THE WAY TO BATTLE

The sound of the monitor made her jump violently, jarring her out of a deep sleep. She fumbled with it groggily, trying to find the infernal silence button. Her fingers pressed it and the noise stopped, much to her relief. She blinked away bits and pieces of hazy dreams and then squinted at the machine. It looked like a hybrid between a twentieth-century water dispenser and an aquarium. Although the contents were a bit more important than exotic fish… 
Leading in and out of the tank were lines and tubing, both moving with pulses and vibrations from the liquids running to and from. Inflows and outflows, elements to keep the liquid in the tank warm, smaller tubes for nutrition and waste. It was all there, creating a sort of spider web branching out of the machinery.
She went about resetting the knobs and switches she had knocked around in her haste to shut off the alarm. Now all she heard was the offbeat sound of the heart monitor, pitter-pattering off-key. It didn’t keep track well anymore, calibrated for only one heartbeat but recording two. It had only gotten glitchier as the months wore on.
At least the brain-wave monitor was reliable, unfazed by the double pattern. The machine had come already calibrated to track numerous lines. She hadn’t had to touch it at all.
“Laura.” 
She turned at the bland sound of her name. Standing in the doorway of the nesting room was her superior, holding a clipboard of hand-written notes, his ever-present tablet resting on top of that. 
“It’s time,” he stated, his pure silver eyes on his tablet instead of her. He wasn’t at all unattractive with thick salt and pepper hair cut short and a powerful build. But his voice was deadpan and his eyes didn’t emote much beyond cool regard. He didn’t have the demeanor one would expect when dealing exclusively with children. Even if they were exceptional children.
“Can’t we give them more time?” Laura's evergreen eyes turned back to the incubation tank, resting on the two little bodies supported by harnesses in the artificial amniotic fluid. The two babies were curled up next to each other, identical to the last detail but for their size. Even the fuzz on their heads was the same pale silver color. 
“They’re scheduled for today, you know that.” His voice didn’t change from monotone.
“But they’re still so little…” 
Those cold eyes came up and she felt their impact. “Don’t fall in love with them, Laura. They’re not yours,” he warned her.
“I know that…” 
Their mother was a cold hard machine of metal, tubes and plastic. They would feel that loss someday when they understood what they were. When they understood about their exceptional genes. And they would be exceptional, first generation genetics always were. Created from DNA sequences cloned for their superiority then mixed together to create the desired effect. It almost always resulted in extraordinary looks and stature, and more often than not, above average intelligence and strength.
“But… why is the project being scrapped?” Laura pleaded. “There’s no proof their evolution ruined our goal!” 
His eyes became bland. “You know it did,” he replied. “How could it not?”
“But we don’t know that—!” 
His sharp gesture cut through her words like butter. “The zygote split. The only natural conclusion is that the conditioning and the programming split as well. If it survived at all. The mission is over, Laura. They’ll be sent to a study lab.” He turned around to leave.  
“What if they manifest?” she called desperately. 
He paused, his silver eyes were thoughtful when he looked back at her. “It would be extraordinary, I admit. But there’s no way an infant could manifest talent.” He half-turned, pointing a finger at her warningly. “Don’t tamper with them, either! Their use as test subjects is preemptive to your desire to see them grow up.” 
Laura bit her lip as he walked away, her eyes going back to the tank. She had sat here with them, reading them stories, watching them grow bit by bit. She had been here when they opened their eyes for the first time and was pinned by a dark honey-tinged gaze. They were tuned into each other, even now connected in that unique twin way and yet… even more than that. 
She could understand the mission was off the table, there was only supposed to be one child. First gen twins were extremely rare being that their entire make up was cloned DNA. She could see why her superiors thought her work had been partitioned or destroyed… But she didn’t want them to become test subjects, to die some bizarre death chained up in a holding cell. She wanted them to live. She wanted them to grow up. 
She clenched her teeth with a grind as her eyes slid towards her research papers. A thesis she had been working on for the better part of ten years. Her research was in the lab not far away. She knew, even in the trial stages, her experiments wouldn’t hurt the twins. But if successful, would he notice and would he suspect her? 
One of the twins jerked roughly and the wave-monitor started beeping erratically. Before she could get up and turn it off, the other twin moved, with an uncoordinated stretch of his hand he touched his brother. Instantly the wave-monitor went dark and silent.
Determination steadied her. No… She couldn’t let them become lab-rats. She wouldn’t. If, for some reason, her research turned them into the hybrid weapons they were supposed to be, then so be it.
At least they would live.