the captain throws, kicks, bounces or floats with the ball. He’s gonna wanna pass it off to one of his teammates, who will then pass it off to another and so forth until their player is close enough to throw the ball through the hoop. Are you with me so far?”

  “Yes,” the twins replied in unison.

  “But how does the opposing team stop them from scoring a goal … point … basket thing?” Titan asked.

  “For starters, you can bat it away or just hold up your hands to block a pass. How do football players stop someone running with the ball?” Garret inquired of his pupils.

  “They tackle ‘em!” Armada shouted.

  “They tackle ‘em!” Garret repeated energetically and pointed at Armada.

  “You’re saying we get to play tackle football?” a clone shouted ecstatically.

  “Tackle yes, football no. Look, you can tackle, pull their leg, push ‘em outta the way, whatever. But there’s no hitting or fighting. The winning team will ultimately be determined by timing and positioning.”

  “What happens if I’m flying, getting ready to throw the ball, and someone slams into me?” Titan bellowed, “We’re gonna be stuck!”

  “You bring up a good point and I’m sorry, I forgot one important key element. Each team will also have three players on tethered bungee cords. Every thirty seconds a whistle will blow and each tethered team member gets one pull. That means every thirty seconds a tether can push off and retrieve one of their own, maybe two, I don’t know. They get one pull and can bring back a member of their own team, OR … they can pull down an opponent. Either way, as soon as all six tethers retract to their starting position, whoever they retrieved can immediately get back in the game. Y’all get it?”

  Two hundred clones let loose with a jubilant burst of applause.

  “All right then, since the game this evening is primarily for demonstration purposes, we won’t necessarily be focusing on team selections. You guys can decide amongst yourselves as to who will be on what team and who your captains are.”

  The arena was all a twitter with the Evans literally bouncing off the walls.

  �
��For now I wanna assign tethers. Where’s Titan? Titan!”

  “Yeah, Coach?” Titan answered to the delight of the twins.

  “Funny! That was funny, right? Grab five of your girlfriends and split up … three on each side … and give them each one of these.”

  Garret threw a bundle of bungee cords and harnesses to Titan. Before he even had the harnesses in his hands, Titan was the recipient of wishful bids for play from the eager volunteers.

  “Pick me, Titan!”

  “Titan, buddy! Over here!”

  “Oh, Titan, please!”

  Titan caught the cluster of cords and harnesses and looked about the arena. He pushed off the wall and flew to the side, grabbing a stabilizing rung near Armada’s head.

  “Wanna play?” he asked with a smile.

  “Armada!” Garret shouted.

  “Sir!”

  “Grab nineteen of your sisters and split up!”

  “Sorry,” Armada apologized to Titan, shrugging his shoulders, “I’m already playing!”

  The company of clones went berserk with excitement. They shouted and whistled, clapped and waved to get the attention of Titan and Armada as they pointed and said “You!” or motioned for a brother while hollering “C’mon!”

  In a matter of minutes Armada and his band of twelve, sequestered at one end of ‘the can,’ devised their strategy. At the opposite end of the makeshift stadium, thirteen identical twins assembled and concocted their own plan of attack.

  “Remember what Garret said,” Armada barked, “timing and position will determine who wins. I want you all to scatter by pairs on opposite sides from each other. Go up every fifteen feet or so and stagger your launches. I want the first pair to come out when I do. The next pair doesn’t push off until the first pass is complete, then the next pair with the following pass. Got it?”

  Armada’s teammates let loose with a short and boisterous “Yes, sir!” and broke their huddle.

  “Where do you want me?” Titan asked quietly.

  “I want you in the middle. Let the other two make retrievals. You’re gonna be like an eagle getting a fish. Whenever they’re getting close and your timer goes off, you go after the leader. Catch ‘em and pull ‘em back. If you come from the middle, you’ll be bringing them backwards.”