two. They flinched back automatically as the senior Jesuit folded up with a low moaning sound, and she dashed past them into the factory. She ran on through the corridors, trusting to her memory of the few times she'd been there before, to beg for drugs and help from the complex's med lab. Now more than ever, she had to get to the ceremony. With an angry Investigator and three furious Jesuits snapping at her heels, her only safety now lay in front of Toby Shreck's camera.
She hurried, plunging down one corridor after another, heading deeper into the complex, afraid to look behind her. Her pursuers wouldn't risk a disrupter shot inside the factory; too many places where an unlucky ricochet could do some really nasty damage. And then almost stopped running as a sudden thought struck her. The factory complex had its own internal security system, with cameras everywhere. All Shoal had to do was use her clearance to plug into the system, and she'd know immediately where her prey was and where she was heading. Which meant Beatrice had to throw Shoal off her trail before she headed for the ceremony. She ripped off her wimple and used it to wipe the sweat from her face. Think, damn it. If you want to lose yourself… head for a crowd. And the nearest crowd was in the clone quarters. They wouldn't have been invited to the ceremony. So lose the robes, blend in with the crowd just long enough to muddy her trail, and then head for the ceremony at speed. It might work. It might. She took a deep breath and ran on, her hope growing smaller and more tentative with every step.
Investigator Shoal tapped into the complex's security systems through her comm implant, overrode the passwords, and scanned for moving life signs. It took only a few moments to track the Sister down, and a few more to work out where she was heading. Shoal smiled tightly, holding her anger within. The three Jesuits she'd dragged along with her musn't know that a Sister of Mercy had actually knocked down an Investigator. Even if said Investigator was suffering from a degenerative nerve disease. Her head was still ringing from the two heavy blows she'd taken, but she ignored it. It was just pain. She'd feel a lot better once she had the Sister stretched out lifeless at her feet. She glared at the three Jesuits, one of whom was standing very carefully.
'She's heading for the clone quarters. She must not know there's only one way in and one way out. Luckily for us, she's taking the long way there. You three go ahead and seal off the far exit. I'll go in after her and drive her through to you. Think you can hang on to her this time, or shall I call for the Cardinal to come and hold your hand while you do it?'
'We'll stop her,' said the senior Jesuit. 'If she even looks like trying anything, we'll cut her down.'
'No you won't,' said Shoal. 'You'll hold her till I get there, and then I will kill her. This is Investigator business. No reason for the Church to be involved any further than necessary. Understood? Good. Now, get going. If she beats you to the far exit, I am going to be very annoyed with you.'
The three Jesuits looked at each other briefly and then set off hurriedly down the corridor. Even a Jesuit commando had enough sense to be scared of an Investigator. Shoal smiled slightly and set off for the entrance to clone country. The prey had gone to ground, even if it didn't know it yet. All that remained was to flush it out.
The Jesuits hadn't got far when the senior Jesuit stopped suddenly and looked around him. The other Jesuits stopped with him, their hands dropping to the swords at their hips. The corridor was empty and silent before them.
'What is it?' said the most junior. 'Do you need another rest? The Investigator really was most emphatic…'
'Shut the hell up about the Investigator and listen,' said the senior Jesuit. 'I thought I heard something.'
'So you did,' said Jack Random, appearing suddenly behind them from the corner they'd just passed. The senior Jesuit spun around, sword in hand, and Random kicked him squarely in the nuts. The Jesuit crumpled to the floor, and Random kicked him in the head. The Jesuit gave up consciousness with something like relief. Ruby Journey punched out the most junior Jesuit, and Storm clubbed down the third from behind while the poor fellow was still trying to figure out which direction to look in first. Ruby looked down at the three unconscious bodies and sniffed loudly.
'Jesuits. Didn't like them at school and I don't like them now. Let's kill them and fillet them into little pieces as a general warning.'
'Maybe later,' said Random. 'Right now we need their robes, and I don't want blood on them. Besides, it's a good chance for you to exercise self-control. We don't need to kill these people. We just need their robes. Disguised as Jesuits we can go anywhere we like in the complex, and not have to bother about dodging the security cameras.'
'I suppose you're going to claim you planned this as well,' said Storm dourly.
'I expected something like this to come up,' said Random airily. 'I like to keep my plans flexible. Now, get those robes off them.'
They grinned at each other and set about acquiring Jesuit robes for themselves. This involved a certain amount of swapping back and forth as they tried to figure out which robe fitted who the best. None were particularly comfortable, but they finally all ended up in something they could live with. Ruby looked down at the unconscious senior Jesuit and sniggered.
'So that's what they wear under these robes. I always wondered.'
'I must admit it's been a while since I saw underwear of quite such a startling color,' said Storm. 'I wonder who gets to help do up the laces?'
'Save the jokes for later,' said Random. 'The sooner we free the clones and get them moving, the better. The rebels' agents inside this place risked their lives setting up the route we'll be using, and I don't want that to have been for nothing. Ruby, you've got the map. Lead the way.'
Ruby looked at him. 'I haven't got the map. You've got the map.'
'No I haven't…'
'I've got the map,' said Storm. 'Dear God, how did you ever manage without me, Jack?'
Beatrice knew where the clone quarters were, but she'd never been in them before. Not many had. Clones were kept strictly separate from real people. But the entrance was unlocked, unguarded, almost as though they'd been expecting her. Or someone. The thought almost brought her to a halt; but in the end she pressed on. She had to. There was nowhere else she could go.
Beyond the barriers and the electric doors, clone country was stark and utilitarian. Beatrice had thought she'd known what to expect, from tales she'd heard from clone and rebel patients, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality. There were no rooms or living quarters. The clones lived in steel cages and pens, stacked together like some great battery farm. There wasn't an inch of spare space, apart from the single narrow central aisle she was walking down. There was a powerful, almost overpowering smell of bodies, packed close together. Beatrice was used to the medical stenches of the hospital tent, but even so she had to fight an urge to hold a hand over her mouth and nose.
As she passed the steel pens, faces came forward to watch her. Some were missing eyes or ears or noses. Some had no lower jaws, rotted away by the forces they worked with. They made quiet, mewling sounds like tortured kittens. Beatrice came to a halt, in spite of herself. There was nothing she could do to help them, and they couldn't help her. She couldn't blend in with them, which meant she had to get out of clone country before the Investigator found her. But she couldn't just walk on and pretend she hadn't seen this suffering. She looked around her, her hands clenched into fists, caught in a quandary that her conscience wouldn't release her from.
And then she heard approaching footsteps and gripped her broken bottle tightly, her heart racing. She'd hesitated too long. Shoal had found her. She looked wildly about her, but she knew there was no point in running. She was exhausted, and Shoal… was an Investigator. Beatrice swallowed hard and stood her ground. She knew fighting wouldn't get her anywhere, but she was damned if she'd go down without a struggle. She looked at the damaged faces of the watching clones and gestured for them to move back.
'Look away,' she said quietly. 'You don't want to see this.'
And then the three robed Jesuits appeared suddenly before her and skidded to a halt, as though they hadn't been expecting to find her there. Beatrice showed them her broken bottle and tried hard to sound defiant rather than pathetic. 'Well, come on then! You don't think I'm going to make it easy for you, do you? I'll make you kill me before I let you hand me over to that Investigator cow.'
'There seems to be some misunderstanding here,' said one of the Jesuits mildly. He pushed back his cowl to reveal a warm face with a kindly scowl. 'I am Alexander Storm, currently working with the rebels of Technos III. Might I inquire who you are?'
'Mother Superior Beatrice,' she said automatically. 'Of the Sisters of Mercy. How do I know you are who you
