Page 121 of Border Control

I can tell this argument isn't going to get us anywhere. They've been stuck like this for a while now, going round and round the same points.

“I think we should write into law ‘dangerous clones are euthanized’,” I say.

Shara’s eyebrows rise at me, but I ignore her, focusing on her sister.

“That is the spirit of the law in place, to use your term,” Samara says, guarded that I seem to be giving her a concession.

I lean back in my chair. “But what does ‘dangerous’ really mean here?"

The Prif echoes my body language, staring into her drink as she swirls it slowly. "It means exactly that. A threat. Someone, or something, that could destabilize what we’ve worked so hard to build."

I nod, keeping my voice steady. Don’t get too excited. "Right. But… if we’re going to use ‘dangerous’ as a reason to make life-or-death decisions, we need to be sure we’re defining it accurately. It can’t just be a feeling, right? We’re talking about facts, evidence—a clear standard."

Shara gives a small, almost imperceptible nod. "That would provide clarity, I suppose.”

“So, Samara, what makes one of the clones dangerous? Is it their strength? Their… skills? Or is it something deeper than that?"

Samara pauses, tapping her fingers on the table. Her gaze sharpens, and I can tell she’s carefully choosing her words. "Well, obviously, it’s different to strength or skill. We wouldn’t call a tool dangerous just because it's capable. It’s about control of the tool.”

There it is. I edge forward on my seat. "Control, yes. That makes sense. But control in what sense? Physical, mental…? Are we talking about obedience here, or…?"

Samara’s fingers tap a little faster. "All of it. A clone who refuses to listen, who defies authority or doesn’t respond to commands… that’s dangerous."

“Right. Okay. We can write that down.” I would, but I can't figure out their typing system.

Samara doesn't move either, so it's up to the All-Mother to fire up her pad and tap away. Then she flicks her wrist and symbols float in front of me and Samara, even though I can't understand them.

“So, control is the key.”

Samara nods. “If they cannot be controlled, they’re unpredictable. And unpredictability is a risk we cannot afford."

Shara nods as well, glancing at me with a flicker of understanding. "So… it’s not the clone’s strength, or even their abilities, that make them dangerous. It’s purely a matter of control. If a clone is controlled, then they’re safe. Correct?"

"Yes. If they’re controlled, they’re not dangerous." Samara’s expression tightens, her voice a little sharper.

“Controlled, okay. We'll need a definition of that, too,” I say.

Samara huffs. “How long is this going to go on, defining every single word?”

“As long as it takes. But I can work on some definitions if you like.”

“Yes, whatever.”

Got you. I keep my expression neutral, but my heart beats a little faster.

Shara glances at me, a subtle hint of approval in her gaze.

"So, to finish off ‘dangerous’ together, would you agree that as long as a clone willingly remains under control, they’re no threat? And there’s no reason to punish or exile them?"

Samara’s lips press into a thin line, realizing where this is going. But she’s already too deep to back out now. "…Yes. Technically. If they’re willingly compliant, and their abilities are understood and stable, then yes, they wouldn’t be considered dangerous."

I dip my head, maintaining my calm, diplomatic smile. "Thank you, Samara. I just wanted to ensure we’re all on the same page. This gives us a clear definition. Dangerous, in this context, means out of control."

"Fine. But don’t mistake this clarity for leniency, Laura."

I hold her gaze, my voice steady. "Of course not, Samara. But now we have something concrete to work with. Thank you for helping define it."

A tense silence settles between us, but the thrill of a small victory buzzes under my skin. Samara committed to a definition—something I can use to protect Dom. Her face tightens with barely concealed annoyance; she realizes it too.