Anti-Grav Unlimited

Craig’s old man was a bioengineer. By the time Craig was fourteen, he was working on his doctor’s degree in MKC and knew more than most of his professors about bioengineering. While the other kids were making frogs and dinocows, he—we later discovered—was growing his own girlfriend on the side.

Not just any ordinary girl, either. Nikki had started out as a bit of the marrow from Craig’s bones but was altered to the point that she became almost nothing like him. Craig had, of course, started by altering the XY pattern of his cells to a double X to make her female. But his major accomplishment was in throwing in a lot of special odds and ends to demonstrate how much he could do. The end result was a black-haired, oriental-looking beauty with a well-built, full-in-the-right-places figure. And she was as smart—if not smarter—than Craig and had super-fast reflexes.

If ever there had been a candidate for a new super race, it was Nikki.

Yet her manner didn’t reflect her superiority. She never lorded it over people, was always friendly. And attractive: The girl that as a kid you always wished would move in next door but never did. She also was always loyal to Craig.

Perhaps that was because he’d left her in vitro the four years he worked on his degree (how he kept her a secret from the authorities is beyond me—such work was illegal back when we were kids). When he brought her out of “the vat,” as he called it, she was a full-grown woman with the mind of a baby. His next step had been to give her a three-year crash course in growing up via machine and human tutors. Craig was about the only “family” Nikki had ever known and they were closer than any two people have any right to be.

By the time I’d finished my schooling, Craig had turned twenty-one, had made his fortune, and had retired with money to spare. (After all, he was the guy that perfected the Martian goat and the Aqua-retrofit virus that’s used to turn ordinary people into Aquanauts. Yeah, that Craig Kaiser. He’s the famous one if you hadn’t already guessed. So you can imagine the money.) But Craig had become as bored as he was rich and had a nearly terminal case of narcissism; last time I’d seen him he’d become about as boring as he was bored. That was one reason I hadn’t seen Craig or Nikki much over the last few years. Though I considered him a friend, his restlessness made me uncomfortable. And he’d developed a cruel streak that often was vented on friends and especially Nikki. It irritated me and I had gradually seen less and less of them.

And yet, he had been my best friend; when the trouble began, it had been his home I had headed for. As for Nikki, I’d never gotten as close to her as I might have liked. It is hard to relate to someone who seems perfect even if they don’t act the part.

Now Nikki told me her story quickly between sobs and crying jags.

There wasn’t much to it. Craig had cloned himself—again in secret—and—two days before—

had left with the new clone. He’d given Nikki three days to get out of the apartment and never be seen again.

If that weren’t cruel enough, the clone was male this time. An exact duplicate of Craig, only younger. And Craig had made no secret of the fact that the two were lovers. Certainly the ultimate in narcissism. When I heard it all through Nikki’s tears, I had to wonder how I had ever considered Craig to be my friend. Now, I felt nothing but disgust for him because of his abuse of Nikki. As far as I was concerned, Craig would give scum a bad name.

Poor Nikki. I held her tightly and tried to figure out what to do.

Finally, I pulled away to arm’s length, looked into her dark, bloodshot eyes, and said, “Can you make enough to get by as ship’s navigator?” She worked for the rocket line and I figured she must be getting top credit these days.

That question caused her lower lip to quiver, and then there was another outburst of tears.

I held her again and wondered what else was wrong.

“Oh, Phil. They fired me.”

I’d heard that the rocket lines were economizing, but had never connected that to Nikki. As a senior navigator, and a whiz when it came to computers as well as the ability to calculate trajectories in her head, I’d assumed she’d never have to worry about a job with the rocket lines.

Was I wrong.

“Everything’s being automated,” she sobbed. “No more… Humans. In the cockpit.”

(At that point I made a mental note not to fly any more in rockets. I knew how dependable bots were. Very. But not all the time. It wasn’t too hard to imagine that once in a while a computer might hiccup, sending a rocket flight on a quick trip to nowhere. Ending up in the ocean or at the bottom of a crater in the ground isn’t my idea of a fun-filled flight.) I held Nikki tightly. Then let go because I felt guilty. I was beginning to enjoy the feel of her lush body against mine.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and laughed. “Well at least I’m not dead,” she said. ” What in the world happened. They said on the news you were dead. I thought…” Her chin started to quiver again.

“No more crying. I’m very much alive.”

“Yeah. Enough crying. We’re all still alive. Sit down.” She kicked a hidden spot on the floor and the carpet twisted and a couch, which was covered with the plush fur as the carpet, popped up.

“Let me get cleaned up. I’ve been packing.” She retreated back toward the bedroom.

I sat in the quiet of the apartment for a moment.

The door chimed.

“Could you get that?” Nikki hollered out. “Must be Sarah. From next door. She’s been helping me pack.”

I got up, fumbled at the door’s peep hole and instead of opening it, accidentally dilated the doorway instead.

I was pretty certain it wasn’t Sarah standing face to face with me. It was the bag women I’d seen on the street. But not the way she’d been. Now, she cradled a needle rifle in her arm, pointing it with a very professional manner right at my navel. I watched as her finger tightened on the trigger.

Chapter 2

I stood there trying to get my feet to run while I fumbled with the door control. I couldn’t get the thing to close because with her standing in the doorway, its safety feature kept it open. This was anything but a safety feature for me.

Finally, my body got the message and I dived to the side just as her trigger finger activated the rifle. Though the gun itself made little more than a whishing sound, the tiny needles it fired raised a racket as they broke the sound barrier inside the apartment, their loud cracking was followed by the tinkling of broken glass and plastic as they crashed through the wall.

I was on all fours, dog paddling on the carpet toward the couch as the bag lady coolly trained her weapon on me, pulling the trigger so needles chewed up the carpeting behind me then clanged against the couch as I dived behind it.

I had lucked out; the couch was lined with some mechanical device, and it was thick enough to stop the tiny projectiles.

Remembering I was armed, I fumbled with the Beretta which thus far had only served to put a gash in my stomach when I’d hit the floor. Once the weapon was out of my waist band and in my hand, I peeked from behind the couch.

The bag lady spied me the same instant, racing toward me as another stream of needles bounced off the couch.

Now I wished I’d plugged the old bat on the street by mistake.

I heard her hit the couch with one foot and I fired upward twice as she jumped over it.

One of the bullets caught her on the left side of the head as she hurtled through the air. She flopped down on the floor, her fall releasing a chair that rose from the carpet a moment after she dropped, so she sprawled over it like a broken rag doll.

“What’s going on out here?” Nikki said as she stepped into the room. She was clothed only in a white towel that contrasted with her smooth, dark skin.

“Uh… Look out,” I cried. The bag lady was moving, turning toward me to reveal a crack down her face, the break radiating from a large dimple where my bullet had hit. “She’s got armor on,” I warned Nikki. “Get out of