“Yes, you can,” Mama Dee assured her, and started downhill. Treacherous though the truce stick might be, it made a good staff, and gave off a solid thump each time it made contact with the ground. There weren’t any vehicles on the road at the moment, which was just as well, as the civilians followed a series of steep switchbacks down to the steel bridge. That was the moment when Colonel Six spotted the group, made a minute adjustment to his binos, and swore as the faces rolled into focus. A couple of them looked familiar, but most were unique, and therefore suspect. Corporal One-O
and Private-469 had come forward by then and were ready to fi?re the rocket launcher. The pincer-operated controls were a bit strange, but Nine was confi?dent that he could fi?re the weapon, and was clearly eager to do so. Having heard Colonel Six swear, One-O was curious. “What have we got, sir? the noncom inquired. “A problem?”
“A group of mongrels,” Six replied disgustedly. “That’s what we’ve got. All headed for lower ground.”
A high-pitched whine was heard, and Six panned the binos to the right, just in time to see a vehicle appear at the west end of the bridge. The troop carrier paused, and the shrill sound of a whistle was heard as a squad of Ramanthian troopers shuffl?ed forward to inspect the structure, a precaution Six hadn’t seen before. Did that mean other convoys had been ambushed? Yes, the offi?cer thought to himself. If the possibility of guerrilla warfare occurred to me, it would occur to my brother offi?cers as well.
One of the Ramanthian troopers paused to dump his gear onto the bridge deck, before spreading his wings and slowly taking to the air. It was a rarely seen sight and an excellent reminder of what the bugs could do. The soldier soared out over the gorge, entered a downward spiral, and disappeared under the span—the place where demolition charges if any were most likely to be found.
“Get ready,” Six said, without turning toward the men crouched beside him. “I don’t know what’s lined up behind that troop carrier—but I have a feeling it’s the kind of target we want. We’ll wait until the bridge deck is full before fi?ring the fi?rst rocket. Load the second one as fast as you can.”
“Sir, yes sir,” One-O said obediently. “But what about the civilians?”
Six swung the binos left just in time to see the group of free breeders arrive at the bottom of the opposite slope and step onto the far end of the bridge. The truth was that he had forgotten all about the degenerates until One-O’s reminder. And now, as they started to cross the span, the fi?rst vehicle of the Ramanthian convoy rolled onto the structure from the west. Had the civilians been members of a recognized line, Six would have been compelled to cancel the attack. But this was different because the ragged-looking creatures were accidental people—random beings that had no recognized place within the founder’s plan. Whereas the Ramanthian troop truck, two tank carriers, and the support vehicle that were halfway across the span had tremendous value. Especially to the enemy. So as the two groups came into alignment, and the fi?nal seconds ticked away, Six made his decision. “Clear your safeties. Prepare to fi?re. Fire!”
Had one of the Legion’s offi?cers given the order to a legionnaire, it was quite possible that the man or woman operating the weapon would have refused to obey. Because legionnaires were supposed to disobey what they knew to be illegal orders. But such was the relationship between the Seebos that most of the clones couldn’t even conceive of refusing an order from one of their brothers. So Nine gave the fi?ring bulb a hearty squeeze, felt the tube resting on his shoulder jump, and heard a loud whoosh as the alien missile raced away. The warhead hit the center of the bridge, produced a fl?ash of light, and a boom that echoed through the canyon. Smoke swirled, and a single chunk of concrete fell free, but the overall structure remained intact. Mama Dee and her tiny charge had been thrown facedown by the force of the blast. But the clan leader was quick to regain her feet. The child was crying, as Dee plucked the tyke off the debris-strewn pavement, and yelled, “Run!”
The west end of the bridge was about a hundred feet away. It looked like a mile.
“Put the next missile on the last truck!” Six shouted, as the smoke cleared. The Ramanthians were fi?ring wildly by then, being unsure of where the fi?rst rocket had come from, but hoping to suppress the incoming fi?re.
Private-469 did as he was told, saw the rocket fl?y straight and true, and had the satisfaction of witnessing a direct hit. There was a tremendous roar as the boxy vehicle blew up, cut the bridge in half, and dumped both tank carriers into the raging waters below. Six noted that the fi?rst truck, the one loaded with troops, was on the far side of the gorge. That was unfortunate—but couldn’t be helped.
Meanwhile Mama Dee and roughly half her family stood at the west end of the broken span and stared down into the wreckage-choked canyon. All of the free breeders were sobbing except for Dee, who was too angry to cry. Slowly, and with a precision that sent a chill down Colonel Six’s spine, the deviant turned to look into his eyes. Because the woman on the bridge knew the rockets had been fi?red by one or more Seebos, knew her people had been sacrifi?ced, and knew someone was looking at her.
Finding it impossible to look the woman in the eye, Colonel Six lowered the binoculars, and scowled. “Throw the launcher into the gorge, and let’s get out of here,” he growled. Another blow had been struck—and another price had been paid.
PLANET ALPHA-001, THE CLONE HEGEMONY
The Plaza of the Immortals was half a mile wide and a mile long. The arena was oriented to the planet’s north pole so that each point of the compass was represented by a formal entrance. Thousands upon thousands of tiered seats slanted up away from the plaza, and all of them were fi?lled. Not randomly, but according to genetic lines, which meant that offi?ce workers were seated with offi?ce workers, construction workers with construction workers, and so forth. And each section of seats was backed by a towering statue of the “immortal” from whom that particular line of DNA had been copied. So it appeared as if hundreds of gods were present to preside over what took place within the plaza, each stern-faced visage staring out over its progeny, as if able to see something that mere mortals couldn’t comprehend.
It made for a very impressive spectacle as Alpha Clones Antonio, Pietro, and even the ailing Marcus sat atop the three-story-high reviewing stand just below likenesses of their progenitors. And one level below them, in seats reserved for foreign dignitaries, President Nankool and his staff were present as well, something the millions of clones who had been ordered to watch video of the ceremony on their dormitory screens could plainly see. The carefully planned extravaganza began with a lowaltitude fl?yover by six wing-to-wing fi?ghters—and martial music so loud that Vanderveen was forced to cover her ears at times. That was followed by the ceremonial entrance of the famed Lightning Brigade, who ironically enough weren’t slated to lift for Gamma-014, but were present to lead the rest of the troops onto the plaza.
And as music played, and fl?ags snapped in the breeze, Vanderveen couldn’t help but be impressed as thousands of combat-ready Jonathan Alan Seebos marched into the long rectangular arena, split into company-sized groups, and turned the plaza into what looked like a gigantic chessboard. But then, as groups of clones who didn’t look a bit like the Jonathan Alan Seebos began to enter the arena, Vanderveen heard exclamations of dismay from the more senior offi?cials seated around her. “They’re conscripts!” the secretary of the navy was heard to say. “The bastards are sending civilians to fi?ght the Ramanthians!”
Vanderveen was far too junior to be seated next to the president, but she could see him, and knew the man
