

The Sky Knights

By

Gerard Whittaker

Started 2012-01-30

### The Sky Knights

### By Gerard Whittaker

### Smashwords edition.

### Copyright by Gerard Whittaker, 2012

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

### This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Prologue

Once there was a very pretty young woman who lived in a plastic box. Of course she wasn't really a woman, she was a clone. And the plastic box was designated as an Executive Third Class Single person Habitation module. Which meant that it was a box with a bed inside.

Her Master kept telling her how lucky she was to have a room to herself, as a secretary she only warranted a sleeping mat in one of the worker's barn sized habitats, and so her tiny cubicle on the highest floor of the highest building on Selike 4 was a position of honour. She only wished that it was not between her master's office and suite, for some of the tasks she had to perform were most unclonelike, and in a society of clones any thought of sexual relations were considered near blasphemous. For thousands of years all reproduction had taken place in maturation tanks, from authorised genetic donors who had been the pride of their race. Only a few planets still allowed Breeders to create life by the random mixing of genes, and this perverse minority were subject to all manor of persecutions.

Her twenty hour work day complete, she returned to her box, dropping to the bed in exhaustion, but as usual sleep would not come easily. Her Master was cutting corners again, and it was her job to decide which departments to give a ten percent nutritional cut. Already there was talk of malnutrition and loss of worker efficiency. To be honest the firm had always been overstaffed, and so a few thousand casualties were considered an acceptable way of balancing the ledgers.

The green sunlight shone through the tiny barred window high on the wall, casting ornamental shadows on the opposite wall. In exhaustion and frustration she stood up and pulled the bed to one side, and dragged the desk against the outer wall, and stood her clothing cube on top. The cube was small but still nearly empty, the executive level was warm and her master preferred she serve him naked most of the time.

She had been created as a prototype from long neglected genetic stock, and was of average height for one of her kind, with firm muscles and a near white complexion that had never been exposed to sunlight. And had short hair of burnished bronze and large intelligent eyes of fiery green. Her breasts were full and proud with upturned nipples, her waist narrow but rippling with muscles, her hips and buttocks wide and firm. Her face was a master piece of impish beauty with a high forehead and cute nose. Her only adornment was a tattoo on her right forearm: Bren000000000000. Which translated as the prototype of the Bren series, and meant that she was called Zero.

It was a pity that she was a slave and didn't know it. For all inconvenient words had long since been pruned from the language of the clones, like honour, freedom and love. All she knew was obedience and duty.

Zero climbed onto the desk and stood on her clothing cube, to look through the tiny window at the ever changing valley of boxes piled upon boxes. The air was filled with wind blown dust that had long since stripped the pastel coating off the box city, leaving a drab grey everywhere except in the corners protected by the unused and unopenable windows. Most of the buildings had the heavy construction sections on the ground, with office cubes above, and the thousand worker habitation modules above that. Higher still were the first of the executive levels, and the Praetorian Guard levels that protected the senior executives on the highest few floors.

Zero gazed down on the city below, seeing one of the great flying lifters swooping down to begin dismantling an unused buildings, removing the executive level and replacing it with a light manufacturing unit. The city was ever in motion, growing and mutating like a living thing. Far across the valley Zero could see a huge building that she knew to be nearly as large as the one she lived in, it was easily a kilometre on each side, and over half that high, and, like all the others, was constructed of hundreds of neatly piled boxes. One side of the building was being winched open to reveal the tail section of a medium freighter being given a final polish, before being lifted into orbit to link up with whatever transporter modules it needed. She strained her eyes but could not see the workers who rushed to finish the massive drive module. Most would be terrified to see the open sky, after generations of living in their city sized factories. Even after twelve years serving her master, and being able to peer fearfully through her private window, just the thought of going outside simply terrified her.

"Get here, you lazy bitch," her master called fondly.

Zero stumbled from the window in sudden fear, and rushed to push her furniture back into place, before stumbling from her room towards the office.

"What kept you?" he snapped as she rushed to kneel before him.

"I was sleeping," she gasped. "I am sorry master, but I have just spent twenty time parts on the report you wanted." He looked blank. "You know? The one about further reducing the worker's nutrient rations."

"Well now you can start again." He was short and plain, but highly intelligent, or so he claimed, and none had ever seen fit to dispute it. No one knew how old he was, with highly advanced medical technology, and an endless supply of cloned spare parts, or spare part clones, age did not touch the Master of Selike 4. If he had ever had a real name was open to dispute, because all called him Master, and meant it! For he owned the world and a dozen more besides, and had a seat on the Great Council that controlled most of the galaxy. The office took up half the highest floor of the building, which meant about an acre of priceless carpet and works of art. The other half of the floor was taken up by his suite, which was even grander. And one level below was the barracks for his personal Century of the Praetorian Guard. The other nine hundred lived just below the main Executive levels. Which put a full Legion of nine foot tall professional killers between the down trodden workers and the spoiled executives.

Zero took her seat behind her master's desk just as a second executive entered, this one looked like a bad copy of the first. A twentieth generation clone, she guessed. "We have a problem master," he stated with a deep bow.

"Ah, Kar. I was wondering when you would find a new threat to the Race of Reason."

"Nothing that bad sir, but bad enough to the Company I fear."

"Are they not the same?" the master chuckled, meaning that to him the Company and Galactic Civilisation were one and the same. And what was good for one was good for the other. "Tell me about it," he said twining his fingers and pretending to look interested.

"We have been tracking an asteroid ship for hundreds of years, just one of tens of thousands still roaming the galaxy. Only this one is heading towards an unexploited Company world."

"I didn't think we had worlds unused."

"An oversight, we bought it off another company a couple of thousand years ago, but it was too far up the second galactic arm to be of interest. Ships were much slower then."

"And so it fell through the net," the master sighed. "So what is the problem? Assemble a task force and run the ship off."

"The problem sir is that the world in question is occupied, and that could void our charter."

"Somebody is trespassing on a Company world!" the master gasped in outrage.

"I'm not sure of that sir, they might even be natives. There is an interdiction satellite in orbit, and it has reordered no traffic in the system since the original survey. And that was so long ago the natives might have evolved into sentience."

"Show me," the master said grimly.

Kar put the recording on the main screen and Zero caught a view of a beautiful world of clear blue skies, rippling seas, majestic mountains and green forests. The snooper swooped down towards a small town and focused on the inhabitants, who looked surprisingly human, if dressed in odd drab clothing, and a pretty woman carried what could only be an immature male. Zero fought to avoid gasping on disgust, 'Breeders'!

"This scan was taken a few years ago," Kar explained, "the technology is early internal combustion engine, you know, biplanes and airships."

"Warlike?"

"If you consider trench warfare to be warlike," Kar said dismissively. "Their idea of tactics is to try to blind their opponents with sunlight glinting off bayonets, while being machineguned to death."

"Zero." She looked up in confusion. "I want you to organise a task force to take the planet."

"Certainly master. Aims, objectives and budget?"

"Round them up for sale, a trillion credits ought to do it. If we sell them at auction we might make most of that back."

"Do not forget my master that these could quite well be legal natives," Kar pointed out. "It might be wise to avoid a court case at this point. I was thinking of orbital bombardment with biological weapons."

"After they are sold as slaves it hardly matters. They are breeders, don't forget, vermin in the eyes of the law. However, as such their novelty value could be high in some quarters."

"The pleasure satellites are always looking for fresh meat," Kar agreed. "And the mines will take all the men we can find, no questions asked."

"Do you wish a small advanced mercenary company," Zero asked timidly, "or a cheap army?"

"As cheap as possible," her master snapped. "The Praetorian Guard ought to be able to take the whole world in a month. But round up some cannon fodder. You know the surplice workers? Conscript them. We might as well get some use out of them before they die."

"Will they fight knowing they will die?" Kar asked.

"Tell them that they can have the world, after they have taken it," the master laughed.

"Will they?" Zero gasped in sudden longing on watching the virgin world on the wall monitors.

"Of course not," the master laughed again. "They will die there, by enemy action or starvation, it hardly matters." Then he saw her, and the sudden longing in her green eyes. She knew too much and had served him too long. Far longer than any of his other secretaries. He sighed with resignation, but at least her replacement was ready in stasis. "You might as well activate your understudy girl."

"Recycling?" she gasped in sudden hope.

"You have served me well, for how long?"

"Twelve cycles master." Then she said eagerly, "Have I earned my reward?"

"That and more, I will miss you. But you have earned the right to a better life."

Zero hurried to her box, and the terminal, to begin organising an invasion, as Kar turned to the Master and chuckled, "Stupid bitch."

"Well, she will have a much better life, or parts of her at least," the master laughed.

That night Zero claimed her replacement from stasis, taking her own clone to the box. Una looked fourteen, and had been force educated with all that Zero knew in the times they had been together. They lay together on the narrow bed as Zero continued to brief the girl. "Whatever he does to you scream and look horrified. The more the better, and the sooner he will finish."

"Then this is all my life will be, work and abuse?" Una sobbed.

"Until you earn Recycling."

"You believe that? You really believe that we earn the right to live free?"

"If I am wrong I will find out for sure tomorrow," Zero replied sadly. "If I can, I'll contact you."

"From beyond?" Una scoffed. "I've something for you my friend, a transparent sheath that fits over your thumb. If in doubt, use it."

"I will, but hope I do not have to. Come, I have given you all our master's secret passwords, now we have one last night together."

"Zero, how many times have you been cloned? How many of us are there?"

"A few hundred that I know of, but most were sold off world. Do not forget..."

"That the fewer there are of us, the more valuable we are," she laughed.

In the morning Zero reported to the Recycling centre very early, desperate to claim her reward for years of devotion to her master. She entered through the gleaming doors into the comfortable waiting room, to see that it was still empty. She waited for a long time but still no one came to see her.

Finally she tapped out an access code on the internal door, one gleaned from her master, and entered the centre. A dozen examination booths lay on either side of the corridor, all were bright, clean and cheerful. Even the medical scanners and probes didn't alarm her.

The door at the end of the corridor opened and a medic looked at her in horror. "What are you doing here?" she gasped. The bald woman had a dark completion and the look of a Zen series, and wore the sky blue coverall of the recycling cast. Being bald meant that she was a low level clone, technically Zero too should be bald but was permitted cranial hair to please her master. Normally only executive and technical clones were allowed hair. "We are not ready."

"This is the recycling centre," Zero pointed out. "I'm eager to start my new life."

The medic looked unsure whether or not to laugh. "Your records won't be ready for a few minutes, so just lay on one of the testing beds."

Zero complied, resting on one of the plastic coated beds, as the hidden machinery began to scan her body. She rested for half an hour as the medic bustled around the machinery. "Can you explain what is going to happen?"

"What did your master tell you?"

"That my new life would soon start, I always understood that it meant that I would be going to one of the colonies. A new world."

"It'll be a new world all right," the medic replied dryly. "But there arn't any new planets, and haven't been for a long time."

Zero sat up unexpectedly at this news, just as restraining bars dropped down to hold her legs and right arm. "Why do you need these?" she gasped in outrage. Only her master had the right to treat her this way, not some low level corridor rat.

"Lay back and shut up," the woman snapped. "I can't concentrate with you jabbering away."

"Explain yourself woman!" Zero snapped. "I am not yours to order about."

The medic grabbed Zero's left hand and forced it back towards the empty restraint. "You don't get it, do you?" she laughed. "Don't you understand that recycling is what they do to garbage. We're going to recycle only the bits we can sell."

The shock was almost enough to weaken Zero, she slumped back as the restraint grabbed at her wrist, and then anger exploded within her breast for the first time as she realised that she had been lied to her entire life. Her left hand shot out of the restraint to grab the medic's throat, and pulled back driving the woman's head hard into the medical monitor, leaving a bleeding gash in the forehead. The medic was stunned for a couple of seconds, and Zero had time to place her thumb against her forehead and twist. The drugs held in the sheath on her left thumb were crushed and mixed resulting in a powerful neurotoxin. And while not meant to kill it seized up the medic's muscles until she was frozen like a statue, her face a mask of horror.

That still left Zero strapped to the bed, awaiting an automated vivisection. Her orders told her to give in and die, but the outrage said otherwise. She could still move her left arm, but was terrified of getting the paralysing drug on herself. It took an hour of twisting and turning, scraping her tender flesh against the restraints, before she could escape the examining bed.

Finally she stood free, pulled off the sheath and turned to the frozen medic. "And I know just the place for you." She pushed the woman on the bed, peeled off her sky blue coverall and secured her tightly. "Right, so this is a death sentence. So what now? What the heck am I supposed to do?" For the first time in her short life Zero was free to make her own decisions, but from a very limited list, and each choice ended with her death. If she waited where she was pretty soon she would be a pile of spare parts. If she ran the Praetorian Guard would hunt her down, and that kind of death she wished on no one. Even if she could flee the building, through a Legion of Praetorians, there was no way she could live on the surface. Death, death and death.

She left the cubicle expecting to run into more medics, but either it was a slow day or the Recycling centre was even more automated than she thought. And why not, she thought, with the clones brainwashed into believing whatever they are told, and ready to die on command, who needs guards? So this is it, the final proof of the superiority of the clones. To live in bondage and die when convenient.

Two cubicles at the end of the corridor were occupied, one by a girl younger that herself, and one by a tiny form that she didn't recognise.

Zero looked down on the girl bound to the scanner, seeing the bald head of a low level clone, and the temple tattoo denoting her as a personal servant. As usual for a Syl class the sweet face had sparkling steely grey eyes, the slim body small proud breasts, but her genital cleft was open as one who also had to perform sexual services. This intrigued Zero who had been taught that her services to the master were more or less a once off, brought on by his advanced age and power. "You are going to die here, you know that don't you?" On examining a recreational clone for the first time Zero found her to be bursting with sexual tension, which was a far cry from her own fear and disgust on being taken by her master.

"That I do," she replied with resignation.

"Do you want to die on your feet or on the bed?"

"Does it matter?"

Zero sank down to sit next to the girl. "I don't think it does. Unless you can think of a way to escape."

"I am only a servant. If you wish you can call me Octa."

"Zero, to my friends, and enemies. Zero, that about sums up my life," she sighed. "So what brings you here?"

"Master died in a crash, his replacement thought my sexual needs were scandalous. So here I am, for loving a man." Then Octa realised that she had admitted to the ultimate in treason to the Race of Clones, and gasped in desperation, "Hope I didn't offend you, please don't leave me."

"You enjoyed it?" Zero gasped in surprise. "Having sex!"

"You bet," Octa replied. "At least I got something out of this system, before it killed me."

"But how?"

"You do know that we were not always clones? That our genetic ancestors were the best of the best that humanity produced?"

"Yeh, so?"

"How do you think they were produced? Sex is in our genes, and it's taken a very long time to train us not to think about it."

"Then how come I hated doing it with my master?"

"Did you like him? Or did you fear him?"

"I hated his guts."

"Try doing it with someone you like."

"Like I'll ever get the chance," Zero sighed. "You said your master died in a crash, he was a pilot?"

"A good one, fighter and escort cruiser."

"And you spaced with him?"

"Been half way around the galaxy," Octa replied with pride. "With small crews on enormous near empty ships, light years from the Praetorians, certain rules are relaxed, and sexual relations between master and servant are permitted. Not that we could ever breed you understand, but it is fun pretending..."

"How do..." Then something seemed to explode in her brain, and it took her some time to realise that it was defiance. "Octa, could you teach me to act like a pilot, so that we could sneak on a ship?"

"That I could, but you'd still have to learn to fly. And that I can't teach you."

"But I know who could," she replied with a grin. "An apprentice pilot is allowed a personal servant, right? Then become mine and we will go places."

"I could get used to serving you, but we'll need new ID and papers, travel permits..."

Zero started to free the girl. "Leave that to me, and my friend." She called Una and got her permission to visit the centre. Octa stood and walked into the next cubicle, to see the other clone strapped to the scanner. "And what of this one Zero?"

"I've no idea what it is," Zero sighed in bemusement. "Female I think, but so small... A sport of somekind?"

"It's called a child. About seven cycles, I think."

The tiny girl looked up from large tear filled blue eyes, and as with most clones her skin was near white. "Will you help me or kill me?" she begged.

Zero had never seen an immature clone before, most were birthed at sixteen or so, but the child looked so tiny and fragile, and the face so appealing..."You can hardly have earned the right to be recycled. So why are you here?"

"Maturation tank crashed," the girl sobbed. "Once birthed I couldn't be finished. It was cheaper to grow a new clone." Zero examined the child, she was bald but might grow hair at some point, but her body was free of clone tattoos. Only her basic education had been implanted before the tank had failed, enough to talk, wash and eat, and so she had never been given the full clone suite of implants.

"How often do the tanks fail?" Zero asked with interest. "I have never heard of it happening."

"You wouldn't," Octa pointed out. "And all the evidence gets sent here before anyone has time to see it. This city is thousands of cycles old, and failures happen all the time in every section. Did you think the supervisors dare admit that to the managers?"

Zero ran a hand from the trembling shoulders to hold the head gently as the child looked up bravely, gasping, "Will you keep me?" She looked so small, weak and vulnerable Zero could only smile. It was the first time she had ever felt that way in her life.

"We could keep her on the ship, the cabins are not checked in flight," Octa suggested. "We might be able to assign her to serve you."

Zero freed the child and stood her on the table, feeling something very strange. Something most unclonelike. "Do you have a name?"

"I am only a few days old, there was no need to name me."

"Think I will call you Mel," she replied thoughtfully. "From now on you belong to me Mel. Understand?"

"Yes, I will not let you down," she sobbed in relief.

"And stop crying, clones do not cry," Zero insisted. "We endure." Octa held Zero by the shoulders, and slowly her arms dropped until she was holding her mistress's breasts and between her legs. "And why is this?"

"To thank you. And on the ship it will be expected if I am to be truly your servant. Do you not like my touch?"

"I could get used to it," Zero admitted with a faint smile. "Is this how you serve me?"

"Clean your cabin and your uniforms, prepare your meals and run errands." Octa chuckled richly, "This and more, hopefully far more."

Zero looked into her servant's intense grey eyes, and smiled back.

Una entered the Recycling centre a few minutes later, carrying a covered device. "I got it Zero."

"And that is?" Octa asked.

"Our passport to freedom," Zero laughed. "A portable tattooer."

"So you can change our tattoos. But it won't fool the computers."

"My girl," Zero laughed, "we already own the computer, it's our job to tell them what to do."

Una chuckled, "Our clearance is so high we're half way to the moon bases."

"Sorry Una, but I can not take you with us."

"I understand Zero. But now I know about this I'll take steps to avoid it, by the time I am ready for recycling I will have an escape route of my own. So what are you going to do?"

"First, I am going to enrol in flight school, and then join the invasion fleet. All the unwanted clones will be automatically rerouted into the fleet, so this place can be forgotten. We were told to create the biggest cheapest invasion fleet we could, and I hope to create a safe place for when you can join us."

"Zero, I don't want to come and live with you, leaving another clone being tortured in my place."

"As I hate to leave you here. But what choice have we? The clones are already in zygote stage, ready for the maturation tanks, and those even we can not touch."

"I'll have a few years to think about it," Una sighed.

"Can you create temporary tattoos?" Octa asked. "I think Mel will be safer if she can blend in with the locals."

"Say, about two years before they fade?" Una asked. "That should be long enough."

"Do you see a problem here?" Zero sighed. "We want to get as many clones into the invasion fleet as we can, but we do not want to win."

"But if we take the planet," Octa gasped, "don't we get to keep it?"

"If we take the target we die," Una sighed. "Do you think our society could survive thousands of trained killers returning to duty? All they have to do is delay our nutrient supplement for a few weeks."

"Then what hope have we? Either the aliens kill us or our own bosses do."

"Yes," Zero sighed. "That sounds about right." Just then an horrified scream tore through the recycling centre as the medteck was being sliced into her component organs. They watched in horror as a hundred automated needles slid into her dark skin and began to inflate bubbles that soon grew ripping the skin from the flesh. Only when the entire bloated skin had been ripped from the body did a surgical laser slice around the extended neck and the epidermis was removed in one piece, to be neatly rolled and placed in a stasis container.

Zero found herself holding Mel to her breast to shield the child from sight of the exposed living cadaver as the organs were removed, until only the skeleton was left, and then even that was cut into sections. It took ten minutes to reduce the woman to spare parts till only the skull was left, then the eyes and teeth were removed. The few remains were quickly wrapped and disposed of down a chute, and the machines began to clean the room of bits of flesh and fat, blood and gristle. But the worst was that the mediteck was still alive and conscious right up until the end.

"Yes, I think it's time to enlist," Zero said dryly.

### Chapter One

The tiny man ran through the rain wet forest with the beast on his scent, and knew he had no chance of escape. The stoat was up to his chest and twice as long as his body, it flowed through the undergrowth as if it had a hundred legs, and, as with all its kind, it was a natural killer that enjoyed slaughter. The rain had slowed it some, but not enough. Alin was a Bush Sprite, which was unusual enough this high in the mountains of Iase Benerant, what was even more unusual was that he was fleeing down from his home. He had been cut off from safety by a landslide that sealed the tunnel into his cave home. And as he was only eighteen or so inches high, running from a ravenous stoat was a very good idea, even if it was an exercise in futility.

His spear had been lost in a second stoat five miles back, and his only weapon was a tiny flint knife about the size of his pursuer's front teeth. He ran even faster.

A clearing opened up before him, with a cliff face dropping away thirty feet straight down. He froze in horror on seeing the immense cart tracks and foot prints in the soft mud: Big Ones! This was the realm of the giants who would stamp all his kin into the ground as they laughed. Then he saw a flash of the stoat, and ran across the clearing towards the cliff, and the beast charged after him. It was no contest.

"Get down," a woman's voice called from the cliff. He looked up to see an immense device being hoisted up from below the cliff edge.

For a second he was torn by two fears, the stoat and the unknown. But the woman on the device was a Bush Sprite, even if the thing was obviously made by the hated big ones. He dived to one side as the contraption fired an arrow larger than he was, and it took the stoat in the throat and ran straight through the body.

He slowed to a walk as she hopped off the crossbow rig and waited for the stoat to die. "Why didn't you give me a clear shot?" she asked with an exotic accent.

"I didn't even know about you," he gasped. "You're not from here, are you?"

"Pabla island, half way around the world, and I'm Las. Then you're a local, a local Bush Sprite! Wow!"

"We thought we were the last. But how did you get here?"

"They brought us, the big ones."

"You ran away?"

"Oh boy, this could take some explaining," she sighed. "Pabla has a very interesting assortment of insects, mostly larger than we are, and they swarm in the thousands. Compared to that, a few stoats are good hunting." She decided the stoat was truly dead and began to skin it. Alin knelt to help, comparing his own flint knife with her steel blade. "Yes, they brought us here, built our village and made our tools. But with the intention that we become self sufficient. This valley belongs to us, and I was really here to warn off any big ones who felt like taking a leak over the edge."

They finished the skinning and rolled the hide around a generous portion of meat, and used a hoist to lower it to a ledge half way down the cliff. A small crowd of Sprites appeared to finish butchering the stoat, and to clean the site of blood and offal.

Alin followed Las down a ladder to the rock ledge, expecting a cave. What he found was a real home built into the cliff face. The hole had been cut straight into the cliff face, three feet wide by two foot high. It was six foot deep and held a single story dwelling that had been built elsewhere and slotted into the artificial cave. Sunlight shone straight into the cave and home, warming all within. He had noticed a large section of metal fastened to the cliff face, and now saw cables running from it into the dwelling.

"Solar power," Las pointed out. "Each home has a section of solar panelling from a scrapped plane, to light the nights, heat the water and cook our food.

She showed him around her small tidy home, and fastened the hide to a skinning frame in the spacious section of the cave ledge. "My husband is away on business in the town, and son learning in the civic centre school." Then she showed him her pride and joy, a small blue egg hardening in a fur pouch. "My daughter. She'll hatch in a month."

"To have two children, you are blessed indeed," he sighed.

"Then you only have a single child? We were like that only a few years ago. But then we lived in ignorance and fear." She patted the egg lovingly. "I'll cook lunch whilst you clean up. Ever had a hot bath? After I'll turn you over at the civic centre. Someone there will know how to help you."

Alin had his bath and found his clothing had been washed and were now drying before the heater. "I'll be picking my Jo up in about three hours, they'll be dry by then. Can't do much for the fur, but you'll not be needing it for a while."

"But its freezing out there."

"Not the way we'll be going," Las laughed.

A clear plastic pipe led from the cave down the cliff face and then ran along the grass towards the civic centre. Alin was tall, but the pipe was higher still over his head. Doors were set into the pipe at various intervals, and connections with other pipes, but what amazed him the most was that the entire valley was still covered in snow several human feet over his head. As more pipes joined up with their own, dozens of Sprite mothers joined them to pick up their own children from the school.

The pipe finally connected to a building that must have been twenty feet high. They walked through a small city bustling with more Sprites than Alin had ever imagined existed in the whole world. The highest level of the town held a clear Perspex dome over a large swimming pool. Swimming was one thing Sprites did not do in the wild, it was just too cold and dangerous. But here a score of them played in the warm water.

Las took Alin to an oversized bath of bubbling water, and pointed out a Sprite girl lounging naked in the steaming water. She was tall for a Sprite with short blond hair and a very pretty face. But there was something about her that he had never felt before, an aura of authority. "Lady Alice, I found this wandering around outside. He's a wild one from Iase Benerant."

Alice opened her eyes in surprise. "Well, that's new! There always were tales of Sprites living here, but no one believed them. Thanks Las, I'll take it from here." The woman hurried off to pick up her son and go home. "So, how can we help?"

"You're certain I need help?" he gasped.

"Of yes, we all need a friend occasionally, this I know more than most."

"A land slip blocked the entrance to our cave. I was the only one outside at the time. I thought it was impossible to help them, until I saw the cave homes that had been cut through solid rock. Tell me, can you persuade the Big Ones to save my kin?"

"Is that all?" she laughed.

The sun was now dying, and as Alin looked through the clear dome towards the cliffs he saw the lights begin to come on. First there was only half a dozen flickering in the twilight, and then a dozen more, and yet another score. The cliff face was soon twinkling with fifty homes, and then a hundred and more.

"We have a hundred and fifty families here now," Alice pointed out. "And more coming all the time. Why would we not help you brother?"

"What is this place? What does it all mean?"

"This is the last hope of our race," she sighed. "Once we were called the First Ones, for we were the oldest living race in the galaxy. A ship crashed here bringing calamity to this world, and our ancestors hid in fear, and learned to hide so well we have become but a shadow of our old selves. That is what this place is for, so that we might learn who we once were, and be so again."

"Why do you serve the big ones?" he gasped.

"Serve them," she laughed, "I don't serve them, they are my family!"

"And how is that possible?" he scoffed.

"Imagine," she sighed on dredging up distasteful memories. "Imagine a girl held naked by a young giant, a real sadistic brute. Imagine him forcing her to fight roaches nearly as big as she. And then a young giant girl stumbling upon the scene, and saving her life. The giant girl cleans her and takes her home, and shares her life with the Sprite. Slowly they learn to communicate, and to love each other like sisters. And then imagine her being adopted into a family of giants, and becoming like them in spirit, if not in flesh."

"I can imagine it all, apart from talking to them."

"That's easy, all you have to do is stop running and start listening." Alice dried herself and dressed in a fight suit. "I'm going home, if you want to save your kin you will come with me."

"And how will we get there in the night, fly?"

"But of course, I do it all the time," she laughed.

A single plastic pipe led off from the Sprite town, towards a flying machine that looked awesome to Alin. The cockpit was an egg shaped Perspex bubble laying on one side, surrounded by a circular wing, They entered by a hatch in the floor of the transparent egg, and only then did he look up to see the giant sized controls, and the massive pilot's seat.

"This is the Disckette, the smallest plane we have," Alice explained. "I've been flying her for more than three years, so you needn't worry." She jumped onto the seat and climbed to the right hand shoulder, where a tiny flight station had been built. A second one was on the left side.

Alin followed her instructions to clime in and buckle down. Alice was now all professional as she checked the instruments. "Capacitor, fully charged, Oil up to pressure. Machine guns, fully loaded, but not cocked and safeties on."

"You have guns on this thing?" he gasped.

"Always, I never fly unarmed. And the ammunition is nearly as big as you." The Disckette lifted straight up and then settled into forward flight, skimming away across the snowscape. He looked back to see the Sprite town vanishing from sight in the distance, and soon his mountain home as well. He glanced over to watch Alice's face in the instruments' lighting, and realised that she was in love. With flying! "My Sprite sister, Auga, helped build the controls. She life bonded last month, and they're half way around the world, looking to recruit more Sprites, officially. Personally, I think they're just goofing off on a beach."

"You don't have any Sprite sized planes?"

"Grandpa Benes has been working on a couple, but we can't build capacitors small enough, not yet. It's a power to weight ratio, you need a certain sized wing to charge the capacitors and gain the lift from the thrusters. But at the moment the capacitors are too heavy for the planes to fly."

"You've fought in the air?"

"Enough," she sighed. "I'm an ace, but I don't know how many times over, no true Cloud Knight ever counts his kills."

"And a Cloud Knight is what exactly?" he asked on seeing a wide river full of tumbling ice through the transparent floor, and then it was gone. That one obstacle might have taken him a year to cross, but in the air it took about three seconds.

"A fighter pilot, but it's much more than that. However, if you're not one I can't really explain." He realised she was serious, you either knew what a Cloud Knight was or you didn't.

The fortress of Iase Benerant came into view, and the Museum that took up three sides of the island. Only the impassable cliffs on the far side of the island were not protected by man, not when nature did a much better job. An airfield lay in the lee of the fortress, with the museum towering far into the darkened sky. Alice landed the Disckette on the flightline, and called an engineer over to hitch a ride home.

This was the first time Alin had seen a big one up close, and was amazed when not only did he listen to Alice talking in a booming voice, he replied with a grin and a cocky salute, before rushing off to find a six wheel drive truck. It was clear that not only was she respected, she was also well liked. It took Alin a while to get used to a big one not only taking orders from a Sprite, but enjoying obeying them.

The drive was torture compared to the flight, bouncing about on an overstuffed leather seat, but was over quickly. Alice's home was built into the cliff face that made up the museum, or one section of it, a glass wall covered the entire home, with a door leading through a second wall into a comfortable lounge. A short hall and master bedroom led even further into the solid rock, with a kitchen and bathroom on the other side. A mezzanine area held at least three bedrooms, and was reached by a flight of stairs from the lounge. Alin looked around in surprise, and saw a huge cage in one corner, sure it had once housed Sprites, but all it held now was an assortment of songbirds.

"Yes Alin," Alice agreed. "We had to keep some wild Sprites from escaping until they realised that we meant them no harm. They are now in the valley."

"So where is your family?"

"I've no idea," she sighed.

"Alex, Gella and Kitty are on routine patrol," a girl called from the Mezzanine. "Priss was having trouble with her labour and is in hospital, with Cara and the others in attendance. They left me because I don't like hospitals." She walked down the stairs and knelt before them, and Alin was surprised to see that she was only about eight, and had purple hair and eyes.

"You're not hiding here again Owena?" Alice sighed.

"I can hardly understand a word that brood says. Half of them only talk in mathematics."

"Brood?"

"Owena was adopted, like me, and her intelligence is only normal, like mine, but she has a dozen brother's and sisters who's intelligence is far from ordinary. And I can't understand them either."

"We live in the Benes mansion. But I prefer it here, where I can think," Owena insisted. "Damn it, I love them all, and my adopted mother Selia, but if I have to stop there I'll go insane."

"We'll talk it over," Alice sighed.

"She's already been adopted once," Alin pointed out. "By your grand parents."

"No, by the extended Benes family, very extended, I might add."

Owena laughed, "Any family who can adopt Bush Sprites can also put up with me."

"So, we'll need to go to the mansion," Alice sighed. "Grandpa Benes will sort it out. Care to come Owena?"

"I'd better, to help translate for my siblings," the girl sighed. "If they get out of hand they could accidentally blow the mountain apart, just to open up a passage."

"And Alin, don't think she's kidding," Alice sighed. "We had to ban them from the museum before they dismantled it piece by piece."

"The good news is that they've started putting things back together now, and they run better than before. The thing is, we don't know how they run anymore, and the kids can't explain."

"Oh, they do explain," Alice corrected Owena, "but we just arn't bright enough to understand their explanation."

Five minutes later the Disckette lifted off carrying Owena as well as the Sprites, and Alin realised that he was getting used to the impossible remarkably quickly. He was only now beginning to realise how remarkable Alice truly was, and how well she had adapted to living with the family that had adopted her. He still did not understand what a Cloud Knight was, but realised that everyone else on Iase Benerant, and the entire Western Isles, did, and they all loved and respected her for becoming one.

The mansion was half way back to the mountains, and the Disckette landed half an hour later in the car park. Benes was nearly sixty, a tall bluff man with grey hair and no time for fools. Jances was in the hospital helping Priss through her confinement, but Selia, Benes second wife and PA, was on hand to organise the rescue. But to call Selia a second wife and Personal Assistant was to belittle her. She was tall, stately and incredibly lovely, highly intelligent and as good with a wrench or soldering iron as Benes himself; together they formed an incredible duo in designing and building experimental aircraft.

When Benes had first taken up with Selia he had been kidnapped and told that his wife and family were dead, and with the war against the Bruss Empire, that had been growing ever hotter over the years, it was an easy tale to believe. However, when he had found out the truth and brought their brood of artificially enhanced children, born by host mothers from Benes and Selina sperm and egg, (the hard way) back home to face his distraught wife, he found that she could forgive him almost anything. She even forgave Selina in the rush to care for the new children, even suggesting that they both life bond with Selina, but refused to let the PA become a second wife, and thereby downgrade the children's ranking. She insisted that if you were in the family a bit you were in the family entirely, either by birth, Alex and his kid sister Ianna, life bonding with Gella, becoming a bondsgirl, Carla and Priss, or adoption, Kitty and Alice. Each and everyone was a Benes, by birth, adoption, sentence, or a Sprite.

And that was just one side of the family, with two children already born by Gella and Carla, and a third on the way from, the erstwhile lady, Priss. Once that spoiled Ex lady had flirted with treason, busting her and Cara to bondsgirls was the only way to save their lives. And while they were never given an option, serving a loving couple for life beat being hung, and the children they had would be treated the same as those Alex and Gella had together. They were not slaves, but criminals sentenced to a life of servitude, and enjoying every minute of it. Even Jances and Selina had children again the old fashioned way, conceived at the same time and birthed almost at the same minute. With both births in the same room at the same time, no one claimed to notice which of the children came from which mother, and so Sela and Janer had two mothers and enough siblings to start a school.

When Alin met the children he began to understand where Owena was coming from, he didn't really think that they were talking mathematically, however, they all spoke so fast no one could prove that they were not.

What amazed Alin the most was that once the problem had been explained there was no hesitation at all, the rescue was a forgone conclusion with all the facilities of the Benes' factory at their beck and call.

The Disckette took off in the dark once more, carrying a compressor to the cave, as a second plane was being loaded with a work crew and yet more gear. And a small convoy of workers were roused from their beds and carried up the mountainside in six wheel drive trucks. When the workers were told about the Bush Sprites being trapped in their own mountain not one grumbled about the early start.

Two hours later Alin was helping chalk a large X on the side of the mountain nearest the sealed entrance to his buried home.

A compressor was soon powering a pneumatic drill through the granite, cutting a six inch wide hole into the cavern beyond.

Ailn quickly scrambled through the bore hole and into his home, to see his clan cowering fearfully inn the dark. He took charge and cleared everyone away from the wall, as yet more holes were being cut in a semi circle, and then connected by old fashioned cold chisels, until the plug of stone was rocking freely. Benes drove the truck that pulled the plug free, allowing the medical team into the cave, to begin the task of helping the badly wounded.

By the time the sun rose once more the Sprites were being ferried back to the hospital and the crisis was over. "So what happens to us now?" Alin asked.

"We get you all well," Benes replied. "If you want to return here afterwards I'll help fix it up, otherwise you might like the Sprite town."

"We have a choice?"

"While we like the idea of a second habitat, the cave is no place for Sprites this high in the mountains in winter. There simply is not enough food this high above the tree line for a viable society. I understand you were hiding from us, and I don't blame you, but this nearly became a mass grave."

"Also," Alice said simply, "we need your genes added to the Sprite genetic pool. There are too many small Sprite communities with stagnant gene pools, so we need to stir them up with fresh blood."

### Chapter Two

The workers' habitat was going through a shift change when Quada and her section slumped through the doors and stripped off their begrimed coveralls, and dropped the flimsy but near indestructible garments into the laundry chute. All had the bald head of low level clones, and had spent the last two months stripping down old machines into a hundred tiny parts, and the next day reassembling them once more. They knew the department was being run down, and the food cut month by month, and tried to ignore the sense of fear that had been building for sometime. There was no word for unemployment in the language of the clones, just as there was not one that meant freedom. You worked or you died. Quada was tall with a body trimmed to near emaciation by years of hard work and short rations, her eyes were brown in a face that in another time and place would have been considered classically beautiful, however she neither understood the word classic nor beautiful. She often led the section through good sense, but was just a worker, a drone who would live as long as needed and then be disposed of. At her side as always stood her only friend Sevina, an even taller woman with large green eyes and a warm mouth that was meant to smile, but had never found anything to smile at. They walked naked through the neat rows of sleeping mats towards the showers, to be blasted by sonic waves that left the skin clean but did little for the soul. Men and women alike shared the showers with no interest shown to any of the opposite sex, for even the thought of copulation had been eliminated from conscious thought, has had the possibility of performing the repulsive action, and even if it could happen by some miracle the Praetorians would soon eliminate the unfortunate couple in a public execution that would be talked about after lights out for generations. Quada and her team grabbed their allotted nutrient rations that always tasted the same, despite what it said on the dispenser. It was believed by some that once the food paste had tasted different, but that someone, sometime far in the distant past, had lost the recipe, and so now it was an all but inedible stodge. Quada spooned the gooe into her mouth, giving the regulation three chews before swallowing, and quickly finished her portion, swilled it down with her semi warm drink that tasted of something, but she was never sure what, and stumbled to her sleeping mat. She secretly wished for one of the thin sheets she could remember being issued ten years ago, but even they had been withdrawn when some accountant had realised how much it cost to clean thousands of them every day.

"Rations are down again," the woman lying next to her whispered. "Only took six spoons this time, used to take eight."

"Bigger spoons Sevina?" Quada whispered back.

"Get real."

"Right..." she sighed and relaxed as her exhausted body gave in and surrendered to sleep.

The alarm brought them wide awake what seemed like seconds later. Quada stumbled awake heading for the clothing dispenser without thinking, and pulled on the green coverall before she realised that it was the wrong colour. White was medical, dark blue spacer, grey worker, brown janitor, scarlet Praetorian, but Green was military! Even the new boots were different, ankle high and meant for outdoor use.

Five hundred men and women stood in shock on seeing the military pattern clothing, but still dressed hurriedly as the speakers told them to head for exit G12.

"That's the ground," Sevena gasped in horror. "It's outside!"

"Can't be," Quada objected to her tall friend.

They stumbled in terror past rows of identical Praetorian Guards, all were big men, who looked nine feet tall to the downtrodden workers; each face was the same, smarmy, superior and cruel. They were all perfect clones of the best bodyguard who ever lived, and wore transparent armour over their scarlet jumpsuits, carried energy rifles and painsticks. But the five hundred recruits were being pushed by Praetorians through the gate, into the chill dark, and a locator was pushed into her hand, Quada stumbled into line and the reality was being explained by a grizzled officer.

The officer continued his briefing, "You have all been selected, for your years of exemplary service, to have a little adventure. You are now part of an invasion force that will seize a company planet from a bunch of primitive Breeders. And when you succeed you will be allowed to stay there for the rest of your days. Any questions?" They all knew better than that, if any had dared to open his mouth the Praetorians would take the trouble maker to one side and shoot him. "Good. All you need to know of military life will be taught you enroute to the invasion fleet. One in ten of you has a locator, these will be your team leaders, and will relate all your orders. Simply put, the locator tells you where to go and who to fight. So form up in groups of ten and follow the green arrows to the first base camp where you will be fed. Now go!"

Quada held up her locator as Sevena and eight more surrounded her. She watched the green needle settle into a direction, however, not all of the squads went in the same way. "Fifty squads," Sevena pointed out. "I think this is going to be rough. And the Prats are following us."

"The Praetorians are just there to make sure we don't get lost," Quada objected. Then several screams tore through the night.

"Sure, with painsticks," Sevena gasped. "You do realise that we only had a time part's sleep."

After an hour the dusty air became muddy as the rain started, and the only thing they could see was the green needle that pointed down the overgrown road. With bodies already strained by a twenty hour working day, and weakened by months of malnutrition, the clones stumbled into the rain lashed night, blindly following the green needle they would come to hate. They knew that a computer had some master plan where all units were being tracked from orbit, to ensure that the new army would be where and when it was most needed, but that did little to alleviate their misery as the rain soaked through the thin uniform and collected in the ill fitting boots.

By dawn the rain had finished, and they stumbled into the first way station, where they were fed paste that seemed sweeter than usual, and allowed to sleep on the damp grass for three hours, which was about as comfortable as the standard issue sleeping mat. They were woken roughly, given a quick meal and a tube of the sweet paste, as exhausted and agonised bodies wanted to die.

The march resumed when the locator beeped, and Quada led them towards the next way station. The fifty squads had spread out by now, winding around the city and derelict countryside. And Quida began to notice something that disturbed her even more than being forced to fight a war, no matter how primitive the opponents, no matter where she looked were traces that the city had once been there before her, and had collapsed. As the locator led them ever further, into what past as wilderness, the ruined city spread out before them over the horizon, dead and rotting.

"So what is this?" Sevena gasped. "Why arn't these buildings full of happy productive clones?"

"The city seems as tired as I am," Quada sighed. It seemed as if the city sized world, or world sized city, had collapsed back into one small section, leaving the rest of the planet of Selike 4 to die.

At the start of the second week the Praetorians started to pick up stragglers, erecting portable crosses at intersections so that the wandering army could see what happened to the lazy. The victims were given a lift to the front of the column and released after a half day of hanging in agony, at first.

At one of the way stations Quada examined one of the crosses that held an old clone who had been part of her platoon, before exhaustion had made him fall behind. The device was cruciform with a tail strut and legs that had spikes that could be driven into the ground, and arms that could be extended and swivelled in the horizontal, with straps holding at wrist and ankles, elbows and knees. Normally the traitor was simply held immobile, but with the elbow and knee restraints removed all of the body weight was placed on vulnerable parts of the body, and when the arms could no longer support the weight a slow suffocation ensured.

There were three punishments, the first time a clone was caught he was pain lashed, the second time crucified for twelve hours, but the third time they left him to rot.

As Quada and Svena watched in horror they saw the old clone crucified upside down, and what happened next sickened even two hardened clones, for it was many minutes later that the old man choked to death, as the Prats laughed in glee.

Another Praetorian carried one of the folded up devices over an immense shoulder, grinning at all who past by. Quada turned away from the evil grin, she had a very bad feeling that one day she would find out what it was like to decorate a cross. To make up their numbers Quada grabbed an exhausted girl who stumbled along aimlessly, and was about to give up, pushed her into her platoon and had her dragged along until they reached base camp. A good sleep and a full tube of rations revived her. The weak died and the fit grew stronger. Slowly the exercise and diet produced a change in Quada and Sevena, with muscles replacing atrophied flesh, confidence and curiosity replacing downtrodden compliance. In some way the slaves were coming alive on their way to death.

Bits of equipment were handed out at the way stations, a cape here, a rucksack there, with training given as they went along. Even being taught to strip and dry fire an energy pistol. However, no weapons would be issued until they reached the target planet. The master of Selike 4 had no intention of his army turning round and going home armed.

At the end of the third week to were nearing a vast space port, hundreds of miles across the cracked and weed strewn ferracreat, and could see the dozens of immense ships that awaited them in the distance. At the final way station the recruits were taken aside, one at a time, and taught to fire an energy pistol, one shot each. Quada saw her shot hit a man sized target painted on an old wall, and though impressive she knew it was a short range weapon, and that the cost of getting within range was going to be high.

In the morning they followed the green arrow up the boarding ramps into the ships. Quada and Sevena stopped on the brink and turned back to look across the barren landscape to see thousands of units converging on the ships. And the low sun cast long shadows from the hundreds of filled crosses that littered the landscape.

"What do you think," Sevena sighed, "how many killed just to get us here?"

"Makes you proud to be part of something so much bigger that yourself, you feel like an insect," Quada sighed, and turned back into the ship. They formed up in units inside the cargo bay, rank after rank, until the hold was full. And then blue lights began to glow from the walls, growing ever brighter, and she could only gasp, "Stasis," as the army was frozen in time.

Zero watched the loading from the bridge of the QL913, staring down on the cross littered landscape, and then at the tens of thousands boarding her ship on the seventeen cargo decks. And at the other ships across the derelict starport. It was amazing the amount a trillion credits could buy, if you accepted the lowest bid. And some of the ships were centuries out of date, on their last voyage before being scrapped. If they were lost in combat their owners might even be in profit. And for a second she started to worry about bombs.

She checked out her combat shuttle, that at least as working, and finished her shift returning to her tiny quarters. Octa was waiting with her rations when she entered and Mel looked up with a smile from studying at the data bank. "So, how is it?" the servant asked sadly.

"Worse than I ever expected. The Praetorians must have killed fifteen percent just driving them to the ships," she said with quiet anger. "And get this, they were only allowed a single shot each as basic training. They'll be cut to ribbons."

"But the enemy are savages," Mel gasped. "We are clones, brighter, stronger and faster than any breeder."

"That may be so, but those savages have spent hundreds of years learning how to fight."

"But the fighters, the armoured transporters, surface ships, artillery and even the warbots," Octa gasped. "And we'll outnumber their standing army ten to one. It'll be a walk over."

"Sure, but over the bodies of how many clones?"

### Chapter Three

Air Chief Marshal, Lord Jaxmounnt, the Laird of Iase Benerant picked up his phone and dialled the number from memory. "Alex, trouble, big trouble. So sit down and call Gella and Kitty over. I don't want to repeat this over an open line."

"We're here sir," Gella replied.

"We've a ship taking up orbit, and it's big! They're asking for a trade conference, with the world leaders. A regular diplomatic shindig on their ship."

"So let's show them how were treat diplomats in the Western Isles," Alex replied grimly. "Full dress uniforms and sidearms."

"We'll meet them sir," Gella sighed. "With the Seagulls."

Kitty and Alice also managed to get included in the guest list, for they too were part of the Seagull section of the Black Star Squadron.

The QL913 hovered over Iase Benerant, dwarfing the fortress island. Benes and Selia stood watching it through telescopes, noting every protrusion on the vast hull. "She's not using rockets to fly, or wings either," Selia pointed out.

"Defeating gravity then," Benes said absently. "Nice trick. I can't see any obvious weapons, and I doubt if those antenna things could carry more power than for simple communications."

"That's not saying that her holds are not full of missiles," Lord Jaxmount stated grimly. "Tell them to land and accept our ambassadors."

The ship hovered over the choppy sea, her boarding ramps dropping onto the quay. Alex, Gella, Kitty and April, along with the Seagulls, looked up at the flying mountain, noting not the sheer size but the rust patches and signs of repair. "Gella, what do you think?"

"We have them outnumbered," she replied.

"April, hide. You'll know when to appear." The Sprite nodded and jumped for Kitty, slipping down the front of her sister's dress jacket. "That's all we can do," Alex sighed, "so let's meet destiny proudly."

They marched up the ramp and into an empty hold, seeing not the promised reception but a single woman wearing a skintight jumpsuit that covered jointed armour plates over most of her torso.

"We have been given a translator implant, to allow conversation," she said sweetly. "My name is Zero, and I will be your liaison." Then the walls began to glow blue, and the view through the still open hatch showed not Iase Benerant but the Palace of the Western Isles on Raghnaile island. They saw the delegation of Regent Foxcourt ready to ascend the ramp.

"How did you manage that?" Gella snapped.

"It would take to long to explain," Zero dismissed her.

"This is a trap," Gella snapped.

"Sure about that?" Alex asked.

"Trust and ex thief to know when she's being lied to."

"Then I insist on seeing the captain before I allow any more to board."

Zero looked at him in shock. "You are in no position to make that demand."

"Haskin, close that hatch. And if you can't shoot at them." The Engineer ran forward to examine the mechanism. "Now girl, show us to the captain."

"Emergency stasi..." She got that for before Gella hit her. Blue lights began to snap on in the hold.

"April, up and away." The Sprite jumped from Kitty's jacket and dove into the air as vast and ghostly blue wings appeared to support her. Then the hold was full of the stasis field and time stopped dead. April was the only Sprite who truly believed the legends of her race, that once they were much taller than now. Much more powerful. And were known across the galaxy as the First Ones, the ones who could fly on wings of thought, and who owed allegiance to the Mother of All of Seyerass. And once in a moment of desperation she had touched The Mother's consciousness across half the galaxy, and found the strength to fly.

However, April was now hovering near the ceiling flying between the projectors, looking at them with anger. She heard a series of dull thuds as more boarding ramps were dropped and screams as the clone army swept from the ship towards the palace. Blaster bolts and gunfire echoed across the island as chaos descended. "Now we know for sure," sighed and began to smash the projectors.

By the time the beam died and the others became mobile most of the clone army was sweeping to take the Palace and a full scale battle was erupting across Raghnail.

Alex grabbed Zero by her throat and put his pistol to her head, "Let's try that one more time. Take me to the bridge."

"I was trying to save your life," she complained. "The Praetorians are there."

"And the Cloud knights are here," Gella snapped. "Do you really want to find out which is worse?" Alice landed on Kitty's shoulder looking smug, and Zero saw the Sprite with incomprehension. The briefing had not mentioned tiny flying aliens.

Alex gave up on closing the hatch and ran towards the bridge with the Seagulls close behind. The clones who saw them merely faded away, this was not their job.

Octa and Mel met them in the corridor and tagged along behind as they raced into the bridge.

Alex threw Zero to one side and aimed at the captain, "You will surrender sir, or I'll blow your brains over the bulkhead."

The man just snapped his fingers and a dozen Praetorians stepped forward, and only on seeing their identical faces did Alex finally realise what he was facing.

The Praetorian leader could only laugh at the look of horror shown by the Seagulls, "So you know what we are and why you can not possibly win. Know that we are the ultimate warriors, the Praetorians, and we never loose."

"And we are Cloud Knights," Alex replied looking up at the clone who towered over even his seven feet, "and you have met your end, for your donor may have been a mighty warrior, however, you are but a shadow. Tell me, have you ever faced a warrior who could fight back?"

Alice looked around the bridge with sudden hope, she turned to Zero, "Communications, where?" The clone pointed to a nearby console. "FTL?"

"And then some, instantaneous," Zero replied. Alice nodded and flew towards the operator.

"Connect me with Sayerass, at once!" The clone could only obey the command, for even if she was only a foot and half tall Alice still had command presence. Her time living with Alex, Gella and Kitty had not been wasted, nor her years learning to be a Cloud Knight.

The screen lit up with a similar chamber half way across the galaxy, and the woman on the other end looked up in surprise, gasping, "Sayerass communications centre, how may I help?"

"Connect me with the Mother, and don't try to put me off, if She is who I think She already knows I'm calling."

The screen changed to a beautiful serine woman, "Yes, I know child, but who are you?"

"Alice, descendent of the survivors of ship FoundGirl, lost on Earth. Holy Mother in the name of the First Ones, I beg help for your forgotten children..."

A Praetorian drew his pistol and fired, the lash of energy hit at nearly the speed of light. And Maria hit back even faster, even from half way across the galaxy her protection enfolded Alice as the energy bolt struck with a blinding flash. Most of the bolt struck back at the gunman, reducing him to ash, but enough got through to blow the Sprite across the bridge. Alex and Gella saw their fragile daughter reduced to a smoking husk, and opened fire on the Praetorians, their revolvers firing bullets that were nearly the size of cannon shells, with the same deafening sound. Maria, the Mother of All, saw the battle as her screen went blank.

The entire bridge exploded as bullets and beams crossed the chamber, but the Praetorians were deafened by the gunshots, and driven back into the bulkheads when the shells hit their armour. And the Seagulls drew swords when their massive pistols ran dry, slicing through the stunned clones' exposed throats with contemptuous ease.

Octa stumbled forwards through the battle towards Alex. "Master, you must move the ship, the main assault vehicles are about to be unloaded, and our fighters are already heading to your island."

"Why help us?" he gasped in anguish.

"Do you think I like what I am?"

Gella turned to her, "Find my daughter and return her to us on Iase Benerant, ask for Alex and Gella."

"As you wish lady. Your friends can handle the ship, but you will need Zero to fly the shuttle, if you wish to return faster."

"How big?"

"Combat shuttle, three crew and room for a passenger."

"Zero, take us there," Alex snapped. "Girl..."

"I am needed here," Octa replied. "To show the others how to seal off sections of the ship. But, please, do not harm Zero."

"I'll do more than that if she betrays us again," Gella snapped.

"How can you Octa?" Zero gasped. "How can you help Breeders?"

"I'm writing my own orders from now on, and I think you might get to like them. The object is not to get everyone killed, but to limit the damage. Think about it."

Zero rushed from the bridge and around a few corners into a small ship. She sat down and strapped in, with Alex on one side and Gella on the other. Kitty found a small turret and strapped herself in firmly.

"Launch," Alex snapped.

Zero had no option and withdrew the hull covers, blasting into the air back towards Iase Benerant.

"Explain," Gella instructed their prisoner.

"There's no need for this, I will comply," Zero insisted.

"There is every need, you just got our daughter killed," Alex snapped. "And now you're trying to seize our world."

"You think I can help that? None of us want to do this. But we have no choice."

"There is always a choice between right and wrong," Gella insisted.

"You are not a clone," Zero pointed out. "It's no use, you can't even imagine what that is like. I'll help you all I can, after all, it's what I was created to do."

"And if we are shot down you'll die with us?" Kitty called out.

"You think I fear death? I live with it every day of my life."

Behind they could see the QL913 pulling away from Raghnail, as the Cloud Knights in their Raptor fighters were strafing the invading army. "That girl had the right of it," Alex admitted. "By moving the ship we cut off their resuply, so we only have to face infantry and not crawlers."

"We'll still lose the island though," Gella pointed out. "But there will be survivors. So it looks like Iase Benerant will have to take over the war."

"That I can live with."

"Incoming!" Zero snapped.

"Where from?" Alex asked.

Zero tapped the scanner, which showed a dozen blobs, "The rest of the fleet."

"What fleet?" Gella gasped.

"The other forty nine ships in orbit. Looks like they're trying to retake the QL913."

"Take us back and engage," Alex snapped.

"Hey, look, I'm a good pilot, but I've never been in combat."

"Then show us what to do," Gella chuckled, "because we have."

"You are crazy, all of you! Sir, you have flight control. Miss, forward weapons. And I've activated the turret."

"Good enough," Alex sighed as he took over a joy stick not much different than that on his Raptor, and sent the shuttle into a gentle bank. "Let's try something better." The shuttle turned her nose up and rocketed towards space as he poured on the power with his left hand. "Not bad." He turned to target the attacking fighters and chased after them.

Gella was testing the weapons, with Zero's dubious help, and soon fired a missile at one of the sleek bat winged fighters. The plane was blown from the sky. She changed over to a bank of energy cannons, and started ripping into the formation.

The shuttle blasted through the fighters and kept on going as Alex floored the machine. The fighters now ignored the QL913 and chased the shuttle, as Kitty was warming up the turret.

"Trust me in this," Zero insisted, "if I say we are overheating, I mean stop firing or we'll explode!"

"You're the flight engineer," Alex agreed. "You run this bird and we'll fight her."

"Finally, some sense from a breeder."

"I'll have to show you our kids sometime," Gella said dangerously. "And don't call us breeders again, or you can walk home."

A dozen flashes of energy barely missed the shuttle, and Kitty returned them from her turret frying the lead fighter.

"I've got that miss. We're overheating, slow down."

Alex grinned and put the shuttle into a power dive and looped upside down into the middle of the fighters, and then slowed down so that Gella and Kitty could play with them. Another half dozen planes exploded.

"Another ship coming," Zero warned them. "Looks like a gunship, way out of our capability."

"You mean run for it?" Alex asked.

"I'm diverting all power to the drives. Does that make it any clearer?"

"We're off," Alex snapped and the Shuttle fled across the world, with a pure killer of a gunship hot on her tail.

### Chapter Four

Quada and Sevena stumbled from the ship mixed in with the rest of the clone army, trying to follow the green arrow. A Praetorian stood at the bottom of the ramp handing out energy pistols to all who ran by. They followed the arrow through a pitched battle towards the Palace in pure terror. The main gates had been blown open and they ran through the smoking wood into the ancient stone corridors, seeing rows of arches fading off into the distance in three direction, but each arch protected a guard who opened up with a machinegun, and the bullets tore into the clone army.

Quada raised her pistol and fired at the nearest guard, who ducked behind the arch, and the beam missed, splattering against the ornamental stonework. Then the guard returned fire and the two women on either side of her were blown apart. She dropped flat still shooting as the guard dived back down the tunnel supported by covering fire from the rest of his unit.

Sevena grabbed her arm and pulled her to one side as a fusillade of fire flew both ways over her head. "This is a death trap," she gasped.

"See their covering fire? One moves and a dozen protects him," Quada sighed. "Why weren't taught that?"

"Then we could be a threat to the Prats!"

"Talking of them, they're right behind us carrying crosses. Let's go!"

They charged towards the nearest empty arch and saw the guards rounding up women and children, herding them to safety. Sevena raised her pistol, however Quada saw the terrified women running for their lives and blocked the shot. "We were told to take the castle, not kill civilians."

"But they could be sold!"

"And would we see any of it? My friend, have you ever seen money? I haven't. Why should we risk our lives for nothing?"

"You're talking cowardice."

"I'm talking survival." Quada raised her pistol and fired a dozen shots into the empty room and raised her collar mic. "Room G12, taken. Heading into G13."

"Confirmed, back up on the way." Quada sauntered over to the next room, to see the guards carrying a dozen children to safety. They turned in horror to see Quada behind them, but she simply pointed to the door leading into the Palace, and they turned and fled with the children.

"See, that's much easier," Quada chuckled. "Room G13, taken, proceeding to G14."

Sevena looked at the alien chamber of brightly coloured wall coverings, small beds, and toys. "What do you think?"

"Not a birthing chamber. But some place to care for their young. They will fight to protect them to the death, just like we would our maturation chambers."

"Pretty though," Sevena sighed. "Think the next room is empty yet?"

"It had better be." They entered the final room on that level to see the exodus in full swing through an open panel. The guards swung to cover the girls but didn't fire. Quada checked her scanner, but the escape route was not on it. "Not our job boys," she called out. "But I'd move it if I was you, the Prats will be here as soon as they think it's clear." The guards nodded and vanished through the secret panel. "G14 clear, proceeding to B21."

The upper level was still an open battle, and the girls had to fight and kill, just to survive, but finally the Palace of Raghnail was taken. And as Quada and Sevena left into the dusk they found that they were the only survivors from their platoon. The other eight had been mown down soon after leaving the ship. They looked around the battlefield before the Palace with incomprehension, seeing the rows of dead, and most were clones who had been too panicked to take the safeties off their pistols. "So, this is what a glorious victory feels like," Sevena whispered.

"This is what it takes to continue breathing," Quada pointed out. "I think it's going to be a long war."

Quada was promoted to Sergeant and given another platoon of shell shocked survivors.

Iase Benerant looked sleepy under the late Summer sun as the Squadrons of Ghost fighters were dropped from orbit, streaking down at re-entry velocity in full attack formation. Observers on the mother ships kept the island airfield under close watch as the aerospace-planes swooped down to near sea level heading for the enemy airfield at Mack2. The Ghosts carried on through the mission they had practised a hundred times in simulators, where each battle had resulted in the complete destruction on the Iase Benerant airforce with no losses. For how could those simple flying machines withstand faster than sound fighters flown by experienced mercenary pilots?

It did not quite go as planned.

The usual response to a diplomatic overture in the Western Isles was, from long and bitter experience, to gird for war.

The Cloud Knight pilots were resting beneath their planes, the antiaircraft gunners lining the Fortress surrounding three sides of the island were doing likewise. And deep within the Fortress the huge cannons were at full readiness. Iase Benerant was not asleep, it was ready to wreak vengeance on any who should brake their word.

The Ghosts slowed down to combat speed and pulled up to skip over the hills and the fortress, only to run into antiaircraft fire from a hundred locations along the battlements and towers. As the alarm rang across the base the Cloud Knights rolled from beneath their Raptor XVs and were in the cabins within five seconds. All but one pilots who either had been sleeping or whose foot slipped as he tried to scramble into his plane.

In ten seconds the Raptors were hovering a few feet above their dispersal bays, and then changing thrusters from vertical to full forward flight and shot forward to swoop straight up to ten thousand feet. The late pilot finally made it into his plane kicked in the thrusters and lifted off just as the sky darkened with bogies.

The Ghosts cleared the fortress expecting the airfield to be full of fighters, and unleashed their missiles and energy cannons on empty grass, and then glanced around in confusion as the far wall of the Fortress came rushing towards them.

The one plane still on the airfield was easy meat and the pilot knew he was already dead, but he was a Cloud Knight, and instead of fleeing he set his thrusters for attack mode, took the safeties off the twelve machineguns and drove straight into the invaders draining his guns dry before a shot blew him from the sky.

It was time for the Ghosts to return to full speed and head back as high as they could, before activating their grav boosters for the final flight into space, so they could return to the officer's mess and boast of their glorious battle. Big mistake!

For the Cloud Knights now swept from the skies, a dozen planes taking up formation above each of the Ghosts, as a half dozen more closed in from behind firing a dozen heavy machineguns and an automatic cannon. The fire raked into the attackers, ripping into hot engines and controls, crippling a dozen planes.

In desperation the Ghosts climbed as fast as they could, only to run into the wall of Raptors, who would rather die than let the Oath Breakers escape. Any attempt to escape one Raptor would leave three more attacking from another direction, and yet more Ghosts were riddled with cannon fire.

The Fortress wall was still rushing towards the fighters as the neat formations began to break up and it became a full scale low-level dogfight within the island.

The Ghosts were by far the better machine, but were built for speed and not close in aerial combat, and that is where the Cloud Knights ruled supreme.

Squadron Leader Johan, leader of the local Cloud Knights and son of Laird Jaxmount, dropped his nose slightly to bring his guns to bare on the plane in front as a Ghost swept in from behind firing the energy cannon. Johan watched a dozen bolts fly past his canopy, knowing that just one hit would blow his plane to burning splinters. His wingman was having trouble of his own. Keeping one eye on the plane on his tail, he fired into the one in front, blowing the rear engine to shrapnel. The plane behind shot forward, and Johan employed his last ditch weapon, releasing a spinning web that fell back towards the Ghost.

Johan grinned as he saw the web sailing to engulf his target. Only for the plane to lock on and fire a missile. He saw the weapon streaking towards his plane and banked to the right, skimming the grass as the missile headed straight for him. But then it struck the web, and was engulfed as twelve small explosive charges ripped the missile to bits. Johan shot back into the air straight behind the Ghost, and fired straight at the canopy, and the plane lost control, crashing into the earth leaving a trail of wreckage a hundred yards long.

He pulled up as his wing woman took up formation on his right, and saw that the battle was almost over. Only a single Ghost was rocketing away towards space. "Damn," he gasped. "Never catch him now." He pulled his mike, "Benes, you there?"

"As always Blue Leader. It's a pleasure to see you treat my toys with such finesse. Taking out a missile like that was masterful."

"I was aiming for the plane! Anyway, looks like the Raptors are getting dated. Lots of bits and pieces scattered around the island. Care to take a look and search for inspiration?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm talking from my truck, half way to a couple of downed fighters. I think the pilots are wounded and tried to land.

"I see them, and will provide escort until they are secured."

"Copy that Blue Leader. You know, this is just like old times."

"Getting sentimental for the good old days where we only had to worry about the Bruss Empire?"

"In a few months I think you'll be missing Emperor Choominger the Incorrigible. I fear that the days of the Raptor will soon be over."

"They already are Benes, they already are. The next time we engage they'll blow us out of the air."

"Don't let them know that."

"No, for now we brag of our great victory, and hide under the bed."

"Blue Leader, it was a great victory. I'm up close to one of the planes now. I think they're called Ghost. There's a woman in the pilot seat, covered in blood."

"Stay clear, you're a national asset."

"I've half a dozen marines to take care of the rough stuff. I'm too old to play these games anymore."

"That's not what your women tell me."

"Right, she's being lifted from the plane. I'll see what I can in situe, before moving it."

"Don't hang about, they might try to hit it from orbit."

"Understood. I'm calling in the cleaners, in a few hours there'll not be a blade of grass out of place."

"Calling Jaxmount," Alex spoke into the alien communicator.

"Here boy. What's happening? We've had a hell of a day."

"We have taken the ship, the Seagulls are bringing it back. Raghnail has fallen, and I think the Regent is dead. So I fear it all rests on you now sir."

"And I was looking forward to a lie in this morning. Where are you?"

"Heading home in an alien ship with a gunboat on my tail. Can you activate operation peek-a-boo?"

"We're set Alex, just tell us when."

"About five minutes, and tell them to fire at the big ship, not my shuttle. Nor the QL913."

"I'll pass it on."

The Combat shuttle headed for Iase Benerant with the Gunship on her tail. It was clear from the start that the Gunship wasn't a toy like the fighters, but a prime military asset. A complete space going warship.

"You can't beat her," Zero pointed out. "She out guns us a few thousand to one. But I can tell you one thing, she's virtually the only warship in the current fleet. The rest are mainly out of date cargo ships."

"I'm listening," Gella snapped. "How do you know this?"

"Because I helped build this fleet. I'm a clone, I had no choice, but I gave you a fighting chance. There are very few real warships capable of planetary bombardment. Take out the real ships and all you'll have to fight are ground craft and infantry."

"So we can't just run and hide," Alex sighed. "We have to destroy this ship. No matter what. Any idea how?"

"Not a clue," Zero sighed. What's peek-a-boo?

"No time to explain," Gella sighed, "it was meant for surface ships, but, hey, who cares?" The shuttle was flying so low her passing was leaving ripples on the sea. "Do you think we should strip down in case we get shot down?"

"Not this time," Alex replied. "That ship is in my sky, and I don't like it!"

The Shuttle was almost at the island when Alex slammed on the brakes, and the Gunship went sailing on past them before coming to rest straight before the island, and began to turn around.

The first of the cannons slid from the armoured cliff and fired a single shot before the recoil knocked it back into the gun bay and the armour dropped down to cover it.

"That is peek-a-boo," Alex explained to Zero as the Three hundred mill shell hit the Gunship's stern. Then all along the island gun ports erupted and shells hit the alien ship, which seemed to erupt in a continual fireball.

"They might damage it," Zero sighed, "but they won't destroy it."

The salvo continued for five deafening minutes, until the smoke grew too thick to see the target, and then the firing lessened and died. But as the smoke drifted away the Gunboat was still flying, battered in places, but still operational. She opened up with secondary weapons which tore onto the Grand battery, tearing through the armored sheets to hit the guns themselves.

"If she keeps that up she'll blow the whole island," Gella gasped.

"Zero, which is the most sensitive spot?" Alex snapped.

"Right behind the bridge, you can see where the armour is buckled, I'll light it on the targeting screen."

"Reminds me of that flying battleship we took out on our first mission my love," Gella gasped.

"The Kibble, wasn't it? Right girls, I'll get you so close you'll be able to smell the Captain's aftershave. Then do your worst and I'll draw it away from Iase Benerant."

"You realise this is suicide, don't you?" Zero sobbed

"The biggest mistake you've made," Kitty pointed out, "is not looking up what a Cloud Knight is. We're about to prove the point."

Alex glanced at his family, feeling the loss of April, and glared at the Gunship, "I don't know how, but you're going down!" He dove straight at the Gunship with Gella firing her forward battery at the defence turrets, as Kitty opened up from the turret straight into the torn armour. He stalled the ship straight behind the turret as Gella turned her main weapons into the breach and the firepower tore deep inside the ship, causing secondary explosions to erupt on the surface.

The Gunship limped away from Iase Benerant, and gained speed leaving the Shuttle in her wake. "How are they flying?" Kitty gasped, "we almost blew the bridge off the ship!"

"Secondary bridge," Zero sighed. "Warships have multiple back ups in all major systems."

"So it's not over until it's over," Gella sighed. "We have to pound it to dust."

"Then so be it," Alex snapped. "We can't let it repair." The crippled Gunship tore away from Iase Benerant with the Shuttle trailing after it.

"Don't you people ever give up?" Zero gasped in disbelief. "You could return home with honour, and let someone else hunt it down."

"But Zero," Kitty sighed as if talking to a simpleton, "we're Cloud Knights."

### Chapter Six

Quada and Sevena led their new platoon onto one of the lifters, along with another hundred clones, and watched Raghnail vanishing behind them as the sea came into view.

The Merc captain Yohold called out, "We're going to Safarlan, half way between Raghnail and Iase Benerant, this is one of the bread baskets of the Western Isles, so if you can cut off their food supply we can starve them into submission."

"Objectives sir?" Quada asked. It was the first time she had ever questioned a superior, and she half expected to be shot for her presumption.

But instead the officer almost grinned, "There is a string of towns and villages down the island, we'll be lifting you from place to place, and you will destroy all you see."

"I'm getting to like the army," Sevena whispered, "travel to exotic worlds, meet interesting people, and kill them."

The officer heard the comment but it didn't offend him. "Now you're getting the spirit." He laughed.

The lifter was a low boxy ship with the control station on the front right hand corner, piloted by the usual emaciated wimp of a clone who always seemed to be the better pilot, or the only one who could fit into the cramped station. A turret was at the other three corners, and a larger one was mounted on the roof.

A dozen lifters flew down towards the coast, and as the rocky cliffs flew beneath them a Squadron of Raptors tore in from the sun.

Quada watched from a window as a lifter a hundred meters from her own was raked by cannon fire. The turrets soon gave return fire, but the Raptors simply slipped through the energy bolts and fired once more. The lifter started to crumple as the spine was shattered, and slowly fell to earth.

A burst of fire ripped through her own lifter, and the top gunner fell bleeding from his seat. Without thinking Quada was climbing the short stairs and strapping herself into the quad mounting.

She tested the controls and found them simple, until a Raptor flew past her head raking the hull with machine guns. She swung the guns after the plane but it dived and vanished from sight, just as a second Cloud Knight swung up behind her back, and a dozen bullets nearly tore her head off. "Right, now I understand the game, one gets my attention, and the other shoots me in the back. So I don't shoot at the one trying to kill me, I shoot at the one that will be coming next."

A Raptor came streaking straight at her, and she held her nerve as the bullets tore into the hull all around her, and swung her guns to the rear, bringing them to bear just as a second Raptor lifted above the hull. She aimed slightly and fired, and the guns tore into the plane's nose. She had expected the plane to explode, but it carried on erratically.

Two hundred meters off a lifter was ripped apart, but then the Cloud Nights broke off and returned to base to rearm.

Quada saw the damaged Raptor and fired a long burst at the plane, scoring a couple of hits in the tail. She saw it start to dive out of control, and to her great surprise the entire cabin was ripped from the crippled plane, and began floating to the ground.

In a few seconds she realised that the natives were not as simple as she'd been led to believe, and that their pilots were as good as any clone. Both were equally unsettling.

She left the gun and re-entered the cabin, to see a dozen casualties being tended by the medics in short surgical white gowns. The badly injured were quaky euthanized, a practise she approved of. Until she saw the mercenary officer having his right arm patched up. "I'm making a report on you girl," Yohold laughed. "You've got claws. A real little Lynx. Maybe that's what I'll call you, Lynx?"

"It will do for a call sign," Sevena insisted.

"Do you want to stay on the lifter?" Captain Yohold asked.

It was the first offer she had ever had. "No sir, my patrol needs me."

"And you'll live longer on the ground than in one of these flying targets," Sevena whispered.

The remaining lifters settled to the ground next to the target village, that didn't even know about the war. Shooting a farmer with a shotgun wasn't quite as satisfying as Quada had been told, nor rounding up his daughters to be sold as slaves. She kept looking for the medics, but there was no sign of the white robed girls, they were safely on the lifters, treating the mercenary instead of tending the wounded on the battlefield. And Quada decided that one day she'd have one of her own.

The QL913 settled to ground inside the cone of an extinct volcano, and the lifters were soon busy carrying the booty and captured technicians to Iase Benerant. Benes and Selia had a chance to see whole Ghosts, and even fly them. Neither were impressed. They were fast, but also clumsy and relied too heavily on a limited number of missiles, they never had been designed for air to air combat.

Benes and Selia decided to change that. They had the original planes, plenty of spare parts, captured technicians and construction machines from the QL913. But most of all they were aironoughts. They had one of the design computers fixed up at home and spent days trying to get it to work. The kids had it up and running inside half an hour.

The scene was that of a beautiful grotto with fantastic animals and playing children, and Maria always found it relaxing as she was bathed and pampered by six beautiful girls, while three incredibly handsome studs stood around her bath with fans and not much else. The first thirteen billion years of her life hadn't been much fun. However, she was making up for it now. But that blasted call kept nagging her. The First Ones were just that, the first of her multitude of children, and she had a duty to protect those flighty little idiots.

The decision and implantation was over in an instant, and even as she clicked her fingers a row of bright metallic doors sprang into existence surrounding the grotto. There was no need to count the doors, for there were always just as many as needed, whether that be a hundred or a hundred thousand.

Being a goddess does have advantages. No, Maria was not, and could not be a real goddess, but if you are the only survivor of the last universe, all powerful and all knowing within Sayerassian space, not many tried to point out her flaws. Not if they wanted to avoid all kinds of extremely unpleasant and embarrassing fates. Like being turned into a frog for a thousand years. With not a princess in sight.

One of the doors clicked open and four people walked into the grotto. Being that powerful was useful, but Maria was still a woman and picked up all kinds of interesting knickknacks in what she liked to think of as her handbag.

The man was not just tall, he was enormous, well over seven foot tall and with thighs bigger than most chests. His name was Geo, and his profession archaeology. A simple cross tied shirt barely covered a chest that would have looked good on a lion, and military style cargo pants were tucked into calf high black boots. On his back was slung an obsolete Stirling submachinegun with an optical sight, while his belt supported a thigh holster for three SMG magazines, and an oversized Bowie style knife in a worn but polished sheath. Both weapons had been out of date even the last time they had been used, but they were also far more than they appeared. A small moustache and neatly trimmed beard framed a trust worthy face that lit up on seeing Maria.

The next was a woman so tiny she barely came up to Geo's chest, short golden hair framed an impish face of great serenity, and large golden eyes that seemed to see into the heart of creation itself. Senna was a lady born of the ancient Kellies, and as much an archaeologist as her husband. Her dress was casual and covered a pair of simple shorts.

A simple and beautiful girl followed behind, her face lighting up with mischief on seeing Maria. Lybeth had served Geo and Senna a long time and was part of the family. Her dress was a cut down shirt and low, knee length, skirt.

But the last woman was nearly as tall as Geo, well over six foot high, her body a sculpted work of art, and her face of classical beauty. A leather top and low hung shirt covered Titch's golden tanned figure. She too had served Geo and Senna, and was also a part of the family. There was no need to pull rank or give orders, for each knew their duties under almost all circumstances.

"So you have need of us once more?" Lybeth laughed.

"When are we this time Maria?" Geo asked simply.

"Half a million or so Terran years," Maria laughed at their surprise. "What can I say? It's been quiet around here lately."

"And our task?" Senna asked.

"A ship crashed on Earth when the moon gave up and crumbled to space dust, the LostGirl. It was assumed that all had perished, along with all life on that world. But I had call for help from a girl called Alice, and she claimed the right because she was a First One, a descendent of the ships's crew. The strange thing was, she was about the size of your oversized toothpick Geo, but she was flying on wings of energy. In the middle of a battle in which she was shot."

"So we go have a look," Titch offered. "You have transport Maria?"

"A Scout ship is at your disposal, I know you can all fly her."

"And if this turns out to be more than a lost girl?" Geo asked. "You mentioned a battle? Who was doing the fighting?"

"From what I could see, in a five second transmit, an army of Clones against humans."

Senna sighed, "And if this turns serious, what help can we expect?"

"Very little daughter, you know I am restricted to my system. If the problem is legal you have full immunity under diplomatic rules, and the Council of Sayerass will back you to the hilt."

"But if it is more than that?" Geo asked with a grin.

"You go in as authorised archaeologists, and find this girl. The rest I leave up to you."

"This sounds like fun," Lybeth laughed. "We haven't an idea what we're going to find on a world that's been considered dead for half a million years!"

"All we know is that Clones are involved," Titch pointed out.

"And in this time," Maria said sadly, "they control most of the galaxy."

"That should not be," Senna snapped. "They're a genetic dead end. How can life evolve if all you have is a copy of a copy of a copy?"

"All you get is a lot of very bad copies," Geo agreed.

"Maria," Lybeth asked suddenly, "how many times have you brought us back?"

"I get lonely girl, and love you more than most."

"Then are we too nothing more than clones of clones?" Senna gasped.

"Certainly not! You are made with love from those brave fools who saved Sayeress and freed myself. Think not of clones or copies, for I have more taste than to dabble with such toys. Your ship is stocked and ready, go in peace and love my children."

"Please bless us before we leave Sister Maria," Senna asked.

"You do not believe in that," Maria pointed out.

"We do not serve you from fear or devotion," Geo pointed out. "But from friendship."

"Go and get out of here you scamps," she laughed. "Know that all I have to give you is my love. The rest you already have in abundance."

The sun had long set over Iase Benerant, and the chill nights of an early autumn were now creeping in to the rocky island. The floater was dropping of the latest goods salvaged from the QL913, as two shivering forms stepped from the cargo ramp and followed directions towards the cliff face that was the nearest wall of the Museum.

Octa looked up at the building that was carved from the solid rock itself, seeing the buildings and battlements, the antiaircraft guns and signal towers.

"We didn't have to come here," Mel sobbed. "There were many who would have cared for us. Lord Gallager would have been happy to have us."

"We belong to Zero," Octa insisted. "And I promised to bring this back home," she held the bag by the shoulder straps, trying to not think of what it held.

"They could kill us," Mel sobbed in the chill wind. "I would not blame them."

"Zero is with Alex and Gella, and we have to wait for her to come back."

"If they bring her back. The might kill her out there."

"They have that right," Octa agreed. "But if they do then it will not matter who wins, because both sides will be the same."

"You think they are better than we?"

"They started off by killing Prats, that's good enough for me. Just to try said a lot, but to succeed!"

The path led across the airfield between the dispersal bays, and through the admin buildings, towards the field that was now filling up with planes from across the Western Isles. Whole wings of fighters were lined up in neat ranks, from the early Swifts to the Raptor MarkIs, and up to the current MarkXVs. Against the Fortress wall were ranks of Eagle bombers, and Disk interceptors.

"They look serious," Mel sighed through trembling lips. "But don't they realise it's futile? One strike by Ghosts and this entire base will be cinders."

"Look up there," Octa pointed to a brand new scanner high on the Fortress. "That's the first thing they asked for. By now they know as much about the fleet as we thought we knew about this island."

"You helped them?" Mel gasped in surprise.

"I told them what they needed, and who to see about getting it."

"Then we really are traitors."

"And these people we are betraying are the ones who sentenced us both to death, me for loving a man, and you for simply being birthed. And if the Prats ever take this island they will kill us both anyway, simply for being here."

"You can not betray those who have already sentenced you to death."

"Oh, but we were never sentenced, for that you need a trial. No, we were to be casually murdered in the most dreadful way I can imagine. It was traditional."

Mel thought long and hard about that as they crossed the airfield and walked through the shops and streets that led up against the face of the Fortress. They saw dozens of shoppers, civilians and military of a half dozen different forces, as they climbed the short street towards a small white painted fence that covered an acre of flowering shrubs and late blooming plants. What they did not see was the two Cloud Knights who walked along behind them as guards. Clones walking alone at night were in very real danger from even the kindest of people.

Octa opened the gate and entered a different legal realm, for the acre that surrounded Alex and Gella's cliff side home was their own tiny fiefdom, as granted with their titles. By right of charter they could commit any crime they wished in their home short of treason to the realm.

Mel looked up at the single glass sheet set deep in the rock face, seeing the tiny glass door they would have to enter, and the massive stone slab that could be lowered to seal off the entire home. Lights flickered behind the twenty foot high glass wall. "Well, at least they're up," she sighed. "I didn't want to spend the night out here."

Octa put a comforting hand on the child's bare shoulder, and led her up the steep path towards the paved area and the glass door, which swung open as she reached to knock.

Owena stood in the door, her dress was as dark as her face. "We've been expecting you. Please follow me."

The warm outer room was decorated by bamboo furniture and exotic plants imported from Pabla island far to the South. Priss sat in one of the seats, but her attention was almost wholly centred on the growing life within her womb, she smiled absently and then went back to navel watching.

Cara was another matter, she too sat regally in a bamboo chair, but her face glowed with quiet anger. "You will hand her over and depart," she snapped.

Octa gently laid the bag before the woman's feet, and stood back. "This greaves us greatly..."

"You did not know Alice! How can you even think to show sympathy."

Owena gently opened the bag, pulling the stiff fabric from the tiny body inside, and looked shocked. "You're sure that this is Alice?"

"There was only the one Sprite on the QL913," Octa said solemnly. "She is as I found her."

"Then you found a mistake." Owena carefully lifted a sack of protoplasm from the bag, and placed it on a small table. "What is this?"

"The bag is correct, but of the content I'm not sure," Octa gasped.

Mel hurried over and gasped, "I have seen something like this in my biology tapes. Could it be an egg being formed?"

"But that makes no sense," Octa gasped. "The girl was dead. I've seen my share of that."

After days of heartache Cara began to hope. She really saw the shivering clones for the first time, and that neither was dressed. "It makes slightly more sense to us, for we know that Sprites are hatched from eggs. But if this is so only time will tell."

"Cara," Owena gasped, "must they leave? The night is bitterly cold, and there is no safety for clones."

The woman shuddered, but knelt before Mel. "I was all set to claim vengeance on you both. But now I see you, it's not what I wish..." She opened her arms to the startled girl. "Come here child, there is nothing to fear." Mel tenderly allowed herself to be embraced, and slowly her arms began to hold Cara as warmth and love embraced her. Cara felt the child's heart pounding with fear, but that slowly settled as the fear subsided.

"I thought you all soulless monsters," Cara sobbed. "But this child is just like any other."

"She was birthed too early to be a proper clone," Octa explained. "Her tattoo will fade in a few weeks, and I think hair she will grow. I had hopes from the start that she would find a human family to love."

"What do you know of humans?" Owena asked. "I thought all clones knew was of other clones."

"My last master was a spacer, we travelled a lot and to many places we were not supposed to go. I have seen breeder worlds before, and the love shared between mother and daughter, father and son. I'd no wish for Mel to grow into one like me."

"Cara," Priss spoke for the first time. "Can't you see that our guests are dying of cold and fear. Bathe and dress them, and they can eat with us."

Owena hurried to the bathing room, warming up the water sprays and running the bath. She turned to see Mel looking into the room with trepidation. "Don't tell me you don't bathe?"

"Sonic showers, they get you clean, but I've never seen this much hot water." Owena disrobed and pulled the girl into the shower, and started to wash the frozen body. "I've never seen hair and eyes of purple before. If you were a clone they would have recycled you, like they tried with me."

"Been there and done that," Qwena sighed. "I too was a medical error, and sentenced to death. But now I have a life I love. I'd like to share it with you."

"You may get the chance," Cara was now undressed and leading Octa into the bathing room. "They are both waiting for Alex and Gella to bring their mistress home, so they might as well wait here."

Octa shared the shower with Cara, and gingerly entered the tub, as the hot water rose to cover her breasts. "Are you sure this is good for you?" she sighed. "It feels so good it must be bad!"

"The kids are sleeping now, I'll introduce you in the morning. Two boys, the oldest is Gella's Jamie, who is four, and my Alain, who is three. We're hoping Priss will have a girl."

"And we are both about eight," Owena insisted. "Can Mel share the family birthing day?"

"We have so many kids, with the Benes tribe, we decided to lump all their birthing days into one. Otherwise we'd be throwing a party almost every day!" Priss laughed.

"I do have one question," Cara stated as Mel slid into the bath on top of Octa. "Zero is your mistress, right? So why is she having a harder time adapting than you?"

"Good point," Octa sighed. "She's a very bright woman, and no soft touch like me and you. A real leader, even if she doesn't know it. But still scarred from serving a monster for twelve cycles, that's a bit under your years. But she was running from her master, while I was running towards a Breeder planet hoping to be free."

"Then that you are," Cara insisted. "This I swear in my masters name, and in this home I can do a lot of swearing."

"They will agree to this?" Octa gasped in surprise. "You can really make that promise?"

"They will if they don't want to sleep alone from now on."

"Then I too have a question. What are those brands on your shoulders?"

"You mean, did they brand us to enslave us?" Cara laughed as she absently stroked the death's head burned into her fair flesh.

"Yes, that's what I thought the moment I saw you undress."

"Relax, it won't happen to you. No, Priss used to be my mistress, and got caught up in a scheme that was treason, of course she forced me to do the dangerous parts like carrying secret messages. I was caught, tortured and given the death brand, which is meant to stop me escaping. Priss had the same treatment a few hours later. We were both quite rightly sentenced to death, but Laird Jaxmount changed to sentence to a life of serving Alex and Gella. And given that we had both been in love with him for years, we were quite happy with the deal."

"Treason?"

"Oh, that. Priss needed money for a new dress, one that was going to land her a very rich lifemate. That shows you the extent of her spoiled upbringing..."

"I heard that Cara!" Priss called out.

"She was introduced to a rich merchant who was interested in Palace gossip... Well, one thing led to blackmail, and pretty soon we were both neck deep in real trouble, and Priss was too proud to ask for help."

Priss waddled over holding her stomach, and knelt by the bath with a sigh.

"Is that right?"

"If anything she sugar-coated most of it. Octa, I was a prize bitch! And to think of what I did to my only friend, I still have nightmares about it, and when I wake trembling in the dark, it is only on touching my brand that I feel safe."

Octa gently felt the extended womb, feeling the kicking life within. "How long?"

"A few days at most."

"Can I, can we be there?" Octa gasped.

"I'd be honoured."

Owena came over with Mel, both were wearing bath towels, "Can Mel share my room? We are getting a little over crowded."

"I was going to suggest that, and I think Octa should join me for now. You won't mind bunking with me till Zero shows up, will you? I'm not used to sleeping alone."

"This is not the reception I imagined," Octa gasped. "But, yes, I'd like that."

"You thought we were going to shoot you?"

Octa sighed, "It crossed my mind."

In the morning both clones were dressed in simple gowns, and, apart from being bald and the tattoos, looked like anyone else. Priss had a daughter in the middle of the night three days later, with Octa and Mel in attendance, while Cara and Owena doing the dirty work, and by the time the Base Doctor showed up it was all over. Priss named her little blond moppet Alexa. But he did show interest in the Egg that was hardening in the warm room, and was insisting on an X-ray, until Cara pointed out that his authority did not extend to this domain.

The Doctor took the matter to Laird Jaxmount, and was told that if he was so desperate for an X-ray he could have one, if he was prepared to declare war on Alex and Gella.

### Chapter Seven

Quada and Sevena were sitting around the camp fire surrounded by a hundred victorious clones who were bragging about how many peasants they had shot. Given that the only armed man in the village had been a farmer with a single barrel shotgun, and Quada had shot him as he protected his two daughters, she was getting pretty well pissed of with it all. She'd been hearing the Merc Captain Yohold playing with one of the girls she had captured for a few hours, and finally decided to find out what was so fascinating. She walked around the fire to a shelter thrown up in a small valley, and saw the two girls fastened to the crosses. Both were brunettes, with one in her mid twenties and her sister a few years younger. Yohold was pumping away at the older girl who had ceased struggling after her body had betrayed her, and was now giving in to the inevitable. She walked up to examine the younger girl, who glared at her in anger.

Finaly Yohold had had his fill and started to dress, leaving the girl sobbing on the cross. "I've seen enough rapes Captain," Quada said, "but never a victim who enjoyed it."

"The Prats are well named," he scoffed. "With a girl like this they would fuck her to death, without any idea how to give her pleasure. I was going to sell Joan, but I think I''ll keep her. She'll live a lot longer in my care than in a brothel."

"And the other?"

"She's not as pretty, and will probably end up in some space going whore house in an asteroid belt. If she's lucky she might be bought by a miner, spending half her life in a vac suit, and the other in his bunk."

"But no children," Quada pointed out, "not ever. How do you know how to please her?"

"By the... You still have your suppressor? When I saw you work I thought it had been removed."

"And what Captain, is a suppressor?" she asked dangerously.

"Let me touch you and I'll show you." She nodded and he unsealed her jump suit, and led her fingers to touch the spot over her barren womb. "Can you feel that? A lump that shouldn't be there?" She nodded, and he pushed her fingers even lower until she felt inside her atrophied vagina, and felt a metal and plastic device deep inside her. "You feel that too? Good, now touch the girls, and feel the difference."

Quada examined both girls, but concentrated on the younger one, feeling the dry flesh but no insert, to the kid's disgust.

"Have you felt sharp pains there?"

"I have, for most of my life, but I thought they were hunger pangs, and I dare not ask a Medic. He might euthanize me."

"Bright girl. Now you know what causes them."

"But what are they?"

"A suppressor suppresses everything, but mainly sexual desire, and the ability to have relations with another person. But also your will to resist or even rebel."

"Rebel, that is a new word."

"To take up arms to overthrow your masters," he summarised.

"My head hurts just thinking about that. Give an example."

"The locals are fighting against their masters, that is a rebellion."

"That's not so," the young girl snapped. "This is our world, I've been to the Museum on Iase Benerant, our history is well documented for hundreds of thousands of years. How can you claim to predate our occupancy of this world?"

"I know nothing of this," Yohold sighed.

"Did you ask?" She snapped, "No, you came crashing down with your army. You will not punish me?" she asked Quada.

"For what, telling the truth? Your name girl?"

"Isleana, and I may be a captive, but I'm not a slave!"

"Lovely name," Quada sighed, "you have so many. I wish I could keep you, but I'm only a sergeant, with no rights to a servant, or a place to keep you."

"So what will be my fate?" Isleana sobbed.

"Probably a brothel," Quada sighed. "But if you learn enough you might entice a belter to buy you."

"I'm not reassured," the girl snapped.

"I was not trying to reassure you, but educate. If I could I would keep you for a servant, and I think you would prefer serving me than most others."

"You would need to be an officer to pull that off," Yohold laughed. "I can't help with that, but I can with one other. I can give you a name, and in an army of clones that is powerful indeed. I call you Sergeant Lynx, and would appreciate it if you live up to my gift."

"And someday I might earn another promotion?" she asked.

"I think you will, for you exceed all of your class that I have seen. Either your are very tough, or your suppressor is faulty. Either way I wish you well." Captain Yohold released Joan and led the sobbing woman back to the Lifter.

"And what fate has my sister?" Isleana asked.

"Not as bad as you think. She will carry his gear, erect his shelter, clean his uniform and warm his bunk, but I think he'll not hurt her. She'll get used to it in time."

"And you would have this of me as well?"

"That can never be, for in a few days you'll be in orbit, never to return." Quada left the girl on the cross and walked back to the camp fire, ignoring the sobs she could still hear.

But as she tried to sleep that night Isleana's face haunted her. She had captured the girl fairly, even if shooting her father with an energy pistol seemed a bit over the top. If she had been able to profit from the capture there would be no problem, but she was not allowed to benefit from the risks she took. So why should she ruin the girl's life for nothing?

Rising from her camp bed, Quada circled the campsite, checking that the guards were awake, and walked around the site, feeling something wrong. There was nothing to see, nothing to smell, and nothing to hear, and that was it! She could not hear the sounds of nature, the sounds of a thousand industrious insects that should be chitterling away finding mates.

She casually kicked Sevena awake, and vanished into the brush. Iselena was still bound to the cross, and looking it. She released the girl and pointed to the half torn clothing, "Dress, quickly. Can you run?"

"I'll run if I have to. Are you letting me go?"

"Certainly not, that would be treason, but if you managed to escape in the confusion..."

"What confusion?"

"Wait, it will come."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Revenge, for not being rewarded. If I was allowed to keep you I would fight to do so. So why should some desk bound bureaucrat be allowed to sell you?"

"Do you gain prestige from having a servant?" the girl laughed.

"It's about the only thing a clone can earn. But know this, if you were mine the duties would not be sexual, we might even have become friends."

"Then I wish you well in your promotion, and that you catch another who wishes to serve you."

"And that I don't have to kill too many in the meantime." Quada turned and rushed off into the dark.

She had hardly gone a hundred yards when she stumbled up on a fire group setting up a heavy machine gun on a remote tripod. She blasted her way through the trap and grabbed a submachine gun, and ran off into the dark, drawing fire from behind. A hundred yards from the camp she set up a diversion of her own, firing both the SMG and her own pistol she faked a nice little war that drew everyone's attention. The clones and the locals were all mixed in, each knew the trap had been sprung too early and darted away into the dark, fading from view.

Quada made it back to the crosses in time to see Iselena being led to freedom by half a dozen men. "Iselena, what a lovely name," she chuckled, and then drew her locator. "Sergeant Lynx to control, campsite came under heavy attack. Insurgents beaten off. No casualties. Requesting Lifters to next objective."

"Congratulation Lynx, Lifters will be there at dawn."

"Right. Sevena, have you rounded up the army yet?"

The Lifters landed the assault team at the next town, but only after a clone artillery barrage had destroyed the improvised defences. Half the buildings had been reduced to rubble, with highly effective sniper fire coming from the ruins. The drop site was a mile from the town, and as the troops ran from the plane it lifted off and darted into the distance before the Cloud Knights could catch it in the air. Quada was defiantly getting the impression that Lifters were a flying death trap. She'd noticed twenty or more hastily being covered by camouflage netting a couple of miles back.

The Praetorian in charge of resupply met her with quiet desperation, "Your fire team is needed to find a sniper near the civic centre, the rest will take part in the main assault."

"We've been in combat for days, and our pistols are almost drained. We must have new weapons."

"You will obey sergeant!" he snapped in surprise that she was talking back to him.

"The name is Lynx, and my troops can't fight without weapons," she insisted.

The supply sergeant scowled at her but finally gave in, "Collect the best pistols for your fire team, and I'll break out a fresh box."

"I'll do that," she agreed and turned away.

Quada led her twenty troops through the ruins, each now armed with only partly charged pistols, rather than the nearly empty ones they'd had before. The rest of her Century were carrying a crate of new pistols towards the front line, with a section of Prats bringing up the rear. A bakery stood on one side of the street, and had littered the whole area in a flower frosting when hit by an howitzer, and so the battle ground looked more like late winter rather than early autumn. Ranks of burnt out homes lined the other side of the street, vanishing back into the distance as columns of dark smoke drifted into the bright blue sky.

A shot rang out and a clone dropped dead. Quada dived to one side as a second shot blasted over her head. Sevena opened up with her pistol at a window in the bakery, and the fire ceased.

The fire team ran past the ambush as a third shot rand out, missing by a few inches. Beyond the bakery was a brewery, with a high gantry surrounding the hop silage towers. A collection of small offices stood high over the factory, and Quada looked up as Sevena pushed her to one side. "Keep your damn fool head down. We can't afford to lose you Qu." A shot rang out from on high and the bullet barely missed them both, and the fire team opened up at the offices, blasting in all the windows as the snipers fled the scene.

Two men fled the fusillade, barely dodging the clone counter attack, and fleeing the white stained area as the brewery was being destroyed behind them. "She's good," the leader admitted. "I've been watching her for days, but could never get a clear shot."

"Cute too," the taller man chuckled. "But I'd like a chance at that redhead."

"The bodyguard? How do you know she's a redhead? They're all bald!"

"I've been watching her eyes, they're really green."

"If you could see her eyes, why didn't you shoot her?"

"Hadn't the heart," he replied. "Just like you couldn't shoot the leader. Do you think they know?"

"I doubt they even think in those terms, one clone is the same as all others in her class."

"Then how come you recognised that one?"

"Good point, she just acts more lively I suppose..."

With the snipers neutralised Quada and her fire team rejoined the Century, and watched the ragged No man's land with trepidation. A maze of shattered buildings lay across the town centre, with the clone army on one side and the human defenders on the other. Machine guns and mortars covered the battle ground from both sides, and the clones had to fight their way across the blasted ruin or face death from their own side.

Quada and Sevena rested to the rear as the latest assault was charging across the no man's land, and they dropped like flies, adding hundreds more to the windrows of bloody dead that was scattered across the land. They faced highly accurate sniper fire, and well dug in machine gun nests, and fought bravely, but finally their nerve broke and they began to fall back.

As the retreating clones finally broke and ran back to their own lines the Praetorians started yelling coward and traitor, and opened up with their own crew serviced heavy weapons. The rout became a massacre as the fleeing clones were hit from before and behind, and hundreds fell dead. The stench of cordite, ozone and fresh blood drifted across to the horrified onlookers. As the screams of those still to die filled the bright sunlight.

"You, you're up next," the Prat Major snapped to Quada. "Grab your weapons and fall in."

She could only look up in horror at the officer, he was deliberately sending her Century out to die.

"Move it Lynx," he laughed. "You're about to get your claws dirty."

Quada rose slowly and walked on trembling knees towards the crate of pistols. Her Century gathered around her as she cracked the seal and pulled the top open, only to stare in horror at the contents. "Major, you'd better get over here," she gasped.

The Prat Major walked over and looked into the box, to see it was half full of scrap metal. "Third one today," he chuckled, "must be a bad batch."

"All the crates were empty!" Quada gasped. "And you still sent them all out to die without weapons!"

"Clear the way and we'll support you," the Major lied. "Now form up and get moving!"

"Sir, there must be another way!" she screamed.

"There is, refuse and I'll order you all killed here and now."

"I refuse sir!" she snapped with dignity.

The Major drew his pistol and aimed it at Quada's head, "Die now or in the ruins, it doesn't matter to me." The Prat section now all unslung and readied their energy rifles, aiming at the defenceless Century.

"Fall in," Quada snapped, and the hundred clones formed up and began marching towards certain death. With Sevena at her side, she led them towards the jump off point, looking at the dead and dying clones that littered the ground, not one of them had a working pistol.

"So how do we handle this?" Sevena asked dourly. "March forward to die like clones?"

"I'm working on it," Quada sighed. She looked back to see the Prats targeting her Century with every weapon they had, and then forward to see the Breeders doing the same from the front. "I'm still working on it."

"Work faster Qu, we're running out of ground."

Quada looked around at the broken masonry, the shattered buildings, and fallen walls, and at the ramp of blood soaked mud that led towards the Breeder front line and certain death. "We don't go there," she snapped. "Now here this! Run into the ruins and hide as deep as you can. Stay there until night and reform one klick north. Got that?"

"I don't think the Prats will come looking for us," Sevena muttered. "But what then? We'll still be cowards."

"I'll cross that line when I come to it. Now break!" The Century split into a hundred directions, flitting into the broken maze as the startled Prats opened up with their own weapons, pouring death after the fleeing troops.

Quada ran one way and Sevena the other, as they began to worm their way into the jagged no man's land, as the very air was split apart by a hundred explosions. Smoke and dust soon began to cover the land, hiding the fugitives, as the sky turned dark.

Twisting through the shattered terrain, Quada forced herself ever deeper into the ruins, as explosions followed her. She flittered from cover to cover as the ground shook and the air screamed with flashes of energy that rivalled the sun.

Five torturous minutes later she stumbled into a dark cavern formed by the corner of a collapsed building, and stumbled into a group of Breeders. She looked up in shock as the leader raised his pistol and fired, the small calibre bullet hit her cheek and flashed on to cut through her right ear. She dropped to the rough ground holding her face as he stood on her near empty pistol, his own was touching her forehead.

"All right," she sighed with resignation, "you don't have to draw it out. Do it!"

"So, you're the one," he sighed. "It'd serve you right if I did, you nearly got me in the brewery."

"The sniper? So what? Kill me clean, if you will," she sighed.

"If I'd caught you elsewhere I'd think of other things," he sighed. "But we're trapped here, just as you are."

"Nothing I can do about that," she sighed. "Are we going to be polite? Or will you torture me?"

"We don't do that," he insisted.

"That's not what I heard."

"Of course they told you that. Death before dishonour," he laughed sadly. "Call me John," he sighed. "I think they call you Vixen."

"That and other things. Why are you still here?"

"Because the town is still occupied, and we can't leave the civilians."

"How many?" she sighed.

"About two thousand."

"So all you need to do is clear the town, and we can move in? So what's the problem? Start them walking."

"Not with the Prats blocking the valley three miles down the road, with a heavy weapons unit that loves to show off."

"You need transport," Quada chuckled as she tried to staunch her bleeding cheek. "How about a deal? I find you transport, and you clear the town."

"And how do you do that?"

"Well, you know those flying coffins? The Lifters? I know where they are all parked."

"Isn't that a conflict of interest? Or even treason?"

"With the Lifters we will always be on your tail. And to be quite honest, I'd rather walk than be shot down by your pilots, the Cloud Knights. Those guys are just too good."

"I know we are," he chuckled. "Where are the Lifters? And can we fly them?"

"I tell you where, and you don't need me. I'm not stupid John. I'll take you there. And the Lifters all come with a clone pilot, as standard. Just threaten the little buggers and they'll take you anywhere you wish."

"I give my word you will not be harmed, and will be free to rejoin your unit when this is done. Will you also give your word Sergeant Linx?"

"How do I know I can trust you?" The other Breeders started to laugh at that.

"Because I am a Cloud Knight, or was until some bugger shot me down," he sighed.

She became very nervous about then. Had she shot him down? And what would he do if he found out that she had? "For what it is worth, I give my word not to escape until you have the lifters."

"Clones do not have honour?" he asked in surprise.

"I'm not really sure what it is," she admitted. "Your language has many words that we do not."

"In part, honour is to give your word, and fight to the death to keep it. Even if it means fighting your own side."

"And a Cloud Knight has the right to decide that?" Again the men erupted in laughter.

"I have the duty, that and more, to decide where justice is done. Lead us to the Lifters, and I will guarantee your freedom. This time at least."

"And the next time we meet, I'll guarantee to shoot you," she snapped.

"That might be more difficult that you think."

The humans split up into two man sections, and ghosted through the ruins, fading around the clone army and reforming far to the rear. Quada travelled most of the way with John, until they were well clear of his men, and as he lead the way he called back, "You know Linx, this would be a great spot to shoot me in the back."

With a sigh she reholstered her pistol, and caught up with him. "It's nearly empty anyway, and I might find a better target."

"Sorry about your cheek, but when healed it will add character to your face."

"So you shot me to tell the difference?" she sighed. "I was one of a thousand, but now I'm unique!"

"You always were, I've been following you for days."

"So why the interest?"

"That you freed a girl called Isleana. Most clones would have sold her."

"And I explained that I'd have kept her for a servant, if I could! Freeing her was just to keep some fat paper pusher from getting even richer. It was nothing to do with mercy."

"Of course not," he chuckled.

"I couldn't care less about any Breeder."

They met two more men an hour later, Sam, a tall sturdy farmer, and his son Samuel, also tall and about seventeen.

Quada led them into the hidden valley, as the rest of the team began to emerge from the twilight, and they crawled through an abandoned village. John called a halt in the ruined school, and as they entered the single classroom, they saw the few pitiable figures who had not had time to escape when the shells hit.

"Tell me Linx, if clones are so superior, why do you prove it by killing children?"

"I had nothing to do with this?" she sobbed. "Will you still keep your word?"

"It is given," he snapped. "I can't blame you for this girl, even though my blood boils in rage." He walked over to a damaged shelf and pulled out a book, dusting it off. "You will need this, a dictionary, a book of words."

"All books have words," she objected.

"But this is an explanation of the meaning of words. If you wish to advance, you will need to increase your vocabulary. Oh, look it up," he sighed at her look of confusion.

A boy and girl, both under ten and covered in torn and bloody clothing, entered the classroom in confusion. "Why is she still alive?" the boy gasped on seeing Quada. "She killed our parents and friends. "Why don't you kill her?"

"I did not," Quada sighed, "but I wish I could have stopped it. I'm only a soldier, I don't type my own orders."

"But sometimes you decide which to obey," John sighed. "Children, how many others are still here?"

The kids talked it over and the girl replied, "About fifty."

"Then gather them all. Just you boy, my men will direct you. Girl, I want you to stay here with us."

"I've never seen a female child before," Quada sighed. "Not close like this."

"A live one you mean?" John pointed out.

"That was uncalled for!" she snapped, but then admitted quietly, "But just."

"Talk to her, find out her name, what she is studying, what she enjoys."

The girl was called Marris, she was eight and her parents were dead, as were most of the village. The kid was in shock, not really understanding what was going on, and Quada led her through the ordeal with compassion, and learning much about being human. "John, when you go, look after that girl! And I don't mean dump her in a camp."

"As you request, I think I would have done anyway. My family can fit her," he sighed. "And I'm surprised by you."

"Don't be, I was nor ordered to kill her, so why should I?"

"And if you were?" he sighed.

"Do you think I would have a choice?" she sobbed. "I obey, or they crucify me."

At midnight Quada led them towards the Lifters, and showed them how to get through the security screen to hijack the planes. The stunted pilots hardly looked up as the craft were taken, it was their job to fly, not worry about who was giving the orders. By dawn the twenty craft lifted from the valley and headed back to town, with Quada onboard, still talking to the girl. The first settled to earth at the preassigned point and Quada found the remainder of her Century, with Sevena in charge. "Get up here, I've got a crate of fresh pistols for you. And then we're going to take that town."

Sevena boarded the Lifter, to see it full of grinning Breeders. "Do they bite?" she gasped.

"Not us," Quada laughed. "But the Prats? That is something else." She handed the girl over to one of the women, and took her place on the cannon.

The fleet of Lifters swept over the town at first light, raking the Prat positions until there was no sign of life, and then landed to let Quada and her Century dismount. She took one last look at the girl and turned to sort out her warriors, making sure that all were armed. The Lifters hopped over yesterday's battlefield and landed in the town to begin the evacuation.

Three hours later she called in to command, "Linx here, I'm back on target and have just taken the town. Can you send reinforcements to hold against a counter attack?"

The sound of heavy gunfire drifted on the wind as the Prat heavy weapons unit was being wiped out by the Lifters. "Confirmed Linx. We though we'd lost you," Captain Yohold replied.

"The usual tactic didn't work, so I had to get creative, and infiltrate the target in the dark."

"Well done, I'm proud of you."

"So am I," Sevena pointed out. "That was the most outrageous lie I've ever heard."

"How many are left?"

"Of the Century? Almost sixty. I've just pulled another ten from the ruins. How did it go with the Cloud Knight?"

"Not bad, but he kept grinning at me in the most uncomfortable way," she sighed.

"That's because he wanted sex with you," Sevena laughed.

"He what!" she gasped in outrage. "I'll blow his, what do you call them?" She flipped through the dictionary for a few seconds. "Testecles, balls. I'll blow his balls off!"

"Mind you, that tall guy next to him was kind of cute."

"Oh Sam, the one who never took his eyes off you? I thought you hadn't noticed?"

The retribution took a week to arrive, and by then Quada and her Century were half way to the next town. She had been reinforced by yet more survivors found hiding in the ruins, which brought the strength up to three hundred combatants, and as there were no more Lifters most of them would live to see the next battle.

But as they were marching along, the road suddenly became a hive of activity as a swarm of light tanks flew on by and screeched to a halt bringing their guns to bare on the infantry. "You will remain here," the tank commander ordered.

Quada stormed forward, "Explain yourself," she snapped. "We have a battle to attend."

"Your command is under investigation for cowardice under fire."

"My actions were commended by the military Council. You have no right to interfere."

"It was not the council who ordered your arrest, but the Praetorians."

"And since when do they rank the Council?" she fumed.

"Since they carry the crosses. They will be along shortly to judge on the matter." There wasn't any point in arguing, the decision had been made, and the tanks would enforce it. Quada sank down next to Sevena by the side of the road, both too numb to respond. If the Prats were now running the war things were about to get very bad for all concerned.

Two hours later a large ground truck caught up with them, it mounted heavy blasters and carried a small army of Prats. The century was disarmed and told to stand in a single line along the road, and they all knew what that meant.

The Prat captain drew his pain stick and marched along the line, glaring at them with hatred. As he reached the end he turned and started walking back, counting each man, and at the tenth he struck out with the stick, and a woman screamed and collapsed. Ten steps later a second voice screamed. And then a third.

They were being decimated!

A full tenth of their number was to be killed, without charge or trial, just because Quada had humiliated the Praetorians before the Council.

The captain continued walking down the line, leaving unconscious soldiers in his wake. From the corner of her eye Quada saw a woman scream and drop. She silently counted, One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and the captain was before her. She began to breath again, until he stopped and raised the pain stick, stroking her cheek and neck, "You didn't expect to live, did you?" he asked and triggered the stick. She felt the agony tearing through her body and collapsed.

Quada woke to nightmare, she was strapped naked to a cross, and could see the remainder of her Century disappearing further up the road, with the light tanks in escort. She glanced left and right to see Sevena, and another eighteen of her girls strapped to the crosses. The bodies of ten of men lay on the ground, still jerking under a never ending assault of painsticks as they were beaten to death.

The Prats were making themselves at home not far away, starting to erect tents and light fires. Two small medics, in dirty short white tunics and close cropped white hair, started working at one side of the line. She couldn't see what they were doing, she didn't need to. They were removing the suppressors. The Prat captain stood watching her with a savage smile, "You dumb clones are getting above yourselves, thinking you can better yourselves. Our job is to keep you in line."

"So what was that about the pistols? Did you set that up just to kill us? Or did someone steal the guns?"

"I'm not sure. They were old stock, as is everything on this expedition. They might have been packed like that at the factory a hundred years ago, never expected to be issued."

"So some paper pusher made a fortune, and we do the dieing."

"That's how it works. I thought you'd figure that out."

The tiny medic stood before her, readying a hand held scanner, and ran it over Quada's abdomen. "Standard model. This won't take long."

She stared down on the beaten girl in white, feeling pity that the medic was also a slave. Then a sharp pain cut into her stomach, it felt as if a circular knife had withdrawn from her guts, one that had been there all along but she was so used to the pain it no longer registered on her conscious thoughts.

The medic began to massage a medicated lubricant between Quada's legs, and further up inside her atrophied flesh. After a few minutes, the girl forced her hand inside and began removing bits of metal and plastic, which grew to a small pile on the grass at Quada's feet.

Quada looked down in horror as the suppressor was removed, and felt pounds lighter, gasping, "How did they do that? It's massive!"

"I have never seen one installed, perhaps they grew you around it," the medic said absently. "The lubricant will make it easier." She began to treat the scar on her cheek and the hole in her ear. "The flesh will be paler, but the scar will fade."

"They're going to kill us, you know that?"

"And if I refuse to help they will remove my own suppressor and kill me." She turned to the captain and insisted, "No intercourse for twelve hours, let the gel do its work, or she will be dead in two minutes."

"I've done this before Doc," he laughed. "None of them will have an easy death."

Quada looked on in horror as the captain opened up his suit, revealing something unbelievably obscene, and forced the medic to kneel and please him with her mouth. With a girl that tiny, terrified and immature the assault seemed even more disgusting than usual, even though Quada knew she would be sharing the same fate in a few hours. Shuddering in fear and disgust she glanced away to see that the male clones were finally dead.

She was sleeping when the agony blasted through her loins and mind, as the other nineteen were being raped as well. She fought to avoid looking at the captain as he forced himself into her again and again.

The time of agony lasted eons, or so it seemed. Finally sated, the captain vanished, along with the truck and most of his men, but the remainder kept up the abuse for day after day. They were not fed, but were given water to keep them alive longer.

Later, none of them could remember how long they endured the agony, or when it stopped. Quada could only remember opening her eyes to see the inside of a small fire lit cave, and John laying next to her.

"I thought you were gone?" she mumbled in confusion.

"I volunteered to act as liaison," he said gently. "You know that you belong to me now, don't you?"

"If you want me," she mumbled in disgust. "You saved my life, and captured me again. I can get used to that..."

"Here you are safe, there is none to hurt you, now rest..." The darkness closed in as she fell into a deep healing sleep.

Quada woke to see the firelight flickering on the walls of the small cave, and John sitting watching her. He smiled as she stretched and sat up. "My girls?" she gasped.

"Safe in the next chamber, we got the medics as well, to fix you up." No mention was made of the Prats, if Quada and her troops were alive the others were not.

"So we are to serve you," she sighed.

"Yes," he admitted. "But hopefully by choice."

"That is one thing no clone has ever had. But if the situation was reversed then I would do the same. Fair is fair."

"Linx, here you are safe, there is none who would harm you. Will you give your parole?"

"I would personally, but some of the girls are new, and I can't trust them not to run."

"Here there are no weapons or clothes," John pointed out. "The autumn is fading towards winter, and they would die. Even if found by your army they would still be executed."

"That is the way it works," she sighed. "Take me to them, we need to talk."

John helped her to stand, and hobble into the larger cavern. She saw Sevena sitting up in a bed that seem made of army blankets and furs. She was naked, as were the rest, Quada included. "So, your run of luck continues Qu," Sevena laughed. "You not only get us rescued, but land the best looking man on this island."

"And a good morning to you," Quada laughed back. She turned to see the others, a couple she didn't recognise, a pair of girls who looked too young to be birthed, they had short deep blond hair of the technical class, large frightened green eyes, and looked about seventeen in human terms. Their tattoos simply gave the name Seal, with no identification numbers, which meant they had been forced grown and pushed into the army in a rush.

"I've been calling them Aila and Fana," the young blond man called out.

"Samuel, son of Sam," Quada replied. "I hope you realise what they are?"

"I do, scared, lonely and in need of a friend." He looked down fondly at the twins, if they were old enough to fight a war they were old enough to make love.

"Then so be it. Sevena, is Sam around?"

"It was he who carried me here," she chuckled. "Hardly left my side all night."

"Right, girls. This is the situation, we are in deep. Our only chance of survival is to serve our captors, as we would have a captive serve us. Only with sex as well. Don't be offended, when the Prats removed our suppressors they also removed all clone conditioning. John, what will happen to us?"

"You can not be allowed to see where this cave is, I've broken a few rules of my own side already, so if any try to escape you will be shot. Otherwise you will be shown what mercy and compassion we can, and if that includes taking you as Bondgirls, then so be it. If you agree it will be up to you to decide who to serve. When possible you will be transferred to a POW camp on a different island, to sit out the war. Hopefully we will live to reclaim you when the shooting stops."

"Then I accept your offer John," she raised her wrists. "Will you please bind me, so I can not escape? And I order you all to do likewise."

"You're sure about this?" John gasped. "I had no intention of causing you harm."

"If the others see that I am bound, they will not argue. I've no wish to see my sisters shot."

Sevena walked up to Sam with crossed wrists, "So, what are you waiting for?"

"I was thinking of making a better offer," he admitted, but drew a short cord and bound her wrists firmly. "We'll talk of it later."

"You were thinking of a Lifemate?" John laughed.

"Why not, I've never seen a more beautiful or courageous woman?"

"I'm not a woman, I'm a clone!" she snapped.

"What's the difference, now the suppressor is gone?"

"I'm not sure if I can have children," she admitted.

"There is more to life than that," he chuckled. "I'll take my chances."

Samuel chose one of the twins, binding her wrists as she looked up in fearful confusion. "I will care for you Aila," he insisted. "I will clothe and feed you, house and love you." She was led nervously from her sister, towards Samuel's bed, but not to be forced, for all of the girls were still traumatised by their ordeal, and that included Quada.

"Not much of a proposal," John laughed, "but he's only young."

Quada turned to see the other girls also being bound, it was a formality, and no one really believed that the clones could not escape if they truly wished it. Then she saw the two petite medics cowering against the wall, both still wore their simple white smocks, and were trying to blend into the rocks. "Come out here." The girls could only obey, they stood in the centre of the cavern near the fire and stripped, revealing the damage done them by months of serving the Prats. For a Praetorian to have taken one of the tiny girls would have killed her, but that did not stop them from beating the girls. "You have a medic of your own John?"

"Doctor Jhones, he will see to them." The human doctor walked forward to examine the terrified girls, seeing the bruises and lacerations caused by months of abuse.

"Doctor, I want you to help them, but they will also help you," Quada insisted. "Girls, you will remove each other's suppressor, and heal yourselves. Then you will treat everyone here, with all your skill, and share your knowledge with the Doctor."

"Will we too be slaves?" one of the girls begged. Quada thought it was the one called Doc, but they really were identical in all but their bruises.

"None of you are slaves," John snapped. "You will not be abused or mistreated, this I promise as a Cloud Knight!"

"To serve the Master of Selike4, or these good men here," Quada snapped, "who do you wish to serve?"

With the humans and clones watching, and Doctor Jhones in close attention, the medics remover their own suppressors, gently massaging their brittle flesh as the bits of metal and plastic were removed. One of the devises was rebuilt to show the organ fitting obscenity that angered those who had worn them their entire lives. Even the most jaded human was enraged on seeing the sick contraption, and began to show the girls far more compassion than expected. For they were beginning to realise what it meant to be a clone. The couples lay together, talking through the night, until falling asleep in each other's arms.

"We will be sick for a few days yet," Quada pointed out. "Our ordeal will not be easily forgotten."

"Also," John sighed, "you will have to get used to real food. We did not think to bring any of that gunk you swallow."

"That gunk, as you call it, contains all we need to live," she snapped.

"All, except a reason to want to," he replied dryly. "We are having a rabbit casserole soon, I hope you will like it."

"Meat, real meat?" she gasped in horror.

"Fresh from the field outside." It took a few days for them to get used to eating real food, and more to digest and excrete the waste, but in a week they were eating with gusto and their bodies had recovered enough that Quada asked John to show her what all the fuss was about. She was waking pigeon toed in the morning, and glowing so much she rivalled the camp fire. Sevena and Sam had started a day earlier, and Samuel started with Aila the next day. But after three days Alia took her sister by the hand and led her to the sleeping furs, were Samuel made love to Fana as well. In the morning Quada saw him sleeping with a girl in each arm, as the twins grinned blissfully across his chest. Slowly the other girls shared love and happiness, until it was only the medics who were alone.

Quada woke in John's arms as a stranger burst into the cave, she looked up in surprise to see Isleana dressed in the casual clothing of the guerrillas, and holding a submachine gun. "Things have changed I see," the girl sighed.

"Turn around," Quada replied. "I didn't expect to see you again."

"Been on Iase Benerant, and the war is moving on. John, we have a priority mission, and if I'd known about this I'd have asked the pilot to stick around."

"We'd need an Eagle to shift them all," he replied. "Can you arrange it?"

"No chance, not now, I barely go through in a Disk. All hell is about to break out any day now. The counter invasion is set, and your playmates don't rate at all."

"So what do we do with them? Shoot them? I gave my word."

"And that is worth more than the island? Yes, Cloud Knight, I know."

John sighed, "Qu, my dear, I can't take you with us, or send you to a POW camp, as I promised. So all I can do is free you."

"After all this?" she gasped. "I was just starting to like it." She twisted her wrists and the cord snapped. John had known that she could escape if she really wanted to, but he had no idea how easily she could do so. "So what do we do?"

"Go back to your army," Isleana suggested. "Tell them you escaped. I can do one thing for you, I owe you that and more. I have a few modified Locators, I can give you one that will virtually let you type your own orders. Nothing too big, they will still be readable by your command, so if they tell you to fight a battle, you'd have to come up with a damn good excuse to avoid it, however, you could keep out of the worst duties."

"You mean away from the Base camps and the Prats? Spend most of our time on detached reconnaissance duties? So we can have a walk in the park instead of a fire fight in the hills."

"I can give you one more gift," Isleana sighed. "We've been trying to sneak some misinformation to your intelligence, so I think you can do that for us. I'm prepared to tell you about a decoy invasion, but certainly not the real one."

"So you go running back to base dressed in rags, screaming about an invasion," John laughed. "That should get you reinstated."

"Clones do not scream," she insisted. "And don't you forget it!"

"That's not what I heard last night," he laughed.

"Special case."

"By the way," Isleana pointed out, "winter will soon be here, so if your command doesn't issue proper cold weather clothing, half your army will be frozen solid come spring."

"You don't mind working for us?" John asked.

"But I'm not, I'm a clone, and trying to keep as many alive as I can, of both sides. John, when you were shot down, how many Lifters had you hit first?"

"I only destroyed the one. That was you who shot me down? I thought so. How many clones did I kill?"

"Over a hundred," she sighed.

"And all like your girls?"

"If they lived they could have been."

"I'm starting to hate this war," he sighed. "Damn it, how can I hate you?"

"If you can't, you will lose it," Quada sighed.

"Girl," Isleana sighed, "once I nearly served you, I've just decided that I would have been honoured to have done so."

Quada explained the situation to her team, and commandeered the medic called Doc. They dressed and were led through the dark night back up to the road where they could see twenty crucified Prats, and Quada turned to John with a smile, "Thank you, for everything. But the next time we meet..."

"I know, you'll shoot me."

"I was thinking about raping you first."

The swarm of bedraggled clones ran down the hill towards the Base camp and formed up before the Command trailer. Quada snapped to attention and marched inside to face Merc General Hastner and Captain Yohold. "Sergeant Linx reporting for duty," she snapped.

"You were reported AWOL," Hastner growled.

"I was following a report of stolen weapons when my fire team was captured by Breeders sir. We only escaped yesterday. But I heard enough while being interrogated, there is an invasion fleet approaching sir!"

"We have it plotted, our defences are ready to neutralise the threat."

"That is just the decoy sir, the real invasion is at zero six hours in Pleasant cove on the other side of the island."

"You'd better be sure of this," Hastner snapped, "for your life depends on it."

"Send up a reconnaissance plane sir. What can you lose?"

"Nothing, because you'll be the observer. If the plane is wasted, then so are you."

Yohold escorted her to the twin seat Ghost. "You know what happed sir?"

"That the Prats condemned you without trial, because you embarrassed them? Yes, I know all about it. But not how you escaped. All I found was twenty crosses filled with dead Prats. They looked so good hanging there I left them."

"The Breeders have a soft spot that will get them killed sir, they still think that we are women."

"And I take it that you had sex with them? I'm surprised you came back."

"It was tempting, but when we learned about the decoy I had no choice, it's in my blood. What about the stolen pistols sir?"

"This will kill you, and nearly did. I traced the serial numbers back to the manufacturer on Selike4. It was our lord and master who ordered the substitution Cycles ago, saving money. I doubt he even remembers doing it."

"Then why did the Prats force us to advance into certain death?"

"Keeping themselves on top I think. They were considered the greatest of clone warriors, but now ordinary clones are taking the credit, and pretty soon they might have to actually do some fighting."

"Sir, they are a greater threat to the race of clones than the Breeders, for soon you will not have an army to fight with."

"Tell me something I don't know," he sighed, "but what can we do about it?"

"If we find the fleet, will my fire team be reinstated?"

"If you don't find it you'll all be back on the crosses."

An hour before dawn the Reconnaissance Ghost lifted straight up and darted down through the valleys towards the sea. Quada was in the rear seat, feeling more terrified than ever. Very few Ghosts were left in service with the clone army, and she knew that the Cloud Knights would shoot them down on sight. And that was only if the decoy invasion fleet didn't get them first. The straps crossed her ragged uniform, holding her down with a death's grip, as she stared through the canopy at the rising sun.

The fleet appeared earlier than expected, heading straight for Pleasant cove, and she grabbed the com unit. "We have them, I repeat, we have the fleet. On course as planned."

"Confirmed Sergeant Linx," Yohold replied, "we have the visuals. You will stay on station and keep us updated."

"On station it is," she sighed. Below fifty ships tore towards the cove as antiaircraft shells began to burst around the Ghost." Take us up!" she snapped to the pilot, before wondering who she was to be ordering him around. But he obeyed fast enough and they gained another thousand feet, leaving the shells erupting far below them. She could see the clone army rushing to the cove, tanks and missile launchers, infantry and even a few of the giant manned warbots.

The clone army barely had time to reach the cove when the landing ships struck the beach, as a thousand shells exploded amidst the hastily arriving vehicles. She had half expected this to be a token assault, however, the Western Isles army ploughed into the sand and poured up the beach fully intending to take it.

The warbots cut lose with a barrage of energy weapons as the Cloud Knights dove from the sun with cannons blazing, but even those weapons had no effect on the three hundred ton humanoid monsters.

Crawlers raced from the landing ships and towards the sandy cliff, firing low velocity two hundred mill shells at the edge. Massive explosions ripped through the cliff, and the warbots stumbled. Then more shots hit, bringing down half a mile of cliff face, and as the entire beach was covered in a blinding sand storm, the warbots fell down to the beach as the infantry stormed towards the machines.

Then everything was chaos as the stunned warbot were swarmed under an avalanche of warriors. It was the first time Quada had seen a real war between equals, or realised that the Breeders were as good as any clone, perhaps even better, because they had something worth fighting for.

Each man in the attacking unit had a precise task against the warbots, and had practised them for months on those captured on the QL913. Some were armed with nothing more than paint, to cover the optical pickups, some with screwdrivers and crowbars, to disable the weapons and gyros. And some to winkle the small crew from the tiny chest cabin with shaped charges that blew out the armoured ports, which was followed by short bursts of machinegun fire.

With the crew taken out the warbots slumped back to the sand, crushing a score of men, but lay still.

"Warbots have all fallen," Quada said sadly. "Troops are now up the ridge and engaging our vehicles with hand held missiles. Two are destroyed, others withdrawing as full speed. Cloud Knights are engaging, no, wait, that was a diversion, Cloud Knights have turned off and a score of Eagle bombers are making a low level pass."

Far below the land around the armoured vehicles simply disappeared as a thousand tons of explosives erupted in a near cosmic blast.

"If you heard that you'll know that the battle is over," she said sadly. "A full armoured column in now on the beach and will soon be on the open ground. Please send whatever reinforcements you can."

"No you little bitch," General Hastner called back. "The Praetorians warned me you were a traitor, this is just a decoy. And when you get back I'll kill you myself!"

She looked down on the battle field to see the clone army being cut off by marines who had been hiding in the forest a klick from the beach, as machineguns swept through the fleeing men. "Take a good look General, this is no trick, no decoy, the beach has fallen and your army is being massacred."

"They are breeders, and no threat to my army," he ranted.

She turned off the com unit to watch the battle dying down as the Command trailers were rolling up to the assembly area, and the military police were rounding up the few clone survivors.

"If this is the Western Isles idea of a decoy," she thought, "I'd hate to see them in a real war."

The Ghost finally had to return to base, and Quada climbed from the cockpit expecting to be crucified the moment her foot touched the ground. However, the entire base was in chaos with vehicles and troops charging around with no idea where to go. She marched over to the Prat compound and saw her girls held behind a wire screen, with hardly a guard in sight. She marched up to the senior Prat and snapped, "I'm the Linx, release my team immediately!" It wasn't quite what she said, but how she said it that sent the man cowering behind his desk as a subordinate ran to free the fire team.

With the girls now surrounding her, she turned to the single medic who had come with them, "You belong to my team now, obey no other." The tiny woman nodded with relief. A case against the tent wall held an array of Praetorian weapons, she blasted the lock off and started tossing out advanced pistols and energy rifles.

Five minutes later she marched her girls to the quartermaster, and had them fitted out in the best uniforms and equipment any had ever seen, they even got rolled up cold weather gear.

Again her unit marched through the chaos and halted before the headquarters trailer. Quada entered smartly seeing Hastner and Yohold arguing. "My fire team is ready to march sir, may we have permission to leave?"

Hastner barely nodded, but she locked eyes with Yohold and he nodded to the door. She backed through it and rejoined her girls, and they marched from the Base camp towards the hills. That night she typed her own orders assigning them as a roving recognisance unit, and transmitted the data. A few minutes later she got a confirmation message baring Hastner's call sign, which she was sure that he had never seen.

"So, we're working for ourselves," Sevena laughed. "What happened to the diversion? Where's the real army?"

"They didn't need it." She tapped the new locator, "And if they can now create toys like this they knew they didn't. They must have hacked into our entire communication system by now."

"Impressive, but I'm sure it's not possible, and as long as Command thinks it isn't, we're safe! Where next?"

"Some place where the Prats are hiding," she said grimly. "I want my own army."

Weeks later, high in the frosted hills they ran into an ambush. Tracer fire flashed all around them through the night. They ran through the gunfire and up the mountain trail towards their own lines miles towards the frigid coast.

A saddle gave entry to the land beyond, and a second ambush laid in wait. Sevena saw the flash of light as the first round sprang from the darkness. She fired on the move and barely had time to push Quada to one side as the second round hit her left thigh.

Quada fired her rifle into the dark to silence the gunmen, and turned to see her best friend laying on the snow littered ground, her thigh a mass of bloody tissue and splinted bone. They could still hear the unit of Breeder Marines scampering up the trail after them.

The medic Doc did what she could, but not in the dark on a frozen hill in a war zone.

Sevena tried to stand, using her Prat rifle as a crutch, only to fall flat on her face. "Get going, I'll cover you," she said through gritted teeth.

"I'll not leave you," Quada insisted.

"You're a better leader than that," she snapped. "Save the others. I'll just have a little rest."

Quada bent to kiss her cheek, as tears froze in her eyes. "Farewell my sister, I'll miss you."

"Get out of here, if I start to cry I'll not shoot straight." Sevena hobbled to a position behind a bolder and readied the energy rifle. "Move it now, or I'll start shooting at you!"

Without a word Quada led her girls from the saddle and they started jogging down the mountainside, as a small battle erupted behind them. For half an hour they heard the gunfire, but the last burst came from a marine carbine. And then it went quiet.

They fled up the next rise and as they reached the crest a single shot rang out. Fana screamed and fell flat on the snow littered ground.

Two girls pulled her under cover as the medic ran over, cutting the uniform from her chest. "Bullet through the back, too near her heart. I have to get her under cover, and fast."

Quada looked down into the frozen dark, to see a tiny light glowing in the valley. "You two, stretcher, rotate every ten minutes. And keep the kid level. I make that five klicks, so make tracks." The fire team started jogging down into the valley as the pursuit fizzled out.

The light came from a badly sealed widow in a large rambling farmhouse. Five girls darted around searching for guards, but found none.

Quada burst through the door to see a collection of women and children sitting down to eat. She raised her rifle and aimed it at the lady of the house, to judge by her coiffure and dress. "Who else?"

"None, the men are at war," the woman snapped.

Quada signalled her team to search the house, but they found no one else. "Doc, pick a room and get to work on Fana." The medic nodded and led the stretcher bearers up the stairs.

"Come in Linx," the locator blurted. "Where are you?"

"Farmhouse, five Klicks south of the saddle."

"Find anything?"

"Refugees. Look, I've a casualty, can you provide transport to Base camp?"

"No chance. Any worth selling, I'm told you're entitled to a cut."

"Limits?"

"The usual, only those worth selling. So no oldies or kids under five."

Quada looked at the teenagers and the three attractive women, and smiled, "Sorry, all we have left is those too old or young to run. Instructions?"

"Sterilise."

Quada opened a window and fired a few short bursts into the dark. "Clean."

"Out."

She closed the window to face the woman, who in her sixties was still attractive and formidable. "Cheapskates. They wouldn't provide transport for the wounded, but would for slaves."

"They might still have carried you to safety," the woman pointed out.

"Never thought of that. Should I call back?" Then she laughed, "Sorry, it's been a bad night. What's for dinner? Rabbit stew?"

"You would eat here?"

"If you can feed a few more. I've a girl badly hurt, and need to rest up a few days. My girls are used to roughing it, and will scavenge whatever is left in the valley, so don't fear going short."

"You may rest here, to treat your wounded."

"Thank you lady."

"You know me?"

"No, but your breeding shows."

"As does your own child."

"No breeding here, I'm from a tank of sludge."

"Then you rose to the top," the woman insisted. "You could have sold us."

"And what would I buy? Not many shops open in a war zone."

"Come, sit child, and your friends. I'll have a second meal prepared for your guards."

Quada sat and lifted her spoon to taste the broth, and felt her hand trembling. With the excitement over the shock of loosing her best friend was setting in. She tried to eat as much as she could as the tears started to fall.

And then the bell rang.

The room froze as it rang again.

"Hello the house, we're friends, so don't shoot."

Quada recognised the voice and stumbled to the door, which opened as John walked in. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing. "They got Sevena, up on the saddle..."

Sam heard her and looked at his leader. John nodded and Sam disappeared into the dark looking for a shovel. He would not let her feed the crows.

John led Quada upstairs and found a bedroom, whose it didn't matter, all that mattered was holding her shaking form. "Keep on like this and you'll give clones a bad name."

"Shut up and hold me you fool," she gasped.

They woke in the morning to see the house was guarded by a combined force of clones and humans. Fana was still on the critical list, the bullet had damaged the heart and to move her would be fatal. Samuel sat with her sister Aila at the bedside as the girl fought to live. Sam did not return that night, or the next.

They waited for a week, but Sam did not return and Fana was still too ill to move. Finally Quada decided to leave the girl and make it back to their lines through half an army of Breeders. The lady of the house had promise to care for Fana as if she were her own. And she believed her. The woman was too similar to John to lie.

The human insurgents led Quada through their own lines towards the clone Base camp. They entered the camp to see a fresh POW compound full of Breeders, many of them were children to young to be sold. Quada reported to the Command trailer, to see General Hastner still fuming, and Yohold still trying to talk sense into the stubborn man.

Yohold looked up in surprise to see Quada. "Took you long enough to get here. Was it bad?"

"More breeders out there than fleas on a dog sir," she sighed. "I lost two just getting through their lines."

"We counter attack," Hastner insisted. "We drive them back into the sea." This was from a man who had been insisting for weeks that the invasion had been a feint and the real invasion was yet to come. They did the sensible thing and ignored him.

"I've news for you Linx, your promotion came through, lieutenant," he laughed. "I just had to see your face when I told you." He opened a bottle of wine, "Something else the Breeders do better than we."

She sipped the wine with appreciation.

"I see you didn't spend all your time living under a bush."

"A girl was hurt, we had to hide in an old house with a wine cellar. I still lost her though."

"You really care for your troops," he sighed.

"Most have been with me for a long time. They're my family sir." Hastner scoffed in the background.

"Have you thought about hair Qu? You're an officer now."

"Long and silver white, I think," she mused. "I want to stand out."

"That you do," he laughed. "If you want a servant, we have a few you could have. Even a bunch of breeders, if you want to train your own."

"I had thought of that, but not in this situation. A few months ago I'd have happily taken that girl I caught. But not now, for we're loosing sir."

"Traitor!" Hastner called out, and they ignored him again.

"I can't see a way out of this," Yohan admitted. "If they keep pushing we'll wind up swimming to Iase Benerant."

"What of reinforcements sir?"

"Too many islands, not enough troops. And call me Yo, will you?"

"Sir, I hope you realise that I've never met a clone I admire more."

"Clone, not man," he sighed. "Have you been fraternising girl?"

"Could say that, after the Prats raped me the Breeders took me. But I've an even more important announcement Yo. I'm a rebel."

"You'd better kill me girl, for this I have to report."

"I just had to explain first sir, I owe you that. It was the Breeders outside that convinced me, for I'll not see children hurt." Then she lashed out at his head with the palm of her hand striking with force and precision. He stood there for a few seconds and then collapsed.

Hastner looked up from his moaning to see her standing over him, she put one hand on his shoulder and spun him around, and drove her knife up into his jaw, the keen blade pierced his palate and entered the brain. He didn't even feel it when she twisted the blade to shred his brain. She withdrew the knife and wiped it on his jacket, letting the body fall to the floor. And ripped off his general's tabs.

Then she started typing on the locator very fast for a few minutes, cutting her own orders.

Quada left the trailer and walked into the dusk, flashing the rays of the dying sun off her knife blade. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. Then she sank down next to a bush and waited.

"You rang," a voice said in her ear.

She didn't jump. "Can't you be quieter than that? Get this message to the one I call John. The gloves are off. The camp is full of prisoners who can't be sold, I think they're being saved for the Prats, as a final sacrifice. I can draw off the army towards the coast. In the Command wagon is a Captain Yohan, sleeping now. You must take him to Iase Benerant, for he wants to end this war, but thinks you'll massacre the clones afterwards. Convince him otherwise and we might have a chance."

"I've got that. Can we get the Captain now? I'd hate him to wake up."

"This way, and pretend you're a clone."

"But girl, I am one, just as you are. Did you think you were the only one to wake up in this war?"

They entered the Command wagon to see Jane trying to wake Yohan, "Help me, I don't know what happened."

"Girl, you will come with us, and I'll have you with your sister before the night is out."

"But I can't go home. I betrayed my people," she gasped in horror.

"You love this man?" Quada sighed. "Then go with him, for he will need your love and understanding in the weeks to come."

"You command that I go?" Jane asked eagerly.

"As a ranking officer I order you to help carry your man to safety. Now go!"

Jane nodded and helped the agent to carry Yohan into captivity.

Quada hid Hastner's body and went to the quartermaster's to get her new uniform, passing the hundreds of captives on the way. A few months ago she might have chosen one to train, but she had seen too much in that time. She roused the sleeping quartermaster and was measured for the first time ever, and as the man was busy tailoring the uniform she snatched an handful of rank bars from a box for future promotions.

Dressed in the new uniform she had her girls round up all the sergeants, and showed them her orders. The clones obeyed to the letter, rounding up their centuries, and starting them walking south towards the coast, and pretty soon ten thousand were marching to freedom or death. Quada and her girls had four hours sleep, a flavourless meal of premasticated pap, and rose to a nearly empty camp. All that was left was the human captives, hundreds of filled crosses and the Prats. And the headquarters section.

She thought about it, Yohan had offered her a servant from the senior cell. Why not? No one would take a junior lieutenant seriously is her clothes were dirty. The senior cell was a metal box on wheels, with six tiny cells on each side of the short corridor. She had to write her own permission to enter the mobile cell block, and saw that half were empty, and the others protected by a stasis field. That made sense, the officers did not want their favourite toys getting dusty. Or old!

Quada read the data sheets outside each door, and saw the name Hastner, and then the date of last activation. The girl hadn't been woken up since her master became a young general, never mind the stodgy old fool she had killed. The blue stasis glow revealed a remarkably pretty girl with a perfect smile and fantastic body. She wore some kind of grey latex leotard with a matching skirt that she was cleaning, and was evidently frozen by surprise as she sat on the tiny seat. A maze of metal and plastic surrounded her with enough pipes and plumbing to protect her even if she was lost in space. Similar grey boots were moulded to her long legs as far as her knees. The hair was held close to her scalp and fell halfway down her slender back in a blond platte. Her wrists, ankles and neck were secured with thin metal cuffs, that had plastic covered steel cables running into sockets in the wall. A matching set of controls on the outside wall could control the cables when the field was off, to give limited freedom or fasten her tightly to the metal wall.

Hastner must have really cared for the girl at some time, to treat her like that in a stasis field that was in a guarded high security cell. Then again, it wasn't any kind of love but blatant greed that had led him to seal her of from time itself for all those decades. Perhaps he was keeping her fresh to sell, or declaring that he would not let anyone else have her.

Quada turned the stasis off, half expecting the girl to turn to dust. Instead she heard a continuing rant, as if the girl had been frozen mid voice.

She opened the door as the girl looked up in surprise. "If it's your master you want to shout at, he's dead. But I'm looking for a servant, and thought you might lave a second chance."

"He's gone, really dead? Not old age I hope?"

"Only senility, but close. Lieutenant Quada, the Linx. Now what do they call you?"

"Princess," the girl said primly. "Because I used to be one."

"According to your records, that was hundreds of years ago. You've aged well in stasis."

"You're new to your rank? Then I can help you. I've been on campaign several times."

"Right Princess, I'll take you." She released the cables, which dropped from her steel cuffs, falling to the floor. The servant stood up to Quada's chin, she turned revealing that the leotard only covered her groin, leaving her thighs and buttocks bare. She reached under the seat to open a security locker and pull out a full rucksack, slinging it on her back, as she fastened on the short skirt. "I'll change later. What do you need first?"

"To grow some hair," Quada sighed.

"That's easy. The senior medical facilities are adjacent to this unit, or always were."

"My medic is waiting outside, with the rest of my squad. Then we have to get out of here pretty fast."

"Active war zone?"

"Only the best." An hair dryer like contraption started Quada's hair floccules growing, and she insisted that her girls had the same. Her own hair had the full treatment, and would start growing fairly fast, but with the others it would take months before it began to sprout. Quada was hoping to be done with the military life by then.

They left the Base camp for the last time an hour before dawn, and reached a low hill a mile away as the sun's light shone down on the tent and trailer city.

Quada and Princess crawled to the top of the hill, using electro- bines to watch what was going to happed. "You like Prats?" Quada asked.

"Praetorians? Who does? I was there when they were first created. There was this big contest to find the best warrior in space, and clone him. Thing is he turned out to be a right prat, and that's where the name comes from, not Praetorian."

"They live up to their name, in all the worst ways. Why is it you spend so much time in stasis?"

"Because I want to serve a leader who is a leader, and not a wanabe."

"If you were there when the Prats were first cloned! How old are you?"

"That's pretty meaningless question. Try asking how lone is a piece of string. Look boss, I've had a string of masters, a few good, but most morons. I'd serve them in battle and been rewarded by medical teck. But when the shooting was over, I make a pretty bad sex toy."

Quada turned to look at the girl's uniform and sighed, "I beg to differ."

"I mean that I like to keep busy, talk, think and have fun, instead of hanging on a wall as a trophy."

"I see the point, and I'm sure I can arrange it. What about Hastner?"

"The only idea Hastner ever had was to buy his commission, and after that it was all down hill."

"And to think I was working my way up through the ranks for that creep. Here they come."

"Who?"

"The Breeders who are about to rescue their kinfoke."

"This is a trap?"

"Yes, but not in the way you think. I'm hunting Prats."

"Try a mackerel."

"You what?"

"Sorry, old joke."

One side of the camp was wall to wall crosses full of cowardly female clones. Most of the male ones had already been killed by painsticks. A couple of hundred Western Isles Marines flittered through the camp heading for the main prison, and formed up before the women and children, as the officer commandeered the keys from the half awake jailer.

The noise of cheering prisoners awoke the Prats, who charged out to find it was a fate accomple. The rest of the army surrounded the camp with drawn bayonets, as the Prats ran for their weapons, only to find all the doors were locked and sealed. A hundred Prats now stood unarmed in the middle of an angry army.

One thousand men in the uniform of the Elite Guard marched forward with long rifles and even longer bayonets. "You know," Princess laughed, "I could get to like this time."

The Elite Guard marched forward and dropped into ten man teams, their bayonets in combat order. The Prats formed ranks with disdain, drawing painsticks, and assuming martial arts type stances.

The Elite took three steps forward, and suddenly threw grenades, which exploded only after the Prats had scattered. But even as the grenades were exploding the Elite charged forward towards their own shrapnel, and encircled each Prat with ten men.

It was as good as over. Even the best warrior who ever lived could not parry ten bayonets wielded by experts at the same time. But it still took time to bring the Prats to earth, the Elite were in no rush. The game was to inflict as much pain and humiliation on the Prats as possible, without getting killed.

Slowly the Prats were stabbed, hacked, clubbed, and pinned to the earth.

As the last fell the Elite dragged the still living men to the crosses, freed the captives and hung up the scarlet dressed Prats. Then they fell out and helped to carry the prisoners away.

Princess watched as tents were erected and the girls carried inside. "By morning they will be carrying their master's packs, just as you do mine," Quada pointed out.

"Will they mind?"

"I would not," she laughed.

"So what of the Prats who still live?"

"Oh, I guess the girls will cut their hamstrings in the morning. You know, it's awfully hard to breath on a cross without your legs."

"I do believe you are correct," Princess said dryly. "But they do look so attractive hanging there in those scarlet and crimson uniforms."

"I think the crimson is blood."

"Right again."

*

Sam fled through the frozen night, carrying a rifle in one hand and a shovel in the other. He was a tall sturdy man who had farmed this land for generations, with only a two year stint in the army that kept him from home. He returned home to find his wife had died and he had a son, and had devoted his life to raising the land and his boy with equal measure. Until the clones had invaded. And then his old skills as a sniper had been dusted off, he'd always been a good shot, as much to keep the rabbit population down as to fill the pot, but now his targets walked on two legs.

Falling in with a bunch of like minded ex-farmers had been good fortune, but to find John shortly after being shot down gave them a leader and a chance to go from being a pinprick to a bullet against the clone army. And things were going well, until he saw Sevena's face through his rifle's scope, and he found that he could not do his duty and pull the trigger. And now he was running through the night to bury her!

None of it made any sense at all.

But he kept on running.

The saddle rose up before him, and he scouted the area, seeing no bodies but smelling the smoke from a camp fire, and slightly over done food. Sam crept through the night, every sense alert as he tracked the smoke back to the fire close enough to hear a voice that near stopped his heart.

"You can't claim me," an exhausted Sevena was insisting, "I've a promise to another. A farmer called Sam offered to make me his Lifemate. I'm bonded."

"I don't remember asking," he said from the dark, and walked into the firelight before the startled marines.

She looked up with relief, but no real surprise, "You were too busy making love to remember."

"Is this your woman?" a marine asked sadly.

"She's my lifemate!" he insisted, and dropped the shovel, before squatting down next to her.

"If you came to bond with me, why the shovel?"

"I came to bury you, but I'll happily settle for the other, if you'll have me."

"Are you asking or telling?" she sighed primly.

"I'm telling you that you belong to me, because I love you! Now are you satisfied?"

"You only needed to order me," she pointed out. "Why do humans get so emotional all the time?"

"Because I've spent all night running through the dark thinking you were dead." He turned to the laughing marines, "Can you help us to the farmhouse?"

"Sorry," the Captain sighed. "We're not going that way, and as tough as your lady is, she needs a medivac to a proper medical station, or she'll lose that leg. We have a truck a day's march from here, and will pass her on."

"Then I'm going with you," Sam insisted. "For Sevena has been working undercover for intelligence, and has probably saved all your lives, and I'll not let some fool of a medic refuse to treat her."

"And you shot me for it," Sevena said with a yawn as her strength fled and she fell asleep.

*

"By the way Boss, why are we running away? Who are the good guys and whom the bad?"

"We're the good guys," Quada insisted, "because we are trying to stop the war and save lives. The Breeders are trying to save their world by killing clones, but not many know we're helping them, and so will shoot us on sight. The clones think they might live if they take this world, but don't really believe it, but they'll try anyway just in case, and kill us if they find out we're trying to save their lives. After that it gets complicated. The only thing we all agree on is that the only good Prat is a dead one. Have you got all that?"

"I got the good Prat bit."

"You can always go back and climb into your stasis cell, and hope it all works out for the best, in a thousand years or so."

"I'll take my chances with you. I might even enjoy serving a woman for a change."

"I can promise you'll be too busy to hang on a wall. But I warn you that I've a man I intend to serve after the war, and so you'll be working for us both."

"Serve nothing Boss, I've only known you a few minutes, but I know that you will serve no man. If he's not a complete idiot he'll marry you!"

"Marry? Oh yes, the locals call it life mating."

"Want a hint? Text him and ask what marry means. If he doesn't panic, he's yours."

"I just might at that, but I'd rather see his face when I ask him," Quada laughed.

The fire team vanished from sight of the captured Base camp, heading down a low hill of frozen hay, towards a river valley about five miles below them. They saw a dust column far in the distance, on a winding road that led back to the camp.

"A light tank regiment?" Quada guessed. "If they make it to the Base camp it'll be as disaster."

"The locals didn't bring any armour," Princess agreed. "I'd make it about fifty tanks, and support vehicles. Say a thousand armoured infantry."

"Bad news, and not a thing we can do about it." They hurried on until near the bottom of the hill and Quada stopped suddenly, with her girls forming up in the rear. "Why can't I do something? If the Breeders have hacked our system, they'll be listening."

She started typing: 'Lieutenant Linx to battle group approaching on road ZB248. Repeat, Linx to battle group."

'Shut up Linx, they don't know about us.'

'Then you know the Base camp has been taken, and the Breeders are in disarray? Having a real party. Attack now and you'll wipe them out.'

'Didn't know that Linx. Thanks.'

Quada looked round for Sevena to share the joke, only to see Princess instead, and felt her heart break once more. For a second she hated the girl, until the pain slowly faded.

"You're sure the locals tapped your locator?" Princess asked.

"Sure of it, but I hope the right operator was on duty." Then a rumbling could be heard from behind them in the frozen hay, and as the fire team darted for cover they could see a swarm of scarlet forms charging towards them from an antiaircraft platform that hovered on the hill crest. The weapon swung a quad mounted cannon towards them and started firing. A second later the ground before the fire team erupted in living fire.

The fire team pulled back and ran for their lives as the Prats chased them and ran into the cannon's arc of fire. The Quad gun ceased fire and began manoeuvring down the steep bank, as the Prats started catching up with Quada's team.

She ordered them to stop and fight, and twenty energy rifles blasted into the Prats, and as the men fell screaming the fire team turned to run once more.

The stunned Prats had taken cover on being hit with their own weapons, and only slowly got up as the quad cannon came abreast of them. And only with the armoured vehicle behind them, did they take up the chase once more, leaving twenty dying comrades behind them.

The road ran straight before them for half a mile, with little cover but the drainage ditch on either side, and the frozen sear grass that stretched to the horizon. The team ran as fast as only clones could, with the Prats running just that bit faster. The quad cannon fired the odd shot which flew down the road over their heads, but it was not designed to pursue infantry.

The corner came up fast and the fire team whirled once more to shoot, and continued on running around the curve towards the next field of dead wheat. Quada was gasping for breath as they fled for their lives, covered in sweat as the Prats fired at them. Far below they could see the twisting road that cut through narrow defiles and deep rushing streams, and the armoured column that sped towards battle growing ever nearer.

With nowhere to run, and little cover within reach, Quada ordered them to drop flat and return fire at the Prats, and soon the well aimed shots tore into the charging clones. Many dropped dead and the reminder scattered into the frozen cover, leaving it for the quad cannon to finish them off. The fire team now concentrated their weapons on the vehicle, only for the fire to bounce off the front armour. The cannon fired again, the shot whipping off down the road.

Quada saw a spec flying high in the sky, and took a chance. She rolled onto her back and fired a shot that past before the plane. And then fired two shots, and then three. She repeated the pattern twice more and the plane turned to dive at them.

The Cloud Knight Raptor swooped down the road straight over their heads, and Quada had only a second to sign a friendly signal learnt from John to the pilot. The woman nodded as she flew on past and rose once more into the air.

The quad canon fired again as the Raptor flew on by, and then the plane seamed to hang on one wing and fire a single cannon shell into the vehicle's belly.

The explosion ripped out the drive compartment, and the vehicle ground into the road, scraping along until it came to rest. The Raptor carried on gaining altitude until seeing the Prats in their scarlet uniforms hiding in the frozen hay. The plane circled the area and selected an attack angle, and swooped down towards the field firing all twelve machineguns through the Prats. It then broke off the attack and flew off towards the armoured column that was still deep in the twisting valley.

Antiaircraft fire emerged from the column, exploding around the Raptor, and the pilot floored her machine, diving below the fire. One shot exploded just before the plane, ripping into the wings, and the pilot fought to escape. The Raptor came flying back trailing smoke, and began to dive towards the frozen fields.

To the surprise of all the cabin exploded away from the plane, flying high in the air before stalling, and beginning a stately fall to land about a half mile away.

Quada was caught in a quandary, if she helped the pilot the column would be right on top of them, and the Base camp retaken.

"You know Boss, I can fire that canon," Princess offered. "I might not be the best shot in the world, but who can miss a tank?" Quada looked from the disabled quad canon to the column still stuck in the river valley. "I can do this."

"Then do it, take squad two and knock out the first and last tank, that should keep them stuck until more Cloud Knights show up. Doc, with me and squad one, we're going for the pilot." The medic nodded and ran for the downed cabin, with Quada close behind, and the rest on either side.

Princess ran for the cannon drawing her pistol, as Squad two surrounded her. She was trying to decide if the damaged vehicle was still fireable, as the injured Prat crew began to crawl from the twisted hatches. Mercy was never an option, not with the Praetorians, and the crew were cut down in cold blood. She hopped over the bodies and onto the armoured body, and then the large turret. The top hatch was still open, with a body half way out. She dragged the corpse from the turret, dropping it over the side, and checked the four barrels. All appeared undamaged. Then she entered the turret and sat in the gunner's seat, checking the targeting computer. Again okay. Ammunition, magazines half full. Aiming, the drives whined as bit, but the turret still swivelled towards the column, and depressed enough to target the first tank.

Princess hit the targeting computer, locking on to the target, and fired a long burst of armour piercing shells. They had been developed to hit spaceships, and so the tank's armour did not pose a problem. The tank ceased to exist in a blinding flash of stored energy. She swung towards the last tank as incoming fire from the racing vehicles began to erupt around them.

Quada heard the long range battle behind her as the escape cabin came into view, and the pilot was trying to climb through the shattered Plexiglas. The woman looked up in fear on seeing the clones racing towards her.

"One, two, three," Quada gasped. "One, two, three. One, two, three. Damn it, if you recognised my signal in the air, you must from the ground."

"Didn't recognise it, but you looked interesting," the woman sighed, realising that trapped in a twisted cabin and wounded she was really out of options. "Friend or foe?"

Quada repeated John's cockpit sign for friend. "I don't know that many, my boyfriend hadn't time to do more than the basics. You might know him, a Cloud Knight I call John. Shot down here a few months ago."

"John huh. He's your boyfriend but you don't know his real name?"

"Intelligence, I don't need to know it."

"Then I won't tell you," the woman laughed. "Get me out of this armoured coffin will you? And a medic?"

Doc ran up to help the woman duck through the twisted wreck of the survival pod. The long range war was still going on as Doc was patching the woman up. "I'm Pepper, by the way, not my real name either." She was tall with speckled hair, and wore the usual Cloud Knight flight gear of high boots, sturdy pants and a sheepskin jacket, with gloves, white silk scarf and a leather flying helmet, leaving her better protected than the clones.

"Linx, and it's not mine, but I'm growing into it," Quada chuckled. Then a vast explosion erupted from further up the road as the quad canon received a direct hit. "Move it, we run like the Prats were after us. Which they are!"

Squad one met up with two a mile from the burning canon, but Princess was not with them. She was still there in the burning wreck. The armoured infantry was spreading out from the trapped column, sweeping the area as recovery vehicles attempted to tow the burning tanks out of the way, but the intense heat and exploding ammunition was making the task both difficult and extremely dangerous.

Quada was now heading more east than south, half carrying Pepper as they fled the armoured infantry, and pockets of annoyed Prats. Reconnaissance Raptors could be seen flying high, but no attack was launched on the trapped column, and the stiffly frozen wheat prevented them from trying to attract their attention. They were running out of the farmland that used to be the bread basket of the Western Isles, and approaching plantations of fruit trees, when the Prats launched a second attack.

Fifty or so Prats raised up from the ground cover and began firing. The fire team dropped flat only a second ambush hit them from the right, and then the left.

They were trapped in the open being fired on from three sides, and couldn't do anything about it.

"Any way out of this?" Pepper gasped as a bolt of energy flew by her head.

"Not that I can think of. The Cloud Knights?"

"Even if they knew about it, they could not tell who's shooting at whom. Someone warned us about the column, but we have only so many planes, and this is not the only war going on."

Sadly Quada drew the Locator and started typing: 'John, hope you get this. Was going to ask if you knew the word marriage? But too late now.'

Pepper read the message as Quada sent it off. "You're really crazy about the guy, arn't you?"

"First few times we met, we were trying to kill each other, but he grows on you." The incoming fire was getting ever closer, and the fire team was struggling to even see the snipers.

Then a disjointed clanking sound came from beyond the snipers, and a strange two legged robot came into view, it looked more like an headless ostrich than anything else. However, what was even stranger was that Princess was riding the ungainly swaying contraption, and she held the biggest personal weapon any had ever seen.

They came wobbling down the hill with Princess firing bursts of incandescent energy at the sniper teams, sending the Prats running for their lives. However, as soon as they stood to run their lives were only as long as the fire team's reactions.

Caught before and behind the Prats could only die, with a lot of encouragement.

Princess halted the ungainly two legged contraption before them and fell off the metal back, rubbing her aching thighs, not much of her outfit had survived the ordeal. "That was the most uncomfortable ride I've ever had," she gasped. "And I'm including most of my masters. These things were never meant for passengers."

"Last I heard you were burning to death," Quada gasped. "Care to fill us in?"

"Oh please. I know the quads from way back when, and better than any do now I think. There's so much insulation they could burn all day in the fuel cells and ammunition hoppers and still not harm the crew. And a hatch under the turret leads to an escape tunnel through the cargo bay, which is where I found this walker." She stood and opened an hatch in the rear of the machine and rammed her oversized weapon into the recharging bay. "The only problem I had was finding you. And I'll have saddle sores for a month."

Quada could only sink to the frozen grass and begin to laugh.

"And who is this?" Pepper gasped.

"My new servant," she continued to laugh as Princess looked indignant.

Princess picked up Quada's pack and hung it on the walker, sighing, "I promised to carry your pack, but I didn't guarantee it would be on my own back."

Quada and the rest of the fire team began to laugh again.

*

Sevena lay bouncing on a stretcher as the marines carried her down the back side of the mountain, towards the Breeder front lines. An old battered truck carried her and Sam to the Medical station, where he had to pull strings to have her treated before dieing of blood loss.

She awoke to find her leg in a full cast, and a warning that she was out of the war, because it wasn't a clean break but a messy fracture that would take months to heal. Sam stayed with her for a week, before arranging transportation to his sister's farm near the North coast of Safarlan, well away from the battle. A supply pilot Sam had known for years flew them North in his military issue Disk, dropping them off right outside the small cottage farm. Sam was carrying Sevena towards the farm when the Disk took off and the farm door burst open.

Wellka took one look at Sevena and sighed with relief, "I though it was Samuel you carried."

"He is doing fine Sis, this is Sevena, my lifemate. She got shot up, and I was hoping you would care for her."

"A clone!" she gasped in horror.

"Family."

Wellka examined Sevena closely, and chuckled, "Huh, if he caught you, it must have been a bad wound."

"You mean I was too ill to escape," Sevena laughed through her pain. "I was, but I didn't want to escape. Still don't."

Sam carried her into the farm and laid her on the lounge, pulling back the blanket to reveal the cast. "That's bad enough," Wellka agreed.

"Then may I rest here awhile?"

"It'll take more than that," Sam argued. "Sis, will you care for her?"

"You're the first clone I've seen, and this nut bonds with you!"

"I think Samuel is in love as well, so don't be surprised if half of your family are clones before this war is through."

*

Princess lay on the grass as Doc treated the sores on her inner thighs, and changed into infantry battle dress of better quality than the usual clone gear, strapping on a pistol as the march resumed. Her bulging rucksack now held all of Quada's gear as well as her own, but the walker carried it without complaint, and the girls began to look at the extra hooks on the machine enviously.

They camped that night deep in the orchard, as the sounds of battle raged through the night from the Breeder counter attack against the clone armoured column. Light tanks met two hundred ton crawlers, as high tech machines were tested against massive firepower, and came off worst. Infantry on both sides met at bayonet length in the frozen dark, and only the lucky survived. None of Quada's fire team slept very much during the artillery duels that lobbed shells from one side of Safarlan to the other, as the fertile land was fertilised with human blood.

Exhausted by the battle of yesterday, no sleep and more worry than they knew how to deal with, Quada led her team from the battle ground as far east as she could, before being caught up in the madness that had over taken the island. They travelled as fast as they could, with Princess controlling the walker that now carried all of their packs, and Pepper being helped along by a couple of girls.

Hitting the coast for the first time since landing they stared at the rippling waves, trying not to see the floating bodies that litter the sea. "According to legend," Pepper sighed, "the world once had a huge moon that took up a tenth of the sky. But it was mined to extinction and broke up to fall across the land. There used to be quite spectacular waves caused by the moon's gravity, but this ripple is all we have left."

Princess looked around in shock, gasping, "Earth! This damn planet is Earth, the birthplace of the human race. Quada, the invasion is a sham and a fraud, for this world belongs to the human race."

"Not if the Master of Selike4 gets his way," Pepper pointed out.

"But the Galactic Council must vote in the favour of the real inhabitants of Earth."

"The council is now as much a sham as the war," the Cloud Knight insisted. "It's now run by the corporations that rule space."

"Come girls," Quada sighed. "it's time to join the army once more. But first," she began typing on the Locator once more, and then changed her rank bars to General stars. "You know, I could have done that months ago. How do I look?"

"You'll never get away with it," Princess gasped. "No one can be stupid enough to think you could rise that high that fast!"

Quada handed over the Locator, and displayed the orders granting her promotion by General Hastner. "You were saying? And with your help I can't see how we can fail."

"Clones are bred to follow orders," Pepper agreed, "even if it gets them killed. But will they follow orders that will save their lives?"

"Huh," Princess gasped, "that might be a first."

*

Sevena was hobbling around the house a week after Sam had left to rejoin his unit, trying to help Wellka, but getting in the way. "Look girl, you can help all you want to after you get better, but right now you could cripple yourself for life. Do you really want to wind up walking with a crutch?"

"Clones don't get mothered," Sevena insisted.

"Then what do you get? What would they do to you on Selike4?"

"Recycle me. If I was too badly damaged to repair I'd be quietly euthanized."

"Well, if that don't beat all. They'd kill their own over a broken leg?"

"But it would be painless, it would be over in a second. But I'm in agony, because of Sam."

"Don't even think about it. Look girl, I can't keep calling you girl, and I hate Sevena. How about I call you Julia? I think you should be a redhead, and that big mouth of yours was built to smile. Goodness, if you ever did the sun would be jealous! That's better, Julia."

"Alright, I give in," she laughed.

*

It took them a week to walk around the coast towards the main military Headquarters in the old service docks, a week of dodging patrols from all sides. By now the shelling was over and the combatants seemed too exhausted to continue fighting, and a stalemate had settled in with the various factions digging into the frozen ground to fortify their positions.

On the last night of their trek they camped in a devastated farm, and Princess set about cleaning Quada's uniform with a hand held device that seemed to combine microwaves and steam cleaning to leave the clothing spotless. Quada lay shivering in the sleeping bag as she watched her servant working in the chill tent, and gladly opened the flap to allow the girl to join her and share body heat. Most of the fire team were doing the same with the extra bags lain open on top to provide extra warmth for the frozen girls. Even Pepper was sharing a bag with Doc, as they chattered through chattering teeth. The servant held her mistress that night, keeping them both warm when the temperature dropped to well below freezing as the winter gave it one last go, before allowing spring to start.

"Why are you only a servant?" Quada asked as the freezing wind blew harshly through their tent. "I'm surprised they didn't clone you."

"They talked about it," Princess said with a shiver as the double sleeping bag fought to protect both girls, "but I'd make a bad one, I ask too many questions." At those temperatures an extra body in the bag was often the difference between life and death.

"Not of me."

"But you know what you're doing," Princess insisted.

"If I don't, we'll find out soon enough," Quada sighed.

The land was knee deep in snow in the morning, and they took time to cook a warm stew for breakfast, and struggled to pack the tents as the air was full of falling flakes of white. "You've a beautiful world," Quada said to Pepper, "but harsh at times."

"Snow looks better through a window when you're sitting before a blazing fire," the pilot agreed. She strapped the tent to her back, taking her share from her tent mate Doc, and looked around dismally at the snow drifts. "You know, you can't keep calling her Doc, she deserves a real name."

"As do we all, I only got Linx by accident."

"That's a call sign, not a name."

"And Pepper? That's a call sign too."

"It was well chosen by my Squadron Leader, because I'm tall and fiery, like a pepper pot, or so he claimed," Pepper laughed. "But, I've been talking to Doc, and she's devoted to you, like the rest of your girls, but more so. You know that she was one of a batch of five hundred rushed through the tanks just for the war, and was snapped up by the Prats almost as soon as she was dry. She's the only one left."

"I didn't know that," Quada sighed. "First time I saw her she was nothing but a bag of bruised skin and fragile bone, and scared out of her mind. And look at her now..."

"Try looking at the young woman under the uniform. Quada, take her with you. Whatever happens, promise to look after her. I'd do it myself and gladly, but she loves you."

"I'll do that, just like the rest, but more so," she said fondly. "Hey Doc! Have you thought about a real name yet?"

The young woman walked over, she was petite with collar length white hair, and carrying the medical kit and weapon on one shoulder, and the rucksack on her back, and was quite at home roughing it in a frozen war zone. She simply didn't know any other life. "If you name me, will you then keep me Linx?"

"Always, I should have chosen you months ago."

"But then I would be a servant not a medic. I could not be both. I choose Sally."

"Then Doctor Sally it is." Queda smiled and turned to pick a trail towards the docks.

"That was all she had to say," Pepper whispered. "She claimed you with five words."

"How little you know of us," Sally sighed. "Those five words said far more than you heard, they said that I was family." They loaded the walker and Princess activated the remote that would automatically keep the machine a few meters behind her, wherever she went.

A cart track led from the burnt out farm to a wider road that had been swept clean of snow by the bitter wind, and they marched along in patrol fashion with weapons held casually and suspicious eyes darting from side to side at the mountainous snow banks on either side. The road soon joined up with a much wider one that led in a straight line towards the docks, and they began to see watch towers standing high in the air, and gun emplacements half covered in the fresh snow. Many of the clones manning the guns looked fresh from the ships, and shivered miserably in the winter air, stamping their thinly covered feet and rubbing frozen figures.

"They don't even have cold weather clothing," Pepper pointed out.

"The cold gear costs more than the clones," Quada said with a sigh. "They can always get more clones."

"You've still a dozen freighters full the last I heard," Pepper agreed. "All ready to be dropped into a war zone, like these unlucky bastards."

"Good," Princess sighed with a shiver, "if they're up there nice and warm in stasis, they are not down here freezing their tits off."

The road carried on through a dozen checkpoints, and the name Linx got them through all but the most obnoxious Prat guards, where Quada was forced to reveal her orders, and the men were forced to salute. Thought they looked as though they were chewing rotten eggs as they did so. Finally a ground truck picked them up and swept into the main military base, past the docks where a dozen heavy combat hovercraft were birthed, and along rows of tanks, both the light reconnaissance version that were all over Safarlan, and a hundred heavy tanks that they had never seen before.

"The Rhinos are kept back to protect the Brass," Pepper guessed. "And I'm not sorry, one of those monsters could probably take the island."

"And they're just sitting there when the army needs them," Quada sighed. "Typical military incompetence."

"Mercenary insignia," Princess pointed out. "They only fight when being paid."

"And the clones fight for free, so the tanks just sit there in the snow looking pretty."

Quada reported to the HQ building, and found quarters for her fire team in an old office block. Many of the original buildings had been replaced by the ubiquitous plastic boxes, however most were not suitable for the frozen climate, and so those first in to the habitation modules were the first to feel the cold. The quarters were modified from an old office where the twenty bunks were spaciously set out, and the main office that had a store room that doubled as Quada's private quarters, and even had a rest room with a real shower. With the heating working overtime it was quite comfortable to troops used to roughing it in the snow.

An appointment had been made to meet the General in Charge of the HQ that evening, and Quada marched towards the general office with trepidation whilst Princess guarding her back. Although the mercenary companies were officially administrating the war, it was still the Praetorians who were running a reign of terror wherever they could. And so any attempt to fight the war was blunted by the Prats who frowned on any clone who showed initiative. A bright idea resulted in a dead clone. Whether it was deliberate or not was never clear, but it seemed as if the Prats would rather loose the war than admit ordinary clones made good soldiers. Their own pride would simply never allow them to follow ideas thought up by their inferiors, no matter the cost.

Senior General Loukin read Quada's orders with interest but suspicion, "You've a reputation I'll admit, but this is quite preposterous girl."

"My orders are to win the war sir. But to do that I'll have to issue orders you won't like. Can I count on you?"

"No, you may not. For you're out of touch with affairs. The war is about to swing in our favour Linx, when the reinforcements arrive. And that should be tomorrow, and then we'll push the breeders back off this island in a month."

"I hope you're right sir. However, I should still be permitted a chance to prepare a back up plan. Just in case."

"As you will, if you are prepared to accept the cost if it goes wrong. I'm too busy organising the war to be bothered with details."

"May I ask about the reinforcements sir?"

"Enough clones to force the Breeders back into the sea."

"Just the clones sir, or more assets? We need planes and tanks to win this war."

"All we need, I've been told the Master of Selike4 grows weary of the delay, and has personally assembled this task force," he said with pride.

Quada matched from the HQ through the bustling army, and sighed, "We've already lost."

"But if the Master?" Princess thought about it and grew horrified, "Oh yes, we have lost big time!"

"All he cares about is using up surplus workers. I don't know what he has chosen to send, but I'll doubt if any can fight."

"Another massacre on the way, just as the Prats like it," Princess sighed sadly.

*

Sevena watched the ship landing off the North coast and hobbled towards Marrka's room, to see the woman putting away a transmitter. "Right, I admit it, I'm on coast watch. So shoot me."

"And I'm family, so I won't. You named me Juila, and I am in your debt."

"I've contacted intelligence, not that they couldn't see that monster splashing down from a thousand miles away. But the bad news is that we are in deep trouble. Julia, the reason that this is a coast watch station is that it's the highest spot this side of the mountains, and they will come to take it. Right now we're sitting in the first invasion target."

"I understand, then you must leave. Get out of here Marrka."

"I can't leave my post, it's my duty to guide the counter attack."

"Leave that to me. I can run faster with one leg than you can with two. Don't just stand there, pack and run!"

"Welcome to the family, sister," Marrka sobbed and started bundling cloths into a small pack.

*

By dawn's light six immense ships dropped from space, streaking down towards Safarlan covered by a hundred Ghost fighters, which promptly returned to the spaceforce carrier in orbit, before the Spectres showed up. The freighters landed in the bitter sea, almost submerged under their own weight, and extended ramps from the upper decks towards the quays. Quada and her team watched the unloading with at first trepidation, which quickly grew into utter horror.

Far from being combatants, the passengers were odd jobs of dislocated clones apparently chosen sorely on their disposability. Aged workers hobbled along, they were just short of mandatory retirement to disposal centres and had never been outside an air conditioned building in their lives; they looked up at the endless sky in open terror. Tens of thousands of pleasure slaves of both sexes were now apparently surplice on the recreation satellites; whole battalions of identical women marched in step, dressed in little more than their working uniform of manly bare skin. Thousands of immature clones stumbled along the swaying ramp, they had been birthed early from a change over in the maturation tanks requirements, and were too young to be of use, either on Selike4 as workers, or on Safarlan as warriors. And a hundred more classes of the walking dead stared up at the open sky in utter horror, from lives lived forever indoors.

"I could never have imagined this," Pepper sobbed. "Never in a lifetime could I ever conceive of such an obscenity."

"Welcome to our world," Doc Sally sighed. "Where we live and die at a monster's whim."

The refugee cannon fodder were housed in stacked thousand clone habitats, and the experienced veterans given the task of teaching them to fight a professional army, which all knew to be a hopeless task from the start. They were the dregs of society, none were capable of becoming warriors, either through infirmity, lack of dexterity, or mental dependence on a master who was no longer there.

Quada reported to the Senior General in a quite rage, "So this is your invincible army? Most of them can't even stand up straight, through age, youth or malnutrition. How can you expect children and pleasure workers to fight?"

"This is not what I was told to expect, but you have a month or less to do something with them, for that is all the time we have."

"And then sir?" Quada asked with dread.

"And then I will have no choice but to turn them loose into the countryside. Linx, they brought no food with them! Nothing at all. And the Prats are all ready to drive them through the gates."

"How long have we sir?"

"We had three months supply, before this bunch of useless mouths showed up. Do your own maths."

"I asked for freedom to end this war sir. I now demand it! You will let me do what I must."

"Surrender?" he gasped in rage. "We will never do that."

"And neither would I. This is time for diplomacy not cowardice. I'm not sure how, but there must be a way to retain out honour."

*

Sevena watched the invasion from the bedroom window, seeing the lovely home for the last time, for it would not survive the night. A small wall surrounded the flower beds and tuck garden, with a row of service sheds running along one side as far as the wall.

For the first time the Praetorians led the assault, believing they faced nothing more than one woman, they were eager to prove their worth. Sevena was sick of their hypocrisy, they bragged about being the ultimate warriors, and sent out simple clones to do the dieing for them.

No longer.

Scores of merc personnel carriers raced from the coast to surround the farm, with turrets facing in, as the Prats raced from their own vehicles to infiltrate the orchard and fallow fields.

Sevena watched the scarlet figures against the light snow cover, holding a rifle and a hand microphone. "Targets within one k, hold your fire."

"Can you get them to bunch up?" came the reply.

"They will soon enough." She took a careful shot at the slowest Prat in the rear, and put a bullet through his head. She admired Sam's old service rifle, and took a second shot, but this bounced of the Prat armour. It was enough, the quiet Prat approach became a stampede for the cover of the house. "All targets in range, commence now."

"Two minutes to target, Julia."

"Too long, I could loose their interest by then. Don't worry about me, I'll make it." She resumed firing and heard the outer door crash open, and energy rifles crackling in the lounge. She had about five seconds to live. Slipping through the window she leaped for the garden wall and began to race down the sheds as the sky filled with wings. Sevena ran as fast as her cast would allow, as Prats began shooting at her dark figure against the night. She leapt from shed to shed, fleeing for her life towards the wall as the first of the bombs began to fall. The reconnaissance Raptor flew straight over the house and saw Sevena running for her life, but could do nothing, for as the pathfinder his bombs lit up the entire countryside with burning magnesium flares, and he was now fleeing for his own life.

Sevena saw the flares explode and kept on running, she reached the outer wall and carried on peddling in mid air to land with her legs still going strong as the first real bomb landed in the flower garden before the house. The eruption tore the front off the cottage she had come to love. Then as she fled from the blinding flares into the night more bombs began to strike the house, and the Prats inside died to the last.

She was caught by a stray bomb and cast to one side like a child's doll as the last Eagle bomber flew on by and set course for Iase Benerant. The Pathfinder returned to photograph the crater, but the pilot could not see Julia. She was just one more casualty.

*

In the morning Quada was looking from the highest floor in the HQ building to see the Western Army begin the encirclement of the clone forces. Dozens of armoured crawlers blocked off the road five miles from the main gates, as mechanised infantry support vehicles began using jack hammers to dig trenches in the frozen ground. Soon the army moved up with thousands of troops, forming tent cities cutting the base off from the mainland. Day by day the trenches were being cut ever closer to the Base, until sniper battles were being fought all day long, with bullets bouncing off the armoured support vehicles, and machineguns tearing into the watch towers.

The weather turned milder, and the snow began to thaw, with the usual result, miles of mud formed a quagmire that sealed off the HQ even better than the hundreds of trenches.

Quada was counting the rations daily, and talking informally at first with the other Generals, and on browbeating them the informal chats soon became very formal indeed. All agreed that the new cannon fodder was just that, and could not be supported in anyway; if they lived the entire HQ would soon starve to death. Orders were cut and the Praetorians commanded to perform the greatest massacre in even their bloody history.

The Main gates had been modified into three vast armoured sections, so that attackers could be trapped, isolated and slain at will. The trap would work just as well from the other side, cutting off those trying to leave.

Then the winter gave it one last try, the quagmire froze solid, and the Western Isles Troops shivered behind their guns.

Quada knew the time had come.

Using painsticks enthusiastically, thousands of Praetorians herded the massed cannon fodder into the outermost of the gate compounds, and drove the hundreds of thousands of helpless men, women and children into the frozen night towards the encircling army. The Prats obeyed their orders and withdrew into the inner compound as the outer gates were slammed shut, sealing the unwanted outside the wall to be massacred by the terrible Breeders.

There were shots from outside the wall, but not as many as expected, as thousands of dark forms emerged from the night to grab a couple of clones and drag them back into the dark.

Quada watched from the wall as the Western Army gave the cannon fodder the mercy they would never get from their own side, as the startled men, women and children were pulled from the gates towards tent cities. In the morning they would be clothed and fed, and marched across the island to POW camps.

But the real trap had not yet been sprung, and after the refugees had all vanished into the night, the outer gates were opened once more, and the Praetorians looked through it in surprise, to see no bodies on the frozen mud.

Then the inner gate began to move forward, not swinging but moving smoothly as if pushed by giant machines. The entire gate was now attached to five of the monstrous Rhino tanks, and was pushing the Praetorians out into the night.

The Prats began to panic as they realised what was happening, and then clones stood up on the walls surrounding the outer gate compound, shooting into their hated foe. The Prats were more used to killing than being shot at, and charged into the night in blind panic as flood lights sprang into action, lighting up the road as bright as day.

The Prats began to mill around in confusion until the clones resumed firing from the wall, driving them far away.

It never occurred to them that it was all part of a coordinated attack, and that the Western army was a part of it, or not until death started to pour from the night and bullets smash into Prat armour. There were a lot of Praetorians, and it took them a long time to die.

*

Sevena stumbled through the forest to find Marrka hiding at the base of a white tree, the clone collapsed in the woman's arms. Marrka helped her sister into fresh clothing, after removing what was left of the cast. Sevina finally sat up and checked her thigh, to see if was half healed. "So Sam wanted to keep me out of the war."

"The damage was bad, but he knew you would rush back to serve Linx as fast as you could, and get yourself killed because you weren't ready."

"He was right. And normally I would do exactly that."

"What's changed?"

"You have. I've a bigger responsibility to get you to safety. Besides, after that run, I need a rest." The two women set off walking through the light snow towards a costal village that was still free, as the aborted invasion force was hunted down by the Western army.

*

It was dawn when Quada and Pepper marched from the gates under a flag of truce, and moved towards the Western Isles army, stepping over scarlet and crimson bodies all the way. Some had even managed to reach the trenches before being bayoneted to death. But not many.

They confirmed the truce and withdrew back to the HQ, awaiting transport to Iase Benerant, and a peace conference that would only affect Safarlan.

Quada and her fire team stood before the HQ building, watching an eight seat passenger Disk come skimming over the sea, it nosed around the compound until seeing Pepper waiving him down. The transparent cylindrical hull had a circular wing that was narrow at the front and wider at the rear, and Quada could see the pilot as he brought the craft down vertically before her. John.

Pepper ran up to give him a reassuring résumé of the events leading up to the peace treaty, and climbed into the Co-pilot seat. Quada turned to her girls, nodding to each reassuringly, and led Princess and Doc Sally into the plane, strapping down firmly as John nodded to her and they took off. Even when the Disk was at ten thousand feet John was lost in the controls and Quada was too busy marshalling her thoughts for the battle to come. One fought with words that were as sharp as any knife.

It took half an hour for the Disk to reach Iase Benerant, and it slid into place near a squadron of the new Spectre fighters, that Quada saw for the first time with dismay. They looked too deadly, and she feared she might not have as much to deal with as she thought.

A sally gate led them through the fortress wall and a dozen flights of steps led them around the museum above and towards the formally decorated state room where Regent Jaxmount, the Laird of Iase Benerant, rose from a desk to greet them.

"I heard great things about you child," he said with a smile. "But to con an entire army to surrender exceeded even my wildest fantasies. We could use you in intelligence."

"First off sir, we have not surrendered, and never will. I am a clone and proud of it, and not a traitor."

Jaxmount gasped in surprise, "Then what is this for girl?"

"Sir, you will please address me as General Linx, not girl. This meeting is to normalise relations between the Free island of Safarlan and the Western Isles."

"Free island," Jaxmount gasped.

"Certainly sir, we took Safarlan fair and square, and it would cost too much to retake, hence the peace treaty."

"And why would we agree to this?"

"Because in a couple of months you will need the fields planting, or we all go hungry. We will need human help to become farmers, but will never agree to surrender, for we all fear reprisals the moment we lay down our arms. Let us form a coexistence society on Safarlan, with clones and humans working side by side. Another side of it is that with tens of thousands of clone veterans living there, no other invasion is likely to occur."

"Squadron leader?" Jaxmount gasped. "Are you buying any of this?"

"Every word sir. She means it. Linx did not help us out of fear or gratitude, but to save lives. And this ploy will save the most of all. We can redeploy our army in another zone."

"And General Linx, if I agree to this, what is to prevent me from changing the deal in a couple of years?"

"Your word sir, and that of John, for I know a Cloud Knight will never break it!"

"And you?"

"I am learning sir, and from the best."

"Then what do you need?"

"For now, we need six month's clone food, to feed us until we become accustomed to eating real food. Then a base in the farmland, a farmhouse I think. What about the one where we sheltered John? It was big enough."

"You will need a full staff," John said with a grin. "And a pilot or two to carry you around the trouble spots."

"My girls are still with me, and these special two who are as family to me," she said firmly.

John looked more closely at Princess and Doc Sally, and smiled his welcome. "There was a question about the word marriage, do you still want the answer?"

"I thought the reply was negative, when you did not reply."

"I thought you were dead! I didn't get the message for weeks, and no more word at all."

"So that is why the cold shoulder," she gasped. "But I..."

"The message is still on file," Princess pointed out. "You should read it sometime Boss, pretty depressing reading."

"So," Jaxmount laughed, "do you agree to keep this trouble maker out of my hair?"

"That can be arranged," John chuckled as he walked over to hold Quada, examining her two inch long silver locks with fascination. "I'll get used to this."

"I hope so," she sighed, "and I hope that I will. But now I feel like a woman."

He stroked her new hair and the white scar on her right cheek, chuckling, "it suites you love." Then he turned to Regent Jaxmount with determination, "However, she will need a title recognisable by both sides. What about Governor General?"

"I'm not sure I could swing that through..."

"Sir, you keep forgetting that you are now Regent as well as Laird. It is your duty to reward the worthy, no matter which side they are on, and Qu has been fighting her own little war against all comers ever since being dumped here."

"That should do for now, but if you start getting problems, I may tack The Lady, on to it somewhere," Jaxmount laughed.

"But I..." Quada gasped. "I'm not one of those things."

"You are now," Princess laughed. "Earned the hard way."

"Governor General, the lady Quada Linx," John laughed. "I like it!"

"And your own name John, I thought that..."

"Not important Qu, but the clones must see that they are being controlled by a fellow clone, not a human. Especially when they start eating real food, and learn that they will have to reproduce the old fashioned way. No complaints about that Governor?"

"Not in principle, but I wish to reserve the right to use cloning technology in certain cases. Agreed?"

"Anything short of cloning armies of Prats," Jaxmount said with a sigh. "Now, if you ladies would like to clean up? I'm sure we can find you something to wear in the museum costume department."

"Anything from bearskins to plate armour," John laughed. "But I'd like to see you in a dress for once," he said wistfully.

"One suitable for a Governor General?" she asked with mischief.

"One suitable for a lady," he insisted.

It wasn't exactly a formal ball that was held that night, just a get together for the most prominent people in the Western Isles, but all were dressed to kill and the three infantry clones were almost too scared to enter until Gella, Kitty and April almost dragged them into the elaborately decorated room. It was only on learning that their hosts had earned their titles and ranks in combat that they began to relax and enjoy themselves.

*

Sevena and Marrka stumbled through the forest trail, as did thousands more before and behind. But the refugees were going too slowly, at the common slowest pace, and the women struggled to pass the walking road block.

"Sevena," A weak voice asked uncertainly.

She looked around to see small group of refugees, led by a dignified older woman, but the call had come from a young blond girl. "Fana?" Sevena gasped in shock.

"I got shot and they had to leave me, just like you," the blond insisted. "Lady Collett has been caring for me."

"Marrka, you might as well meet your future niece, Fana, or one of them if Samuel can't make up his mind."

"She beautiful," Marrka laughed, "so what's the problem?"

"There are two of them, identical sisters if you like, and he loves them both!"

"Only two, so what's the problem? Now I'd draw a line at over twenty."

Lady Collett hobbled up, the strain was taking a toll on her health, "If any wish to life bond with my daughter, they had better ask me first."

"You adopted her," Marrka gasped.

"I've been caring for her for months now, and I've never met a more loving girl. And I had to do something to get her through the Military Police, before they shot her as a spy."

"Then we are family," Sevena insisted. "For I am the lifemate of her intended's father, and Marrka his sister."

"You are both fit?" lady Collett asked. "I know a way through these woods, faster than this snail's pace. If we turn right at the next cross, there is a track to the left."

It had taken weeks to complete the transfer of power, and to organise the clones into small armed communities that were even now being taught farming. Other work parties were helping to rebuild the towns and villages they had helped destroy, and some of the human population were drifting back to reopen the destroyed factories and shops. The POW camp was releasing the late comer refugees as untrained labour, but it was the veterans who were to keep their pride farming.

Winter had vanished and spring begun when Quada led her girls over the hill and down into the valley towards the large farm complex. The main farm buildings were against the real wall, with stables on the right and a barn on the left, but a new addition had been flown in, two, one hundred person habitation modules now made up the front wall with a gap between for the gate, and a large executive office module was stacked on top forming a front arch before the farm. It did leave the farm looking semi fortified, as did the small tower built on the corner of the main farmhouse, but with recent history that was no bad thing.

John stood grinning with the rest of his men. Sam was standing with his arm around Sevena's shoulders, as his son Samuel was holding Fana, with lady Collett on the other side. The other medic, Sally's twin Gail, was with her doctor lover Jhones.

Quada marched her girls up before the reception comity, halted and did a right face to grin at the others. Then she turned about to salute her own unit, gasping with emotion, "Fall out my girls, fall out forever!" The girls cheered and ran to meet their lost friends and lovers. Alia ran to hug her sister Fana, as Samuel hugged them both. Doc Sally hugged her medic sister Gail.

"Sev!" Quada gasped in joy, "I thought you were dead."

Sevena walked up to Quada, trying to sound casual, "How did you manage to stay alive without me?"

"Without you, I had to learn how to save myself," she gasped, and threw herself into the arms of her best friend.

A long time later John led them into one of the dark and claustrophobic habitation modules, through a door in the arch end, "We've been pocking around in the ruins for a long time, but this was the best I could manage to come up with to make this place big enough to be a working farm and an administration centre for the island. I was hoping to cover them with stone later, to blend in with the house."

"I was hoping never to see one of these things ever again," Quada sighed. "Our adventure started in a module not much different from this one, only ten times as big."

"I thought so, but how much do you know about them?"

"We lived in them."

"Not the same thing," John replied. He walked over to the wall, and dusted off what appeared to be a decorative bar and pulled, releasing an inner panel four feet high by ten long, there was a glass sheet inside. Quada and the rest looked on in wonder as he pulled a second catch and an outer panel gave way revealing the widow with a view of the distant mountain.

Quada looked around, seeing that the pattern was repeated all the way around the module, and ran around opening windows for the first time in thousands of years, until the dismally dark module was bright and airy. "All this time, and we never knew!"

John smiled, and reached for a second catch, and started to pull out a flexible wall from between the windows, and extended it, pulling to the right to form an L shaped wall, with a door in the front. He repeated the move pulling out a second wall that joined with the first one, forming a small room ten foot long by twenty deep. Quada and the girls ran around pulling out all the walls, seeing that each room had a large picture window, looking around the countryside or back at the farmhouse.

"We could have had privacy anytime," Sevena sighed. But then she threw a couple of sleeping mats in one of the rooms and pulled Sam in with her, firmly closing the door. Samuel quickly did the same with Fana and Aila.

"There are rooms enough in the farmhouse," John laughed. "These are meant for the workers, but good enough for some privacy, I'll grant that." For people who had never known privacy, and who had lived through a war, the simple rooms were an invitation not to be missed, and as the couples peeled off to seek a room, John led Quada, Princess and Sally into the sanitation unit. "The sonic showers do get you clean, but we'll be able to fit proper water showers here, but I'm declaring the food dispensers a crime against humanity and clones alike."

"Our combined command will take over the administration duties," Quada said. "But I selected twenty late comers from the POWs to run the house."

"More servants," Princess pointed out. "But ones who know no better."

"There will be a surplice of clones for years to come," John sighed. "We're already talking about marching some back into the ships and engaging the stasis field for a few hundred years."

"But John, we are human, don't you understand that by now?" Quada pointed out. "Our ancestors, our genetic donors, were the best humanity produced, you only had to remind us of our roots."

"I know that love. But talking of roots, as you surprised me with Princess and Sally, I'm going to surprise you." With a secretive grin he led them from the habitation module and into the farm yard, and through the oversized kitchen. They met old lady Collett, who had been persuaded to stop on, to help Quada in her new duties, and arranged for her to show them around the estate later. But John still had a gleam in his eye as he led them up the narrow stairs to the long landing that ran from one side of the house to the other, revealing a dozen bedrooms on this floor alone. Another flight of stairs revealed yet larger bedrooms, and the master suite that was built into the small octagonal tower.

John opened the door and ushered them into the tower suite, to see the small girl who sat nervously awaiting them. The nine year old girl stood and turned to face Quada, gasping, "I've no right asking this lady. But you saved my life in that school room, I hope you remember?"

"The first time I ran into John, yes I remember you Marris," Quada said gently. "That was long ago." She walked over towards the dark haired child, seeing the worry in her grey eyes.

"His family has looked after me, but I wanted to see you again, to thank you, and to ask to stay with you," she gasped. "You were so kind to me then, please don't be cruel now?"

"Why do you wish this child?"

"Look, I'll do anything, just to be here. I don't care what it is," the child sobbed.

Quada put her arms around the child, gently holding the kid, and looked to see John grinning. "Now I understand," she laughed. "I honestly thought you'd gotten another clone, and I admit to feeling jealous."

Princess and Sally were fighting to hold back the laughter, as John grinned at them.

She looked down at the child she held, feeling her heart beginning to swell until it burst with joy, "But now I see we have a daughter."

Part Two

"MercyMaria to all ships," Lybeth called over the com as the ship reached Saturn and headed inwards towards the world once called Earth. "I repeat, this is the MercyMaria to all ships. We have diplomatic immunity granted by the Sayerasian Council of Elders, please do not open fire."

"Executive Kar to MercyMaria, what are your intentions in this system?"

"We are on an archaeological expedition, this was agreed by the Galactic Council Act 16583792. Please let us proceed."

"MercyMaria, you are cleared to swing around the Company Planet 987341209, and leave the system. This is a war zone and we will not be responsible for your safety."

Geo took over the com, "You have no right to deny us access to this world. Archaeology is science and no threat to you."

"Turn around MercyMaria."

Geo turned to his pilot, Titch, "Take us in, sharp and fast, because I'm pretty sure they're about to commit an act of piracy."

"They didn't even ask to see our documents," Senna snapped. "We've been shot at before, but they arn't even going through the motions. Lybeth, make sure this is being transmitted to Sayerass."

"Already on it lady."

Geo grinned hugely, "Right Senna my love, let's warm up the cannons."

Titch brought the MercyMaria past Mars and on towards Earth as a squadron of Ghosts were launched on an intercept course. The computers predicted the point of interception and all Titch could do was try to keep changing her speed and trajectory, throwing the fighter's targeting off balance. The small ship was as nothing to the immense vessels orbiting Earth, however she was state of the art.

"Call off your fighters," Lybeth warned them. "We are no threat to you, so why are you attacking a diplomatic ship?"

"You have no rights here," Kar replied. "We own this world and all on it."

"So you would fire on any ship that might prove otherwise," Titch sighed. "That means that you already know that your invasion is illegal, and will do everything to cover up the truth. Well, I'm sorry to tell you but this entire situation is being transmitted real time to Sayerass, and you are in danger of starting a war in the Galactic Council."

"Who cares?" Kar laughed. "We will still have this world to play with."

"Which means that you don't expect to return home?" Geo sighed. "Typical clone mentality."

The Ghosts opened fire at extreme range and Titch banked to the right, flooring the MercyMaria as the shots flew past them. "We are now officially at war," she formally reported, "so would you like to start shooting back, before we have to finish the trip on foot?"

Geo and Senna operated the controls for the cannons, targeting the fighters as they closed. The Ghosts kept firing as the range decreased, and the shots were getting closer.

"As an accredited diplomat," Lybeth stated, "I find that you are illegally baring entry to an archaeological site with the intention of committing an act of planet piracy, and demand that you withdraw your forces from the world in question until a full investigation can be convened. And stop shooting at us!"

"Just what was that about?" Kar asked in confusion. "You know we'll never give up this world."

"Because it is called Earth," Lybeth snapped. "This is the birthplace of the human race, and as such belongs to mankind, the current inhabitants."

"That is a lie, a fabrication, pure fantasy..."

"Inconvenient," Lybeth laughed.

Titch banked away from the next volley and swung back on course as the fighters closed, and only then did the cannons fire, and half the squadron were ripped apart. The MercyMaria swept past the expanding cloud of debris and continued on course as the surviving fighters panicked and bolted as far and fast as they could.

The fleet were coming up fast, and Titch had to slow down to avoid skipping off past and back into space. Shots began to come from the transport vessels, closing on the MercyMaria, as Titch banked her into orbit and began an airbrake manoeuvre, diving towards the night side of the world. The outer hull was soon glowing in atmosphere as the ship slipped from orbit and began a high velocity re-entry as a hundred shots began to bracket them, closing in on the glowing vessel as it streaked through the night.

The ground was coming up fast as the MercyMaria was caught by a blast of energy, the computer started spewing sparks as flight control became erratic. "We dieing here," Titch called out. "One more shot and..." The hull was lit up by blinding light and half the warning lights turned from green to red. "Yes, that was it."

"Abandon ship," Geo snapped. "Flight Suits at the ready."

Titch managed to pull the nose up and stall the crazy decent for a few seconds, as twenty shots flew through the spot where they would have been, and the crew ran through the lock and dived into the night air.

The MercyMaria flew on in an irregular course towards the horizon as shot after shot blasted into the ship. Finally she gave up and dived straight into the sea, as a huge blast lit up the night.

Geo, Senna, Titch and Lybeth were falling towards the ocean through the night, they formed up and deployed their aerofoils, and began to glide into the clouds.

"I'm getting sick and tired of being shot down," Senna screamed in anger. "I was beginning to like the MM."

Lieutenant Cyn Ghones of the WIS Lucia hadn't always been in the Western Isles navy, nor a pilot in the intelligence service. That all came about from being the fifth of six daughters of a respectable but never rich merchant. She had ideas above her station, ones that neither her father's limited money nor her admittedly good looks could attain.

So when the recruiting officer painted a picture of navy life as fancy uniforms and diplomatic balls, Cyn signed up on the spot. And so far her military career consisted of a two year round the world voyage on the Lucia, with hardly a stop on any island advanced enough to develop fermented alcohol, never mind Champaign. She had made the most of her boredom, taking, and excelling at, every course offered on the ship, which is how she was now flying a maritime reconnaissance Duck far over the Southern ocean.

The Lucia had just made it back to base in Raghnail, capital of the Western Isles when the invasion happened, and Cyn had found herself manning a deck heavy machinegun fighting attacking clones as the ship collected hundreds of survivors at the beleaguered port and fought her way to Iase Benerant. Then they had unloaded the refugees and turned around to sail once more into the Southern seas, searching for ships that had been reported landing in the endless chains tiny islands. And not once did Cyn get to meet a tall handsome Lord who would declare his undying love and sweep her off to his palace.

She was starting to think the recruiting sergeant was in a different navy.

They Duck was a modified six seat Disk, with vertical and amphibious landing abilities, an ultra long range due to the solar collectors in the circular wings, and six machineguns. She was still a secret weapon, and kept hidden in the battleship's hanger most of the time, but at sea she could fly so high no one on the ground or sea would notice her. That was the theory, until the clone Ghosts had shown up.

Cyn was piloting the plane as two Ghosts came from nowhere, and started strafing them. Her co-pilot was a nonecom called Simon, who was trying to see where the Ghosts were coming from as they flew past at Mack2. The flight engineer and navigator were a mated pair of Bush Sprites, the first to be accepted into the navy.

The Ghost pilots could have blown the Duck out of the air on the first pass, however, this was the first of the class the clones had ever seen, and so their own command ordered them to observe it. Which being of near transparent resin wasn't easy. Simon swung the cameras towards the Ghosts, taking reels of shots, as the clones were doing the same, but they all knew that soon the fighting would begin.

The first Ghost suddenly shot off and swept around to target the Duck with a missile, which had trouble locking onto the resin plane. Cyn set the thrusters to vertical and they shot straight up as the missile came wobbling towards them, and flew straight beneath. The Ghost came rocketing towards them as Cyn slipped past the incoming fire and unleashed a quick burst from her MGs, tearing a huge gap along one wing.

The second Ghost tore around the battle and hit the Duck from behind, but was still confused by the thin stealth like fuselage, and the energy blasts tore above and below the plane. "Simon, man the tail gun," Cyn snapped.

"You've got to be kidding," he gasped running to the rear of the small cabin, and loading the stubby looking gun with a single oversized shell.

The first Ghost swept around and came back for a low speed attack, as Cyn swept the nose with her six MGs, drilling a hole straight through the pilot into the engines, and the Ghost gave up the ghost and exploded in a fireball.

"Target attacking from right," Simon yelled out. Cyn had hardly time to get over her first kill when she saw the second ghost and spun the Duck around, so that the rear cannon was now targeting the enemy. Simon fired the rear gun at near point blank range just as the Ghost was about to over fly, and the round exploded into a spinning net, that unwound until it was meters across.

The Ghost flew straight into the net and kept on going, until the twelve small explosive charges slammed into the plane just before the cockpit, and exploded in a rippling blast that tore the nose off the fighter.

Cyn looked on in shock, the net gun had been modified from the Raptor rear defence mechanism, and this was the first time it had been used in combat. And, Cyn was pretty sure, this was the last time it would be used, for the enemy would never get that over confident again. The Ghost fell from the sky in two pieces, until an escape pod erupted from the tail section. The pilot fell unconscious towards the seas below, as a metal case hit first, unfolded into canoe type boat, and began to real him in.

"I'd like a chat with that gentleman Simon," Cyn snapped. "Break out the Vartan MG and I'll put us down."

"Yes mam," he laughed and unclipped a machinegun from a wall bracket, slapped in a magazine of a hundred rounds, and opened the side hatch as she was landing next to the metal canoe.

As the Duck lived up to its name, landing with a splash next to the alien pilot, Simon decided that he was still unconscious. The Sprite pair jumped into the canoe and secured wrists and ankles in seconds, before jumping back into the Duck, with the rope that Simon now used to haul the captive on board.

Cyn saw the pilot secured and took off to race back to the Lucia with their prize. There had not been a chance to gain any intelligence from the downed plane, but, suitably asked, the pilot would fill them in. She was sure of that.

They landed on the Lucia's small platform between the rear turret and the communications tower, and were towed into the hanger, as the captive was being bundled away by marines. Cyn went through six hours of debriefing, talking about the fight that seemed to last six seconds, over and over until she was sick of it. She finally had a chance to eat, wash and sleep.

In the morning Captain Khonsor called her to his office, his weather beaten face looking decidedly confused. "I hear that you completed the interrogation course, and got high marks young Cyn."

She knew she was in trouble then. "I passed the test sir, but it was pure theory, we never had anyone to torture."

"Well, now you do," he sighed. "The background is that a clone raiding force has been causing serious trouble in this area. And the pilot must know something."

"There are plenty of experienced officers sir," she objected.

"But we are not allowed to use them. You will understand when you see the prisoner."

Cyn saluted and marched to the cell block, and into the only high security cell on the ship. The prisoner was chained to the steel wall, wearing brief red underwear, and turned to look at her through large grey eyes, her hair was also of a steel grey and fell to her collar. The face was quite pretty and the body lush. She seemed to be about Cyn's age, and glared at her in disdain.

"And who are you?" she snapped. "Another officer not worth his rank."

"Oh, I'm worthy of mine girl. The reason that the others did not torture you is that they are gentlemen, and you a woman. But I am also a woman, so there will not be a problem, will there?"

"Then bring on the whips, I'll give you nothing."

"They will come," Cyn sighed. "But all in good time, for we are going to become good friends in the weeks to come. Most of the interrogation will be psychological, and I will find out who you really are, what you want and what you need. And if you behave I'll give them to you, until you are so desperate you'll do anything I say."

"Then why tell me your plans?"

"Because we need to have total trust between us. I will never lie to you, and hope you'll feel the same about me. I don't mean not lying about your secrets, just don't answer me. So what do I call you? Note, I did not ask your name, I asked what you want me to call you."

"There is a difference?"

"All the difference in the world, trust. So what do I call you."

"I could say anything?"

"You could pick any name you secretly liked, and become a new person, for the old one dies in this cell. Not physically, I'll not kill you, though at times you might wish that I would."

"Clone names are limited," she admitted. "What would be an appropriate name for me?"

"My name is Cyn, how about Angela? That is a good name."

"If you wish it," she sighed.

"No, only if you wish it," Cyn insisted.

"Then I will accept Angela, you could have picked something much worse."

Cyn smiled, this was going well. Angela was smart and attractive, but knew nothing of emotional dependency, and by the time she did know it would be too late. She removed her jacket and hung in on the back of the only chair on the room, and picked up Angela's X-rays, to see imagers the suppressor deep within her prisoner. She showed the X-rays to Angela, "And what is this?"

"I'm not sure, we all have them, they prevent sex..."

"It will have to go," Cyn sighed. "We can't allow a machine like that onboard, if could endanger the ship."

"What will you do?"

"You will tell me how to remove it, or I'll have the surgeon do it his way. Take your pick."

"But you can't, it's not possible."

"You will find that it is," Cyn sighed. "Now what do I do first?"

Angela sighed ruefully, admitting defeat in the first round, but she really did not want to be vivisected just to remove the suppressor, it wasn't a secret technology that could turn the tide of the war, "Run an electro magnet over it, at the right frequency you will hear a click. But, promise me one thing, that you will remove it. I'll not have a man doing that."

"I promise you that Angela," Cyn laughed and ordered a device sending up from the electrical workshop. She pulled the pants down to her captives ankles, and began to feel the woman's body, and the lumps inside that should not be there.

"Enjoy yourself," Angela snapped.

"You are far too brittle here, but I've a cream that will do the trick. Also, these could be the last clothes you ever wear, but I will have to remove them. Let me and I will wash and save them until you need them again. Struggle and I'll cut them off you. Your choice."

"So I stand here naked."

"Give me something and I'll see to you having a bed." An hour later the device arrived, and Cyn started to search for the frequency that would unlock the suppressor. When she found it hours later she started to remove the bits and pieces by hand, piling them on the chair. "They put that inside a pilot!"

"They put it in most clones. It's standard operating procedure for us all."

"But in a pilot, how can you perform Hi G manoeuvres? It could rip you apart."

"I'm used to it. Clones are tough."

"You would be a better pilot without all the plumbing," Cyn insisted. "And a better person."

"Yeh, wanting sex all the time! I'd never learn how to fly."

"Oh, this is great," Cyn laughed. "Girl, it was I who shot you down!"

"You!" Angela gasped in shock. "A Breeder and a pilot?"

A few weeks later Cyn entered the cell, to see Angela squirming on the stout iron bed she was chained to. "Sorry to be away so long, I was on patrol. How are the bruises?"

"Getting better, no thanks to you."

"You know I had to do it Angela. And I did not enjoy it at all.

"I know," she admitted, "you were crying all the way through, nearly as much as I was!"

She sat on the bed, absently stroking the prisoner, "The Brass are getting impatient with my tactics, they are threatening to send you to Iase Benerant for a more professional interrogation. You would not like that."

"I can take it."

"No girl, you can't. You are an intelligence officer, a spy, and will be given the usual treatment we give the condemned. Here I treat you as a person, roughly at times I admit, but I do care about you."

"I know that Cyn."

"If I was someone else, and you also, I might try to claim you. You would enjoy serving me more than the alternative."

"I might even accept that, if I were someone else. But I'm not! Cyn, I have a servant in my quarters on the 336579Utopia, she was an immature clone from a maturation tank failure. The first time I saw Sexa a Prat was dragging her to the Recycling centre, still dripping nutrient slime on the walkway. I claimed her there and then, and she has served me well for a few years now. I understand mercy."

"I'm glad that you do. But to the professional interrogators you will be nothing but an organic component in their machines. The first thing they will do is to strap an electrical device to your right shoulder, it will be cold, at first, until they turn it on, and then slowly it will begin to heat up until it burns into your flesh a death's head. That is the mark of the condemned, and will make it impossible for you to escape, for any who find you wearing that brand will slay you on sight."

"I can tell you nothing Cyn, I am sorry."

"I know that Angela. And so am I. Now what should we try today?"

"For now, keep on stroking. Have you ever wondered what I taste like?"

Cyn lifted a finger and licked it, smiling, "Sweet you are, try it yourself." She put another finger and forced the prisoner to lick it. "But I think you will appreciate a little pain as well."

Angela relaxed, giving herself into Cyn's psycho sexual torture. The pain she could resist, and the pleasure, but not both at the same time given by a lovely young woman to who she was growing emotionally dependant.

It was a month later when the marines entered the cell, released Angela and dressed her in the old red underwear. Cyn was not there, and the terror of seeing six strange men in a cell that she had regarded as being safe, in some obscure fashion, was almost more than she could take.

She was blindfolded and dragged up through the maze of corridors and stairs, towards the hanger. She was forced on to the Duck and chained to a jump seat, the plane was towed to the flight platform and took off straight up.

It was only at ten thousand feet that Cyn left the controls and went back to remove the blindfold, much to Angela's relief. But that was short lived. "I'm taking you to Iase Benerant. I'll be allowed to see the first few days of your interrogation, to see if your story changes, but then I'll be flying back. I'm sorry."

"And then what happens to me?" she sobbed.

"Afterwards, I think they'll hang you."

"This is your fault," Angela accused her.

"For shooting you down? You were trying to kill me."

"No, for making me enjoy what you did to me!" she snapped in anger. "You should have made me beg..."

"And you should have believed that I was trying to save your life."

"Oh, but I did believe you, you always told me the truth. I just didn't care."

The flight in the Duck would take days to reach Iase Benerant, and they flew over island chains from morning till night, until on the second day Cyn saw Angela staring intently at a particular large island. She glanced down to see the mountain had an artificial look to it, as though an extinct volcano had been modified for other uses.

She piloted the Duck down lower to see that dense jungle carpeted almost the entire island, with a centre full of jagged peaks and the old volcanic cone. It was interesting, but only one of tens of thousands of similar islands that littered the Southern Ocean. She turned the Duck just as a missile streaked up from a hill near the shore, locked onto the plane and accelerated to attack speed and tore through the circular wing, to explode a few metes above them.

Cyn fought the controls as the Duck did a great impression of a dead duck, and fell towards the ocean far below. She managed to splash down belly first not far from the island, and with the flotation gear shredded started to sink rapidly. Cyn and Simon were swimming before remembering their passenger still chained to the Jump seat.

Angela was floating with her mouth gasping for air in the ceiling air pocket when Simon swam back to unlock her chains, and then Cyn helped her through the hatch into the sea and supported her towards the beach. The Sprites were making good time paddling in a tiny raft, and reached the shore first.

Simon waded from the water and climbed the sandy beach up towards where he could see the distant jungle. He froze on seeing six Praetorians walking towards them. "Back, back," he gasped as the Prats drew weapons.

Cyn worked out the situation and drew her automatic pistol, just as a blast of energy blew it from her hand. Angela stumbled from the sea straight behind Cyn, to see the Prats falling on the man who had just saved her life, and battering him to death with painsticks. Two Prats grabbed Cyn and forced her to watch the murder, laughing, "Talk or you'll be next."

"I am Hummingbird," Angela snapped. "Intelligence, and this woman is my prisoner. I shall ask the questions, understand?"

The Prats left the dieing Simon and sauntered over to surround the girls, grinning like sharks. "You can prove this?"

"That I can, now show respect or I'll have you on charges. You've already killed a valuable prisoner from boredom. Take us to your base."

The Prats were trying to hide their humour, but escorted them around the headland and towards a small collection of a dozen clone habitats camouflaged around a little cove. They were directed towards a secure cell where Cyn was dragged inside violently, as they fastened her to a cross against the wall and began tearing off her clothing.

"Leave us," Angela snapped. "This prisoner belongs to me."

Reluctantly the Prats walked off towards their habitation module.

"Where are we?" Cyn gasped in terror.

"This is a Coast Watch facility, tracking air and surface shipping," Angela sighed. "But I'm sorry it's manned by Prats, because now I'm going to torture you Cyn, I've no choice, either I do it or they do. I'm sure you understand."

"As well as you, but don't expect me to feel good about it," she sighed.

"You taught me well girl, so well I've thought up some new tricks to try on you. I'll leave you to think about it. But first, I'd rather see you naked."

It was a month later that Angela heard the rasping on her habitat window, she sat up in the stifling heat of midday to see the Sprites sitting on her sill. "You had better listen," Bob insisted.

"You are enemy, go away," she snapped.

"If we be enemy, then why is Cyn still breathing?" Sue sighed. "Sprites see well and hear better, but none see us."

"We hear Prats talking," Bob continued. "Talk they much about records of your sessions with Cyn. They amused, but been busy with other toys."

"But no longer," Sue took over. "They know your secrets you know? And tomorrow they take over interrogation of Cyn, force you to watch will they, as they tear her apart. They will rest then a full day, before starting on you."

"They claim you traitor to clone army," Bob insisted. "It will not matter if you are, because this is now registered on your ships. They think all clones captured by humans are now traitors. I wonder why?"

"You are already condemned," Sue sighed. "We thought you like to know."

"And what do you think I should do about it?"

"Grab Cyn and flee to jungle," Bob offered.

"I thought you might say that," Angela sighed. "This is a trap."

"This whole island is a trap," Sue laughed. "and of many forms. Go and decide. We leave now." The Sprites turned and jumped from the sill, to vanish from sight in an instant. Thousands of years of hiding from mankind had taught them well.

Angela knew how to think, and how to act when needed. She chatted with a few of the Prats that afternoon, and felt their smug superiority trying to burst through polite smiles and casual remarks. She was already as good as dead.

Cyn was bound casually to the bed when Angela entered the cell that evening, she wore a light skirt and shirt, and two pistol belts. "Cyn, if you want to live, trust me."

"So you figured it out. When are they coming for me?"

"You knew!"

"I knew from the start. Those bozos are about as subtle as a bull elephant in heat. You can trust me, you know that."

"But I'm not really a traitor," Angela sighed. "I have not betrayed my own kind."

"The question is, did they betray you when they fitted the suppressor? They took away your free will, leaving you in agony for years."

"That was their right. But I could have done without that constant pain." She freed Cyn and handed her a jungle outfit similar to her own. "We leave at full dark, and head for the hills. So get your legs working, it'll be a long night."

"Do I get a pistol?" Cyn pulled on the lightweight gear and loosened up long legs, ready for the race of her life.

Without a moon the world was plunged into full dark lit only by the eternal stars, the girls left the cell and sealed it, then fled across to the beach and waded around to a rocky patch before starting towards the jungle.

A path was only faintly visible through the canopy of vigorous growth, as they stumbled between the trees and bushes, vines and rocks. They only had a few hours before the Prats would hunt them down, and that was a terrifying thought. For the Prats knew the island, were nine foot tall, stronger than five men and so single minded they would make a boulder seem to vacillate.

The path twisted through the trees, ever climbing towards the crest of the hill, and as they reached the top they could look down on a vast panorama of treetops that lined the valley beyond. And miles beyond that the foot hills began that led up to the first of the mountains that made up the heart of the island, and then they saw the volcanic cone in the exact centre.

"That is a long way," Cyn sighed.

"I'm heading for the crater, not sure why, but that's the way I'm going. If you want to pick your own route, that's fine."

"Better we stick together," Cyn insisted.

"Then let's move." They started to run down the path deep into the jungle seeking a miracle. For only a miracle could save them from the Prats, however both came from worlds without religion, and so neither of them knew what one was.

The Praetorians slept little, and knew that the girls were running for their lives; so much the better, it would work up an appetite. The decision to kill them was automatic, and hadn't even been discussed, only the manor of their passing had been open to debate, and now even that was crystal clear. They would be hunted to extinction. And only if they surrendered would they be tortured to death.

The hunter platoon had the honour of the chase, leaving only the technicians manning the listening post. Twenty men set off in a casual jog through the dawn's chill air, their scarlet uniforms shining in the damp jungle to rival even the most exotic blooms. Their armour had been left behind, it would soon become too hot to wear in the heat of the jungle, and why would they need it pursuing two girls armed with nothing but hand beamers?

They jogged up the steep path and reached the summit in good time, only then looking down on the thousand square miles of humid jungle that protected their quarry. Leader turned to Tracker, "Baring?"

"049, I've got a lock."

"Proceed, but let's hang back a little, we might as well have some fun," he laughed. "Scouts one and two, on station. Let's go." The hunters skipped down the trail as the heat of the day rose ever higher, and they hardly noticed it.

Cyn and Angela were well within the forest when they looked back to see the Prats far in the distance. "How did they get here that fast?" Cyn gasped.

"Why not? The Prats are good."

"But they're coming straight for us. No hesitation at all. They know where we're going."

"No they don't, but they know the way we come." They pushed up the pace through the jungle, filling water bottles in clear pools, and running ever faster as sweat poured from their skin, and lungs fought for each ragged breath.

They reached the first of the great rivers in the afternoon, swimming across the turbulent water ignoring anything swimming that might be as hungry as they were. Reaching the far bank they rested for a few precious minutes, gasping for breath, and noticed that they were not alone, half a dozen women stood looking at them. The island was inhabited by more than Prats.

The women were less than five feet high, deeply tanned and had long black hair and large eyes of jet. Their faces grinning with intelligence and good humour, and their entire wardrobe seemed to consist of flowers which left a multitude of aromas wafting along behind them.

"You flee red men?" the leader asked. "They bad, hurt ones who no hurt them."

"We flee them," Cyn gasped. "Can you help us?"

"No take you to village, they track you. But we hate them for driving us here, and killing those too slow to escape."

"How do they track us?" Angela asked.

"Why, with smell. Machine nose, we think it be. Smell your body odour long way off."

"Show us how to defeat it, please," Cyn asked.

"Take off your clothing, and wear flowers such as we. Your weapons should not matter, the fabric not hold smell, but clothing is covered in sweat and fear. We show you how to make clothes of fragrant blooms."

Cyn and Angela quickly removed their clothing, screwed in into knots and cast it into the rapidly flowing river, where it vanished from view in an instant. Then naked but for their gunbelts, they followed the forest dwellers towards the flowering bushes, and learnt how to pluck and weave blooms into exotic but untraceable clothing.

They travelled with the forest dwellers, meeting others on different tasks, and learning all they could of what to eat and what would eat them, where to shelter in the trees at night, and how to make a cooking fire, and turn freely available resources into useful tools. It was a child's primer in jungle survival, nothing more, but it would give them an edge over the Prats.

In the morning they left the forest dwellers and headed deeper into the jungle, plucking fresh clothing off the branches, and weaving it on the move into loincloths and breastbands that wrapped halter style around their necks, to cross over the breasts and fasten behind their backs. Feeling more at one with the jungle, and less in fear of the Prats.

Fresh food was ready to be plucked from behind the constant flowers, and delicious water was often held in large open leaves, and often tasted of the plant that collected it. They no longer worried about being bare footed, feeing the earth between their toes was becoming to feel natural. "I once heard," Cyn sighed, "that the Cloud Knights run a survival course where you are dropped off naked in the wilderness, and without any equipment at all, and expected not only to make it to the pick up point on time, but carrying all the home made tools, clothing and food you need."

"Think we'll pass?" Angela laughed.

"Not yet, but we haven't yet reached the pick up point, have we?"

"So what happens to us when we are picked up? Back to being enemies?"

"Oh girl, we never were. I promise you that I'll not let you be tortured by my side, even if I have to claim you first."

"Then I can do no less than take you for a servant, if my side finds us, and doesn't shoot both of us on sight."

"So one of us serves the other, no matter who wins," Cyn sighed. "We could always cheat and just be friends."

"What do you mean?" Angela asked in confusion.

Cyn stopped and pulled the other girl to her, kissing her on the lips with passion, as the flowers were crushed and bruised between their bodies, releasing an erotic aroma that swirled around them as they stared into each other's eyes in mutual shock.

"That was supposed to be funny," Cyn gasped. "But I'm not laughing."

"Isn't that treason?"

"Only if we tell anyone about it," Cyn sighed. They straightened their fragrant clothing and rushed along the path towards the nearest of the foot hills.

Carrying little but a few flowers and weapon belts with attached water bottles, they made good time through the lower jungle, and were soon climbing into the foothills of the towering mountains. They began to see whole lakes pinned between the hills and mountains, full of fish that seemed to leap with joy as they walked past. The humid jungle became slightly cooler as they climbed, but never became cold. The foothills had paths that led through vales into the mountains, but they never had to clime too high, to reach the other side.

The Praetorians were still on their tail, now resorting to a manual search for spoor and moving much slower, but had no intention of ever giving up the chase.

Finally, near the end of the last mountain pass, the Prats caught up and began shooting from long range with their energy rifles. Cyn glanced back and yanked Angela after her down the trail, which opened up into a broad path high over a placid lake, and with a sheer cliff rising high on the other side. The Prats were charging around the corner, their scarlet uniforms now dirty and torn, and murderous hatred in their eyes.

Angela took a look down the wide ledge that led a mile or more around the mountain, sighing, "We'll never make it."

"Can you swim? And I don't mean paddling across a river, I mean really swim!"

"Over there? Into the lake? Well, if I can't it'll beat what the Prats have in store for us." Hand in hand they raced for the edge and leapt into space, falling towards the water far below. They hit hard and kept on going far below the surface, leaving torn flowers floating behind them in the freezing water.

Angela fought to clear her eyes in the chill water, and noticed a gateway of crystal leading into the mountain itself. She pointed to Cyn, and they began swimming down towards the crystal gate, finding themselves in a water filled tunnel that led through sheer rock. Gasping for breath they surfaced to find a foot of stale air trapped by the domed roof, and began swimming far beneath the mountain as the tunnel raised slightly and the water level dropped. An hour or more later the water level was down to their calves, as they splashed along, and it finally drained away altogether, and they walked on a dry surface in the gloomy tunnel. Where the faint light came from neither could say, but they could see enough to walk naked through the heart of a mountain.

A service chamber was cut into the crystal coated rock wall, and as Cyn opened it they smelt an aroma of a long sealed chamber, stale cleaning gear and long rotted equipment. Angela wafted the door for ten minutes until the stale air became breathable. Then they entered the chamber to find the detritus of a long dead technological society, one that had died so long ago there was no record, not even a legend that it ever existed.

"Right, we came as thieves," Angela sighed. "The fleet must be able to track this kind of installation from orbit, so they knew this world was inhabited far in the past."

"They knew enough to plant a Prat listening post here," Cyn agreed. "But did they tell the Prats about it?"

"I think not, they are here just to keep others away, like us. We can sleep here and continue later," Angela pointed out. "Not as good as some places we have slept, but better than most."

"Will we ever be able to forgive ourselves, for what we have done?" Cyn gasped in sudden shame.

"Will we forgive each other for enjoying it!" Angela counted. "All I know is that you set out to make me emotionally dependent on you, and it worked. But did you intentionally make yourself dependent on me?"

"Not intentionally," Cyn said dryly. "And you did help, by turning my tricks against me."

"So should we hate each other, or be grateful?"

"Ask me again in a lifetime, it'll take that long to understand what we have done."

"You're thinking long term," Angela sighed. "But you could be right." They found enough soft fabric to make a nest of sorts in a small room, and slept for hours cuddled together to keep warm.

They continued walking along the tunnel and soon found that it had levelled out into a flat section that left the mountain and ran straight through the middle of a lake. They continued walking along and were delighted on seeing hundreds of fish swimming above and below the crystal tunnel, as it spanned the way between mountains. Enough light was filtering through the water to illuminate the tunnel quite well, and they automatically held hands in the enchanting quivering light. Whilst both freely admitted to being emotionally dependent on the other, neither would ever use the word love to describe how they felt.

The tunnel ducked once more through a short dark section of rock, and surfaced to show the volcanic cone towering far overhead. It took them a few seconds to realist that the tunnel was now on the surface, half covered with jungle, and heading straight for the base of the volcano. Angela looked up at the cone, seeing hundreds of small square depressions seemingly cut into the rock. "That is what I thought I saw from the Duck," she sighed. "What does it look like to you?"

"Like someone tried to turn the whole flaming volcano into a base, or city, or something," Cyn gasped. "I simply can't believe what I'm seeing. But wait, I've seen something similar, on Iase Benerant, there is a single home built into the very rock of the museum. It is supposed to be hundreds of thousands of years old, and now we're seeing hundreds of them!"

"You know I'm a mercenary? Not your average drone of a clone? Well I fear that my contract is now well and truly null and void, and that I can never return home. For they must know what we are seeing, and will kill us both to protect the secret."

"They'll have to get in line, for I think the Prats have first dibs," Cyn laughed. "Oh, them too? Do you think the Prats know they are already dead?"

"With their arrogance I doubt it."

The tunnel continued straight on through the side of the volcano, and opened into a reception area. Dust lay everywhere, revealing lines of fresh shoe prints running about the installation. "Follow the prints," Cyn suggested. "They deserve to know the Prats are about to kill them." They carried on following the freshest looking line of prints, that wound through corridors and chambers deep inside the city. Finaly they saw a young girl in shorts and a cut off shirt, she had long dark blond hair and a cute face. She was kneeling to examine the insides of a service panel with total concentration, as her instruments glowed with enough lights to illuminate the average home. She was alien, that was obvious from the start, for her equipment was far beyond anything either had ever seen.

"Er, excuse me," Cyn sighed. "I just thought you might like to know this place is about to be invaded by the Praetorians."

"How many?" the girl sighed, still concentrating on whatever she was doing inside the panel.

"Twenty," Angela offered.

"Tel them to form a queue, I'm busy," the girl replied. Then she stretched, cracking cramped muscles, and saw them for the first time. Really saw them. "A local and clone, working together, and being chased by the local Prats. Could make this visit interesting. I'd better introduce you to the others."

"We're Cyn and Angela."

"Lybeth, general dogsbody of the Geo Trace archaeological expedition. Geo's the big guy, Lady Senna's the brains, and Titch is the muscle, I'll let you sort out who is whom."

"So what were you doing?" Cyn asked politely.

"You know this place is powered by the volcano, which is still active deep underground? Well, the geothermal generator is still working, but the power is going nowhere. I was tracing the power leak, to see if it could be fixed. I was getting tired of survival rations and whatever we could hunt, and thought the diner replicators might still work."

"You were trying to activate the whole city, just to get a meal?" Angela gasped in shock.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Lybeth laughed. They turned into an office, to see that it had been converted into living quarters, and saw the biggest man either had ever seen. Geo wasn't as tall as a Prat, but he would make two of them if it came to pure muscle. "Visitors," Lybeth explained, "and twenty more to come. Prats, the local name for clone enforcers."

"And they will not take kindly to trespasses," Cyn pointed out. "This place should not be here, and they'd like to keep it secret, even if it means killing us all and blowing it to dust."

Geo turned to grin at them, his small beard and moustache framing a maw that could rival a shark, but he looked gentle despite that. "This is the archaeological find of a life time, and I'll not allow it harmed."

A tiny golden woman entered, wearing another version of Lybeth's cut down working outfit, "Didn't you hear about the Prats love?"

"That I did Senna my dear, but there are only twenty of them."

An incredibly tall brunette sat up from behind a covered desk, laughing, "That makes ten each, you ladies can go back to fixing your nails."

"Have any of you ever fought a Prat before?" Cyn gasped. "Don't take them lightly, for half the galaxy lives in their shadow."

"We're from the other half," Lybeth insisted. "And we bring our own light, it's called truth."

"Where does she get those lines?" Geo asked fondly.

"Don't know," Senna said with pride. "But I'm glad she does."

"Then she lets us cash in the check her mouth has written," Titch said dryly as she picked up a rifle and checked the magazine. "I hope you can fight ladies."

"We know how," Cyn sighed. "We're both intelligence, if from opposing sides."

"Reconnaissance pilots, not spies," Angela insisted.

Senna pulled a strange bow from her pack, assembled and started to string it with casual competence. Lybeth wrapped a double holster around her hips, one side held a stunner, but the right side had a far more lethal needle pistol.

"Forget the stun gun," Angela warned her. "The Prats won't even feel it."

Geo slung his obsolete Sterling over his left shoulder, and fastened the weapon belt around his tree trunk sized waist, with the magazine pouch on the left and an enormous knife on the right.

"Nothing better?" Cyn gasped.

"We're shot down archaeologists," Geo pointed out. "These are all we had in our packs, and they didn't include spare clothing, so you'll have to fight as you are."

"No problem," Cyn agreed. "You've nothing that would fit us anyway."

"Then let's set up an ambush," he stated. "Lots of small corridors back of the main entrance."

As they started walking towards the lower levels, Senna linked arms with the girls, grinning up at them, "We really are glad to see you both, after being stuck on this island for months, we'll even be glad to see the Prats. And don't worry so much, we do this all the time."

"Geo is your lifemate?" Cyn asked. "Yet you are of different races."

"My husband is human, descended from those born of this world, and I a Keelie, but together we are one. Lybeth is also quite human, if born on a different world like I, Sayerass. And Titch is a perfect blend of both our races. And, no, she's not our daughter."

"We four are one," Titch laughed, "and have been for longer than you would believe. Tell us, have you any First Ones on this world?"

"My size, flighty, and can fly on gossamer wings of pure thought," Senna offered. "We were lead to believe that some still lived here."

"None that I've heard of," Cyn sighed. "I've never heard of a flying person."

"Nor I," Angela agreed. "But you did mention Sayerass, but even that world is now but a myth."

"Once our Empire covered half the galaxy. And we're still on the Galactic Council," Senna snapped. "Could you forget us so easily?"

"If the clone companies decide to prune history the way they do our language, yes I think so," Angela sighed. "We are taught to obey, not dream of those so long dead not even dust remains."

"And so dies archaeology," Geo sighed.

"If history you need, then you must visit Iase Benerant," Cyn insisted. "The museum is like this place, but holding records from far in the past."

"It is also now the centre of resistance to the invasion," Angela offered. "The new capital of the Western Isles. A place even the Prats fear."

"When I think of the Shackelton Crater museum on Luna," Geo sighed. "We put on a dozen exhibitions there over the years. And now even that world is gone."

"And where was that?" Angela asked.

"On the moon of this world, before it crumbled and fell to Earth! Heck, do you realise that this island could well be a part of that ancient moon?" Angela looked back at them in utter shock.

"Yes child," Senna sighed. "This planet once was called Earth. This we know to be true."

The Scouts entered the city, reporting it safe, and the Hunters came along behind in total confusion. This city had never been reported to them. But it was old and abandoned, and so not fit to mention. The Prats had no interest in old stones.

A vast entrance lay before them, with steps and ramps leading off in dozens of directions, and a maze of service corridors taking up the rear of the level. Leaving one hunter on guard they followed the tracks in the dust of bare feet, hunting the girls who had led them such a long and difficult way.

The tracks wound through the narrow corridors, checking long abandoned rooms, then moving on. Leader saw a flash of bare skin vanishing around a corner, and led his warriors in an enraged charge after their prey.

Lybeth crept back through the service tunnels into the entry chamber, and felt sudden fear, the guard had moved. The position was now empty. She didn't need to know where he was, she knew with certainty that he was standing behind her.

All she could do was drop flat drawing the needler, and spray an entire magazine behind her back. As the hypersonic whine faded away down the corridors, she slapped in a second magazine and turned to see her target standing looking at her, with hole the size of a plate in his stomach. However, he still held his rifle and was slowly bringing it to bear on her. She selected a single shot and calmly blew his head off. "Thanks for the rifle," she sighed.

Cyn and Angela blocked the rear of the service tunnels, preventing the Prat's escape from Geo's trap. They heard the faint echo of the needler vanishing down the tunnel, and knew the battle had started.

Leader ran around the corner to see Geo standing before him with empty hands. "I was hoping to reason with you," Geo sighed. "But now I see you, I realise the futility of that."

"We come for the women, lead us to them and live."

"For how long?" He sized up the Prats and was impressed, at the total inability for a fresh thought. Like mercy or defeat. "No, you will stop here. Or go through me."

"If that is your request," Leader laughed. "Have you any idea how many I have killed? Or the ways I like to do it?"

"What about hand to hand?" Geo sighed. "Put down your weapon and raise your fists."

"I could kill you in a second, armed or not."

"Then prove it to your men, if that is what they are," he scoffed.

Leader handed his rifle to his second, and walked towards Geo, warming up his fighting skills. Geo simply stood before him, grinning like a fool, baiting the Prat into rashness. Without warning the Prat lashed out with a blow that looked out of reach but still caught Geo's face like a pile driver, knocking him far back down the corridor.

Leader laughed and walked forwards but was surprised to see Geo moving, and getting to his feet.

"Nice blow," Geo complimented him. "I didn't even see it coming. But, is that all you have?"

Behind the Prats Senna was taking aim with her bow at the men who were so fascinated with the challenge to their leader they didn't even cover their backs, and fired a silent arrow that pierced the last man's back, slaying him without a sound. Her bow sang again and again, as Prat after Prat died without knowing it.

Titch was covering the corridor with her rifle from an empty room, but it was too early for her part yet.

Leader snarled at the impudence and lashed out once more, and his blow caught Geo again. But this time Geo was ready. His fist lashed out at close range, focusing the power of his entire body, from his toes to his fist, as he drove it up against the Prat leader's chin. The leader took off to do a summersault and crash into the wall five feet behind, he flopped down to the floor, his head rolling listlessly.

The Prats saw their leader killed with a single blow with shock, amazement, and for the first time fear! For five seconds they stood frozen, as Titch opened up with her rifle. Prats died and the survivors scattered as fast as they could run.

Cyn and Angela saw half a dozen Prats running their way, turned and ran for their lives, as the panicking men sought easier pray to torment. The girls fled through the corridors, turning down the narrowest to confuse the immense Prats, and wound their way into the killing ground.

Then Angela stumbled falling back through a door when the Prats couldn't see her, and Cyn ran on alone.

The twisting corridors were too restricting for the Prat's rifles, but they were closing on Cyn, not even realising that Angela was no longer before them.

Cyn reached the lift shaft, and slipped through the half jammed doors, to turn at bay as the Prats slammed into the tiny space. And as Cyn opened fire from the front, Angela closed from behind, and shot them in the back. Trapped into a space far too small the Prats could only die.

Cyn sighed with a tremble that shook her whole body, "You did come."

"You though I would leave you to face those?" Angela asked with a quite laugh.

"For a second it crossed my mind, it was a very long second though."

Cyn and Angela walked arm in arm back to the others, to see that Lybeth had captured and bound the one survivor. "You should kill him," Cyn insisted.

"I have never killed in cold blood. He is my prisoner."

"You have the right," Senna agreed. "However, I think he'll make a lousy pet."

"If you wish to see Iase Benerant," Cyn sighed, "you should come back to the listening post. Only the Tecks are left there, we can contact Control and arrange a pick up."

"Our mission takes us there," Geo agreed. "Lets pack and you can lead the way."

With the tunnel ending under water, they decided to take the overland route, and as soon as Cyn and Angela were back in the jungle they selected flowers to weave into clothing. "You could find something in the city," Senna pointed out.

"Sure, cut down Prat uniforms covered in blood," Cyn pointed out. "I'll stick to flowers."

"You'll never get as fragrant a perfume," Angela laughed. "and it changes constantly, day by day and even flower by flower."

Geo was pulling their pet Prat along, seeing the secret sneer in his eyes as he watched their every move. It was a week before they left the foothills and were almost back in the lower jungle, when he called Lybeth over. "So what do you think of him now?"

"That he's biding his time till he can kill you in your sleep, and torture the rest of us to death," she admitted.

"Still want to bring him along?"

"I'll not kill him in cold blood," she insisted.

They began running into forest dwellers, who looked unusually sombre as they marched through the jungle trails up towards a sacred lake. The party followed the dwellers climbing towards the lake, coming at last to a perfect vale that led to a cliff overlooking a lovely deep pool in the form of an eye. More than a hundred dwellers stood around the cliff edge, surrounding a girl who could hardly be fifteen.

"Lily," Angela gasped. "One of those who helped us."

Cyn ran over to talk with one of the women who had befriended them before, they talked for a few minutes. "Last week the Prats captured Lily, and did things I'm too sickened to repeat whilst sober. The least thing was that she can never have children, or ever find a man to love. This is her only way of honour, the only chance her soul has of ever being cleansed and renewed. And it is her wish."

The girls tried to dissuade Lily as Geo held the captive Prat to heel. Then the self condemned victim saw the Prat and screamed in horror. "Is this the one?" Senna asked in anger.

"They are all alike, look alike, think alike, and hate alike. How should I know?" Lily sobbed.

"There is a blood calling," Lybeth snapped. "Death will be had this day, that can not be changed. But there can be a substitution, it need not be your blood spilt."

"And what then would I do?" the girl scoffed. "Live on pity, never with a man or children, handed from home to home like an old blanket. I die here with pride, or die slowly in shame."

"Geo," Lybeth snapped, "toss that piece of shit over the cliff." He grabbed the bound man by his throat and groin, lifting him with ease over his head.

"You promised not to kill me in cold blood!" the Prat yelled in sudden terror.

"I'm not, after hearing what you did to Lily my blood is boiling. Geo!"

He tossed the Prat far over the cliff and into the still lake. "And what then of the girl?"

"Cyn, Angela, will you have her?" Lybeth asked, as the Prat began to drown. "You must bare some of the blame, for the Prats came chasing you."

"We cannot take Lily," Senna said with a sigh. "Our way is not always our own to choose."

"I think we can," Angela sighed. "If we can save ourselves."

Cyn held the girl, "You can serve us without shame child. The sacrifice is over, your life now belongs to us."

"Come Lily," Angela said warmly. "You can have a good life, you don't need a man for that."

"I wanted children," Lily sobbed. "Oh I did."

"Someday we too shall want children," Cyn laughed. "You can help raise ours."

The march resumed, with some of the forest dwellers escorting them back to the coast, seeing if it was safe to resume fishing in the sea. And days later they left the forest and scouted along the coast towards the little cove that was the Prat watch station. However, although the buildings were still there, the technicians were not. All they found were the Sprites Bob and Sue, sunning themselves on the veranda before the communication's module.

"So what happened to you?" Cyn asked her crew.

"Chasing about the jungle is right for you big ones," Sue sighed. "But we could not keep up." Geo and his team were watching the Sprites with fascination, they barely came up to the top of his boot.

"So we thought you might like to have a base to return to," Bob pointed out. "And here it is."

"You took the base?" Geo gasped. "From the Prats!"

"They sleep pretty good if you tuck them in with a grenade," Sue stated casually. "I really would not enter the main habitat for a year or two."

"Think I'll seal it," Titch chuckled. "Tell me, have you heard of a Sprite called April?"

"On Iase Benerant last I heard," Bob yawned. "Adopted by a family of Cloud Knights, and started to get uppity. But it was she who persuaded us to join the navy."

"She never mentioned the clones invading though," Sue objected.

"So these are the First Ones we were sent to find," Lybeth chuckled. "You're smaller than we expected."

"Legends say we used to be near as tall as you missy," Bob chuckled. "But we became so good at hiding we even hid from each other."

"Genetic derogation," Geo sighed.

"And a little bit of the power of the First Ones wanting to be unnoticed," Senna guessed. "And over a hundred thousand years anything is possible."

"Back to business," Cyn insisted. "How is it out there?"

"Lots of clone commerce raiders trying to cut off the island chains, and starve them out. It'll never work," Sue sighed. "We're too independent and self sufficient in food, but try telling that to clones who live on packaged mush."

"But they are causing technological problems," Bob objected. "Lots of places running out of spare parts. And we need most of the mined minerals to build the new weapons."

"So what are we doing about it?" Cyn asked.

"We're running the station, confusing the clones," Sue pointed out.

"And when the Luica returns the brains will start hunting the raiders down," Bob insisted.

"That may be too late," Geo sighed. "We found things in the cone that your bosses need to know. And we have to see your museum. We need to build up an airtight case to present to the Galactic Council, and only then can we stop this insane war."

"It won't matter what you find," Angela sighed. "The Master of Selike4 is trying to prevent a second invasion by a hundred mile long asteroid ship, and if that happens it will knock a few percentage points off the value of his company's shares. Truth doesn't come into this at all, only economics."

"Then we make this war so expensive he'll have to cut his losses," Cyn snapped.

"Have you any idea how much that would be?"

"I guess we'd better get busy then," Cyn laughed. "And what was that about an asteroid ship?"

"Oh, Geo, did you get the ID off that Prat leader?" Angela laughed. "Because I've just though how to use it."

"I'm all ears," he laughed.

"Well, not all, but as with everything else you've more than enough to go around," Cyn chuckled. "Come on Angela."

"Let's say the Prats want to hunt us through that city..."

"Bad idea," Senna sighed. "If we even mention finding it they'll probably bombard the island from orbit."

"You're right, I'm not used to being hunted. But what if they caught me, and wanted a bit more leverage to break me? Like my little friend Sexa!"

"You miss her," Cyn sighed. "Could we do it?"

"I've been looking after that kid for four years," Angela snapped. "I'll not leave her up there on her own."

"She's the cover," Senna laughed. "Ask for an intelligence update as well."

A week later Cyn and Angela were having fun on the beach, with Lily and Sexa as well, when a shadow fell across them. Cyn looked up to see a dark form framed by the sun.

"You're out of uniform Lieutenant," Captain Khonsor snapped.

"No sir, this is the native dress uniform for intelligence officers who don't want to get shot." She snapped to attention and saluted, straining her flower power clothing to near wilting.

"And fraternising as well I see," her gestured to Angela.

"She now belongs to me sir, and I'll let no harm come to her."

"The Justice Department might have something to say about that."

"They did sir, they said good luck! While we've been sailing around the world, they have been getting to know the clones, and most of them hate their masters more than even we do."

"I'm a mercenary Captain," Angela insisted. "Only they have broken my contract, and so I'm now unemployed."

"You would fight your own kind?" he scoffed.

"If it comes to that. Who do you think mercs fight when we run out of Breeders?"

"Clones from other Companies," Cyn pointed out. "I hope you brought a decent plane sir, because we have to get the archaeologists to Iase Benerant as quickly as possible."

"More illegal aliens," the Captain fumed. "And you trust them?"

"That we do sir," Angela snapped. "They haven't told us the big secret, we don't need to know, but we know enough to take them to the right people who do need to know."

"We came in a Duck. But there's an Albatross coming to pick you up, with a Cloud Knight escort."

"What! I've never even seen an Albatross," Cyn gasped.

"So what's the big deal?" Angela asked.

"There are only six of them, they have four decks and can fly around the world for weeks without stopping, at damn near seventy thousand feet! They even carry four Raptors slung under the wings."

"Armed?"

"Oh yes, they have claws."

A few days later they were ferried up to the Albatross in two Disk transporters, which docked in the great plane's rear cargo hold. Even Angela was impressed by the plane, it was nearly a city in the sky with enough firepower to give the Ghosts a bad day. It flew on nearly the edge of space, where the Ghosts were reliant on their grav modules and couldn't fight. At that altitude it took them days to fly half way around the world, and return to earth once more in the Disks, as two more were buzzing around to dock with fresh food for the long service crew. The Albatross didn't even slow down, but kept right on flying.

The Disks darted down to land on Iase Benerant in a late winter storm, and they had to run through the freezing sleet into the Black Star Squadron office. With the island's rugged terrain all vehicles were six wheel drive at least, like the car that collected them for the short drive to the Museum. The driver handed them over to the intelligence office high on the walls and over looking the sea, where they met Lord Jaxmount, Laird of Iase Benerant, and the de facto Regent of the Western Isles. His son, Squadron leader Johan was also present, along with half a dozen trustworthy officers.

"All right Mister Trace," Jaxmount sighed, "we kept our word, getting you here in quietly from the isle of Tegoda. So will you tell us the big secret?"

"The name is Geo, to one and all. And I've something to show you that blew even my mind. You have captured a few ships, I believe. Any warships?"

"Not a one," Johan sighed. "Only a couple will ever fly again, and even they will never leave the system. They only ships we've seen so far are all junk, ready to be scrapped, and we haven't the parts to fix them."

"Then I may have the answer you seek," Geo laughed, and opened up his belt computer to project the image of a ship into the room. The craft looked totally impracticable, it stood on a vast drive chamber that took up more than half the ship, and the rest seemed to be bolted on as an afterthought. Accommodation modules sprouted at random around the four vast tubes than ran from the heavy base plate of the drive chamber to beyond the ungainly prow.

Jaxmount called out, "Benes and Selia, get in here, and tell me what this thing is."

Benes entered quickly, with Selia only a stride behind. They both froze on seeing the holographic ship, and then started working out what it was, as Geo and his family looked on with condescension. "Right, the drive chamber is far too heavy," Benes thought aloud. "It was designed to constrain unimaginable forces, nuclear?"

"Not just the one," Selia insisted, "that would crush both ship and crew alike. No, tiny nuclear explosions, lots of them..."

"A nuclear pulse engine," Benes gasped at the thought. "You could lift anything with that, in fact the heavier the ship is the smoother the ride."

"If you can contain the radiation," Selia said dubiously. "Where is it?"

"Below the cone of a city built inside a volcano," Geo replied, not a little amazed himself at the fast response by Benes and Selia. "We didn't have time to enter, but the city is ready to be powered up, and we think the ship was protected by a stasis field."

"It will need to be rebuilt," Senna pointed out. "Maybe the whole ship will need copying, but it can be done. And do you see the cannons? If they fire the same bomblets they use for fuel, they could cause serious damage."

Johan gasped, "A regular nuke machinegun!"

"You're talking about setting up a full scale project," Jaxmount sighed.

"Worse than that," Titch pointed out, "you should also run the city. Just imagine it, a high tech city filled with workshops and repair facilities."

"We could move our factory into the city," Selia gasped. "Build planes and ships at the same time."

"Then who should run the project?" Jaxmount asked.

"Not us, that's for sure," Benes laughed. "We'll be too busy working to run an enterprise on that scale."

"And don't look at us," Geo said with a grin. "We're archaeologists, if it works we're not interested. Besides, your museum will keep us busy for a long time."

Lybeth laughed aloud, "What about Cyn and Angela? Between them they could do it."

"But we couldn't," Cyn gasped in horror.

"The enterprise will need joint human and clone control," Jaxmount sighed, "because most of the workers will have to be clones, working under human direction. And as you two are already a team, you might as well carry it to the next level."

"It won't be easy," Johan pointed out. "You'll have to organise a task force to seize the island and defend it, take over the city and help Benes and co to rebuild their factories, and keep the whole thing secret from the clones. It could take years."

"I'm thinking a joint governorship will be needed," Jaxmount stated. "And I'll name the whole thing Project Prometheus, a name from prehistory."

"We could pick one of the suites in the city," Angela sighed.

"Pick one?" Jaxmount laughed. "Pick the biggest, for it will probably be the administration centre for the whole island before long."

"We found the city administrator's suite," Geo laughed. "But it was too far from where we were working to use. Sweep it out and some new furniture, and you'll be in business."

That evening Cyn and Angela were invited to one of the society parties, along with Geo's family. It was all Cyn had ever dreamt a party could be, with ambassadors from all the major nations who were fighting the invasion, rich merchants, heroes festooned with medals from all branches of the armed forces of a dozen nations, lords and nobility aplenty with their gracious ladies and bondgirls.

Cyn was dancing with a tall handsome lord who had a merchant empire that stretched for thousands of miles, he was all she had dreamt of in a man. "I could treat you well Lieutenant Cyn, your Captain suggested that you might know the location of a new island that could be of use."

"I do sir," she replied frostily. "What are you offering me?"

"An arrangement, tell me how to reach it, and you'll find me most friendly."

"I had hoped that my friendship would be its own reward?" she asked. "Do we have to mix business this night?"

"Would you have me then wine and dine you, to wheedle the secrets from you one nugget at a time? That would be most pleasant, but I fear we do not have the time, for others may out bid me for the contracts I seek."

"And if I give you this information, what will be my reward?"

"My affection and loyalty. I do know how to please a woman who has pleased me."

"Then I must tell you sir, that you will never seduce me into betraying the Western Isles, or the island to which I am now governor. And that you will never get a single toe hold on Tegoda, not as long as I live. Nor am I likely to betray my partner Angela. Do I make myself clear?" she turned and stormed off to meet her friends at the drink's table.

"Having fun?" Angela laughed on seeing her disgusted expression.

"I feel dirty after just talking to that creep. He tried to seduce me into betraying all I hold dear."

"And you turned him down? I thought you might like some romance."

"That was a blatant business proposal, he was trying to buy his way into Tegoda on the ground floor."

"And that would make him millions every year," Geo sighed. "He won't be the last to try and seize control, and it'll be your job to stop them before their greed bankrupts the project."

"Then I really have to be a Governor!" Cyn sighed.

"No, we do," Angela insisted.

"We will be back on Tegoda when Prometheus gets started," Geo promised. "You will have friends to trust."

"I've had it with this party," Senna laughed. "What about a walk around the museum? It's always much more fun in the dark."

Cyn linked arms with Angela as they followed Geo, Senna, Titch and Lybeth from the room. They all had a lot of fun that night walking from chamber to chamber, seeing the past come to life by torch light, as Cyn and Angela learned to forgive each other and start a new life together.

### Part Three

Isle Doughlar to the North East of Iase Benerant was one of the main industrial centres of the Western Isles, blessed with an even more rugged terrain and deep mines that brought forth coal and iron ore, and enough exotic elements to be of interest to the instrument makers. The mountains had long been mined of alloys thought to be left over from when the ancient moon had crumbled and fallen to earth, and were believed by some to be the remains of prehistoric cities built long before humanity's exodus to the stars. But the mountains had long been drained of metals and hollowed out to be fitted as the underground factories that had produced the armaments that protected the Western Isles for hundreds of years.

Even during the three hundred year war against the Bruss Empire the armament factories had been invulnerable in the deep caverns, but no longer, for the industrial might of the Western Isles was a prime target for the clone war machine.

A Squadron of twenty great Warbots had landed on the east coast, and were now marching deep inland to link up with an armoured Brigade of Rhino heavy tanks, and all that had engaged either force had been reduced to scrap metal. The technological pride of the Western Isles was now growing rust in the metallic monster's wake, and the infantry, neither trained nor equipped to fight such foes, were cowering in terror.

Lord Ulmer, subleader for Black Star Squadron of the Cloud Knights, was tasked with preventing the Bots from linking up with the heavy tanks. And he hadn't the least idea how to accomplish that task, not with only a half Squadron of Raptors. Ten Raptors against twenty Warbots was an exercise in futility, even if his planes had been equipped with state of the art rockets. It left six rockets on each wing to take out a Warbot weighing over three hundred tons! The Cloud Knights had been briefed on captured Bots, taught their strengths and weaknesses, and realised all too well that the humanoid fighting machines were well nigh invulnerable to air attack. They might be slow and clumsy, but their arms and armour were far too powerful for the Raptors to engage.

But engage they must, before the Western Isles lost their armament's factories.

The Warbots, class Gint threes, with an array of anti aircraft lasers, and enough heavy cannons to slice through any known armour, were slowly climbing a low hill, intent on declaring themselves masters of Isle Doughlar.

Ulmer flew his ten planes high over the prospective battlefield, seeing the twenty giants, followed by a service train of support vehicles five miles behind, and a hundred miles beyond the armoured Brigade of Rhino heavy tanks. And not a Western military asset in sight.

He decided that it was going to be a very bad day.

His upbringing had always forced him into the Cloud Knights, his title was from an old family of ten boys, and so all he could do was learn to fly and fight, with no chance of inheriting any more than a tiny scrap of an island with a single herd of sheep that no one could catch. Even the Cloud Knight salary hardly kept him in uniforms, and he privately wondered why he had to struggle to pay for the privilege of risking his own neck at twenty thousand feet, when the army had free uniforms, food, accommodation and even pay!

The prestige of being a Cloud Knight was all well and good, but you could not spend it!

He was the typical Cloud Knight in all respects, tall, handsome and fit, but with a certain bitterness to his eyes that kept women away. Well, that or the near poverty. And now was the time to risk his neck once more as the Glints reached the summit and took up a line abreast formation, scanning the island for sight of the Rhinos. They were right where he didn't want them, in his gunsight. His wing of five dove from the front, attracting the Glint's attention, as Beta Wing attacked from behind, swooping up the valley along the Bot's trail of devastation and climbing up the hill to hit them from behind. Each Raptor fired six rockets at almost point blank range, and the missiles streaked towards the Glints and began pounding hard on the armoured backs. However, as the Raptors streaked overhead they ran into a blizzard of laser fire, and one plane was sliced into half a dozen pieces.

Ulmer saw the defence weapons swinging after the retreating planes, and ordered A wing to attack from the front, swinging below the AA fire to strike from almost ground level. The Cloud Knights fires all their rockets at knee level to the Glints, and peeled off still diving down the hill the Bots had just climbed. AA fire switched from B Wing to A Wing, barely missing Ulmer's tail as the Rockets exploded against the vulnerable legs. The command Glint staggered as it lost some leg armour but managed to regain balance, as B Wing swept around and attacked with cannon and machinegun fire, and flew off. As the Glints switched back to B Wing's four remaining planes, Ulmer Brought A Wing around once more.

His five planes hit the rear leg armour once more, blasting into the servos, and one Glint staggered and fell with a crash that could be heard across the island. That still left nineteen metal giants to slay. Ulmer was about to call the attack off when his wings were sliced off quite neatly, and the Raptor continued to descend before the command Glint. He braced for impact as the shell of his plane barrelled into the slope before the Warbots, slicing through low brush leaving a scar on the landscape a hundred yards long.

The Command Bot continued striding down the hill towards the Raptor, and Ulmer hit the escape mechanism, blasting the entire cabin from the plane just before the size hundred foot crunched down crushing it flat. The cabin rocketed up straight before the Glint's enlarged chest cockpit, and for a split second he was eyeball to eyeball with the command crew, before shooting high and falling back to earth before the Bot yet again.

The cabin crashed down in the open as the Glint's left foot struck earth not far away, and the right foot lifted heading straight for him. He slammed the release catch and dove from the cabin as the foot came slamming down straight on the armoured escape capsule.

Time seemed to freeze as the foot came slamming down, and as the cabin was crushed flat he saw the access hatch on the Bot's ankle, and the service guard rail that had been blown loose. Ulmer was five feet from the foot when it started to lift once more, and he dived for the service rail, hanging on in desperation as the foot was raised and moved forward again. But as it came down again he was ready to blow the lock off the access hatch and enter the tiny elevator.

It took three more steps when the door slid aside and he saw the cramped three clone bridge. Two female clones were piloting and fighting the Glint, with a male commander against the rear wall directing the battle. The commander looked at him in horror as Ulmer raised his revolver and fired, the blast was deafening in the cramped quarters, and the bullet almost blew the man in two.

The nearest woman turned from the weapon station reaching for her pistol, as he brought the heavy revolver down on her head, and she slumped in her seat. Ulmer pushed the muzzle against the last clone's head. "You are my prisoner," he insisted.

Her eyes tried to focus on the gun barrel between her eyes, and back to his icy glare. She nodded rapidly. "Hand me your pistol," he snapped, and she complied in terror. "Right, carry on walking this thing." The bald clone obeyed without question, as he removed his belt and strapped her even more tightly to the skeletal operator's chair, fastening the buckle at the back. With one eye on his prisoner, he searched the tiny bridge till finding four small straps, and proceeded to gingerly fasten her feet to the leg controls, and wrists to the main operator controls. Only then did he relax, and take time to secure the unconscious weapon's tech officer. That one had short black hair, which was bleeding badly.

"Your name?" he asked the tech.

"Tripa Nina," she gasped.

"I'll call you Nina. How do I control the other Bots?"

"Transmit new coordinates on the battle net," she replied. "Sir, are you going to kill me?"

"Only if you force my hand," he replied. "But know this, I will if I even suspect that you are betraying me."

"Will you keep me sir?" she sobbed.

"If you serve me well, I'll keep you, as a slave," he insisted. "I'll never be able to trust you, so your service will be hard."

"But I won't have to kill? And I won't be in danger?"

"Only from me," he chuckled. "Show me how to transmit new orders, and to change the frequency to contact the Cloud Knights." With his pistol at her head Nina had no option but to obey the terrifying alien.

The Glints had recovered the downed one, and now continued on unopposed to the next way station, meeting the service vehicles. Protected by the ground troops, the exhausted crew closed down their metal monsters, and exited through the ankle hatches one at a time.

And that was when they were at their most vulnerable to attack, for the service convoy had been seized by the western infantry hours before, and they were walking into a trap.

Thirty eight more clones were captured without a fight, and the Glints were secured.

Ulmer took control of the mission to attack the Rhino convoy, and by the morning the twenty Glints were looking down on the fifty Rhinos, locked on and opened fire with their energy cannons, which were aimed by professional officers who were being controlled by a pistol pointed at the back of their heads.

The Rhinos were good, but not that good. Six Glints were disabled by instantaneous return fire, but the second volley finished the tanks off for good.

Still strapped to her chair, Ulmer forced Nina to put her arms behind her back and grasp her elbows, as he bound her forearms with strong cord that wrapped again and again in neat lines until the flesh was covered.

Only then did he fasten her ankles together and secure them to her forearms, until she lay helpless on the floor. Then he opened the coverall to see her lush body and check for the suppressor, but didn't find one. Up close her eyes were large and aquamarine, and when he covered her bald head he realised that she was very beautiful, hair or no hair, she would make a good blond and was bred to be naturally submissive. All clones were. "Your duties were also sexual?"

She nodded, "As were the lieutenant's."

"Forget her, she'll be ill for a long time. But I think I'll keep you."

"You have a right to claim Octa Twia as well," Nina insisted. "You will force me to please you?" she asked with a secret smile.

"That I shall," he laughed. "You don't look too unhappy about it."

"Master, it's not my place to complain."

That night Ulmer left Nina's arms bound, but freed her legs, to refasten them to the bed wide apart. He kept his word and raped her long and brutally. However, in the morning she was looking only too pleased with herself. He decided to claim Octa Twia as well, when she was out of danger. Being a Cloud Knight did have advantages, and the bounty on capturing so many Glints would go a long way to solving his financial problems.
