CLONING FREEDOM

BY

Stephen B. Pearl

Chapter 1

THERE’S NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOW BUSINESS

"This is not a good plan." Carl crouched behind some bushes at the edge of the ruined laboratory’s grounds. His skin and hair blended with the background. A gutted building stood in front of him.

"You should have said that before,” said Rowan.

"Um, Row, he did say that before," remarked Fran.

#

Ryan pressed a button on his console. The big screen in the control-room for the Angel Black entertainment series shifted to Carl’s perspective. Through Carl’s eyes Ryan could see Rowan’s lean, muscular body was clad in black jeans and a sweater. She carried a red fire extinguisher. Carl’s eyes fell to her medium-sized breasts.

“Carl, you’re staring at my chest again.” Rowan’s voice issued from the speaker.

“Was not!” Carl’s perspective shifted to Rowan’s pretty, fair-skinned face.

“Carl, honestly!” The view shifted to Fran, who also carried a fire extinguisher and had shoved a pair of copper daggers through her belt. “Even when you camouflage some things stand out. My boyfriend could show some control."

The empathic monitors beside the secondary screen dedicated to Carl jumped.

“Good boy, always count on you to eye up the ladies. This will go great for the PG version.” Ryan stared into the screen which showed Fran’s generous cleavage then shifted to her perfect American First Peoples face.

The visual screen went blank. Ryan checked his other inputs. “You horny kids, going into battle and still in heat.”

#

"Will you two focus on what we’re doing?" hissed a well-proportioned, middle-aged man who knelt beside Rowan. He’d put his fire extinguisher on the ground and was fiddling with its valve.

Fran broke the kiss. “Sorry, Gunther.”

"I wish Angel was here," whispered a muscular Asian man of about twenty, who waited beside Gunther.

"Why is that, Farley? You want to cheat on me with her again?” Rowan sounded sarcastic.

#

Ryan shifted to Gunther’s perspective. Rowan looked hurt. Gunther’s emotional readings showed a mix of anger toward the younger man and affection toward his daughter.

“Emotions are too conflicted to sort the empathic input. We’ll have to dub them before going to market. Have to keep it simple for the feather brains in the audience.” Ryan placed an editing marker on the time-line.

"I meant we could use some aerial surveillance. How often do I have to say I’m sorry?" Farley’s voice was strained.

Willa looked up from inspecting her own fire extinguisher. "You slept with her best friend, Farley. What do you expect?"

Ryan shifted to Carl’s view. His eyes traced over a red-haired woman with a lean, small-breasted body and a pretty face.

“Willa is old enough to be your mother boy, and you still got it bad.” Ryan smirked.

#

“Mom, it’s OK. I should have stayed focussed.” Rowan brushed a strand of her short, dark hair away from her eyes.

“It’s just your father and I hate to see you--.”

“Shhh,” hissed Rowan. “Do you hear--?”

        "Well, what have we here?" said a voice from behind the group. Everyone turned, a K-no-in, its canine features pulled into a snarl, stared down at them. "Snacks!" The alien bunched its pony-like body and extended the gutting claws on its six, muscular legs.

Fran's hands locked into a claw shape and her nails extended. She leapt, driving her fingers against the alien pirate's throat, tearing out his windpipe with a single blow. With superhuman speed, she snatched a dagger from her belt and drove it into her foe. The K-no-in howled as the copper catalysed the reaction that turned its blood into a corrosive poison.

#

Ryan watched as the screen labelled “K-no-in 2" went blank. He pressed a button and it lit up again. It now bore the caption “Otterzoid Female 1.”

#

"Wow!" gasped Carl as he watched the k-no-in slowly dissolve into goo.

Fran preened. "Felinezoid powers have their advantages."

A whistle sounded from somewhere in the night.

"Time to go," said Gunther. They all raced toward the building.

#

Ryan watched Rowan on his screen. “Better cut to the other team; see what they’re up to.” He pressed a button on his console. The main screen shifted to an overview of a large, scorched room. A coffin-like device stood in the corner and a portable, methane heater flamed in the room’s centre.

A chameleonzoid huddled beside the heater, it had an eight-limbed, cylindrical body, ending in a head like a crocodile’s at one end and a long muscular tail at the other. Its hide had shifted colour to blend with the soot-blackened, concrete floor.

A felinezoid, which looked like a two-metre-tall, humanoid cat, with short, thick fur and gray-tabby markings, moved toward the heater.

#

Valaseau groomed the back of her hand and used it to smooth the fur beside her pointed ears. "Are you comfortable, Captain Hussut?"

The chameleonzoid moved its head slowly. "This world is so cold. How long until the time-lock on the rescue pod opens? The sooner we access its FTL transmitter and summon our ship the sooner I can return to Death Valley."

"Not long. I’ll be so happy when our ship enters orbit, and we can kill the upstart humans. Especially the ones that accursed enforcer altered to have power to fight us. They’ll pay for corrupting my Toronk. We'll make them pay, make them bleed, make them suffer. Especially that Angel. We’ll rule this world and make them all pay!" Valaseau’s voice rose to an insane fervour.

"Yes, felinezoid. We will rule this world. When the star-gate moves out of range there will be nothing to stop us living as gods among these primitives. Turn up this heater. I am growing sluggish from the cold."

#

“Now let’s see how the diversion’s going.” Ryan set the terminal to record the other feeds and shifted the big screen’s perspective.

#

Toronk threw himself at three k-no-ins. Two-point-one metres of felinezoid furry, clawing and biting.

A petite, black girl, launched herself from the branches of a nearby tree, bat-like wings folded out from her back, and she hovered above the battle. She took aim with an air-rifle and fired into one of the k-no-ins. In moments the pirate was a mass of dissolving muck. The others were too busy with Toronk to notice.

The girl scanned the grounds and saw three k-no-ins, a felinezoid and an alien that resembled an oversized, green otter, with an elongated head, racing toward them. The otter-like creature looked up, and Angel felt her gun jerk out of her hands. “Toronk, they're coming, and they have an otterzoid with them. It’s a female." Angel swooped away as the otterzoid aimed at her telekineticly.

        Toronk snarled and threw one of his attackers into the other.

        "ANGEL NOW!" he bellowed. Angel swooped through the side door of a van on the lab’s parking lot. Toronk dove into the driver’s seat and burnt rubber toward the street. The alien guards chased them, deserting their posts.

#

“And back to the A-team.” Ryan reset the feeds on his console to an overview of the laboratory’s main hall.

#

Gunther leapt back as the k-no-in rushed him. A bit of copper wire floated into the air behind it and drove down. The k-no-in barely had time for the pain to register before it died.

"That is so cool," remarked Fran.

"I like it," agreed Rowan. "You OK, Dad?"

"None the worse for wear," said Gunther.

Carl passed Fran his fire extinguisher then crept along the hall, blending with the walls. He paused at the doors to a ruined workroom and glanced though the window. Ducking down he willed his body to flesh tones and motioned his companions forward.

#

“Good, now a little pre-game banter. Unrealistic as that is for this stage of an engagement, but have to keep the audience happy.” Ryan hit a button and adjusted the level of endorphins to Rowan’s group, calming them and inducing a light euphoria.

#

"You sure this will work?" asked Willa.

"No. Are we ever?" Gunther cupped his wife’s cheek.

"We’re all insane. You do realize this?” remarked Fran.

"You haven’t gotten use to it yet? Nothing’s been sane since Amitose grafted alien DNA to us and told us we had to keep the space pirates a secret while we fought them," replied Farley.

Gunther closed his eyes. “I hear them. Valaseau is on some mental babble about getting Toronk back. The chameleonzoid has the activate codes. If they reach that pod’s FTL transmitter, we’re doomed.”

“Right then, let’s stop them,” said Rowan.

"With ya’. Wish we had an AK 47.” Carl grinned as he shifted colour to match the walls.

“Stop dreaming, with the gun control laws in this country, we were lucky to get Angel’s air rifle,” said Gunther.

“I can dream. OK, one, two, three, NOW!" Carl dove through the charred door, hit the dirt and rolled. A beam of light blasted through the wall above him. He leapt up and ran.

“Particle weapons! You didn’t say anything about particle weapons!” griped Farley.

“It wasn’t thinking about them. How was I supposed to know? Move anyway,” snapped Gunther.

The chameleonzoid stood on four of its legs and held a rifle-like particle weapon in one of its three fingered hands. Its slit-pupilled, reptilian eyes tracked Carl, despite his camouflage, so it didn’t notice Farley enter and run at its back. Gunther followed then Willa and Fran.

Rowan stepped through the door a moment later and yelled. "HEY YOU, LIZARD BREATH."

The chameleonzoid jerked around to face her. Rowan threw the fire extinguisher she carried, adding a telekinetic push. It slammed into the heater, smashing it then vented CO2 over the sparks. A jet of methane rose from the tank.

"That's not nice, human tramp!" Valaseau lunged at Rowan, covering three metres in a single bound.

"Eep!" Rowan felt a furry hand close on her throat, and claw tips prick her skin.

#

“Star dust!” Ignoring the memo on the control-room’s wall Ryan let his hands race over his console. Valaseau’s endorphin levels increased, and her estrogen equivalent jumped.

“That should make her hot and playful. I hope it’s enough.”

#

“I’ll do it slow. I love it when they suffer,” said Valaseau. Something slammed into her side. Gunther landed on top of the felinezoid, but his knee smashed into the floor. Biting down on his pain he rolled clear.

Farley rushed the chameleonzoid and fired his extinguisher at the alien, coating the reptile with frozen CO2.

"NOOOO!" Hussut fired its weapon, igniting the gas jetting from the methane tank before the cold could force him into inactivity.

The explosion threw Farley against the wall. He crumpled to the floor.

The chameleonzoid roared as fire singed its hide then receded. A jet of flame rose from the methane cylinder igniting the ceiling.

"Chill out, hot head." Fran directed her extinguisher's spray against Hussut.

"Chill out hot head?" Carl sounded incredulous as he came at the beast from the other side, coating it with CO2 snow.

"Everybody else does it," countered Fran as Willa added her extinguisher to the assault.

Gunther grappled with Valaseau; the felinezoid's mouth descended toward his throat.

"Leave him alone, bitch!" snapped Rowan. A scorched lab table slammed into Valaseau, sending her careening through one of the room’s shattered windows.

"Rowan," breathed Gunther.

She smiled at him and fell to her knees, clutching her head.

#

“Star dust! Keep overreaching like that, you won’t get a chance to see if you can survive with a No Intervention Order on you.” Ryan checked Rowan’s readouts.

#

"GUYS, NEED HELP HERE, NOW!" Carl’s fire extinguisher had petered out, and the chameleonzoid was bringing its weapon to bear on him.

Gunther leapt up and fell groaning.

#

Ryan shifted to Gunther’s panel increasing adrenalin levels and muting his pain.

#

Gunther fought to his feet yelled, "CATCH," then threw his fire extinguisher at Carl.

Carl lunged for Gunther’s extinguisher, catching it after it slammed into the floor. He rolled and brought its nozzle to bear. A chunk of flaming ceiling fell on his back, and he hissed in pain as he shook it off.

#

“Star dust, why are you always so careless?” Ryan blocked Carl’s pain and dispatched the nano-bots in his system to seal the artery a nail had punctured.

#

Rowan crawled to Gunther' side.

"I'm out." Fran stepped away from the alien. The ceiling creaked, and flaming pieces began to fall on all sides.

#

Ryan triggered an adrenalin surge in Farley. “Wake up, prince of fools, you can at least be laser fodder.”

#

Farley slowly came to his feet and moved to take Fran's place. Captain Hussut was frosted with carbon dioxide snow, and he moved sluggishly.

The time-lock on the escape pod buzzed.

"Fools. Your human technology is less than a child’s toy to me!" Hussut lunged at Willa. She stepped back losing her target. The alien stumbled toward the escape pod as its hatch swung open.

"NO!" Rowan’s brow wrinkled. Her mind clutched Hussut, but the sheer mass of the creature defeated her. She felt a hand slip into hers. Her universe expanded. The minds that surrounded her were an open book, and she felt her own power increase.

Gunther wanted to help, needed to comfort. He took Rowan’s hand in his; the universe opened. He knew the ways of matter, sensed the flux and flows of subatomic particles, saw how the forces of time and space interplayed.

The chameleonzoid slammed into a cinder-block wall with bone shattering force.

Farley, Carl and Willa directed their extinguishers against their foe, who trembled on the floor. Rowan and Gunther seemed entranced. The air grew smoky; each breath became a battle. Fran stumbled to the escape pod. Willa's extinguisher died.

"Willa, help me here." Fran activated the pod’s transmitter.

Willa moved to help. Farley began smashing his empty fire extinguisher into the alien’s head. Gray blood spilled onto the floor.

Willa flicked her hand open, and an interface jack extended from her forefinger. She jacked into the pod’s data port and sent a binary message. ‘Orbital incursion not secured, maintain status. Standard contact protocols.’

“That should do it for another three months.” Willa grabbed Fran’s hand, and they rushed from the escape pod. Its hatch closed behind them, and the time-lock reset.

#

“I wonder what you’d do, if you knew there wasn’t any ship orbiting Jupiter to be afraid of? I wonder what you’d do, if you knew you weren’t even on Earth? Star dust, I wonder what you’d do, if you knew it was the seventh century after contact? That’s show biz.” Ryan sounded bitter and tired.

#

Carl's extinguisher went dead.

"Let's make like a tree and leaf, cofff coffff." Carl heaved the empty cylinder at the alien.

"Come on," called Farley.

They all moved to Gunther and Rowan. The kinetic and the telepath seemed entranced.

#

“Come on, hurry it up before one of them strokes out. I can’t keep feeding this level of boost for long,” hissed Ryan as he watched father and daughter through Willa’s eyes. He spared her empathic readouts a glance, they showed such pride in, and concern for, her family it was mind-boggling.

“Like mother, like daughter. Both of them, hearts big as a planet. Why does John have to wreck it?”

#

"How?" asked Willa.

Farley pulled Gunther into a fireman's carry.

"Right." Carl took Rowan.

#

“About Nova blasted time!” Ryan stoped the boost to Rowan and Gunther. “Better slow things down on the fire trucks. Give them a chance to get clear.” Ryan keyed several buttons. A screen labelled ‘Series Cross Over’ filled with a view of a fire truck’s dash board and the street beyond, under the caption of ‘THE STATION HOUSE’ and ‘Fire Officer Willow Hennessy.’ An icon in the corner was green, indicating that Ryan could take action without overly affecting the other series. He hit a key, and the speedometer dropped as the audio feed gave the sound of an old-style engine stalling.

“Computer, reset primes to defaults with notification protocols.”

#

Rowan's team piled into Gunther's SUV. Rowan felt herself sag. It was always the same after battle, utter exhaustion. She glanced at her parents in the backseat beside her. Gunther had his arm around Willa, and both were holding each other, so obviously in love despite their years together. Rowan’s gaze shifted to Farley, who sat in the front seat, and tears welled in her blue eyes.

#

Ryan watched the Rowan monitors.

“Poor girl. Bad enough they made him cheat on you, now a No Intervention Order. Why do they always want to ruin the best characters?”

Chapter 2

THE HOLLOWNESS OF REALITY

Ryan watched Rowan snuggle into her bed. Her breathing was slow and steady. He’d used an endorphin to ensure she’d sleep well and have pleasant dreams. Sighing he turned his attention to the secondary screens.

“Angel and Toronk, at it again. It’s good for the adult version.” On the screen the petite, winged girl rode the large feline, her hands sinking into his soft, warm fur, his rough tongue stroking over her nipples. Her satin-like wings caressed him. The monitors showed that they were both nearing orgasm.

“Joslin will love this; she’s got a real taste for fur.” Ryan’s voice was weary. He checked the wall chronometer. Seven-thirty-five, Sun Valley time, fourteen-thirty-five in his habitat zone. He stretched and heard the vertebrae in his back pop. Adjusting Rowan’s screen to the pickup in her bedroom he watched her sleep. Zooming in he kissed his finger and touched the screen over her lips. He grinned at his own foolishness then jerked his hand away when the door behind him opened. Swivelling his chair he watched a Caucasian man, with thinning, brown hair, enter the room.

“John, hi. Could I get you a coffee or anything?” Ryan forced his voice to be pleasant, even as he clenched his fist behind his chair.

“Didn’t you get my memo? There is a No Intervention Order regarding the Rowan character.” John slapped one hand into the other causing his blubber to giggle.

“I realize that.”

“Last night’s quick log showed you doing hormonal and endorphin manipulations on her. We need to let her die to punch up the next dramatic cycle. Why did you disregard my directive?” John smoothed the line of his suit and posed in the doorway.

‘You wouldn’t have lasted five minutes during the Murack offensive; you self-important twit!’ Ryan kept his thoughts to himself. “Well...  Mr. Wilson, we had to eliminate the Captain Hussut character because of the genetic abnormality’s in the clone. Keeping that character’s cancers in check was taking up so much of the nano-bots’ runtimes it was cost prohibitive. So I didn’t have much choice. Helping Rowan opened the door to killing the Hussut character.”

“That’s star dust and you know it! One of these days you’re going to run out of excuses, and then I’ll have your ass out of here. Don’t think I won’t, fakey!”

“Why do you want to destroy her? She’s the most popular character in the entertainment.”

“The show’s title is Angel Black, not Annoying Scrub Tree. You’ve been told, Chandler. No more help for Rowan, she sinks or swims on the defaults.”

“Yes, Mr. Wilson.”

John turned and slammed the door.

“Prat!” Ryan returned his attention to the screen. Rowan smiled in her sleep. He felt his heart lurch. “If only.”

#

Ryan opened the door to his domestic unit. The smells of unwashed bodies and stale food assailed him. The living-room was devoid of furniture, except for a battered sofa and coffee-table. A virtual entertainment unit occupied the corner. The recliner-like device contained a wasted, middle-aged woman. She writhed, as if in orgasm.

“Great, just great!” Ryan moved into the efficiency kitchen. Dishes were stacked on the counter top. Opening the refrigerator he saw it was empty. Returning to the living-room, he stared at the woman before pressing a button on the entertainment unit’s armrest. The interface cap lifted from around her head, and she blinked.

Ryan forced a smile. “Hi, Joslin. I was thinking, why don’t you grab a shower? We can go out to dinner.”

Joslin brushed greasy, blonde hair away from her face. Her track pants and T shirt were grubby and stank. “Ryan, you finished work already?” She sounded annoyed.

“I just got off. How about it, let’s grab a bite then maybe we can go to the park. The philharmonic is doing a concert. I’m sure we can pay at the gate.”

“I’d rather not. Barry has been building up to asking out Amanda; I don’t want to miss it. She so want’s him to, and I just can’t miss the reaction because.”

Ryan closed his eyes and ignored his wife’s babbling as he struggled to keep his temper in check. Finally he interrupted her. “How about later then? I’ll grab a snack then we can go to the concert and get dinner after.”

Ryan knew the answer before she opened her mouth, but he had to try.

“I just couldn’t. Willow just slept with James, the fire chief on The Station House, and now that awful officer Folly is trying to hold it over their heads, and--.”

“Why not record it?”

“Oh, it’s never the same as it is on broadcast. The recordings always dampen the empathic inputs. Why experience it if you can’t fully feel the emotion?”

“Fine. I’ll be on the Star Hawk, if you change your mind.”

“You could jack in with me,” offered Joslin.

“I spend all day making this stuff. I don’t want to experience it on my off hours.”

“That’s why we have a problem marriage! You never want to do anything with me! I should have stayed on Earth!” Joslin threw herself onto the entertainment unit and pressed a button on its armrest. The sensory interface came down, and her body relaxed.

“Yup, I never want to do anything. ‘I’m the evil fakey that died on Murack Five,’” he sang the line of the song, feeling the half truth it represented more acutely than usual. Moving into the bedroom he noted the sheets were filthy, and laundry littered the floor. He lifted a display case that was hung on the wall. It was full of medals on bits of ribbon. “She’ll never miss it. It’s in the real world.”

Taking the case, he left his apartment.

#

“Hello darling. It is so good to hear your voice, but I can’t get the video to come in.” Michael Strongbow settled himself into his chair at the Sensory Entertainment/Terraforming Engineers Inc. building. His office was larger than many apartments, with all the amenities befitting his position. The desk in front of him was antique oak, imported from Earth, with a large monitor screen on top of it.

He was a fit, older man, with a mane of silver hair. The laugh lines at the corners of his brown eyes gave him a grandfatherly warmth, but the solid line of jaw and lean, muscular body spoke to a man it wasn’t safe to cross.

“I know. My hand-held’s pick-up is broken. It’s audio only.” The woman’s voice was soft, but slightly nasal, very unique and full of character and warmth.

“How are the concerts going? Is the attendance good?”

“Kinda, the orchestra will, at least, break even. With luck we may even make a profit.”

“That’s great.”

“So how are things with you? Did you speak with John?”

Michael tensed in his chair. “I tried. The man is a prat, but it’s his show. He’s gone ahead with the N.I. order. Sam Westleigh wants to start a new program using an AS-F class clone, and you know it’s too risky to have look-a-likes on set. They both want Rowan dead, and I can’t stop them.”

“It’s so unfair!”

Michael smiled at the tone of outrage in his wife’s voice. She had more reason than any to hate the state of clone rights.

“I haven’t given up yet, love. Do you remember Ryan Chandler?”

“Hmm... Body looks about twenty-five, copper skin, brown hair, average height, medium build, green eyes you could just lose yourself in, real hotty if you aren’t addicted to the classic type?”

Michael smiled. He’d never had a moment’s doubt that his love was his, but she was also an incurable man watcher. It was just how she was made. “That’s him.”

“Poor man, is his wife still an e-addict?”

“Sadly yes. I had a doctor look into her case on the QT. He was of the opinion she’s hopeless.”

“Too bad, he seemed nice. A little sad, like you use to be.”

“Very similar pasts, my love. No one survives the front lines without it changing them. In any case, I have uncovered some interesting facts about him. He seems to be just what I’m looking for.”

“You’re so sneaky. I think that’s why I love you. So whatcha gonna do?”

“Well...”

#

Ryan pulled his power-bike onto the levelled bedrock that formed the landing site and stopped. The mild hum of the bike’s electric motor stilled, and the safety field it projected around its rider cut off. Ryan could remember a time when Joslin had loved to ride with him, arms clinched around his waist, the wind whipping her hair out behind her. He sighed and muttered. “Now she watches, Bike Cop. Why not, the vehicles look a lot alike?”

He focussed on the present. The landing strip was an old one, hardly used since the taraforming had moved into stage three. A rocky desert stretched out on all sides. To the west Duchovny Tower, the “real” city, rose into the clouds. In front of him were two craft, each the size of an oceanic cargo vessel. They were of the same class, made up of oval domes of jet black, supported on a multitude of three-clawed legs with a long ramp opening towards what could be generously called their fronts.

The similarity ended there. The one farther from him looked complete. Its hull a shiny black, its support legs all in place. The near one had a gaping hole in its side. Its hull plating had been cannibalized, leaving patches of cracked and broken material on its surface. Piles of rock took the place of most of its support legs. In places he could see into its gutted interior.

Ryan checked the charge metre on his bike then pulled closer to the far ship. The air was dry, and dust stung his cheeks before the safety field activated. He paused only to look at where the hull had been polarized to show letters spelling out ‘STAR HAWK we will never forget’ before he pulled up the ramp.

“Did you miss me, my lady?” he asked as he parked his bike. He was in a hanger the size of a large gymnasium. A single battered ATV troop-carrier was parked in the corner. The ATV’s top mounted turret was nothing but a jagged hole in the boxy vehicle.

“Oh yes, darling. I missed you ever so much. Come up and give us a big snog.” A male voice pitched to take on effeminate tones blasted out of the speaker.

“Hello Henry. What happened? You finally achieve your goal of watching every porno ever made?” Ryan moved to a door at the back of the chamber and pressed the button beside it. The door slid into the wall. He stepped into a nine-metre-square elevator, and hit a button labelled OP’s.

“What do you expect when you go away and leave me alone with nothing to do and no one to talk to? It’s her, isn’t it? That hussy of a wife of yours. You love her more than me.”

“Henry, hate to brake it to you. I’m not in love with you, and leave Joslin out of it, OK, or I just might let the authorities know you aren’t deactivated.”

“Yeah right. Who else could you get to run this antiquated tub?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. The elevator stopped, and he stepped into a hallway a metre across by two high, which ended in a hatch twenty-five metres ahead of him. Doors opened off both sides of the passage, and its walls were covered with padding. The hall was spotless. “Did you run those tests on the grav-units I installed?”

Henry’s voice lost its effeminate and teasing qualities. “Aye. We have Earth normal throughout space-crew section and officer territory. Half G. in the landing force section, but you gutted that for cargo anyway, and quarter G. in the hanger, and one tenth G. in the bomb-bays. Inertial stabilization is full in ops and three-quarters in the rest. It’s better than most freighters.

“Ryan, man. I’m sorry if I crossed a line about Joslin.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

Reaching the end of the corridor Ryan pressed a button, and the door pulled into the wall revealing the bridge. Six work stations, each in front of a swivel chair anchored into the floor, made a horseshoe shape around the room’s perimeter. A single chair sat in the room’s middle, facing a screen that filled the top part of the horseshoe’s closed end.

“I don’t sweat. Nasty biological thing to do,” said Henry.

Ryan looked at the computer station on his right. The head, torso and one arm of a humanoid android were strapped into the chair and connected into the console with a mass of wires.

If the android had been human, he would have looked like a muscular man of African genetic extraction. The artificial skin on one side of its face was burnt away, and half its short hair formed a frizzled mass against its metal skull.

“If humans have so many disadvantages, why don’t you just let me build you into the ship?”

“Sex. Spaceships can’t have it. I want my hips back, among other things. Oh yeah, baby.” Henry pumped his remaining arm. “Caught an entertainment of Farley and Rowan. I can see why you like that Rowan.  She is one sweet--.”

“Shut up! Or deal or no, I’ll turn you in. You want a humanoid body back, you serve as my operating system until I can get a proper unit, that means I’m captain. I don’t want you to access anything to do with Rowan. That’s an order!” Ryan moved to the engineering chair and threw himself down on it.

“Star dust, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love with the fakey.”

“Shut up!”

“She’s not real. Pull your head out of your ass. So Joslin is an e-addict, you aren’t half bad, go out and find some other fleshy to play with. Star dust, build me up as your dream girl; I’ll play with you. I’m not picky that way.”

“Rowan is real. She’s just a clone.”

“Yeah, like I said, she’s a fakey. She ain’t real.”

“Then I’m not either.” Ryan began running a system’s check.

“Star dust, that’s different.”

“How?” Ryan swivelled his chair to look at the AI.

“That was medical. After that rad. dose you caught they had to grow you a new body. You still got all your memories and stuff.”

“I’m still a clone. The law just gave me rights because it was the result of a combat injury.”

“Yeah, but ain’t no one tinkered with your DNA, and your memories are real, not made up and plugged in like some music cube.”

“Rowan is real! More real than Joslin has been in years.” Ryan turned to examine his engineering board. As a result he missed the smirk that came to Henry’s face.

“So she’s real, boss. She’s real, you’re real, I’m real, and we’re all nova blasted in a real world. You know she doesn’t stand a chance with an N.I. on her. And you, sure you got rights, but you know you’re a second class citizen. Your engineering level and the best you can do is a monitor on e-compilations? If they get hold of me, it’s back to the scrap heap.”

Ryan stopped working. “Run a space worthiness analysis.”

“Did it this afternoon. Every system is above speck.”

“How much time from the Zintoide star-gate to Surya One?”

"They settled on Geb for the planet's name. It was on the news. It'll take about one-hundred and seventy days, give or take a few. Trip total should be less than a year."

Ryan leaned back in his chair. “Joslin--.”

“Won’t even notice, if you do it right, and you know it. She’ll be happier.”

Ryan bit his lip. “It’s a one-way trip.”

“You got something in this star dusted galaxy you wanna see?”

Shifting to the middle chair Ryan sat. “The colony does need ships, and the Star Hawk is better than most of the junkers they’re getting.”

“This ship has always kicked butt. Star dust, if you can get a control circuit, we even have weapons.”

Henry gestured to a dead control panel with his arm.

“This is ridiculous! Even if I smuggled her out, it would give her what? Sixteen years with the way they re-engineered her.”

“Sixteen years more than she’ll have, and maybe something will come up.”

“Yeah right. I’m going to the junker. There are still some parts I can scrounge, and I need to think, alone!”

“Think fast man. Think fast.”

#

Henry watched Ryan descend the ramp with an internal monitor. A smile creased his mutilated face, and he closed his eyes accessing the ship’s link to the global communications net. A minute passed before the line picked up.

“Hello S.E.T.E. Inc. Mr. Strongbow’s office,” said a female voice. Henry’s visual field filled with the image of a large breasted blonde with classic features, sitting at a desk.

“Hello sweaty. I gotta talk to your boss, tell him that it’s Ryan’s polymer pal. He’ll know what’s up. Are those tits real?”

The secretary looked exasperated but hit a button on her desk and spoke into the intercom.

A moment later the visual field shifted to show Michael Strongbow sitting at his desk. “Henry, I’m assuming this is in regards to our previous discussion.”

“Got it in one. Not that the view is all that bad.” The android managed to make his voice suggest a leer.

“Down, plastic man. You are not my preferred type, on many levels. Let us stick to business. What do you have to report?”

“He’s on the edge. I think a little push from you will put him over.”

“Excellent. What would you suggest?”

“Well, silver fox, this is what has a bug up his butt. First...”

Chapter 3

HIDDEN ALLIES

Ryan pulled the filthy sheets off the bed and fed them into a boxy, clothes-hamper sized device.

“Fabric maintenance unit needs cotton fibres to do auto repair function,” spoke a mechanical voice.

Ryan pulled open the dresser drawer and extracted an empty box labelled ‘Repair cotton’.

“Star dust!” Glancing around the room, he spotted a pair of Joslin’s panties. He picked them up, shuddering with revulsion when he found out they were crusty with dried urine. “Couldn’t tear yourself away even for that?” He dropped them into a chute on the side of the maintenance unit.

“Fibres acceptable. Commencing with clean and repair sequence, approximate time five minutes,” said the machine.

Ryan sat on the edge of the bed. It’s insane. It’s grand theft is what it is. Could she even stand learning that her whole life was just an entertainment? he thought. The image of Rowan drifted unbidden in his mind.

It wouldn’t be that hard to get her out. How to get away, and keep the rest of the cast in the dark? That’s the challenge.

#

Rowan walked across the college’s spacious tree-covered grounds toward the concrete administration building.

“Hey Row, wait up.” Fran raced to her side.

“Hi Fran. I though you and Carl would be off... studying.”

Fran blushed. “I thought you might like to talk.”

Rowan stopped walking. “‘Bout what?”

“Come on. You and Angel being on the outs, it’s just not right.”

“Neither is her sleeping with my boyfriend. Star dust! With friends like her who needs enemies?”

“It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?”

Rowan moved to a bench and sat. Fran followed her example.

“Farley... well... Don’t tell my Mom and Dad, OK?”

“Promise.” Fran made a crossing motion over her heart.

Rowan blushed, and her voice was little more than a whisper. “He was my... well... you know... my first and only.”

“Figured that one, Row. You weren’t exactly the slut queen in high school. Truth to tell, I wasn’t sure ‘till just now that Farley got past third.”

“He did, Mom and Dad kinda suspect, I think, but they like to think I’m a ‘good girl’. How can I forgive him and Angel, who I thought was my best friend?”

“They were being affected by that otterzoid male.”

“My Dad says it could only encourage them, breakdown barriers, like being drunk, not make them do something they really didn’t want to.”

“I can’t tell you what to do, but for your own good, forgive them, or move on. I hate seeing you tearing yourself up like this.”

“I’m scared, Franny.”

“Scared?”

“Guys weren’t exactly lining up before Farley. I don’t want to be alone, and I think I’m gonna be.”

Fran took Rowan’s hands. “Row, you won’t be alone. You’re great. Some guy is going to see it and sweep you off your feet.”

“A white knight to take me away from all this? Every little girl’s fantasy. I think after all the fighting and killing and heartbreak; I’m all little girled out.”

#

Ryan sat in the forward pilot’s seat on the Star Hawk’s bridge. Tapering off the grav-nullifiers he let the massive ship drift to the ground. The landing place was by the largest of Gaea’s oceans, and its levelled bedrock was littered with antiquated ships and vehicles. The sun was cresting the horizon, and the sky was a beautiful, Earth-like blue.

“These things are boring,” complained Henry.

“I like the club meets. These people understand. Keep the bridge locked, and no outward communications.”

“Yeah right. What am I supposed to do while...”

Ryan held up a data disk. “Episode seventeen of Orgy Girls. It’s not even available on transmit yet. I swapped a shift with Malcolm for it.”

“Boss, you’re too good to me.”

#

Ryan stepped down the ramp from his hanger onto the airstrip. The service coveralls he’d pulled on bore the crest of the Space Combat Corps, crossed by the silver braid that showed he was retired. They were just warm enough to break the morning chill.

“You’ve done very impressive work on her,” remarked a deep voice from Ryan’s left.

Ryan turned and smiled at the studio head. “Thank you Mr. Strongbow. It’s a labour of love. I couldn’t just leave her to scrap after all we saw together.”

“I know exactly what you mean and it’s Mike. We’re all just old solders out to pasture here.” Mike wore a uniform similar to Ryan’s but with a ground-forces crest on each shoulder.

Ryan smiled. “OK, Mike. How’s the Lucky Seven?” He gestured to the seven-metre-long by three wide, oval shape of a grav-tank. Its top-mounted, twin, laser turrets gave an impression of its once impressive destructive power.

Mike sighed. “Still operational, but parts are a problem. If I don’t find a source for grav-nullifiers soon, I’ll lose her flight capacity.”

“Bummer. I don’t know if it would work for your tank, but I’ve worked up an adaptor for mark-twelve nullifiers, so they can integrate with mark-five ports. I’ll get you a copy of the schematics.”

“Thank you. That’s very generous, but my ports are mark-twos.”

“You know, I inherited an old ATV when I bought my junker. Not much of any use on it, but its nullifiers are mark-fours. It shouldn’t be difficult to get an adapter kit to make them match up with mark-two ports.”

“What would you want for the beast?” Mike held his head to one side and smiled.

“Well, I’d trade for control circuits, if they’d integrate with my tech. or maybe a gram of antiproton.”

“Are you low on power?” Concern crossed Mike’s face.

“I have enough to get around the system, but you know how much they overcharge at the orbital station.”

“Yes. Perhaps we can work something out. For the moment, I’ll arrange to have it transported to my estate, so I can have a look at it. I think you should retain ownership though.”

“Why?”

“Well, my estate is closer to the studio than your landing field. Ryan, I’m glad you’re here for reasons beyond your company and engineering expertise. I have a proposal for you.”

Ryan shifted uncomfortably. “Oh?”

“Come aboard the Seven. We need a private chat.” Mike led the way to his grav-tank.

#

Rowan walked along the dusk-shrouded streets. A truck rumbled past carrying a load of saplings to be planted by the foresters. A shadow flickered overhead, and she dove for the cover of a nearby doorstep.

“Row.”                                                                        

Angel’s voice caught her off guard. A moment later the diminutive, black girl appeared on the street, buttoning up her shirt.

“Is there some problem?” asked Rowan.

“Between us. Look, I’m sorry for the hundredth time. I was scared, I mean... I’m dating an alien, and like, I’m stuck looking like a freak because of my power. I just needed to feel human.”

“Can’t you just leave it at, ‘I’m sorry’? I trusted you, Angel. I trusted you more than anyone in this world.”

“I know. I--.”

The sound of squealing tires split the evening’s stillness, and a car careened toward them.

“No!” Angel threw her wings out, tearing her blouse to shreds, and grabbed Rowan under the arms.

Rowan’s brow wrinkled as she strained, mentally pulling up her own weight.

Angel flapped, and they lifted from the ground just before the car skidded to one side. An injector dart slammed into the wall where Rowan had been.

Rowan focussed all her concentration and took more of her weight. The car’s engine roared as it sped off. A minute later Angel dropped Rowan on a roof.

“You gain some weight or what?” asked Angel.

Rowan clutched her throbbing head. “I... I was lifting as hard as I could, I just couldn’t.”

Angel launched herself into the air in time to see the car skid to a halt two blocks over. A felinezoid leapt out and ran into a park.

Angel descended to the rooftop. “They’re gone. It looks like we’re in for another round of fun and games. God, I wish we could just be normal, go to school, worry about STDs, not have ‘save the world’ on our weekly to do list.”

Rowan sat up. The pain in her head was subsiding. “At least we don’t have to worry about finding a way to contribute.”

“I’d just like to have a normal boyfriend, get normal grades, have one-point-eight, normal children, just a normal life.”

“I kinda like making a difference, despite everything.”

“Hey, Row, are we... well... are we friends again?”

Rowan looked at Angel. “Yeah, like hey... best friends are too hard to come by. Especially ones that can get takeout at rush hour and have it back while it’s still hot.”

“So what you figure the furry wanted, besides us as street pizza?”

“Who knows? It’s too soon for another attempt at getting to the escape pod. We better talk to my Dad.”

#

Ryan walked across the airstrip. The setting sun painted the antiquated, war-machines red-gold.

‘If I do this, I do it all the way. Do I want this life? Of course, what kind of life do I have now?’

He paused beside a battered looking orbital-defence launch-vehicle. The craft was saucer shaped, about ten metres across by three thick, supported on three legs.

Resolve hardened within him “Yancy, you here?”

“Hello old boy, was hoping you’d drop by. I saw you got your lander up in the air.” Yancy appeared in the open hatch on the side of his ship. He was a balding, wiry man with a strong Silvanus accent and a black, handlebar mustache. Despite the apparent difference in their ages’ Ryan knew he was actually born a year before the other man.

“Yes, she’s space ready as well.”

“Fantastic. Always glad to see one of the old girls returned to their glory. You going to take her out for a test cruise? Once around Zod?”

“Actually, I’m thinking of visiting my son. I can get a pass to visit Earth’s moon because Joslin is original biology.”

“Envy you, old man. Wish I had the scratch to cover a trip like that.”

“When I leave I’m going to let my landing lease go...”

“Makes sense. No use renting strip space you’re not using.”

“Right, well, you know I have a junker. Our ships are the same tech. series.”

“Ah. I won’t lie, I could use some hull plating and circuits.”

“They’re yours, but I need a favour in return.” Ryan’s face was grave.

Yancy smiled. “Planning something a bit dodgy?”

“It’s just a quick transport. Your home strip is still on the central continent, isn’t it?”

“That it is, me boy. On the western coast. I’ve a lovely view of the ocean.”

“I’ll need a quick lift with no records. Two passengers, no questions, your strip to mine.”

A sparkle came to Yancy’s eyes. “Just a quick hop now is it? Just let me know when; I’ll get you there.”

“Thanks, Yancy. I appreciate this. I’ll call you with the details when I get things a little more worked out.”

“Not a problem. When can I pick up your junker?”

“Any time, just get it off my strip, so I don’t have to rent space for it. Spread the word if you want to.”

“Jolly good! Sangunis abl planeta.” Yancy snapped off a salute.

“Sangunis abl planeta.” Ryan returned the salute before starting back for his ship.

#

Ryan stepped into his apartment. The room was as filthy as ever. Joslin lay in the e-rig, occasionally making little sounds. He paused to stare at her. He looked up to the imager hung on his wall. It displayed a picture of them from years before. He was in his dress blues and she in her wedding dress. She was lovely and looked so alive. He shifted his gaze back to where she lay. Moving to her side he pressed a button on the armrest, and the interface unit lifted from her head. She blinked.

“I thought you were going to your Tech. Restorer’s event?” she said.

“I went already.” Ryan cupped her cheek affectionately.

“Oh. I was in the middle of your show. Gunther and Willa were just about to call Angel and tell her how much she hurt Rowan. I was in Gunther’s perspective. He is such a good father, he cares so much. I don’t want to miss--.”

Ryan kissed her. “It’s late, why don’t you come to bed? I’ll give you a massage.”

“Oh... No, I want to finish my show. If you like you can jack in. I’m sure Gunther and Willa will make love soon. I just don’t know how they can be so passionate after all their years together?”

“I, or one of the other techs. manipulates their biology then edits out everything that’s less than perfect.”

“Well, if you want to take the romance out of it! I’m going back to my show.”

Ryan watched as the e-interface descended over his wife’s head.

“This isn’t living. Mike, it looks like you have your man.”

#

The man was short with a wiry build. His sandy-coloured hair sat on his head in a trendy mat style that didn’t suit his oval face. “I can assure you, sir, your loved one will receive the best of care here for the rest of his or her days.”

“It’s my wife. Will financing be a problem?” Ryan stared down the twin rows of interface tanks. Each held a person suspended in a brine solution, with their head hidden by an e-interface. Tubes for feeding and waste removal were connected to the bodies.

“Does your military pension have survivor benefits?”

“Yes, she’s listed as sole recipient.”

“Then money will not be any problem. Just sign your pension over to us.”

“Suppose she ever wanted to come out?”

The short man’s face filled with professional compassion. “Sir. They never do.”

Ryan looked along the tomb-like room and shook his head. “Alright. Let’s sign the contracts.”

#

Joslin was vaguely aware of a bump. The fleeting thought that Ryan might be coming to bother her again crossed her mind, but she was fully submerged in Willa’s perspective as she planned to confront Angel. A tingle came from her cheek, but it passed. She enjoyed her show.

#

Ryan watched as the workmen slipped grav-lifts under the e-rig. He kissed his wife’s cheek. “I love you, darling. Enjoy your shows.” Tears brimmed in his eyes as the workmen pulled her from the apartment, e-rig and all.

Ryan collapsed on the couch. He’d done the laundry and cleared the floor enough for the robot vacuum to pick up the worst of the dirt. Turning on the wall screen, he scanned the responses to his ad. Three people willing to sublet. He selected one and set the date for the end of the week before going to the bedroom to let his regrets assail him.

#

Henry monitored the workmen as they delivered the cargo. The old ground-forces barracks and bomb bays were filled, and the hanger deck was filling up.

“Watch it. You break it you replace it, no matter how nice your ass is, sweet thing,” he commented through the ship’s intercom to a shapely brunette that had roughly deposited her load.

“I don’t have to take that kind of star dust, jerk!”

“Wow, you’re a feisty one. I like a bit of fire.”

“Idiot!” the woman stalked from the ship.

#

Ryan looked with distaste at the robust, Caucasian man that sat in his living-room.

“This really is first draft.” The man had slipped a disk into a portable player and put the interface over his head.

“First draft is right. Every twinge, moan and ache. You want it?”

“Depending on your price.”

“Two-hundred-thousand for the lot.”

“One-hundred-thousand. Of course if you have the deflowering of Rowan, I’d be willing to go up to three.” The man gave Ryan a too perfect smile.

Ryan fidgeted then shook his head. “No, just what I’ve shown you. One-fifty?”

“One-twenty-five. I have shipping costs to absorb, and the corporations are quite aggressive in their pursuit of people selling raw e-data.”

“One-twenty-five. Deposit the money to my account.”

“That will be rather obvious, won’t it?”

“I have it covered.”

#

Mike stood beside the operating table staring down at Ryan, who probed his abdomen where the incision had been glued closed and covered with temporary skin.

“Are they done?” asked the younger man.

“Yes. I also had a signal relay chip installed in your hand held. It will send the telemetry through the planetary communications net if you get out of rang of the units in the ATV and our satellites. I’d avoid using it, the signal might get picked up, but it’s best to prepare for all eventualities. I now have everything I need from you.” Mike paced across the room.

“Just keep your part of the bargain.”

“I will. Right now if you like.”

#

Henry watched on the internal monitors as Ryan and Mike dragged equipment, supported by grav-lifts, into the ship. They hauled their cargo to a cabin at the back of the OP’s crew section. Henry tried to shift his monitor to the cabin, but the feed had been mechanically severed.

“Want to be like that, do you? Well!” The android increased the reception of the speaker in the hall.

“Everything up to last month’s backup is in the feed unit. You’ll need to add anything that comes after,” said Mike.

“And the time?”

“The rate is set. It should take fifteen years. The systems will be fully normalised. There should be enough time so long as Rowan doesn’t burst a blood vessel trying to use her power.”

“Good. Here. I filled it out. After I... well... you know. The ATV and anything else I leave on this planet is all yours, as long as you pay off my credit balance.”

“More than happy to.”

“Thanks Mike. Why do all this?”

There was a long pause. “I have several reasons, none of which you need to know. If you’re still curious when this is over, ask me again. I’ll send you a picture of my wife.”

Chapter 4

ON DEATH AND DYING

"Fool!" bellowed Hunoin, her otter-like body trembling with rage.

The felinezoid on the pool deck tried to leap clear, but the patio chair altered course mid-flight and slammed into his head.

"Relax, my sweet Hunoin. Calm, quiet, ease your thoughts," spoke a mental voice as smooth as satin.

Commander Hunoin rested against the entry steps of the large swimming pool she lay in. A glass greenhouse surrounded the pool area, and potted plants sat on the tile deck.

"Rest, preserve your strength, breath deeply," the voice soothed.

Hunoin opened her mind and let the owner of the voice have free rein. "My dear husband, my love, my mate, my Stransy, what would I do without you?" Hunoin felt a warm, wet, otterzoid body slide up beside her. She stared at her husband. He was slightly smaller than her, and his colour was a light mahogany, unlike her alga green.

"What would we do without each other?" Stransy lay his head over his wife's back and made a purring sound.

“You were worth every credit I paid for you, my love,” remarked the female.

A bell chimed. The felinezoid moved to the greenhouse’s door and peered out. “The specialist has arrived, commander.”

Hunoin snorted. “Which specialist, fool, is it a medic or something of use?”

Stransy wrinkled his brow and slipped away from his spouse. “It’s the assassin. The medic is stuck in traffic with its human slave. Why can’t the primitives build an effective transport grid?”

Hunoin splashed her paws at her husband’s perpetual gripe. “Show him in.”

The felinezoid pulled the door open. A man-sized creature with a bat-like body and wings, as well as a black head and neck like a snake’s entered. It walked on four legs, keeping the black wings folded tight against its back. When it reached Hunoin, it sat on its haunches, revealing that each forelimb ended in a seven fingered hand, with an opposable thumb. The forefingers were tipped with claws.

“You requested my presence, Commander Hunoin.” The winged alien spoke with a cultured voice and made supple sweeping gestures with its hands. It turned to look at Stransy. “And such a pleasure to see you again, Stransy. I swear, you grow more attractive with each passing moon. May the Great Flyer of the Skies bless your house and all the hatchlings within it.”

“Thank you, Croell, hatched of Creen, flown by Brock, may the shells of your eggs be strong.”

Croell made a sound like sandpaper and its chest shook. “I should know better than to trade niceties with a telepath.”

“Actually, I’ve studied batla culture. Your species is truly fascinating. A culture of worth and greatness.”

“Once we have subdued this world, I will have to take you to my aerie. It is humble but worthy of the Great Flyer of the Skies’ favour in its keeping of tradition.”

“Croell, as pleasant as this may be, I asked you here for a reason,” interrupted Hunoin.

“Yes?” The winged alien focussed its beady black eyes on the female otterzoid.

“I have a problem. My immune system is proving inadequate to the task of surviving on this planet.”

“May the Great Flyer of the Skies bless you and keep you at her right hand until you may be laid anew.”

“I have not given up!”

“As you wish. What do you need from me?”

“The medics believe that they can adapt my immune system to deal with this world by grafting in DNA from a native creature.”

“If that is the way of your species, the Great Flyer of the Skies flies many winds. What do you need of me?”

Hunoin swished lazily in the water. “For the DNA graft to be effective it must be adapted to otterzoid biology. When we crashed the medical bay of our ship was damaged. We do not have the means to do the adaptation.”

Croell blinked and tapped his hands together. “The human defenders, Rowan and Gunther I believe, have already had their DNA adjusted to be compatible with otterzoid traits.”

“Exactly. You must bring me Rowan, the female. She will be most compatible.”

“I will bring you her corpse, commander.”

“No!” said Stransy.

“My mate is correct. For best results the DNA should be drawn from a living host. The medicals can then make a perpetual cell culture. Once the cell culture is started, we can dispose of the human.” Hunoin pulled herself up on her forelegs and stared at Croell.

“Why call for my services?” The batla seemed unimpressed with his host’s show of strength.

“Because this is important, and you are the best assassin in known space,” explained Stransy.

“Flattery, my good Stransy, though, as the human’s say, it does ‘damn me with faint praise’. I will take the contract.”

“Good. Speak to my aid, he has been instructed to provide you with anything you may need.”

“That will not be necessary. I brought my own equipment.” Croell placed his two hands together and made a bowing motion toward the otterzoids. “Always a pleasure. I do so hope we have time for a game of Gunlok before I leave, Hunoin. Worthy opponents are so hard to find.” Dropping to all fours, the winged alien left the pool area.

#

Rowan watched as the liquid residue from the dart ran through the gas-chromatograph in the university’s chemistry lab.

“Anything?” asked Carl.

Rowan jumped then glanced around the room. A pair of Bermuda shorts and running shoes stepped out from behind a lab desk.

“Carl, you’re blending, suppose someone walks in?” Rowan took the results of her analysis off the printer.

“Sorry. I forget sometimes.” Carl’s colour changed until he appeared as a Hispanic man.

“It’s for your own good. I don’t want to see you in some lab. Like, we’ve been friends forever.”

“OK. So what you got?”

“Just a tranquillizer. It wasn’t meant to kill.” Rowan closed her eyes and thought of her father. ‘Dad’.

‘I’m here, so’s your mother,’ came her father’s mental voice.

‘Did you catch the analysis results?’

‘Yes. I think you should come home. Make sure Carl comes with you. There is safety in numbers.’

#

Ryan sat at the console sipping his first coffee of the shift. “I’ll save you, my Rowan. I swear.” Shifting the screen to Croell he upped the batla’s adrenalin equivalent, sharpening his senses. “I want you at the top of your form, Batty.”

Shifting to Carl Ryan spiked the younger man’s insulin levels. “Give him twenty minutes then let nature take its course.”

#

Croell stood behind the open door of a van. His human slave, an emaciated man with dark hair, sat behind the wheel.

“Virtion leech venom should do the job, given human biochemistry.” Opening a suitcase, Croell extracted a glass jar of yellow liquid. Removing its lid, he dipped his claws then sealed and replaced the jar.

“Master?” asked the human driver.

“Yes, Irwin?”

“Can I please have my fix now, in case your mission runs late? I promise I won’t take it before I’m supposed to.”

Croell released the short blast of breath that served his species as a sigh. “Pathetic. Addicts of any species leave the path of the Great Flyer of the Skies. You will wait. Do not displease me, Irwin, or I will cut your ration of vilicsa in half.”

“Yes, master.”

“Good. It is almost night. We will wait for the cover of darkness.” Croell moved to a rosebush and sniffed the flowers. “Lovely. All worlds have something to offer.”

Returning to the van, he climbed into the back. “Very well, Irwin. Hunoin’s pet human said Rowan was at the college. That will be where our hunt begins.”

#

“I’m starving,” complained Carl as they walked down the dark street.

“You’re always hungry.” Rowan sounded exasperated.

“Hey, I’m a growing boy.”

“Sideways, if you keep it up.” Rowan checked to be sure they were alone then mentally picked up a pebble and tapped it against her friend’s ribs.

“Quit it!” Carl grabbed at the stone. “Hey, the Garlic Palace is just a block away, let’s grab a slice.”

“I want to get home.”

#

Ryan adjusted the endorphin levels in Rowan and Carl, lowering their inhibitions, making them reckless.

#

“I’m starving. There won’t be any of me left by the time we reach your folks’ place.” Carl pinched the skin over his stomach.

“Oh... OK. Why don’t you go to the Garlic Palace? I’ll be all right; it’s only a couple more blocks.”

“You sure?”

“Get! Fran would never forgive me, if I let your strength fail you. Beside, I kinda want to be alone to think.” Rowan made shooing motions with her hands and smiled.

“I’ll grab a slab and catch you up at Gunther and Willa’s.”

“NO ANCHOVIES!” Rowan yelled as Carl ran down a side street.                                                 #

“Excellent.” Ryan watched from Rowan’s eyes as she was left alone. He checked the other monitors and used a bogus alarm call to divert the patrol car that was about to turn onto the street. “I’m sorry, Row, it’s the only way.”

Pressing a button, he shifted perspective to an aerial view. The screen caption read “Croell-Batla-Assassin.” He checked the monitors. The alien clone’s emotional level was hyped.

“You love the hunt. You amoral prick. Well, hunt away.”

#

Rowan heard the whoosh in time to throw herself to the ground. The batla swept over her. Focussing her thoughts she picked up a rock and threw it at her attacker. The batla back-winged. The rock sped past then cut-back and slammed into Croell’s side.

“Very good, human. It is rare that even an otterzoid born could land a blow on me. I salute you.” Croell swept up and away. Catching a tailwind, he turned and dove towards his prey.

Rowan scrambled to her feet and bolted toward a distant lit shop window. She heard Croell getting closer. Focussing all her might, she pushed with her mind.

#

Ryan clasped his hands in front of him. A month ago he would have increased her powers in this situation; now he let the defaults hold.

“I hate this,” he muttered.

#

Croell felt something like a punch in the gut when he grabbed at the girl.

“Arrrr!” Rowan screamed as a fore-claw scraped her shoulder, tearing her sweater and slicing the skin beneath. Adrenalin gave her an added push, and she drove her power against the snout of her attacker.

The telekinetic blow left Croell dazed. Blurrily he flapped into the sky and watched as his prey staggered toward the lighted window. He flicked his tongue, tasting the wind. “Blood.” Examining his claw he saw bits of Rowan’s skin. “Good, I will let the poison do its work. I have time to run my prey to ground.”

#

Ryan adjusted Rowan’s adrenalin level to keep her active, as she staggered down the street. “They’ll be there to get you in a minute, I promise.”

#

‘Daddy, help! It hurts. Oh star dust, it hurts!’ Rowan’s mental cry blasted through Gunther’s brain.

“NO! ROWAN!” Gunther closed his eyes and focussed his mind. He saw through his daughter’s eyes.

“Willa, Rowan’s hurt. She’s at the corner of West and Main. Get the car!” Gunther projected his thoughts outward. ‘Carl! Where in the divine’s myriad names are you? You were supposed to be with her. West and Main, NOW!’

#

Carl waited at a table in the Garlic Palace. The place was done up roadhouse style, and the smell of Italian cooking permeated the air. He’d just finished his second slice and was debating on having a third as he waited for the slab to cook.

‘Carl! Where in the divine’s myriad names are you? You were supposed to be with her. West and Main, NOW!’

#

Rowan felt her mind fogging. Her body ached, and she was so tired. The sound of wings approached, but she was too blurry to focus. She trembled and sweat poured off her.

Croell sped toward his prey. Ten metres to go, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three.

Something slammed into his side, grappling his wing.

“What?” Croell looked down. The vague outline of a human could be seen, his colours blending into the background.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” Carl clutched Croell’s wing with one arm and drove his free fist into the alien’s ribs.

Croell heard a cracking sound and felt pain. Flapping hard he pulled his unwanted passenger higher into the air.

#

“Star dust! Can’t let old Carl get killed, that would be too much for one season.” Ryan accessed Angel’s controls and increased her adrenalin levels, while triggering an infusion of oxygen charged artificial blood from her built-in drug pack.

#

Angel soared over the city, speeding to where Gunther had told her Rowan was. She drove her wings against the air, moving faster than she ever had before.

The shadowy image of the batla came into view. It seemed to be wrestling with something that was hard to see.

“Carl,” hissed Angel. She dove towards the winged alien and its unwelcome passenger.

#

Gunther brought the black SUV to a screeching halt and slammed the gear shift into park.

Willa had her door open before the vehicle stopped rocking and threw herself at her daughter, who slumped against a brick wall.

“ROWAN!” Gunther’s bellow split the night, and he reached his daughter seconds after his wife.

“Mom, Dad, it hurts. It hurts. I...” Rowan started to sob.

“It’s OK, honey. We’re here. It’s OK,” breathed Willa.

Gunther reached into Rowan’s mind and blocked the worst of the pain. “Get her into the truck; we have to get her home.”

“Carl and Angel?” asked Willa.

“Can look after themselves. We need to find out what’s causing this.”

#

Croell hissed with pain then did an aerial spin. Carl tried to cling to the alien, but the centrifugal force was too much, and he was torn away.

“STAR DUST!” Carl bellowed.

Angel heard the cry then saw the bright yellow form of Carl falling. Tucking her wings, she dove. The wind tore at her face, and water streamed from her eyes. She caught him under the armpits then spread her wings. The strain pulled muscles and wrenched tendons, but she held on, using her momentum to stall his and bring a balance. Barely two metres off the ground she felt the forces reach equilibrium, and she let him go.

Carl landed, crumpling into a heap.

#

Croell gasped with pain. The delicate ribs of his chest were shattered. Gritting his teeth, he flew towards his van, leaving his doomed prey.

#

Ryan added a clotting agent to Croell’s blood to stop the bleeding into his lung cavity but did nothing to lessen the batla’s pain. “Poor baby bat, did you forget that to fly you need light bones? Boo Hoo.”

He shifted his screen to Rowan. She lay in the back of the SUV. He watched through Willa’s eyes as she tore off Rowan’s sweater and inspected the scratch on her shoulder. The readout showed that Rowan was drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Poor Row, it’s only for a little while. Just a little while.” Ryan suppressed a shudder of sympathy.

Chapter 5

DENIAL

“It’s poison. I went through the alien database and cross referenced it with human medicine. I think it’s Virtion leech venom.” Willa stepped into Rowan’s room. The furnishings were simple, elegant and functional, made out of simulated wood. Potted plants grew on the top of a dresser in front of her bay window. Rowan lay in her bed, blankets pulled up under her chin. Sweat poured off her, and she was shivering, at best semiconscious. Gunther sat in a vanity chair beside her, he didn’t seem to hear his wife.

“What can we do?” Angel sat in a kitchen chair on the other side of Rowan. Her wings were folded against her back, and she wore a black, lace bra.

Willa hung her head. “The only cure is a nano-bot extraction. We don’t have the tech.”

“Could we steal it?” Carl stepped into the doorway.

“If we knew where to look, maybe. Why did you leave her? You were supposed to protect her.” Willa turned on the young man, her eyes flashing.

“I know.” Carl hung his head.

#

Fran sat on the couch in Gunther’s living-room. A TV and stereo stood in the corner. Two loungers, a coffee table and a matching love seat made up the rest of the furnishings. The phone rang and she picked it up.

“Hello.”

#

Ryan rubbed his eyes and took another hit off his coffee. He recorded Fran’s reaction to the phone call that offered Rowan’s cure in exchange for her living DNA. Then he shifted to the otterzoids.

#

Hunoin mentally returned the phone to its hook. “Primitive and cumbersome device.”

“Will you really give them the cure?” Stransy swam to the edge of their pool.

“Of course not, my love. This is working out well. We are rid of a beetle in our hutch, and I will be cured. What is it the humans say? ‘Two birds with one stone’.”

Stransy splashed his forepaws at his spouse’s quip as Huroin slipped back into the pool.

"Beloved, none of those who go to meet the humans can know of your deception. The human, Gunther, would sense any trickery."

"You are the better part of me. All those I send will believe they are bringing a real cure. In fact, they will be. The nano-bots have been programmed to link to the venom."

“But my love...”

Hunion splashed her paws at her own cleverness. “The nano-bots will link with the venom and neutralize it, but they will resist being purged. After the cell culture has taken, all we need do is transmit a deactivate command. The nano-bots will release the toxin then Rowan will die.”

Stransy splashed his paws and swam in tight circles around his mate.

#

“Hey man, you look nova blasted,” said the twenty-something, copper-skinned woman that entered the control-room. Her hair was jet-black and fell to the middle of her back while her face was pleasant and open, with large, brown eyes and full lips.

“Hello to you too, Arlene.” Ryan turned his chair to face the new comer.

Arlene smiled. “Sorry. It’s just you really do look beat.”

“Rough couple of days.” Ryan surrendered his chair, and Arlene took a seat.

“I heard about Joslin. It’s not your fault.”

“How’d you find out about that?”

“Small planet. Studio gossip really. She chose to be an e-addict, no one made her.”

“Maybe. You ever wonder about what we do here?”

“No, it would just upset me. Look, this is probably too early and all, but... well...”

“What?”

Arlene blushed and bit her lip. “When you feel ready, if you’d like, my group would be interested in dating you. I know Dee and Stella both think you’re nice, and Don likes you. Jack is a bit of a question mark. He always takes a while to warm up to new people. It would be nice to balance the numbers, male and female.”

“Thanks Arlene, but--.”

”I know it’s too soon, and you’ve never been in a group before, but don’t knock it. We aren’t into really kinky stuff, and everyone has their own study for when you need to be alone. Just think about it.”

“OK, but.” Ryan smiled at the earnest young woman. “It will be a while. I think I need to do some things before I consider anything else.”

“That’s all I ask, and I really am sorry about Joslin.”

“OK. Oh look, can you do me a favour?”

“Sure.”

Ryan fidgeted. “After shift tomorrow I was thinking of dropping into the Garlic Palace. Can you cover for me?”

“Ryan, if you get caught going into the set region, they’ll can us both.”

“Come on, we all do it. It’s the best pizza on the planet! I’ll dress the part. Just another extra back from planting trees.” Ryan shrugged.

“OK, but only because it’s you. Get some sleep, you really do look nova blasted.”

“Feel worse. Arlene... thanks, I appreciate the invite.”