their hiding places and rushed forward. Most of the clones wore winter white and gray, but all too many of the free breeders were dressed in layered summer uniforms, or ponchos made from blankets. The darker uniforms made excellent targets, and the people who wore them began to die as boots slipped on ice, robots struggled to cut paths through a maze of razor wire, and offi?cers waved them forward. The soldiers fell in waves, their lives harvested like wheat, as the yammering machine guns cut them down. Mortar fi?re added to the madness, as men and women scrabbled through clods of falling earth to capture another few inches of bloody ground. And for what? Nothing that the Seebo could see and understand. It was a battle conceived by a conceited fool who, brother or not, was a mass murderer.
Having seen all he could stomach—Colonel Six lowered his binos. He had to stop the madness. . . . But how? Suddenly a mad, crazy idea occurred to him. A plan that shouldn’t work, but could work, given the unusual circumstances. But would Dr. Kira Kelly be willing to cooperate?
Maybe, the clone concluded, if she saw what he’d seen. The clone spoke into his lip mike. “This is Six. . . . Fetch the doctor. There’s something I want her to see.”
As the sun sank in the west, and powerful fl?ares drifted down out of a lead gray sky, both sides settled in for a night of bitterly cold weather. The darkness was punctuated by occasional cross-trench raids as the adversaries sought to claim or reclaim precious inches of frozen ground they had been denied during daylight hours. A brutal, frequently close-quarters, business that rarely produced the sort of results that General-453 and his offi?cers were looking for.
But that didn’t keep them from trying, so any number of fanciful plots were hatched as General-453 and his mostly clone staff took their usual dinner within the cozy warmth of the command bunker located underneath his infl?atable hab. The soft-sided structure was located fi?fteen miles west of Yal-Am, which put it safely beyond the reach of the biggest tubes General Akoto was willing to waste on a planet he expected to lose to the enemy.
Having consumed a hearty meal in the company of his cronies, the clone went up to his offi?ce, where it was his intention to respond to General Kobbi’s latest memo. A missive the Seebo wanted to ignore, but couldn’t, because of the way the free breeder consistently copied General Bill Booly. Still, the legionnaires were dying at a prodigious rate, and there was an excellent chance that Kobbi would take a bullet during one of his frequent trips to the front lines. I’ll give the asshole a posthumous medal, the offi?cer thought to himself, and send my condolences to General Booly!
The thought brought a thin smile to General-453’s face as he entered his offi?ce only to discover that another Seebo was waiting for him. Even though the clone soldiers looked identical except for differences in age, they could frequently tell each other apart thanks to nuances of dress, posture, and infl?ection. Not this time however, because even though they were roughly the same age, Four-fi?fty-three couldn’t remember meeting this offi?cer before. “Is there some sort of emergency, Colonel?” the general wanted to know. “Because if there isn’t, I would prefer that you see my adjutant, and make an appointment to see me.”
Colonel Six stood. Thanks to his obvious status as a Seebo, and his relatively high rank, it had been absurdly easy to fi?nd out where the general was and await his return. The renegade put the time to good use by studying the schematics on the walls, reviewing a thick stack of intelligence reports, and skimming through the correspondence stacked on one corner of the collapsible desk. “I’m afraid it is an emergency, sir,” Six assured the senior offi?cer. “But we’ll have everything under control in a moment. Isn’t that right, Lieutenant-44?”
General-453 opened his mouth to say something, but never got a chance, as Lieutenant-44 took him from behind. The senior offi?cer struggled, but couldn’t counter the combination of a full nelson, and the younger man’s strength.
“Okay,” Colonel Six said. “You can come out now.”
That was Dr. Kira Kelly’s cue to step out of General453’s washroom. “How dare you!” General-453 spluttered, and the medic crossed the room. “I’ll have you arrested! I’ll have you court-martialed! I’ll have—”
“Make him shut up,” Colonel Six said disgustedly, as Kelly knelt next to Four-fi?fty-three.
“This should do it,” the doctor said calmly, pressing the injector against one of the general’s meaty thighs. There was an audible pop as a gas cartridge forced a powerful sedative through the weave of Four-fi?fty-three’s trousers and into his bloodstream. Lieutenant-44 was there to support the older Seebo as the strength left his legs.
“Let’s put the general to bed,” Six said, moving in to help. With Four-Four supporting Four-fi?fty-three’s torso, and the others lifting his legs, the Seebo was carried into his sleeping compartment and strapped to his cot. With that accomplished, Six turned to Kelly. “Thank you, Doctor. You know what this means, don’t you?”
“No,” Kelly answered. “What does it mean? Outside of the fact that I must be crazy?”
“It means you’re one of us,” Six said meaningfully. “Because now you’re part of what amounts to a mutiny.”
Kelly remembered the view from the top of the tank, as thousands of brave men and women were sent forward into what constituted a meat grinder, and knew Six was correct. By giving the sedative, she had knowingly crossed the line from victim, to criminal, and aligned herself with a man who, if not a murderer on the scale that General- 453 was, still qualifi?ed as such. Not that it mattered much, because Kelly had already lost her way, and knew it. Her resolve had weakened since leaving the note at the refueling station. Serious mistakes had been made, and there was no going back. “Yes,” Kelly agreed fatalistically. “We’re on the same side.”
“Good,” Six replied evenly. “The next part is going to be tricky. Very tricky indeed. And I need your help.”
General Mortimer Kobbi had his combat gear on, and was about to go out into the fl?are-lit trenches, when the summons arrived. “You’re sure?” the tough little legionnaire demanded, as the com tech faced him under the glare produced by the overhead strip lights. Their breaths fogged the air, a series of distant explosions sent tremors through the frozen ground, and a nearly spent bullet pinged as it fl?attened itself against one of the metal shutters.
“Yes, sir,” the corporal said steadfastly. “Generalwants to see you right away.”
“It was probably that last memo you sent,” a major named Perko said sardonically. “The fi?ring squad is ready.”
The com tech thought that was funny—but knew better than to smile. “All of the regimental commanders were invited,” the corporal put in. “The meeting is scheduled for 2100 hours.”
Kobbi waited until the enlisted man had left before turning to Perko. The major was a big man, with broad shoulders, and a long, lugubrious face. “Who knows?” the general said rhetorically. “Maybe the bastard will listen to someone other than his clone suck-ups for a change.”
