Date: 2020-08-02 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Science Fiction
Description: The Hell Drivers were built for one reason, to make the enemy wet their battle pants. Composed of clowns, bears, wolves, doctors and even Death itself, this legendary squad of battle rigs was based on the most common fears in the galaxy and piloted by the biggest bad assess the Alliance could find. Now they're needed once more, and Commander Blayse Vides has filled the terror weapons with the only men he can trust to do the job...a dozen clones of himself. Along with The Oncilla, their job is to get Ambassador Decote and his family off of Mirada before the planet joins the enemy empire. It's t
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services LLC - Kdp

SEND IN THE CLONES

Shattered Alliance, Book 2

BENJAMIN WALLACE

Copyright © 2020 by Benjamin Wallace.

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Benjamin Wallace Books.

1

You do anything for too long and it tends to get boring. Even if it’s something you enjoy, something good. The galaxy had been in a relative state of peace for nearly a century when the universe decided to shake things up with a little chaos.

The Alliance had held it together for as long as they could. But even peace and prosperity could build enough resentment to start a fight. All it took was another option, and longtime allies became adversaries. Friends became enemies. True, sometimes haters became lovers. But it was pretty rare and the opposite was much more common.

What was left of the longstanding planetary federation was at war with the Hama Empire. This heretofore unknown enemy popped up out of the dark edges of known space and started playing rough right off the bat. They tore apart the fabric of peace, lit it on fire and warmed their feet by it while they sat back and planned on seizing control of damned near everything. The worlds of the shattered Alliance were at each other’s throats.

And that was just the way Commander Blayse Vides liked it.

It was tragic. He wasn’t denying that. People were dying, and he would be the first to admit that death was a bad thing. He hated war as much as the next man. War was Hell. They said war was Hell for a reason. So, of course, he didn’t like war. What kind of person would actually say they like war? Only a monster could say something like that.

On the other hand, if they were going to go ahead and have a war anyway, they’d better be damn sure to invite him.

Commander Vides had been born, raised and trained to kick ass on a galactic scale, and ever since those damn Hamagonians decided to poke their heads up out of their hole in the galaxy and start causing problems, there was a whole lot of ass that needed kicking.

Right now, that ass was on the planet below him.

Cocooned in his Hell Driver armor, Blayse studied his helmet’s heads-up display. The interface was almost as old as he was. That was nearly a hundred and forty years if you were counting the time they had both spent on ice as a part of Project Svalbard. He’d spent more than twice as long in suspended animation as he had breathing real air. Despite that time in storage, the rig’s systems were working perfectly.

If only the same could be said for himself. After they had thawed him out, it had taken almost eight weeks for the tingling in his legs to stop. Two straight months of pins and needles was enough to drive even the toughest grunt mad.

Fortunately, the sensation had finally subsided. Unfortunately, a facial tic took its place. Every now and then he’d throw a wink someone’s way. Normally it wouldn’t be much of a concern. So far, it had only gotten him slapped once and he was pretty sure he would have gotten slapped without it, so it was something he could probably have lived with. The problem came when he was rigged up in his Hell Driver armor.

The sensors in the rig’s helmet weren’t accustomed to the twitch. They monitored and responded to every muscle in his face and activated different functions depending on his movements and expressions. It was designed as a way to enable silent, hands-free control over the powered armor. He could launch a rocket with a raised eyebrow or call in an airstrike by sticking out his tongue. But the tic was something new and the armor had a hard time interpreting it. So, it guessed.

Maybe it was because his mind was on it or maybe it was for no reason at all, but the twitch happened as if on cue. He felt the left corner of his mouth tighten involuntarily and pull up.

The helmet chimed an affirmative ring that it had received the signal and confirmed the command it guessed he was asking for. “Detonate armor.”

“Detonate? No, dammit!” Vides shouted. “Undo. Undo. Undo!”

“Detonation deactivated.”

Vides grunted in frustration. He liked being in control. He had worked his whole life to lead a command, and not being able to control his own face aggravated him beyond words.

The commander turned his focus back to the readouts in his helmet. It was displaying information about the planet below. Temperature, gravity, atmospheric composition and local time. All of the readings were as Earthlike as you could get and still call it an alien world. Right now, his destination was the equivalent of a summer day in the South of France.

Their similar weather had been one of the reasons Earth and Mirada had gotten along so well for so long. Small talk between the races came easy when you could gripe about the heat or complain about the rain.

Mirada was one of the founding members of the Alliance. In fact, it was the first civilization the people of Earth had encountered when they’d first set out among the stars. Mirada’s own version of SETI had guided the Earthlings to their system, and the Miradians had welcomed the visitors with open arms.

The similarities between the two worlds were astounding. The peoples of each planet were humanoid, roughly the same size and dedicated about the same amount of time to hairstyles and fashion. The Miradian culture was devoid of the truly offensive practices of slavery, cannibalism or cat worship. And their technological achievements mirrored Earth’s earlier history. They even had their own rockets and had achieved orbital flight. Given another century, it may have been possible that Mirada would have discovered Earth instead of the other way around.

The Miradians hadn’t known war for a long time. Even before First Contact with Earth, they had been at peace for a generation. By now it was all but a foreign concept to them.

But war was coming for them now. They had invited it upon themselves. They had called for its attention, laid out the red carpet and told it to pull up a seat.

After the Atrocity on Shandor, as the media phrased it, federated planets began to peel away from the Alliance. Some embraced the Hama Empire, while others took the opportunity to go it on their own once more. No one had expected Mirada to go. The planetary leaders surprised everyone when they had declared their intentions to leave the Alliance and join with the Hamagonians. They gave the Alliance Security Council a week’s notice. Six days had passed. In 24 hours, Earth’s oldest ally would be playing for the other team.

Vides had never paid much mind to politics—he found it dishonest and was proud that what he did, though very violent, was much more forthcoming. But the situation made his mission all the easier. If there was one thing he hated, it was a traitor. If there were two things, they were a traitor and people that turned up their noses at donuts. The list could go on to include banal conversationalists, pompous pricks and the fifth sequel of any series, but the list would always start with traitor—provided the list was being ordered from most hated to least hated—because traitors were the worst.

“Vides!” The voice of an angel sang in his ear and brought his mind back to the business at hand. “Are you awake in there?”

“Sure thing, Genie.” He gathered his thoughts and examined the readouts once more. They were coming up on the drop zone. He and the beautiful Priscilla, notorious criminal, smuggler and babe were dropping together. This made him smile. He liked doing anything together with her.

Vides used to get the shakes before a drop. But that was a long time ago.

There was a bump as his capsule was fed into the firing tube. He grinned while awaiting the first hit of the mission. The kick of the launch always told him it was go time. Yeah, the force didn’t feel the best, but it was that first touch of discomfort on a mission that told you things were getting real. There was no use expecting any gentle treatment until you were Earthside once again.

Then it hit—WHAMBO! He was fired from the barrel like a literal weapon. Because that’s what he was. A weapon. Literally. And that weapon was aimed squarely at Mirada.

The explosive force propelled him out into space. Then there was nothing. No weight. No sound. Commander Vides was alone with his thoughts. And right now, he wasn’t really processing much of anything, so he just enjoyed the silence.

Yeah, he used to get the shakes before a drop. But that was a long time ago. About a hundred and twenty years ago.

2

The villa overlooked the bluest lake in Mirada’s northern hemisphere. Its shallow depth and clarity made the few boats that plied the waters appear as if they were floating in air instead of on the body’s placid surface.

The Rangjata trees that lined the lakeshore had just blossomed the week prior, and bursts of the purple flower were reflected in the water nearest the shore. Their fragrance scented the air and with every breeze, a wave of nostalgia washed over her. It was her favorite time of year. And it could be the last time she ever experienced it.

Natlia’s memories were interrupted by her husband throwing open yet another suitcase, slamming it on the table and throwing things at it with little regard for whether they made it inside or not. She was leaving everything she had ever known: her friends, her family and her entire history was here. Everything she had ever known was on Mirada. He was going home, but he was more upset about it than anyone.

“We have to hurry, my love,” he said as he disappeared from the room once more to collect something else to throw at the suitcase.

She looked at the picture she had been cradling in her arms. It was of the two of them on the day they were married. Standing on the shores of the very lake their villa now overlooked. The water was as clear that day as it was now. Their whole life had been in front of them. That was a great day.

Cullin came back into the room with an armful of clothes destined for the luggage and saw her standing there, lost in her memory. “Natlia, we must hurry.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” She set the picture back on the shelf. It would stay here with everything else. She took one more deep breath and let the sweet scent of the Rangjata blooms seep in to her memory. She would miss Mirada’s seasons the most. She heard that Earth only had four. It was going to take some adjusting.

But Earth was to be their home until the war’s end—if there was an end to the madness that had gripped the galaxy. It had come on suddenly. Everything had changed too quickly to comprehend. Now she had to weigh what mattered to her most. She had to decide what to take and what to abandon to looters or government confiscation. Anything of purely sentimental value would be discarded by vandals without a second thought, and she wanted desperately to protect the treasures from such treatment. But even they had to be left behind.

It wasn’t fair. From its very beginning, Mirada had been a part of the Alliance. She had been born a citizen of the Alliance. And overnight it had disappeared. Now they lived in a world where loyalty was being questioned, and a pledge to peace wasn’t the answer anyone was looking for. For months, people she had known her entire life were asking her where her allegiance would lie should a deal be made with Hama. She never could answer. Mirada was still her home, but with the state of the galaxy, it was a world she no longer recognized.

None of it made sense. Earth and Mirada had their differences, but they had always been inconsequential—little more than a source of jokes and friendly ribbing. The two peoples had embraced one another ever since their mutual discovery. Free trade had followed, and the people of both worlds knew a kinship unlike any other in the galaxy.

Even the cultures meshed. Entertainers from Earth were some of Mirada’s biggest heroes. And while their population was somewhat smaller, Miradian comedians had found a disproportionate amount of success Earthside. Mirada’s musicians were another story. The charts were filled with Earth singers and bands. Mirada had to pass laws to encourage the growth and promotion of local talent. What it boiled down to was that Miradian music was so bad that it had to be mandated.

The complete lack of musical talent on the planet was a sore spot for many. They defended their unpopular artists with an insistence that it was culture that made it sound off to Earth people and that off-worlders just wouldn’t understand, but they knew it sucked. They found most Miradian music as grating as those off-planet did and primarily listened to artists from other worlds themselves.

But Natlia was thankful that Miradian music was terrible. If it had been any good, she never would have met Cullin. But that was a long time ago. Now Cullin Decote was Earth’s man on Mirada. Or, he had been until earlier in the week. His status had shifted from Alliance liaison to Earth Ambassador in a matter of moments. And their lives had changed just as fast.

“You know you can’t take that,” he said. His voice snapped her out of her trance. She was still holding the picture, and he had already filled his suitcase and grabbed another. She wasn’t even sure how the picture had ended up in her hands.

“We have the digitals,” he said. Always the diplomat, he measured his voice as not to upset her. He wasn’t commanding or ordering her to do anything. Just conveying the reality of the new situation. “We need to leave the pictures.”

“I’m sorry. I was just thinking about that day.” Natlia smiled at him and set the picture face-down on the shelf. Her eye was drawn by his trophy on the shelf in front of her. Before she knew it, the award from the music academy was in her hand. “What about this?”

Cullin stopped grabbing things and turned back to her. He dropped what was in his hand into the luggage and moved across the room. He took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead. It was comforting. And it lasted only a moment. “I know this is difficult. But we don’t have time for memories right now.” He let her go and put the award back on the shelf. “We’re not leaving forever. It’s just for now. We’ll be coming home soon. This will all work out.”

There was some comfort in his words. Maybe he was right. She hoped he was right. He used to be right a lot. But he never could have predicted the House’s voting to leave the Alliance. No one could.

She decided it was probably best to get back to panic-packing and turned away from the distractions on the bookshelf. Their son was standing silently in the doorway, watching his father race about. Natlia stood up straight and tried to appear less worried. She adopted her calm mom voice. It was the one she used whenever he hurt himself and she was doing her best not to freak out. “What is it, sweetie?”

Her husband appeared at her side and put an arm around her. Most husbands believed that putting an arm around their wife meant everything was okay when they talked to their kids. It was a strange belief, but he matched it with his own version of the calm mom voice. It was more practiced than hers. “Hey, champ, are you all done packing for our trip?”

Treye was barely nine, and he was timid enough to begin with. He shook his head gingerly.

She felt the arm on her shoulder tense up.

“Why not, buddy?” Cullin asked without breaking the calm tone.

“I got scared,” Treye said.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, bud. I told you, we’re just going on a trip. It’s going to be exciting. You finally get to see where dad comes from. And, I promise you, it’s a pretty great place.”

Treye nodded as his father spoke but ultimately disagreed. “I’m not scared about that.”

“Well, then why are you scared?” Natlia asked.

“There’s a clown in my closet,” the boy answered. But even he didn’t sound convinced by the odd statement.

“Oh, buddy, there isn’t a clown in your closet,” her husband said with a laugh. “I’m sure it’s just some weird trick of the light or maybe your clothes.”

The boy squinted his face up and thought about it for a moment. He shook his head again. “No, dad, I’m pretty sure it’s a clown.”

Cullin’s communicator rang. He pulled his arm from her shoulder and looked at the device mounted on his wrist. “I need to take this.”

“Who is it?” she asked.

“A friend,” he said.

“Is it the same friend that told you Mirada wasn’t going to leave the Alliance?” she said, remembering halfway through the statement to maintain her calm mom voice for Treye’s sake.

“He’s our best chance,” her husband responded as he rushed out of the room. “I need to take this. Can you handle this… clown thing, please?”

She turned her frustrated smile into a loving grin that she aimed at Treye. “A clown?”

“A clown,” he confirmed.

“Like the funny clown from the restaurant?”

“No,” Treye said. “He doesn’t seem funny at all.”

She offered her hand. “Why don’t we go ask this clown what he’s doing in your closet? Okay?”

Treye nodded and took her hand.

A crash outside startled her and she let go. It was a thud and a shriek of metal, and for the life of her she couldn’t imagine what could make a noise like that.

“Wait here. Okay, sweetie?”

She raced to the front of the house and joined Cullin at the window. “What was that?”

He just nodded outside. A long black government car had stopped in the driveway. Her husband was a dignitary, and long black cars in their driveway were hardly out of the ordinary. The tank coming down the drive and running over her planter boxes was much more out of place. Soldiers were rushing into the courtyard and taking up defensive positions behind what planters the armored vehicle hadn’t crushed.

The door to the government car opened and a man in a black suit stepped out.

“What did he tell you?” she asked.

“I’m sure this is nothing.”

“They don’t bring tanks to nothing,” Natlia said.

“It’s not a tank,” he said and turned her away from the window. “It’s an APC. Like an armored car.”

“Also not often brought to nothing.”

“It’s just a misunderstanding,” he insisted.

“A misunderstanding?”

“That’s right,” he said. “I’m sure it’s an escort. To get us safely to our ship.”

“Okay. That is something that would make sense,” she agreed. “Given the circumstances.”

“Right,” he reassured her and himself. “It makes total sense.”

They looked out the window as a second armored vehicle pulled into the courtyard.

“But, you know,” Cullin said. “It wouldn’t hurt to hide.”

“Hide?” She realized she was just repeating what he said in the form of a question, but her mind was still trying to accept the front yard full of army men.

“Take Treye and hide in his room. Tell him it’s a game or something.”

“Cullin, I—”

He took her gently by the shoulders. He was now using the calm voice he used on adults. He was so good at that. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll talk to him and everything will be fine.”

“What’s going on? Is that a tank? Cool!”

Treye had always been quiet, but he had somehow moved directly between them and planted his face to the window without them knowing it. His finger bounced from one soldier to another and his lips moved as he counted each one to himself.

Cullin looked back out the window and then around the room. He dashed over to the fireplace and grabbed a model spaceship from its cradle on the mantel. “I want you to go play in your room with Mommy for a little while. Okay, Treye?” He handed the ship to their son. “Here, take Dad’s spaceship. I know how much you’ve always wanted to play with it.”

Treye hesitated. “You said to never touch it.”

“I know!” It was an uncharacteristic snap. But only a momentary one. He regained his calm. “I know. But now, it’s okay. Take it.”

Treye smiled as he studied the model. He had always wanted to play with it, but her husband had always insisted that it was a collectible, not a toy. Now their son was making rocket noises and flying it through his imagination.

Her husband ushered them out of the room and she took their son by the shoulder. “Let’s go play a game.”

They rushed down the hall, the boy making engine sounds the whole way as the model swooped, swished and flew around the turns in the hallway and into his bedroom.

She looked around the room and had to fight the feeling of leaving it behind as well. Her most precious memories were in this room. It had been Treye’s nursery, and she had spent some of her happiest moments snuggling with him and rocking him in the corner near the window.

“What game do you want to play, Mom?” Treye was bouncing on the bed now. He may have been talking to her, but his focus was still on the rocket in his hand.

“Hide and seek,” she said while studying the room for a hiding place. The closet. The closet was obvious, but there was an access door to a storage area through the closet, buried under the endless interests of a 9-year-old boy.

She took his hand and led him across the room. Her fear was growing, and she had to be mindful not to drag him across the room. She didn’t have to be calm, but she had to act calm for his sake. This permission to panic comforted her as she began to freak out even more. But she sounded calm. “Let’s hide in the closet.”

“We can’t,” Treye said, and pulled back. “The clown is in there.”

She smiled at him as she opened the closet door. “Now, let’s not be silly.”

“See?” Treye said and pointed to the closet.

She stifled a scream but couldn’t help but back away from the sight. The clown was sitting on the closet floor with its knees pulled up to its chest. It didn’t move; it didn’t even look toward them. She took a second look at the clown and realized it wasn’t even a person at all. It was made of metal. She took a cautious step toward it.

Even seated, the clown’s head rose to nearly five feet. The face was punctuated with a round red nose over a permanent blood-red smile. Its eyebrows were pitched in a permanent scowl. The white metal face makeup was marred with scorch marks and potted with dents and dings. And it was all topped with a rainbow wig ringing the top of his head.

“I told you,” Treye said as the rocket in his hands whooshed away from the closet and back up onto his bed, where he took it to greater and greater heights with every bounce on the mattress.

Natlia turned back to the clown. She couldn’t even comprehend its presence, but it was terrifying and she fought back the urge to panic.

Things became even more terrifying when the clown turned to her, put a finger to its lips and said, “Shhh.”

3

His wife hadn’t been out of the room for more than a minute when she came racing back in, pushing her son ahead of her and constantly looking over her shoulder. Cullin spun back and forth, his attention split between the small military force gathering in his front yard and whatever it was that clearly had his wife worried. “What is it? You need to go back! You need to hide!”

She struggled to find words and began several sentences without conveying a single thought. “There’s a… In the… Back in his… There’s… It’s…”

“Are they back there, too?” he asked, but she just kept trying to form words.

Her panicked rambling was interrupted by a knock on the door. Everything was still. Even the air in the room stopped moving. It didn’t start again until a second rap on the door started everyone panicking again.

“Hide,” his wife whispered to their son. “But not in your room. Hide somewhere else.”

“Okay, Mama.” Treye appeared unconcerned. He clenched the spaceship against his chest and disappeared into the back of the house. Once the boy was out of sight, Cullin put a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder and moved to open the door.

Before he could reach it, the door came to him. The wood shattered like glass and blasted splinters into the room. Smoke rolled after it and filled the foyer. He turned away from the blast and put himself between the danger and Natlia. The explosion had blown the sense of reality right out of him and as he held his wife tight, he struggled to process what was happening. Through sheer strength of will, he forced his senses back to the present and looked at Natlia. “Are you okay?”

She nodded twice. The first time was hesitant and uncertain, but the second assured him she was uninjured and he turned back to the door to face whatever was about to come through it. He didn’t know what to expect—soldiers, grenades or a hail of bullets.

Instead, a figure filled the doorway and stood patiently in the fading haze left by the smoke. “Mr. Decote. May I come in?”

Cullin took a sharp breath that he planned on turning into accusations and threats. But the acrid air of the smoke filled his lungs and he doubled over in a coughing fit. It wasn’t the strong, assured presence he was hoping to project. This frustration further aggravated the coughing, and it wasn’t until he felt a reassuring hand on his back that he got it under control. He stood up and found that it wasn’t his wife’s hand.

The figure from the doorway had taken the liberty of entering uninvited and was helping him to a chair. “Could someone please get Mr. Decote a glass of water?” the man asked the room. He started patting Cullin on the back. “I know that stuff can really get you coughing.”

The coughing had brought a fair amount of water to his eyes, but the uniformed figure was obviously Mirada Intelligence. He knew many in the Ministry, but this wasn’t a voice he recognized. Cullin choked back a final cough and finally got his words out. “Who are you?”

“I am Administrator Weyland, Mr. Decote. I apologize for my rude entrance, but may I ask why you didn’t open the door when I knocked?”

“The one you blew up?” Cullin snapped.

The Administrator acted hurt. “I knocked two or three times, Mr. Decote. I thought maybe you were ignoring me.”

His eyes and lungs finally cleared and Cullin was able to stand up. The Administrator didn’t stop him but, as he rose, Miradian soldiers filed into the room. Every one of them was armed with a rifle. One had a glass of water.

“Oh, yes. Bring that here,” Weyland said with a wave to the soldier holding the water. He took the glass and handed it to Cullin. “Here you go. Drink this.”

“Aside from destroying my home,” Cullin said, pushing away the glass. He was upset about the door and, more specifically, blowing up his door, but he had tired of the menacing politeness act years ago. It was a cliché in the world of diplomacy, and Weyland wasn’t bringing anything new to it. “What is it you want, Administrator Weyland?”

The Administrator took a drink from the glass and handed it back to the soldier. “We are here to make sure that you and your family remain safe during this time of transition between our two planets, Mr. Decote. As you know, things are changing quite rapidly.”

“Not for another 36 hours,” Cullin said. The treaty wouldn’t dissolve until then.

Weyland smiled. “We figure better safe than sorry. You are an important man from your world, and there’s no telling what kind of dangerous element might seek to do you harm during these tumultuous times.”

“Where is Gravitz?” Cullin asked.

“Back in his office, I imagine. He’s a busy man these days with all the changes that are happening.”

“He gave me assurances.”

“Of course he did. That’s why we’re here. To ensure your safety.”

“You blew up our house,” Natlia said.

“Just the door,” Weyland clarified. “When you didn’t answer, I grew concerned that something had happened. I feel like I’m repeating myself an awful lot here. We can get you a new door.”

Cullin examined the soldiers. He didn’t recognize the insignia on their sleeves, but they looked like regular army. That didn’t make him feel any better about having a squad of armed men in his living room. “Gravitz didn’t mention the military.”

Conceding the point, Weyland smiled and nodded. “Things are rather fluid right now.” He became distracted by a piece of debris on his shoulder and brushed it away. “Taking back your independence can be a little messy. We didn’t want to be caught off guard.”

“The Alliance has made no threats against your move for—”

Weyland rolled his eyes in the most dramatic fashion. When his gaze came to rest, it was on one of the soldiers. “Where is the child?”

“No.” Natlia lurched forward. A soldier caught her and held her back.

“There is no need to fret, Mrs. Decote. Your son will be fine. We just need to ensure his safety as well.” Weyland nodded and several of the soldiers moved into the back of the house to search for their son. “You two really should relax. How many times must I assure you? We are here for your protection.”

The Administrator placed his hands behind his back and began to wander around the room. He strolled past a shelf containing some of their family photos. He picked one up and examined the image. “You really do have a beautiful family, Mr. Decote.” He turned the photo around. “You all look so happy here. Where was this photo taken?”

The disingenuous familiarity was the most aggravating part of the menacingly polite routine. Just putting hands on his family’s picture sent a wave of rage pulsing through Cullin’s veins. The possibility of betrayal by a friend further enraged him. He tried to fight it back. The man he knew wouldn’t have let them down. He couldn’t have a hand in this. “I need to speak to Gravitz now. Just let me talk to him and we can sort this whole thing out.”

Weyland set the photo back on the shelf and went to great pains to ensure it was properly aligned with the others. He adjusted it several times while responding. “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Decote. Mr. Gravitz sent me here. He was very concerned for your family.”

“That makes no sense,” Cullin said, mostly to himself. He’d known the man for years. They were like family. Their families vacationed together. Their wives were best friends. “How could he do this?”

“Because he’s a damned two-faced Sisyphus, that’s how.”

The voice was heavily accented with a thick drawl, like it was coming from a silver-screen cowboy, and butchered the pronunciation of Sisyphus. It startled everyone, and the room turned with a collective start. The soldiers raised their weapons to cover the man. He was stocky, built solidly and had a swagger to match the cadence of his voice.

The soldiers started barking orders. Weyland just smiled. The Administrator seemed fascinated by the stranger. The soldiers’ reactions, and even their weapons, weren’t enough to stop the man from speaking.

“Hell, your old pal may have even meant what he said at one point, but that doesn’t stop him from saying something else when it suits him. These Miradians don’t know what loyalty is. They proved that the second they turned their back on the Alliance. They’re all a bunch of gotdamn traitors.” The man looked at Natlia and tipped a hat he wasn’t wearing. “Pardon the language, ma’am.”

Weyland seemed amused by it all. “Now who might you be?”

“Forgive me. The name is Vides. And I’m just one of your worst nightmares.”

“Are you now?” Weyland asked with a laugh. “And where did you come from, Mr. Vides?”

“Well, you see, when a mommy loves a daddy very much, they get together, have a few drinks, make a few mistakes and, a little while later, along comes a little baby Vides. Of course, that’s how it works on Earth. I’m not sure how you do things up here.”

“Interesting. Why don’t you put your hands up and come join us?”

“I don’t think so, Skippy. You see, I’ve got a job to do. I’ve been sent here by the Alliance to make sure our ambassador and his family make it safely back home during this unprecedented time of uncertainty.”

Weyland smiled at this. Then he laughed. “Their safety is my concern as well. And I seem to have more men than you.” He gestured around the room to the soldiers who were beginning to inch closer to the stranger. “I have three times as many men in the courtyard.”

A sick grin spread across the Earth cowboy’s face. “I didn’t come alone, Skippy.”

“Sisyphus is the one pushing the boulder up the hill,” a young woman said as she startled everyone by appearing behind the soldiers. There was a lot of shifting of weapons back and forth until half the soldiers were covering the man and the other half, the woman. She continued, “Janus was the two-faced one.”

“Yeah, I know,” Vides said. “I just wanted to call this guy a sissy of some kind.”

Maybe it was her sudden appearance, or maybe they were distracted by her astonishing looks, but the soldiers allowed the woman to move freely across the room.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone,” Vides said as he took a seat. “This beautiful woman who is apparently the cat that’s got you all by the tongue is Priscilla. She’s my Genie. My girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” she said.

“Well, not yet,” Vides said. “But she is my backup.”

The statement was enough to pull the soldiers from their trance. They began to laugh.

It almost made Cullin laugh as well. The woman was gorgeous, but she didn’t look like much of a threat.

Vides looked at Priscilla. “Are you going to let them laugh at you like that?”

What followed was nothing short of amazing. The woman sprang across the room. No, Cullin thought, that wasn’t fair. She didn’t spring. She just was suddenly on the other side of the room and a soldier was flying over her head towards another one of Weyland’s men. It wasn’t until the third soldier was incapacitated that the others even began to react. Even then, it was difficult to get a bead on the woman. She moved impossibly fast. She appeared before or behind a soldier, struck and then moved away before the body hit the floor. Bones made noises he never knew were possible as she struck, twisted and wrenched limbs and necks. The sounds sank into his stomach and threatened to turn it.

“Enough,” Weyland said.

Weyland was the only one with enough presence of mind to move aside, and by the time the last solider hit the ground, he was standing behind Natlia with a pistol pointed at her temple.

Cullin’s heart cried out to see his wife in such a position. His whole world, all of the worlds, had been turned upside down in the last few days, and now the one that mattered most was in jeopardy.

The woman snapped one last wrist and turned to face the Miradian Administrator.

“Very impressive, Ms. Genie. But the show is—” Blood poured from Weyland’s mouth instead of words.

Vides appeared over his shoulder and took the gun from Weyland as the man’s eyes went wide. “Forgot about me, did ya? Yeah, she has that effect on people. She walks into a room and she’s all you can think about.”

Natlia pulled herself from Weyland’s grasp as Vides let the body fall to the floor. She raced into Cullin’s embrace.

The cowboy pointed at him. “Don’t let her scream.”

Cullin put a hand on his wife. “She’s not a screamer.”

“Are you sure?” Vides said with a wink.

“How dare you!” the husband said.

“Dammit,” Vides said, and slapped himself hard across the face. “I didn’t mean— That was a tic. Not a wink. I’ve got this thing. Happens at the damnedest times. I am just so embarrassed. Please forgive me, ma’am. I did not mean to imply that your husband wasn’t satis—”

“Blayse!” the young woman snapped. “Just stop.”

“Right,” Vides said and shut his mouth. “Sorry. But it was a tic.”

“Who are you people?” Natlia asked, exasperated. So many things had happened in such a short amount of time.

“Allow me to properly introduce ourselves. I’m Commander Blayse Vides, leader of the Hell Drivers and general badass. And this is my associate and very hot girlfriend, Priscilla.”

“I’m not your girlfriend,” Priscilla said.

“Whatever makes you happy, Pris.” Vides said. “The powers that be obviously sensed the chemistry between us on our last mission and paired us to come and escort you and your family safely off this shithole of a planet and back to Earth. No offense, ma’am.”

Natlia looked from Vides to the woman.

“He was frozen. Now he’s not, and he talks too much.” Priscilla explained with a sigh. “But he’s right. We are here to see you safely back to Earth.”

“How did you do all of that… stuff?” Natlia asked.

“It’s not important,” the woman replied.

The surprisingly violent woman was saved from further questions as Treye ran into the room and made straight for his mother. He leapt into her open arms and hugged her tight.

“Treye, oh thank goodness, you’re all right.”

“All right, hell,” Vides said with a smile. “The boy helped distract a couple of the fellas back in the other rooms.” He held up the bloody knife he’d used to kill Weyland as if he was about to reenact the scene. “You should have seen him, he—”

“I don’t think this is the time, Blayse,” Priscilla said.

Vides stopped cold and looked at her. He nodded slightly. “Yep. So, if you all are ready to go, we can get to it.”

“What about the soldiers?” Natlia asked.

The cowboy donned a sarcastic expression and looked around the room at the fallen men. “I think it’s safe to say that they’ve had the fight taken out of them.” He kicked one to demonstrate that they weren’t getting up.

“I mean the ones outside,” she said, and pointed toward the window.

Vides crossed the room and looked out the window. “Oh, those soldiers. Yeah, I’ll handle them.”

“There are dozens of them,” Natlia argued.

The man named Vides smiled. “You saw the clown, didn’t you?”

“Clown?” Cullin asked. “What are you talking about?”

Treye smiled. “I told you, Dad.”

4

Giggles was a 10-foot-tall clown with rainbow colored hair, size 50 shoes and a crying-on-the-inside expression plastered across a leering face. He was covered in armor and weapons and, more than just about anything, he loved meeting new people.

Vides always enjoyed watching how people reacted to the clown, and Ambassador Save-Me was one minute away from pulling his hair out. He supposed that if you have your job eliminated, your door blown up, and your life threatened, then encountering a monstrous metal clown is just the cherry on a giant sundae made of shit. The ambassador finally lost his cool. “What in the Hell is going on here?”

“That is so cool!” the little boy yelled, because he, unlike his father, was awesome.

Vides smiled at the kid’s reaction. Every single Hell Driver rig was designed to make enemy combatants wet their pants, but kids often saw the soft side of the Jolly Juggernaut.

Both parents grabbed the child and huddled into some form of weird defensive family cluster that had to be instinctive, because it sure as hell wasn’t going to be effective.

“What is that thing?” the mother asked in the way that only a mother could, where fear and a lack of knowledge were converted into scorn and condemnation.

“That right there is Giggles, the clown that smiles back.” He turned and winked at Priscilla.

“That better have been your tic,” she said.

“Sure was,” he said with a smile. Then he winked again. Their relationship was complicated—just the way he liked it.

“They are not paying me enough for this,” Priscilla said, and rolled her eyes. Oh, how he loved the way she rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” Vides said with a clap. “It’s time to get you all out of here.”

Before he could bark any more commands, there was a squawk from the dead Administrator’s belt. “Administrator Weyland, what is your situation?”

Vides smile grew. He held a finger to his lips and reached down for the communicator. “This is one of my favorite parts of the job. Watch me imitate Administrator Sleepy Joe here.”

“Don’t do it,” Priscilla warned.

“Oh, come on. You know what a fantastic impressionist I am. I’ve got this.” Vides pressed the transmit button and did his best impression of the enemy Administrator. It sounded an awful lot like his own voice. “Yeah this is your stupid commander. Go ahead.”

“Administrator Weyland?”

“Yeah, this is that guy. I’m a dummy. What did you need?”

The next question came with hesitation. “Who is this?”

“I told you, this is your big dork of a commander or Administrator or whatever. And I’m a little busy being an idiot right now, so if you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

“Put the Administrator on,” the soldier demanded.

“Son, you don’t give your Administrator orders. I ought to have you strung up.”

“That’s it,” the man on the other end said just before the comm went dead.

He looked at Priscilla and tossed the comm aside. “I don’t think they bought it,”

“You think?”

“I’ll admit it wasn’t my best work,” Vides said.

“What do you think it was? Your stupid voice or all the stupid words you used?”

“They seem really upset out there,” the wife said, peeking through the window. “They’re getting ready to do something.”

Priscilla waved the family away from the window and farther into the house.

“I just need to talk to Gravitz,” Cullin said. “This is all a misunderstanding, I’m sure of it. Let’s give up and we’ll get it all sorted out.”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Vides said to the wife. “I don’t mean to be rude, but has your husband always been a lowly, cowardly dog?”

“Of course not!” the wife shrieked.

“How dare you!” the ambassador shouted.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend. You do have dogs here, right? Just so we’re clear, most are brave and loyal; that’s why it’s so downright rotten when one turns out to be yellow.”

“We have dogs here,” she said flatly.

“Good, I didn’t want the metaphor to be what was causing the hurt feelings I’m sensing.”

“I’m not a coward!” Decote sounded pretty sure of himself. That didn’t mean much.

“You all but said the s-word, pal. I don’t give up.”

“What would you suggest?” the ambassador asked. “They have a tank.”

“That’s not a tank,” Vides laughed. “It’s an APC.”

“My husband isn’t wrong,” Natlia said. “Maybe we should talk this out.”

“Just calm down, ma’am. Everything will be fine.” Vides stepped over to the metal clown and mumbled a phrase to the machine. The clown suit whirred and hissed. Gears spun, panels moved and levers shifted sections of armor to open the rig’s canopy. Vides pulled himself up into the power armor and got settled in.

“That’s the coolest thing ever!” their boy shouted, and raced toward the clown.

“I like this kid,” Vides said with a wink, or possibly a tic, and shut the canopy. The clown’s body closed in around him and rose to its full height.

“I told you there was a monster in my closet, Dad!” the kid said with great pride.

Vides grinned and nodded. “There sure was, son.”

The clown’s head closed over his own and the spike, rainbow hair was running grooves into the plaster ceiling of the Decotes’ lakeside villa home. Vides spoke through the clown’s face now. The rig’s voice processor was designed to enhance the terror of the clown’s presence, and it turned Vides’s own masculine timbre into Giggles’ odd mix of inflection, a twisted pitch and random chuckles. “Won’t be a moment.”

Giggles’ massive feet crushed the tiled floor of the Decotes’ home as he raced toward the front door. Vides paid the damage little mind because he knew it was about to get much, much worse. He charged through the blown-out door and into the motor court in front of the villa.

Like all of the Hell Driver rigs, the Giggles unit had been designed to strike fear into the enemy. When it was first created over a hundred years before, the military was facing less civilized populations than the Miradians. The idea was to prey upon a primal level of terror to force primitive races into compliance. The thinking was that the psychological aspect would be less effective on more advanced and educated species. Civilized people weren’t afraid of the monster under the bed or the boogey man. What they soon discovered, however, was that a 10-foot clown scares the piss out of just about everyone. It didn’t matter how smart or civilized you were.

Vides made it to the center of the courtyard and rose to his full height. Behind him, a small assortment of balloons floated out of the house and drifted to his side. Each of the cleverly disguised drones contained a speaker that played a haunting tune that could only have been performed drunk on an untuned calliope in which half the pipes were filled with a four-year whiskey. It sounded like rust tasted.

The Miradians hesitated. And that made Vides smile.

“My name is Giggles.” Vides said through the twisted voice processor. “Do you want to play with me?”

One of the soldiers screamed and reflexively began firing his weapon.

Vides chuckled and raced into the fray as the rest opened up on him. The balloons spread throughout the crowd, the drones creating a general distraction and laying down smoke and flash bang grenades at the enemy’s feet.

He rushed past the first group of men and drove Giggles’ shoulder into the nearest APC before the soldier in the vehicle’s turret could bring the mounted gun into the fight. His armor would take an almost endless amount of abuse from small arms, but it was only wise to remove the bigger guns from the battlefield as soon as possible.

Giggles hit the vehicle and felt it tip. He bent down and put the full force of the rig’s leg actuators into the lift. The APC gave way and he rolled the armored vehicle onto its side. From there, it tipped onto its roof and pinned the turret against the ground.

Vides laughed, so Giggles laughed. He was back in his element. With the exception of the action he’d seen on Shandor, he’d been doing far too much sitting around. He was a man that thrived on action, and his body welcomed it.

He had been frozen for nearly a century, a deadly pupa cocooned in case the world one day needed a badass butterfly to deliver a whoopin’ and take names in space. And this fight was exactly what he needed to spread his wings.

It had taken two months to get the pins and needles in his legs to stop. And he was still trying to digest a half century of pop culture references to make his deadly quips more relevant. He always tried to say something funny before stomping someone. It was the least he could do for the enemy. After all, Giggles’ voice was the last thing they’d hear, and he felt they deserved to go with a smile.

Aside from being a man out of time, he was finally starting to feel like himself again. It was time to put the fear of Giggles into the Miradians. If they weren’t afraid of clowns to begin with, they would be before the day was over.

“Have a nice flight,” Giggles said as Vides backhanded a nearby soldier and watched the man fly across the courtyard and strike one of his compatriots.

Vides pulled the flower from Giggles’ lapel and yelled to a nearby cluster of soldiers, “Hey, smell my flower!” A forty-foot line of flames erupted from the blossom and sent the troops diving for cover. Most of them made it. Sort of. There was a lot of singeing, and Vides was thankful the rig’s environmental system filtered out the smell of burnt hair and eyebrows.

He released the flower and the suit reeled it back to the armor’s chest plate like keys on a mall cop’s belt.

A proximity alarm sounded in his ear, and the armor directed his attention to a trio of soldiers hiding behind the long black car that had brought Administrator Shouldalooked to the house. They had just pulled the pins on three grenades and were standing up to throw.

Giggles let out a random chuckle as the soldiers released the explosives. Vides marked them with the system’s display and let the rig do the rest. Giggles intercepted the grenades like they were bean bags being tossed from a member of the audience. The clown turned the explosives into a short juggling act, tossing them from one hand to another.

“I think you dropped these,” Giggles said as he lobbed each of the grenades back at the soldiers who had foolishly thought they were safe on the other side of the car.

They exploded in quick succession, eliminating the threat and shredding Weyland’s car to the frame.

The next few minutes were filled with shouting, gunfire and fatal hijinks as Vides unleashed Giggles’ lethal capacity on the audience. The soldiers’ posture soon turned from offensive to desperate. They coordinated a response, and one stood from cover and fired on the clown.

Vides laughed, so Giggles laughed as the small rounds bounced harmlessly off of the white, blue and red armor. He reached over his shoulder and drew Giggles’ rifle. Thanks to the haptic sensors in the suit, he could feel the clown’s grip on the 20mm cannon as if it was sitting in his own hands. It was time to make their coulrophobia permanent.

His eye twitched just as he pulled the trigger.

“Party mode activated,” the armor stated.

“What the hell?” Vides screamed as bursts of colorful confetti fired from the cannon instead of the hot metal death he had wanted. The streams of colored paper filled the motor court, obfuscating the enemy’s vision and his own. “Dammit, deactivate confetti rounds. I want murder rounds, dammit.”

“Confetti rounds deactivated,” the armor responded, with a little more attitude than he felt was warranted. The suit had never been fitted with AI but sometimes he wondered.

By the time the lethal rounds were confirmed, the confetti was starting to settle. The paper fluttered to the ground to reveal that a second APC had joined the fight with a gunner in the turret. And they had the clown in their sights.

“Ah, hell.”

The turret-mounted cannon opened up on Giggles. The drone balloons swarmed around him to provide cover, but the lighter armor on the drones was useless against the larger rounds from the turret. The bullets made it through and the impact of the slugs drove him backwards across the motor court. The system started displaying warnings about integrity and all kinds of percentages, but as he saw his drones collapse under the barrage, Vides saw little other than red.

“You burst my balloons!” Giggles shouted as Vides leapt into the air. The actuators mixed in a little thrust that helped him clear the courtyard and land on top of the APC. He ripped the gunner from the turret, threw the man like a baseball at a carnival game and knocked out two other soldiers who were standing too close together for him to resist. He then pointed the clown’s massive rifle at the APC’s cabin and fired. The rounds peppered the light armor skin and shredded the cockpit.

The barrage of gunfire slowed as the remaining troops chose flight over fight and retreated from the Decotes’ once-lovely home.

Vides dropped to the ground from the APC and left massive clownprints in the paved surface. “All right,” Giggles shouted after the fleeing soldiers as he directed a fresh magazine into the rifle. “Let’s play tag.”

5

The Museum of Earth of Mirada used to welcome every visitor with a personal guitar solo generated by an overworked AI designated S8TR18N1. Lights would flash and pulse, and every 50th visitor would be celebrated with a dual fountain pyrotechnic display. The creative director who designed the experience said the vision was to treat everyone who walked through the doors like a rock star. What actually happened was that Earlman, the security guard, got a headache every morning around 9:15 for twenty years and eventually died of a combination of a heart attack, stroke and 3rd degree burns when a five-year-old on a field trip surprised everyone by activating the One-Millionth Visitor subroutine.

After that, the rock star entrance protocol was deactivated and replaced with the Smith Greeting, where a hologram of an old Hollywood star would appear in front of the visitor and say, “Welcome to Earth.”

Beyond the entrance was a massive complex dedicated to the history and cultural evolution of the blue planet. The museum’s very existence was a testament to the relationship between the two worlds. Most people would pass on a chance to explore their own planet’s history if they had a better option. But the MoEoM had seen steady attendance numbers since its grand opening decades before and was one of the more popular tourist destinations in Mirada’s capital district.

It may have been the alien allure. Though the two peoples were similar, their histories were vastly different. Earth had experienced more conflict and more violence in general through the ages. So a lot of the exhibits focused on the conflicts. The natural history wing of the museum was extremely popular because Miradians had never known a dangerous predator in their ecosystem. The very idea of bears, lions and wolves intrigued the people of Mirada. Seeing living examples of such terrifying creatures was a thrill beyond compare.

The Rox Tolgath Lucrid had insisted on coordinating the transition of Mirada’s status to the Empire from the halls of the museum. He knew the importance of understanding one’s enemy and the museum was a wealth of knowledge. The fools had built it themselves as a gift to the inhabitants of Mirada. This act spoke volumes as to what kind of people the Earthmen were. That the Miradians allowed it to be built in their capital city of Vontpresser said even more about the Emperor’s new allies. The galaxy was filled with narcissists and sycophants, and the MoEoM made it clear who was who. It was all very insightful.

That’s what the man had said, but he was currently watching a wolf pee on a rock.

“What do you mean, a clown wiped them out?” Newan Gravitz asked the officer on the other end of his comm line. He was an upper-mid-level Miradian bureaucrat who was trying desperately to become a lower-upper-level bureaucrat in the new order of things, and what he was hearing wasn’t going to help make that happen. “Like a clown, clown?”

The officer on the other end of the comm ended the call. Gravitz stared at his comm for a moment and tried to work out a way to spin the call into good news. He sighed, gave up and joined the Hamagonian at the wolf display.

Lucrid had been there for at least an hour, watching the wolf in its cage. The canine paid the Rox Tolgath little mind as it moved on to mark another spot in the simulated enclosure. It had no idea it was a prisoner.

“Watch this beast, friend Gravitz,” Lucrid said. “They are not unlike your former Earth friends, are they not? They moved about the galaxy pissing on everything, leaving the mess for the real owners to clean up.”

Gravitz let out a small courtesy laugh at the statement. “I don’t know if that’s fair. The people of Earth can be a little full of themselves, but they haven’t soiled everything they’ve touched. They brought prosperity to Mirada on a scale my forefathers could never have imagined.”

“How could the Earthians consider such a pitiful creature a predator?” Lucrid continued to muse, ignoring Gravitz’s comments. “They lived in fear of it for centuries. Their cultural history is filled with this beast as a stand-in for monsters—immortal beings that all should fear. There is nothing to fear in the eyes of this pathetic creature. Compared to the predators of Hama, it is but a pet. No wonder the people of Earth are so weak. They had nothing to sharpen their courage against. Had their planet been host to Shagalinosks, perhaps they would have evolved to be a more worthy enemy.”

Gravitz studied the Hamagonian’s reflection in the display window. He was an imposing figure. The Rox Tolgath wore a dress uniform made of dark colors adorned with several medals carved into frightening shapes. The Hamagonians abhorred empty space, and their designs cut at wicked angles to fill any void. Their cities and ships followed a similar aesthetic, and Gravitz thought it might explain their desire to fill the galaxy with their presence as well.

He had met countless aliens in his service to his home world, and no one would have accused him of being xenophobic toward any species. (Except for the Dangliads. But everyone hated those freaks.) And it wasn’t disgust he felt for the Rox Tolgath. Far from it. Most xenophobia came from a desire for one to feel superior to others. That fear became resentment, and it was easier to put them down than to raise yourself up. (Except with the Dangliads. Everyone was better than those perverts.) But he didn’t feel a false sense of superiority to Lucrid. It was a very real sense of being inferior, and Gravitz knew he had to prove himself to the man in front of him. He even got the sense his life depended on it. He couldn’t afford to look weak, so he did his best to look unconcerned about the recent news. Apparently, it wasn’t convincing.

“You look troubled, friend Gravitz,” the Rox Tolgath Lucrid said.

“It’s nothing,” Gravitz said.

“Is there an issue in securing Mr. Decote and his family?”

“No, it’s—”

“I thought you said he would listen to you.”

Gravitz took his seat while absorbing the situation. “He did listen to me. I told you he would trust me and stay put long enough for our men to collect him.”

“However…” the Rox Tolgath prompted.

“However, the soldiers we sent to secure Cullin and his family encountered an unknown force at the Villa Decote.”

“Certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for your men. What is the issue?”

“The issue is that an unknown force wiped out three squads, including Administrator Weyland. And the family got away.”

“I told you to send more men.”

Gravitz had been over this with the Hamagonian before. “Until midnight tonight, we are still a part of the Alliance. I can’t risk open war in the streets. But don’t worry; they won’t get away.

“It would be bothersome if they did,” the Rox Tolgath said.

Lucrid turned away from the wolf enclosure and strolled across the hallway to the gorilla display. One of the larger males saw him approach and rushed toward the glass to roar at him. Lucrid stared into the eyes of the beast and the Rox Tolgath’s reflection merged with the silverback’s. Their complexion was much the same. Ash gray with a tint of blue. Both the gorilla and the man had thick brows and a powerful glare. But there was more humanity in the eyes of the gorilla than in Lucrid’s. Like all Hamagonians, the officer’s sclera was as dark as his iris. There was no color in his eyes, no life, only black death like the eyes of a shark. A really mean shark.

Even the gorilla found this disturbing and smashed the glass between them. It was a furious and sudden attack.

Lucrid didn’t even flinch. He only smiled at the beast and asked, “Tell me, Gravitz, what is a clown?”

“What?”

“Your call. I overheard you say something about a clown.”

Gravitz shrugged. “They weren’t clear. They just said a clown showed up and took them all out.”

“And you have no idea what it means?”

“Calling someone a clown is just an insult. Like calling someone a fool, or a loser, or a chodebucket.”

“A chodebucket?” Lucrid said, and turned away from the gorilla. “What is a chodebucket?”

Gravitz shrugged. He’d used the word but never really thought about it. “A bucket of chode, I guess.”

“And what’s chode?”

Gravitz babbled for a moment, trying to explain it, and then stopped. “You know, I don’t know, actually. It’s just ch… it’s an insult.”

“Like calling someone a clown.” The Rox Tolgath raised an eyebrow and turned down the hallway. “Interesting. Why would they call this person a fool or chodebucket if he was able to wipe out three squads on his own? Are you sure they didn’t mean something else?”

“Like what? An actual clown?”

“Why would it be an insult to call someone a clown? What are they? My people have no word for this.”

“It’s a big dumb goof. A person that puts on makeup and silly clothes and a big red nose.” Gravitz pulled out his comm and keyed in a search as he talked. The device projected an image of a traditional clown in the air in front of the two men. “White makeup, red nose, big hair. It was another cultural touchstone we shared with Earth—the goofy buffoon. Water buckets. Pies in the face. They drive a tiny car.”

“And what of balloons?” The Rox Tolgath asked as he keyed his own query into a wrist-mounted computer.

“Sure, they make animals out of them. I never could stand the sound that made though, like fingernails on slate or when someone uses an emery board, you know? And the back of your neck does that thing… with the hairs. I mean, do you… do you guys have that thing?”

Lucrid ignored him and focused on his wrist. He finally stopped typing and held out his arm. A hologram sprang from the small computer and played a video. It was a giant mechanical clown in combat with alien soldiers and members of Hama’s forces. The machine was massive compared to the slender, pink aliens.

“That… it looks like a clown. What is that?” Gravitz asked.

“This was from Shandor,” Lucrid said as he watched the mechanical man tear apart the soldiers. “We had no word for the machine’s odd appearance.”

The alien let the clip play. The clown was outnumbered at every turn, but fought on, plowing through the alien forces with what appeared to be little effort and with little more than a few balloons on his side.

“This clown, as you call it, is a member of Alliance Special Forces. Its presence at the villa could only mean they are here to retrieve Decote and his family,” Lucrid surmised. “They must not be allowed to succeed.”

“They won’t,” Gravitz said as he picked up his communicator’s receiver and signaled for his contact with Mirada’s forces once more. “We’ll stop this clown.”

“Our forces on Shandor underestimated him before, friend Gravitz. And many of our men paid the price. We must not repeat our mistake here.” The Rox Tolgath turned back to the wolf exhibit window. It was peeing on something else. “He is a wily adversary.”

“My men will take care of him,” Gravitz said calmly. The comm line was ringing.

6

From her very first breath, Natlia had been a citizen of the Alliance.

Unlike the vast majority of member planets, Mirada hadn’t simply joined the pact. Along with Earth and two others, it was one of the founders. It was one of the four core worlds that formed the accord and then worked together to expand the reach of civilization across the galaxy. They had been a part of the Great Galactic Experiment. And it had worked. Mostly. She still couldn’t believe it was ending. It felt like it couldn’t be happening. It was something that had always been there, and now it simply wasn’t, and that was difficult to comprehend.

Miradians loved Earth. They loved the culture, the entertainment, and the food. Technologically, Mirada hadn’t been that far behind Earth. Radio telescopes had established contact with them before they even landed. Mirada even had its own manned orbital space station. Scientists had said that interplanetary flight had only been 50 years off when first contact occurred.

Writers on her world had spent centuries wondering what contact with other intelligent life would be like. They had fantasized of monsters and giant insects and ethereal entities that were far beyond understanding. The people from Earth never appeared as a UFO. They never invaded Mirada’s airspace without permission. There was no smoking rocket with weird aliens backlit in creepy green light. It was more like a blind date. The two parties had a fair idea of what to expect from one another before their encounter. It was just a matter of finding out if everyone would get along. And when they finally arrived, both sides were surprised to find they were very much alike.

The biggest difference between the two species was the music.

Mirada had made fewer strides in music than they had in their space program. The history of Mirada was plagued with conflict that had started over music and, as such, laws governing its creation had been some of the strictest the planet had ever seen. Rigid rules of composition and melody had caused musical development to stagnate for the safety of all. The people eventually saw the folly of their ways, but the laws had only been relaxed for a short time before first contact, and music hadn’t made it very far.

By the time the people of Earth had arrived, Miradian music had become mired in what was called the 12-Tone Technique for more than three decades. This dodecaphonic approach stated that all twelve notes of the chromatic scale were to be played before any note could be repeated. This ensured that the musical piece would have no key, no melody and no reason to be enjoyed by anyone, giving them no reason to fight about it.

Listening to anything created in this discipline was like having a stroke. Commercial jingles were impossibly long and completely ineffective. There were upsides, though. Restaurants didn’t even bother singing happy birthday. They just lit the candles, clapped and left you to enjoy your cake in peace.

Everything changed when the people of Earth arrived. They brought jazz and hip hop and rock and roll and pop. It was wonderful. And it was horrible.

Reliance on the twelve-tone system had left the Miradians defenseless against earworms. For the first couple of years, many of the stupider Miradians were convinced the people of Earth had developed some kind of mind control device. They were under the impression that the songs playing over and over in their heads had been implanted into their brain for nefarious purposes. Without a natural immunity, humming spread uncontrollably throughout the population. Just sitting next to someone who was tapping their toe could cause panic attacks.

Overnight, jingles became incredibly powerful methods of marketing. Unleashed on the populace, people marched like zombies to purchase new products thanks solely to their accompanying seductive siren songs. Some because they were enamored with the product, but many because they thought purchasing the item was the only way to make the music in their brains stop.

Earth corporations were just as baffled by the phenomenon but did not hesitate to capitalize on the situation. They brought back long-abandoned brands from centuries prior and unleashed their associated marketing on Mirada. Soaps and low-grade home remedies for made-up afflictions sold millions. Overwhelming demand caused shortages. Shortages caused riots. And the riots caused anti-Earth sentiment to grow.

As they stared deep into their refrigerators, many Miradians came to believe they were under a spell because there was no way anyone needed that much bologna. Especially considering that they had no idea what bologna was to begin with or why it was spelled so weird. The Jingle Jam—also known as the Catchy Catastrophe and the Toe Tapping Tussle—almost drove the two planets to war before the misunderstanding was cleared up.

Ultimately it was decided that jingles were just too powerful. The creation and implementation of these musical weapons came to be managed by the government and were, by law, not allowed to rhyme at the end.

As it was, the Decote family now found themselves in the back of a Sheen Toothpaste truck, and the company melody ran through Natlia’s head over and over again as the vehicle transferred the bumps from the road directly to their seats.

To give your teeth their whitest gleam.

To make them shine and keep them clean.

To make them sparkle when you’re seen.

Brush your teeth with our new toothpaste.

While she tried to ignore the tune playing in her head, her son remained fixated on the clown suit. The soldier had stepped out of the armor and now it just sat there like a haunted doll, staring at her and freaking her out. Treye had a million questions about the armor, and the Earth soldier was more than happy to humor the boy.

“Can it go underwater?”

“Sure, it can. Once inside, it’s like you’re in your spaceship there,” Vides said, and pointed at the rocket ship in the kid’s hands. He put a hand on the clown’s shoulder. “Giggles here is pressurized, rustproof, and it recycles your air, so you can go underwater just like a submarine. You can run right into a cloud of poison or smoke. You can even go into space.”

This may not have been the best thing to be filling a growing boy’s head with, but maybe it was best that Treye’s mind was off the fact that aliens were trying to smuggle them off planet in the back of a toothpaste truck. Besides, the boy hung on his every word.

Her husband, however, was a thousand miles away. Cullin stared vacantly at the opposite wall of the panel truck and didn’t say a word. She had never seen him like this before. He was always so confident, so certain. He was always the one in control of the situation. Now he wore worry on his face like a sickness. His skin was drawn and he looked almost skeletal. Seeing him like this frightened her.

She understood. Everything he had worked to accomplish was gone. His oldest friend on Mirada had betrayed him. He and Gravitz had worked together for almost twenty years. Learning that some of their closest friends could not be trusted upended their entire reality. Worse than the sense of loss, it had also put his family at risk.

She hated to see him like this. He was the best thing Earth had ever given her.

It wasn’t until the soldier stumbled to the middle of the truck and peered out the front windshield that her thoughts returned to the present.

“I know I’m on a whole other planet, but this sure does feel an awful lot like home.” Commander Vides slid open the window to the truck’s cab and pointed through the windshield to the shops that lined the road. “Hell, I can read most of these signs.”

Priscilla was driving. She put a hand on the man’s face and shoved him back into the back of the truck. It made the soldier giggle.

His question had brought her husband’s focus back, though he still sounded distant. “Mirada and Earth have been a part of one another’s lives for more than a century. We were the strongest of allies. The best of friends. Mirada enthusiastically embraced Earth culture in every way. They loved the fashion. They loved the brands. The companies found a whole new market here. Whole new fans. They loved the movies. The music. You know, that’s how I ended up here? I…” he trailed off and turned away as he lost enthusiasm for the story.

If anyone deserved to be proud, it was her husband. He had accomplished more in more areas of his life than most people. But he was humble, as were all great men. But she didn’t have to be humble. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell them, honey.”

“I’m sure they don’t care, Nat.”

“Sure, we do!” Vides said with a smile. “Tell us, honey.”

Cullin took a deep breath and resigned himself to whatever their reaction may be. “Mirada loves Earth music. And that’s what brought me here. I was a performer.”

“You were a star,” she corrected him. “And it wasn’t just the songs. It was the dance moves and the look. The women used to tear his clothes off.”

“Is that so?” Vides said with a chuckle.

Men usually responded to that with a chuckle.

Vides continued. “I’ve been doing my damnedest to catch up on Earth’s pop culture. I’d bet I’ve heard of some of your songs. Which ones were yours?”

Her husband shifted uncomfortably. Most wouldn’t see it, but she did. He had no reason to be ashamed of his success on Mirada. But men were weird. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t have any hits on Earth. I found my success here on Mirada.” Then he looked into her eyes. “I found everything here on Mirada.”

“Yeah, I know a lot of folks that couldn’t cut it on the home world so took their talents off planet.” Vides said. “Good for you in finding your place in the universe.”

“He’s very talented,” she snapped.

“I’m sure he is,” Vides replied. “I couldn’t carry a tune if it had a handle and those little wheel things on the bottom.” He leaned forward and slid the window to the cab back open. “Hey, Pris. What were those little wheel things on luggage called?”

“I don’t care, clown.” Priscilla said, and slid the window closed.

“That’s my Genie.” Vides said with a smile, and then shrugged. “I can’t remember what they’re called. But you know what they say, if you can’t make it in New York, New York, there’s always other planets.”

“My husband could have made it—” she stopped when she felt his hand on her knee.

“Casters.” Vides snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Those wheel things. Point being, I suck at singing.”

“That was all a long time ago,” her husband said. Then he took her hand. “But the people here were so great that when the band broke up and the lights began to fade on my career, I decided to stay and do my best to give back to the planet that had given me so much.”

“So, no more singing, huh?”

“No,” Cullin said. “No more singing.”

“You were going to sing at the grand re-opening,” Natlia reminded him.

“A new mall?” Vides asked.

“No. The Museum of Earth of Mirada. It was a gift to Mirada from Earth several years ago and it just underwent a massive renovation. They were supposed to re-dedicate it next week. They wanted me to do the honors.” He sighed. “It’s really hard leaving like this.”

“I’m sorry to say it’s necessary,” Vides said. “But hey! Don’t you worry, they’re opening malls all the time back home. We’ll get you there safe and you’ll be singing again in no time.”

The soldier winked at her husband, but Cullin snapped.

“Don’t you get it?” His grip tightened on her hand when he spoke. “It’s not the singing. It’s everything. This is the only home my family has ever known. None of this makes any sense. How could Mirada leave the Alliance? How can Earth have screwed this all up so bad?”

“You think this is on us?” Vides asked.

“Of course it is. Sure, we were the Alliance, but Earth was always at the center of it. Pushing their ways on everyone. Their insistence on liberty was essentially tyrannical. They were bound to push planets away as soon as another option came up.”

The soldier leaned back against the wall of the truck. His expression said he was impressed, but when he started to nod, he stretched his face and it was clear he was being sarcastic and that he was not the least bit impressed at all. “That’s amazing. You’ve got to be a rare kind of stupid to believe that crap you just said. Or to think that running to these new Hama boys will get you away from tyranny.”

“The Alliance isn’t here. They never knew how their policies were affecting the planet members.” Cullin said. “I heard it every day, but Earth didn’t care. And, honestly, they never cared. All of this, the Alliance, spreading out among the stars. It was all to serve Earth. Spreading freedom like a cancer. Who are they to say what works best for everyone?”

“Well, if that’s how you feel, you’re going to love these new boys’ policies then. Their ‘murdering innocent people’ policy. Their ‘enslave everybody and make them dig in the ground’ policy. And you’re just going to love their ‘raze, pillage and plunder’ policy. Why, they’re basically space teddy bears.”

Cullin waved the soldier’s words away and leaned back. “That’s just Alliance propaganda. The Hama aren’t like that at all.”

“Oh, is it?” Vides leaned forward. “Well, I guess you were the guy that went toe to toe with them on Shandor. That’s how you must know it’s all a bunch of lies. Oh no. I’m sorry. That was me. Let me tell you something about these people. They…”

Vides took a breath to continue but stopped. His eyes shot over to Treye, who was enthralled by the heated exchange. Vides bit his lip for a moment before continuing.

“Yeah, I’m going to tell you something all right. But because there are young ears present, I’ll be replacing some of the more descriptive words with animals, but I trust since you’re so smart you’ll get the gist. I’ve kicked a lot of hamsters from one side of this galaxy to the other. Back when things were less civilized, if you wanted someone monkeyed up, you sent me and my team to put a boot up their alpacas. I’ve seen it all, people that would goat you over for anything shiny and whole races that would sooner eat you up and kitten you out into a pile than say hello.

“So, if there is any Mother Sheepdog in this world that’s fit to judge the heinousness of these pony-eating, lizard-taking, snaking Labradors, it’s me. And I can say without a shadow of a doubt that they are some of the biggest goat-fingering, parrot-molesting, donkey-fucking assholes I’ve ever come across, and please forgive me because I obviously forgot the whole point of this animal thing about halfway through there. I will try and do better next time.”

“What’s an alpaca?” Treye asked.

“Well,” Vides said, “in this example, it’s a llama that needed its ass kicked.”

“How dare you speak to my family that way!” Cullin said with a hiss.

Her husband could intimidate most people. But the soldier seemed unimpressed.

“Oh, shut up you pussy.”

The window to the cab slid open once more and Priscilla shouted back into the truck. “Hey!”

“What?!” Vides fired back. “It’s an animal!”

“Shut up, Blayse,” the woman said. “Military activity is picking up out here.”

“That can’t be,” Cullin said. “They wouldn’t be able to operate on the streets. It’s against their constitution.”

Vides laughed. “Yeah, because signing things means so much to these traitors.”

“They’re clearing people off the streets,” Priscilla said. “Best keep it down in the back.”

She slid the window closed once again.

A million scenarios went through Natlia’s mind all at once, and every one of them concerned the safety of her family. They were looking for them. All of Mirada would be looking for them. The military, the government. Everyone. Her husband was too important. They couldn’t let him leave. She started to panic. “Everyone will be looking for us. How are we going to get out of here?”

“Don’t you worry, ma’am.” The soldier smiled, winked and laid his head back against the wall. He sat up a second later. “That was a wink. Not a tic. Just to be clear. And it was meant for reassurance. Nothing inappropriate.”

“I got it,” she said.

“We’re going to be fine,” the soldier reassured her. And winked again. “That one was a tic. Sorry.”

She nodded that she understood. But she didn’t believe him. Not about the tic. Not about anything.

7

The skybridge ran between two glass office buildings in Vontpresser’s financial district and overlooked the street below. Some of the men kept inching closer to the half-wall to look over the edge, and the captain had to call them back more than a few times.

“Get them over here, Sergeant. They’re going to blow the ambush before we have a chance to spring it.”

“Gather round!” the sergeant shouted, and waved the men over to him just as another leaned out for a peek. “They’re just anxious, sir. This is the most action they’ve ever seen. It’s the first time some of these men have had real bullets in their weapons outside of the range.”

“They should still be able to follow orders, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir. They will, sir.”

The Miradian forces clustered around the field command console as the captain pulled up the latest intel. Lights projected from all sides of the small tablet, creating a holographic landscape of the skybridge and the surrounding area. He cycled through the controls and highlighted a truck located several miles down the road from the bridge. He selected the vehicle and watched as the cargo truck rose above the map and expanded to a couple feet in length. It rotated and various specs were highlighted as floating callouts.

“The latest report has our target traveling in a Sheen Toothpaste truck.”

The sergeant began mumbling under his breath. “To give your teeth their whitest gleam. To make them shine and keep them clean.”

“Sergeant,” the commander said.

“Yes, sir?”

“Stop.”

“Stop what, sir?”

“You’re humming the Sheen jingle.”

“I don’t think I was, sir.”

“You were halfway through.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t aware.”

“…our new toothpaste!” finished one of the other men.

“Enough!” the captain shouted, despite the fact that the tune was rolling around in his head as well. It was one of the catchier melodies after all. It was no Raisin Oats, but not everything could be.

“Sorry, sir,” the private said. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“You all need to get your head out of your ads and focus. This is possibly the greatest threat you’ve ever faced. We can’t let these Earth bastards get away with this.”

A hand went up. “Why are we fighting with Earth again?”

“Because they’re bastards, soldier,” the sergeant snapped. “The captain just explained that.”

“Yeah, I get that. But… they weren’t bastards yesterday. Up until you told me not to, I really liked Earth people. I even visited once.”

The private next to him perked up. “Where did you go?”

“Norman.”

“Me, too. Wasn’t it just amazing? Like a city from the future.”

“It was.”

“Hey!” the sergeant barked. “If you two want to share vacation memories, I suggest you save it until you’re braiding each other’s hair.”

The first private raised his hand. “I don’t understand, sir.”

“Yeah, why would I be doing his hair?” the other added.

“I’m at a loss as well, Sarge,” the captain said.

“It’s just… I read it in a book on sergeanting, sir. Yelling and Screaming: Motivation Through Volume, Volume 1.”

“How many volumes could there possibly be on volume?” the captain asked.

“It goes to 11, sir.”

The captain shook his head and turned back to the men. “Back to our mission. I don’t care how you felt about Earth or Norman. Your only focus now is this mission. And, if it helps, our mission is to rescue an Earthian from another Earthian. That should give you some flexibility in applying your own personal morals here. Is everyone clear?”

There were a few nods of agreement from the men, but no one was willing to speak up. The captain was thankful for that. He didn’t have an answer for the question. Not a good one, anyway. He had no beef with Earth, either. He liked the place well enough. He’d even been Earthside before. He’d taken the family to tour the ruins of Orlando. He still drank his morning coffee out of a mug he’d picked up on the trip.

Everyone there had been really nice. They were friendly—neighborly, really. He wasn’t sure he could say the same for these new guys the powers that be were courting.

It had all happened so fast. Everything was normal for what seemed like forever and then everything wasn’t. It hadn’t even sunk in yet that his homeworld would no longer be a part of the Alliance. Things were going to be different. At the very least, he’d probably have to pick some new sports teams to root for. He couldn’t really be a Socks fan after this.

The events on Shandor had rocked the Alliance. At the time, the leaders of Mirada had issued a statement supporting the Alliance and condemning the actions of the Shandorans and the Hama Empire.

But here they were, just months later, and they were about to sever all ties with the Alliance they had helped build. And now he was standing in a skybridge with his squad, all armed to the teeth, about to go into a live-fire mission for the first time ever.

There were more squads in the surrounding buildings. From his elevated position, he could see tanks hidden behind construction equipment. And there was air support on standby should they need it.

It all seemed excessive to him. But everything about this seemed a little shady. Constitutionally, they weren’t even supposed to be operating in the city. But, with as fast as things were moving, he wouldn’t be surprised if the Constitution had been rewritten by now.

In the end, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t his place to question orders. It was his job to get the men ready for what could be the fight of their lives. They had to have their heads in the game. And it was his job to put their heads there.

“Listen. You all may really like Earth people. You may even know a few. They may seem nice. But here’s something you don’t know. Less than an hour ago, Earth forces landed at an official government residence and cleared out three squads of our best men. There were no prisoners taken.”

“So, they just let everyone go?” one of the men asked.

The sergeant glared at the private. “No, dipshit, they killed everyone.”

“Oh.” The soldier sounded embarrassed. “Then you should say, ‘there weren’t any survivors.’ That would have been clearer.”

The sergeant rolled his eyes. “Then you would have thought the Earth people didn’t survive either and asked why we were even here in the first place.”

“No,” the private said, and looked to his neighbor, who took a step away. “I wouldn’t have. Probably.”

“Stop it. Please… Sergeant, make it stop.”

“Are you getting another one of your headaches, Captain?” the sergeant asked.

“This clown took out some of Mirada’s best men. Intelligence even suggests it’s the same clown that showed up on Shandor and embarrassed our new friends. This gives us a perfect opportunity to protect Mirada and show Hama what we’re made of.”

“How dangerous can a clown be?” a corporal asked.

“Very dangerous,” the captain answered as he pulled up a hologram of the fight from the villa. “He’s Earth’s special forces. That means Decote is important.”

The private who had been to Norman raised his hand. “Earth special forces is a clown? How is… why?”

“Because they’re terrifying,” the soldier standing next to him said.

“Clowns are terrifying?” the private asked with a crooked smile.

“Freaking horrific,” the soldier confirmed.

“Is it the noses or the balloon animals that you find so scary?”

“All of it, man. To begin with, the makeup is just unsettling. See?” He pointed to the clown’s face. “He’s frowning, but he’s got a smile? What kind of messed-up reverse psychology is that? Then they’ve got eyes bigger than they need to be, their eyebrows are all jacked up and some of them are always crying. Like I’m supposed to feel sympathy for these monsters? Then there’s the shoes. Nothing with feet that big could be natural.”

“They aren’t natural.”

The soldier ignored the remark and continued. “On top of it all they’re untrustworthy. Are they going to give you the flower, or squirt you with it? Is it a bucket of water or confetti? They’re inhuman. That’s what they are. Oh, and this one has a big friggin’ gun.”

“The corporal is right,” the captain said. “This is an armed insurgency and we will respond appropriately to the threat. We didn’t become soldiers because we look good in uniform.”

“Dolberman did,” one soldier said, and pointed to his neighbor.

“I did,” Dolberman agreed. “And boy, do I.”

The captain slammed his fist on the tablet in front of him, causing the clown’s face to enlarge to five times its normal size. It rotated slowly in front of him as he resumed his lecture. “You men are now in harm’s way. Make no mistake. Now take up your positions and be ready to act. When I give the signal, we’re going to blow the windows and descend to the road below.”

“We’re going to what?” a private asked. “No one said anything about jumping out of a window.”

“Do you have a problem with that, soldier?” the sergeant asked.

“Yeah, I’m not comfortable with heights.”

“Well, I am sorry. I was not aware. Maybe you could just hike up your skirt and curtsey down the stairs.”

“Whoa!” The private put up his hands.

“Yeah,” the corporal joined in. “Is that really called for?”

A smaller voice came from the back of the room. “You just straight up called him a girl like it was a bad thing.”

“Is this from that same book, Sergeant?” the captain asked.

“Yes, sir. It’s from Chapter 2. Calling Men Girls.”

The captain nodded. “Okay. I hate to discourage reading, but maybe we don’t do things from the book anymore.”

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said.

“The rest of you, take up your positions. We’re going to show these clowns what Mirada is made of.”

“Wait. How many clowns are there?” Dolberman asked. “I thought it was one clown.”

“It is just the one clown,” the captain said. “It was just a say— just get ready.”

The soldiers broke from the briefing and ducked down behind the half wall of the skybridge. The captain walked the line. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, really. Like the majority of the Mirada military, he had never seen action and the feeling in his stomach worried him. But he knew that commanders walked the line. So, he did it and he listened to the whispers of the men.

“You’re not really afraid of clowns. Are you?” one of the men asked the solider who had been open with his feelings.

“They eat childrens’ souls,” the soldier replied.

“Does any of this make sense to you?”

“No. There should be an interplanetary convention against the use of clowns in warfare.”

“I don’t mean the clown, I mean any of it. Why are we fighting Earth?”

The man shrugged. “They started it.”

“Because we left the Alliance,” the private argued. “I didn’t want to leave the Alliance.”

“Then you should have voted.”

“I did vote!”

“You should have voted twice then. That’s what I did.”

“How could you vote twice?”

“I guess I just cared more than you did. Leaving the Alliance was what we decided as a planet.”

A third soldier leaned closer. “It seems like a pretty big decision to leave up to a simple majority.”

“That sounds like sedition to me,” the soldier fired back.

“Oh, shut up, Franclis, you know it’s not. I’m just wondering if this whole situation couldn’t have been avoided.”

“They wiped out three squads,” Franclis shot back.

“Because they were provoked.”

“All I know is I finally get to kill somebody.” Franclis shrugged and cocked his gun. “And it’s about damn time.”

The captain smiled. He had done it. He had gotten their heads in the right place. The men were ready. Mostly.

8

“It’s certainly not Mirada’s fault!” Ambassador Bitchy Pants was on the edge of his seat pointing a finger at Vides and foaming at the mouth. Priscilla’s warning to stay quiet had escalated into a shouting match with Cullin on one side and the soldier on the side of whoever Decote happened to be mad at. “Earth has taken Mirada for granted for years!”

Vides shouted back with an equally pointed finger. “I don’t really know enough to argue with you because I’ve been frozen for a long time!”

Apparently this surprised the man because his mouth did that thing where it tried to form several words without making a sound. He finally had to take a deep breath and start over. “You mean you just killed two dozen people and you don’t even know why you’re here?”

“That’s right.”

“How could you do that?” Decote screamed.

“I’m really good at killing people!” Vides shouted back.

“Both of you shut up!” Priscilla was screaming from the truck’s cab. “Something is not right out here. The streets are too quiet. Blayse, check your sensors.”

“Relax, Genie,” Vides said as he stepped back into the loving embrace of his scary clown rig. “They couldn’t have found us this quickly.”

He pulled up Giggles’ display and started searching the surrounding area. Since those bastards had burst his balloons, he was working with fewer than the optimal number of sensors. The balloon drones fed him a wider breadth of information. Without them, he was forced to rely on thermal imaging and other old tech.

He closed the mask and looked through the walls of the truck, seeing beyond their thin aluminum skin with the sensors in the Hell Driver rig.

“Well?” Priscilla asked.

“Yeah, they’re pretty much everywhere. Heavily armed, too. At least three more squads.” Vides shrugged. “That’s what I get for doubting you, Pris.”

“How could they have tracked us?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Vides said. “Our systems should have masked our movement.”

“They’re here?” The wife was getting nervous. She looked around at the walls of the truck like she could see through them herself. It must have been her first time being the target of a military force. That could be rough to the uninitiated. But to her credit, she was trying to hold it together for the kid. “What are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry, dearest,” her husband said, and put an arm around her. “Even if they do know we’re here, they won’t fire on us. We’re too important.”

“Aw, man! Did you really just say that?” Vides picked up the kid and held him on the clown’s lap. The boy didn’t look the least bit scared. He just kept playing with that rocket and making cannon noises as it dove and climbed and soared around an imaginary universe.

“It’s true,” the ambassador insisted. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, no reason. It’s just that that is the exact kind of thing that gets said just before a rocket flips a toothpaste truck upside down and all hell breaks loose.” Giggles turned his head toward the front of the truck. The rig’s shoulders sagged as Vides mumbled, “Yep, here it comes.”

Aside from being blessed with an amazingly hot body and great taste in men, one of the things Vides admired most about Priscilla was that she was a genuine badass. She possessed genetic talents that included reflexes that would make light look slow. She saw the rocket coming before he mentioned it and turned to avoid a direct hit. The move saved their lives. But it was a truck, not a race car, and its agility was somewhat lacking.

The rocket exploded somewhere under his seat and Giggles saw the damage register on the armor. The suit absorbed the bulk of the shrapnel and spared the boy and his family.

But, like Vides had said, the truck did flip. According to the suit’s gyros, the Sheen Toothpaste truck rolled at least twice in the air before it came down on its left side and slid to a stop in the middle of the street.

The ambassador and his wife fell back against the wall. Vides had been across from them and found himself falling toward the wife. He stuck out an arm to keep from crushing her beneath the weight of the clown. He held the boy safely in his other arm and kept him free of the impact.

There hadn’t even been time to scream. He had watched the mother’s eyes go from shock to that state of imagination where everything bad that could possibly happen had already happened and then back to relief when she reached out and took her son from the giant, menacing clown.

She clutched the boy tight as Vides reoriented himself and helped the others up.

Before he could check on her, Priscilla had climbed through the small window into the back of the truck and joined him in helping the family to their feet.

“Mr. Ambassador?” The voice came from a loudspeaker system that lined the street. It boomed from a dozen spots along the avenue and echoed terribly in the canyon of glass buildings. “Are you all right? I need you to understand that was an accident. We are actually here to rescue you.”

“I told you they wouldn’t fire on us on purpose,” Cullin said.

“Yeah, you just added that ‘on purpose’ caveat,” Vides said as he studied the scanners in his helmet. It was a lot more colorful than it had been before the blast.

“Earth forces,” the voice on the speaker continued, “you will set the family free and surrender or you will be destroyed.”

“See. They’re aren’t trying to hurt us,” the man spat. “Just you.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.” Giggles gripped the truck’s rear doors in the rig’s oversized hands and ripped the large metal sheets from their hinges. “We’ve got to move. Everyone, behind me.”

The entire party moved as one, with Giggles holding the doors between them and the Miradian forces. There was a great deal of shouting and a fair amount of shooting as the party made a break for the nearest solid structure. They crashed through the lobby window of a nearby office building and Priscilla directed everyone behind a large granite reception desk. The ornamental rock was thick and expensive and should hold up to anything that came bouncing into the building short of another rocket.

Once everyone was settled, Vides spoke. “Now let’s see how much they aren’t trying to hurt you.” He turned the truck’s door around. The Sheen Toothpaste logo was perforated with bullet holes and three times as many dents and scorch marks. Light shone through in several places. “Yep. They appear to be really concerned for your safety.”

“This isn’t right,” the ambassador said.

“Yeah, it kind of hurts your feelings a little bit when people are trying to kill you.” Giggles’ head flipped back, revealing Vides’s sarcastic grin. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to getting shot at eventually. Honestly, it’s kind of fun… when they miss. Like a high stakes game of dodgeball.”

“What’s dodgeball?”

“Aw, hell, did they take dodgeball away again?” He looked to Priscilla for an answer. She just shrugged. “Man, they will never learn. A boy needs to get hit in the face early if he’s to be any kind of man.” Vides stood up and started toward the lobby window.

The ambassador broke from cover and ran in front of Vides. He put a hand on the clown’s chest. “We need to surrender.”

“You need to shut up,” Vides said.

The hand on Giggles’ chest turned into a fist and the ambassador pounded on the clown. “I’m ordering you.”

“Ordering me? That’s cute. You think you’re in charge.”

“I am. I am in charge here. As Earth’s highest-ranking official, I order you to surrender and let me deal with this diplomatically.”

“Don’t you worry, Mr. Ambassador. I’ll be plenty diplomatic. Now why don’t you go take a seat with the other boys and girls before we see how far I can put this giant clown shoe up your ass.”

This upset the ambassador, and he reeled back to give the clown another useless thump on the chest.

Priscilla caught the arm and stopped the blow. A look of bewilderment crossed his face as he turned to face her. Vides never got tired of watching her surprise people with her strength. Or any other of her talents for that matter.

“Sit,” she instructed.

And he did. Most men did what she said. The smart ones did it because they were afraid of her. The rest just did what she asked so maybe she’d like them. From what he could tell, Decote was one of the smart ones.

Priscilla watched Decote all the way back to the relative safety of the desk and then turned back to Vides. “What are you going to say?” she asked as she checked over her own weapon.

“Probably something I’ll regret,” Vides said with a smile and a wink. Then he closed the canopy and became Giggles once more.

The clown stepped toward the entrance of the lobby while the rig fed the surrounding heat signatures into his display. They were in the buildings and on the street. There were at least four dozen men out there. And all of them were pumping blood faster than normal.

Soldiers lined both sides of the road. He could take them. One of them spotted him standing in the building, and the speakers came to life again.

“Earth forces…. Mister Clown. Release your hostages and surrender. And you will be permitted to live.”

“I’ve got a counter offer for you.” Vides let Giggles do the talking. The clown was louder, and he liked watching to see how many of the heat signatures wet themselves. Vides drew the massive rifle from Giggles’ back and let the weight settle in his hands. “How about I take this gun and shove it sideways up your...” Vides looked over his shoulder and saw the boy peeking from behind the desk. He sighed. The kid was really cramping his trash talk. “Up your elephant.”

The voice on the speaker hesitated before finally responding with, “I don’t understand.”

“I’m saying you can shove your offer!” Giggles clarified.

“Surrender now!” Feedback followed the screeched command.

“Make me!”

Soldiers poured onto the streets from the surrounding buildings. More rappelled from windows above, while others raced from behind them to set up mounted weapons in the windows. There had to be a hundred of them. They hurried behind cover and took up firing positions. The sensors told him that there were no fewer than fifty lasers painting targets on his face and chest at that moment.

“What are we looking at?” Priscilla asked.

“A hundred or so,” Vides said. “It’s not that bad.”

The ground rumbled beneath his comically oversized clown shoes as a trio of tanks joined the enemy ranks. An assortment of other military vehicles sped into place and barricaded the streets. Dirt spun up from the road into torrents of dust as hovering warcraft took up positions somewhere overhead.

“What was that?” Natlia asked.

“A couple of tanks. Real ones. A half-dozen other light attack vehicles. I think I heard a few attack craft hovering overhead but I can’t see them from here.”

“We need to surrender,” Ambassador Broken Record said. “I can talk to them. We’ll be okay.”

“Not so fast, Captain Quitter.”

“They’ve got us outgunned!” he shouted.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I can take them.”

“Look at that, you fool!” The ambassador was pointing from around a corner of the desk. “They have you a hundred to one. They have tanks. And aircraft. And rockets. You don’t stand a chance. You are not a one-man army!”

Vides turned back to the family and the Giggles head drew back, revealing the soldier’s face. The man had a hundred grins; he now wore his favorite. “The hell I ain’t.”

9

Three sat with his feet up on the improvised command console. They had taken over the pleasure craft’s media center and converted it into Hell Driver Central, a command center/lounge for the duration of the mission. There were certainly worse places for improvised command centers. The Alexander had been designed for speed, luxury and—unbeknownst to its designer—sneaking a team of badasses into the Mirada sector beneath the noses of the planet’s security forces.

The other members of the team were spread about the lounge engaged in their own distractions, while Three watched the comms because he was in charge. He was in charge because Prime was planet side and everyone knew that Two was an idiot. In Two’s defense, they were all idiots. Every one of them. And, seeing as how each one was a clone of Prime, he must have been the biggest idiot of them all. It took a massive idiot to make twelve more just like him.

Three turned away from the console and shouted at the other eleven in the room. To an outside observer, every face that turned his way was his own. But Six had a dopey look on his face, Four always looked like he was struggling to do long division and Nine was most often pissy. They could see the differences and distinguish one from another, but genetically and physically they were identical. The matching regulation haircuts and uniforms didn’t help, so Prime had decided to mark each copy of himself with a big ole face tattoo.

A blue horizontal line ran over his own left brow to form the top of the three. An angled line cut across his lid and joined the bell of the three under his eye. Each man was marked in the order they had emerged from the tanks, but under the ink they were each exactly Vides. There were a dozen of them in all if you didn’t count the original—and not one of the twelve ever did.

The console lit up with an incoming message, and he rolled his head back in disgust. “I knew it.” Three pushed away from the console and stretched as he stood up. He walked into the media lounge where the other eleven were scattered about and called for their attention. “Hell Drivers!”

Seven was the only one who turned toward the call.

“What’s up, Three?” Seven asked. “What’s with the stupid look on your face?”

This got the attention of Four, who laughed at the comment and agreed. “His face is stupid.”

“It’s your face, too, moron.” Eleven said, refusing to look up from his game of solitaire.

Four smiled broadly and leaned back with his hands behind his head. “Yeah, but unlike the rest of you, I make this face look good.”

“We got the call from Prime,” Three explained. “Giggles needs help.”

There were several groans from several Videses. They all sounded exactly the same.

Nine had been absently flipping through a selection of programs on the Alexander’s media screen. He tossed the remote onto a nearby sofa. “I guess Captain Badass isn’t such a badass after all.”

“More of a Sadass,” Five said, and lifted his hand for a high five that would never arrive.

“You’re a sadass,” Two said.

Ten chuckled. “Shut up, Number Two.”

Two got to his feet with clenched fists. “Quit calling me Number Two!”

“Why should we?” Thirteen asked. “You’re the shit.”

“I said, shut up!”

“All of you, shut up!” Three said, and sounded like Prime when he said it. He hated it when he sounded like Prime. There wasn’t much avoiding it. They had the same vocal cords and all. Some of the others had adopted accents they had no right to, but it still didn’t change their timbre, and when they weren’t thinking about it too much, Prime’s faux-Texan drawl shone through their faux-accents.

“Shut up or what, Three?” Nine sneered.

“Or I’ll make you, Nine.”

Nine stood up and crossed the room. He put a finger in Three’s chest and leaned in close enough for Three to have the frustrating realization that the two men had the same halitosis.

Nine sneered, “I told you to stop calling me Nine, Three. My name is Atticus.”

Despite the bad breath, Three took a step closer and snarled back. “Suit up, Hell Driver.”

There was a narrowing of the eyes between both men that said this wasn’t over, but Three held the man’s gaze. Nine smiled a crooked grin and stepped away, muttering, “Teacher’s pet.”

Three realized he now had everyone’s attention. Not because he’d called for it, but because they were hoping for a fight between he and Nine, no doubt hoping the latter would come out on top. They all hated Three. He hated all of them. But he didn’t need their admiration, he just needed their respect. “Hell Drivers. Duty calls. Get to your rigs.”

The rest of the Videses nodded silently, dropped what they were doing and moved into the Alexander’s armory.

The ship’s hangar was designed to accommodate a couple of small inter-craft shuttles, not century-old battle armor. Like the lounge, the Hell Drivers had customized the compartment to suit their needs. Thirteen massive cradles lined the walls and contained the battle rigs that formed the team.

Each rig was between eight and twelve feet tall, weighed at least two tons and looked intimidating just standing there in the shadows. As their pilots approached, the individual suits came alive with lights and stepped forward to acknowledge their human drivers.

Unleashed on primitive worlds as psychological warfare, each unit had been designed to prey upon the most common fears found among sentient races. Civilizations may have been unique across a hundred worlds, but most sentient beings shared inherent instincts that worked to preserve their own lives. Times had changed, and while many of the original rigs were still frightful, there had been a couple of updates to the new lineup.

Two stepped up to a massive mechanical spider and spoke his key phrase to the machine. “Oh! What a tangled web we weave.”

The massive spider was the largest of the machines by tonnage thanks to its eight-legged construction. The rig processed the phrase, the cadence and the vocal print. It confirmed the audio signature and then moved silently as it flattened out on the ground and opened its back to allow Two entrance to the cockpit. The Vides lay prone across a saddle and took control of the machine. The back closed and the armor reared up, exposing foot-long fangs on a horrible mandible.

Like the spider, the “grasshopper from Hell” was inspired by a near-universal detestation of bugs. The Locust rig was not so much a literal take on the bug, but more of a composite of many bugs’ traits. It stood upright on massive thighs and spindly legs, and cradled a giant rifle in bladed arms like a pissed-off grasshopper looking for revenge on those uppity ants. It had the eyes of a murder hornet and a pair of whip-like antennae that extended from its head.

Twelve piloted the Locust and spoke his own key phrase to the rig. “As we look upnowgath.” The machine opened up and Twelve stepped inside.

A puddle of slime formed below Six’s rig, and the power armor was covered in a rot that smelled like the sea. The machine was a monster of vaguely anthropoid outline, but had the distinct head of an octopus, and its face was a mass of tentacles. A pair of leathery, long and narrow wings spread across its back for little more than effect. Six whispered, “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn,” and the canopy opened up and enveloped him in the madness of the Great Old One.

The stealth tech employed on the Reaper and Pestilence rigs was state of the art a hundred years ago. But that didn’t make it any less frightening. It made each of the skeletal rigs appear almost ethereal as they phased in between visible and spectral. Seven spoke, “Then we heard the oars creaking and afterwards, I remember, the boatman called us. We did not look back at the mountains.” The Vides all but vanished once the physical manifestation of Death closed around him.

“The plague full swift goes by; I am sick, I must die.” Eight muttered, and disappeared in a mist of green smoke as Pestilence enveloped the clone.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 were almost indescribable. At first glance, there was a jovial quality to the identical rigs. They were round and large with smiling faces. But the longer one stared, the more unsettling their visages grew. The Twins were, according to most best guesses, supposed to be human, but they had oversized features and exaggerated pouts that even the grumpiest toddlers would find difficult to duplicate. They looked like nothing would please them and you wouldn’t be able to get rid of them for at least 18 years. The overall effect was haunting, and Ten and Eleven used it to great effect on the battlefield. They put their fists together and chanted the key phrase as one. “Wonder twin powers, activate!” A chime rang out and the canopies opened.

Thirteen accidentally pricked himself twice getting into his rig. Designed to be a cross between Dr. Mengele and everybody’s family dentist, Sawbones was clad in bloody medical scrubs and adorned with a thousand needles. He uttered the phrase, “Primum non nocere.” It always made him laugh. He was going to nocere the shit out of people.

Four piloted Big Baby. This rig resembled a discarded baby doll that had lost half of its hair due to rot, had a partially melted face and one eye that was stuck halfway closed. It said “Mama” through a broken voice box at random times. Four looked over each shoulder before quietly speaking his key phrase as much to himself as possible. “I want my mama.”

The three remaining rigs were based on predators—great beasts of terror and power. Five’s rig looked like a saber-toothed tiger that stood on its hind legs and opened with, “Here there be Tygers.” The monstrous machine closed around Five to form one of the most powerful arrows in the Hell Driver’s quiver.

The Ursine rig was designed after the massive short-faced bear, a monster out of Earth’s prehistory. It towered above all the other Hell Drivers except for the Great Old One and was one of the fiercest. On every planet where it had seen combat, the rig inspired fear and terror, and it opened by humming the chorus to a song about teddy bears having a picnic in the woods. Nine did his best to remind everyone that the tune for the song was most likely stolen from the Death or Glory March. But the key phrase was still about teddy bears, and Three chuckled every time the melody got started and big, tough Atticus unknowingly started dancing.

He watched Nine finish the dance and step into the rig before turning to his own suit. The Hell Hound was a lycanthropic-inspired design and was the most common fear in the galaxy after Prime’s clown armor. Half man, half beast, the wolf stood on its hind legs and watched the world around it through glowing red eyes. He looked the beast in the eye and said, “Who’s a good boy?”

The canopy opened and he stepped inside the wolf. The machine closed around him and the display lit up with a map of their destination. The planet became a continent as the coordinates processed and were relayed to the Alexander’s pilot. The display focused in on the land itself, then the city and the street.

A metal sleeve rose up around him and the other eleven suits of armor as the Alexander turned into position. The mechanism lined up the Hell Drivers and prepared them for launch.

Once the Alexander was properly orientated, the process began. Each Hell Driver was fed like a shell into the launch magazine and fired at the planet below.

He and Two were the last in, and he felt the ship’s hangar shudder with each successive launch. Bump. WHAMBO! Bump. WHAMBO!

Finally, it was his turn. Three felt the propulsion of the rail system, and he was suddenly speeding out of the Alexander and into space. The descent capsule blocked his vision, but the display in his helmet offered up the vastness of space and presented it to him.

The planet spun beneath him as they dropped toward their target.

10

“You have two minutes to comply.” The voice over the speaker hadn’t stopped talking for ten minutes. It had been trying to sell the Earth forces on the benefits of giving up, and the Decote family on the pluses of turning themselves in.

It didn’t matter where you went in the galaxy, government guys were all the same. Alliance, non-Alliance, it didn’t matter. They promised you whatever you wanted to hear to get you to like them. They were amazingly flexible. They had to be, in order to kiss your ass and stab you in the back at the same time. The nonsense was a little frustrating to listen to, but Vides was thankful for the prattling. It ate up the clock.

Government guy finally stopped speaking and the ambassador looked at Vides. “He’s right. We need to surrender. We need to deescalate the situation.”

“I once again find myself in a situation where de-escalation ends up with me in a cell or in the ground,” Vides said. “It’s funny how often that’s the solution.”

“That won’t happen,” Decote insisted. “I know these people. They are my people. These are my friends.”

Vides made a show of examining his armor. “Well, maybe you can talk to your friends about all the dings they just put in my rig.”

“We need to give ourselves up,” Cullin said again.

It was impressive, the way the ambassador said things. Like there was no room for argument. Like it was the clear and considered solution to the situation and 100 percent settled. Vides had to hand it to him. He was probably great at his job right up until his job went away. Now it didn’t matter what Decote said.

“You need to shut yourself up. They may be your friends, but they’re no friends of mine. We were charged with getting you and your family off of the planet. This situation, and your weak spine, doesn’t change any of that.”

There were several loud pops from outside, and Ambassador White Flag dove for cover behind the desk.

“Relax, hero. Those aren’t guns, they’re tools. Probably just setting a few mounted guns in the street.” Vides turned and examined the scene through the rig’s scanners. As he’d thought, several men were fastening tripod mounts to the ground. Teams rushed in behind the engineers and mounted heavy cannons in place. “Yep. That’s what I thought.”

“You have one minute!” the speaker boomed.

“We have to do something.” The ambassador stood up and started to move toward the door.

Priscilla was in his way before he could clear the receptionist desk. “You need to have a seat,” she said. “Let us handle this.”

“Do you have any idea who I am?”

Vides had seen it before. Powerful people struggling to understand that their status suddenly meant nothing. It was usually pathetic and always amusing. Priscilla made it even more so.

“I do know who you are. You’re the guy that’s going to watch a girl sit him on his ass if he takes another step toward that door.”

The ambassador’s eyes shot from Priscilla to his wife to the clown. “I thought you were sent here to help me,” he pleaded.

“Yeah, but they didn’t say we had to be nice to you. They’re always pretty specific on the ‘what,’ but they really do leave the ‘how’ up to me. If you want to put too fine a point on it, I could knock you out, throw you over my shoulder and carry you off the planet like a sack of cowardly potatoes. Now, have a seat like the lady says.”

Priscilla directed Decote back to his seat behind the desk while Vides stacked what was left of the truck doors in front of the stone for a little added protection.

The speakers crackled on once more. “Forty-five seconds.”

“You guys are going to love this.” Vides said. He couldn’t hide his excitement. And why should he? He was allowed to enjoy his work just like anyone else. “This is where it gets good.”

Giggles stepped closer to the front of the lobby and looked into the streets. They spotted him immediately, and the mounted cannons and tanks turrets turned toward him. They began zeroing in on him.

“Thirty seconds, clown,” the negotiator said.

“Oh, please start counting.” They were making it personal. He loved when they made it personal.

“Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.”

Vides turned back to Priscilla. “I love it when they count.”

“Twenty-five. Twenty-four.”

A humming sound filled the air around the plaza.

“Twenty-three” and “twenty-two” came with a distracted tone as the sound grew louder. As it did, it became more difficult to pin a direction to it. It seemed to be everywhere.

“What is that noise? What are they going to do to us?” Natlia asked. “Is that some kind of weapon?”

“It’s great, ain’t it,” Vides said. “They designed it to sound like a herd of hornets coming straight from Hell.”

“A swarm,” the husband said.

“How’s that?” Vides asked.

“It’s a swarm of hornets.”

“Not when they’re from Hell, Mr. Ambassador,” Vides said. “It’s a herd of Hell Hornets. The devil likes alliteration as much as I do.”

The countdown trailed off somewhere around seventeen as the throbbing hum of the buzz grew louder than the sound of the tanks’ exhaust. It echoed off the walls of the glass canyon, filling the entire block with an oppressive sound.

“This is the best part,” Vides said, and stepped out of the lobby into the plaza.

The guns were still trained on him, but the eyes behind the sights were searching the sky for the source of the sound. It was everywhere.

Then the wailing started. The buzzing turned to the shriek of a banshees and Giggles took over the countdown.

“Ten. Nine. Eight.” Giggles held up the corresponding fingers as he blasted the numbers over the loudspeaker in his chest.

The shrieking intensified. It came from all sides. There was no pinpointing the source.

“Seven. Six. Five,” Giggles continued and threw in a haunted chuckle.

The hum was so loud that the soldiers on the street were trying to cover their ears through their helmets. They hid farther behind their cover to block the noise.

“Four. Three. Two.”

The first shell crashed through a window of a nearby tower. The windows that it didn’t shatter on the way in exploded outward and showered the men in the streets below with glass and miscellaneous pieces of office furniture. A desk landed upright in the middle of the street as if it belonged there.

“One,” Vides said and held up Giggles’ middle finger.

More shells landed in the area, screaming all the way to the ground. Their impact threw up smoke and debris. When they hit the buildings, they left their crash sites in flames. Dust and chaos flooded into the plaza.

The soldiers started taking cover near the armored vehicles. Some tried to get back inside and screamed for the drivers to open the ramps. Others tried to hide under the machines. And if they couldn’t get under them, they huddled as close to the armor as they could and turned their backs away from the coming fight.

When the twelfth and final shell hit, the shrieking stopped. The buzz was gone and the street was quiet once more. After a few tense seconds, the soldiers began to look over their shoulders and emerge from cover. They looked around, nervously anticipating explosions from what they assumed to be bombs. When none came, they started to raise their weapons toward Giggles once more. But their confidence had given way to confusion.

Even the voice on the speaker was less forceful when it returned. “Your bombardment has failed, clown.”

“Hyuck, hyuck, hyuck,” Giggles laughed long and hard. “They weren’t bombs, you silly ass.”

A giant spider exploded from the fourth story of an office building. It hung in the air in front of Mirada’s sun just long enough to catch every soldier’s eye before it came crashing down on one of the tanks in the plaza. The mechanical arachnid’s front legs pinned the vehicle in place while the spider drove its fangs through the tank’s armor plating. Moments later, the access hatches opened and the drivers collapsed onto the ground as a cloud of mustard-colored gas followed them from the tank.

“I’d like you all to meet the Sinister Spider,” Vides said proudly to the family behind the desk. “If the Itsy Bitsy Spider had a badass big brother, it would still be this guy’s bitch.”

The men on one of the nearby turrets got their act together before the rest and turned their heavy machine gun on Two in the Spider rig. The weapon began to chatter as a green gas rose from the ground around them. The cloud began to swirl and spin into a funnel of dirt, dust and gas, obscuring them from Vides’ sight. When the cloud finally began to dissipate, the three-man fire team was on the ground and a ghostly figure stood in their place.

“That’s Pestilence,” Vides explained to the room. “He’s an absolute gas.”

Several Miradian soldiers were making a break for a nearby APC that had finally lowered its ramp. Before the retreating ground soldiers could reach the safety of the vehicle, it was lifted from the ground by what could only be described as a mechanical werewolf. The soldiers slid to a stop and began to run the other way after they watched their bullets bounce off the wolf’s chest.

A Miradian fast attack vehicle sped toward the wolf. Its hood-mounted Gatling gun spun and hurled fire at Three’s rig.

The wolf howled and hurled the APC toward the light attack vehicle. It made it with a single bounce. Both vehicles crashed end over end until they were so twisted that it was difficult to tell one from the other.

“That’s the Hell Hound. Man’s best friend,” Vides said. “Loves playing fetch.”

Another fast attack vehicle roared into the plaza and brought its cannon to bear on the Spider as it webbed up a pair of soldiers. Before it could even fire, the armed car was hip checked through the front window of a sandwich shop by the biggest bear Mirada had ever seen. The machine rose to its full height and roared at a small group of soldiers. This sent them scurrying into the arms of an equally large cat.

The massive cat’s paw crushed one of the soldiers and sent the others scattering as he roared. The cat pounced over one man, turned and swatted him back into line. The soldier tried to run the other way and the cat repeated the move with his other paw. He toyed with the man for a few volleys before smacking him across the plaza with one last swat.

At this point, the Miradians had all but forgotten about the Decotes and were focused on the new threat that was decimating their forces. Vides walked back to the reception desk and leaned on it. He retracted Giggles’ helmet and smiled at Priscilla. “I tell that cat all the time, don’t play with your food.”

“You’re really enjoying this.” Priscilla hopped up onto the desk next to him.

“Oh, hell yeah. It’s just like the old days. Mostly.”

Dust and debris began to blow and swirl in the plaza outside the broken lobby windows. The wind grew in intensity as two Miradian V-ships lowered into view. The small and agile fighter craft were held aloft by four massive fan blades. Capable of incredible lift, the turboprops cleared the ground beneath them of dirt that had been in place for years as they lowered into attack position.

Both ships turned their arsenals directly toward the clown and the woman.

“What now, Giggles?” she asked as she edged back behind the counter.

“I give you Thing 1,” Vides said.

The massive rig dropped onto the back of the first aircraft and forced it into the ground.

“And Thing 2.”

Thing 2 dropped on top of the second fighter and took it down as well. The identical rotund rigs pulled the V-ships apart with their hands and tossed the wreckage into the plaza at the remaining forces.

“You all want to move those?” Vides asked the two Things. “We were watching the festivities.”

The two Hell Drivers nodded and placed their hands against the demolished aircraft. It took peeling up a little asphalt to get some traction, but the two Things forced what remained of the two aircraft out of the way. Unfortunately, the action revealed a tank that was moving right toward them.

The treaded vehicle sped toward the building lobby as it brought its gun to bear on the people hiding inside.

Vides reengaged Giggles’ helmet and turned to Priscilla. “You may want to duck for this one.”

The tank stopped and zeroed its cannon in on the metal clown. A PA system on the turret blared, “This is your last chance to su—”

Locust came out of nowhere and landed under the turret. The rig’s powerful legs made it one of the best jumpers in the Hell Drivers. Twelve positioned the insect’s shoulder under the turret, grabbed the front of the tank and leapt again. The tank flipped end over end and landed on its back like a stranded turtle. Locust came down on the vehicle’s belly, nodded to Vides and sprang back into the fight.

Several soldiers had taken refuge in an alleyway to hide from Pestilence and the Spider. Now they came screaming back into the plaza as a giant baby doll lumbered after them whining for its mama.

“What the hell is that one?” the ambassador asked.

“Big Baby,” Vides said. “It sleeps. It cries. But you’re the one that wets yourself.”

Several more soldiers grouped together and began firing at the doll-shaped rig. All combined, it was enough small arms fire to make the baby cry but not enough to make it stop.

“They always underestimate the doll,” Vides said.

Big Baby lumbered on. The soldiers kept firing as they backed away toward the edge of the street. With their focus on the diaper-clad dolly, the men didn’t see the tentacles reaching out from the storm sewer. Four soldiers were pulled into the drain before the others figured out what had happened. By then it was too late.

“They don’t call him the Great Old One for nothing,” Vides said, and winked.

“Activating party mode.” The chime confirmed the command, and Giggles ran a subprotocol that started playing house music and forced the rig to start a pop and lock dance routine.

“Ah, dammit! Undo. Undo. Undo!” Vides said.

The music stopped.

“You’ve really got to get that tic looked at,” Priscilla said.

“I know.”

Back in the streets, the monstrous Cthulhu rig burst out of the sewer behind the soldiers and ensnared the remaining men with the appendages on its face. It then spun and sent the men flying in several different directions.

Three of them stuck to another rig that was covered with needles as it stepped into the plaza. The Hell Driver pulled the first two bodies off easily but had a difficult time unsticking the last one.

“What is that thing?” Natlia asked while doing her best not to throw up.

“That’s Sawbones,” explained Vides. “The Doctor of Destruction. The Surgeon of Sheer Terror. Our personal Madman of Medicine.”

Out on the street, the gunfire was slowing. So was the screaming. Every now and then a soldier would fly across their field of vision and a rig would go stomping after them, but the bulk of the fighting had ended.

Vides walked to the edge of the lobby and surveyed the scene. Not counting the new fires, there were a lot fewer heat signatures than there were when the whole thing had started. “That about does it, I think.”

“That was awesome!” the kid shouted.

Vides and Priscilla turned to find the kid peeking out a hole in the stone reception desk.

“Treye Cullin Decote!” Natlia snapped her fingers when she said his name like it meant extra trouble on top of using the kid’s full name.

Priscilla gave Vides a dirty look that he rather liked. Giggles just shrugged and said, “Oopsy?”

“Right,” Priscilla said. “Oopsy.”

“Look, just stay with the family,” he responded. “Make sure the kid has all his fingers and toes and I’ll make sure the coast is clear.”

Giggles stepped out of the lobby and into the plaza. He surveyed the damage and approved of just how much of it he saw. They had done him proud. “Nice work, Hell Drivers.”

He counted to himself as the men assembled around him. “Did we get everyone?”

“I’ve got one more,” said a ghostly voice in his ear. “The captain.”

“The one on the loudspeakers?” Vides asked.

“I believe so.”

“Great,” Vides said. “Bring him on down here. I think I’d like to talk to him.”

A cloud of frost exploded in front of him. As the frozen air settled to the ground, it revealed a very nervous captain and a skeletal rig draped in rotting black robes.

The captain was shivering. “I’m so cold.”

“Oh, that would be the icy touch of Death you’re feeling. But I don’t want you to worry about it. We’re not going to hurt you.” He looked around the plaza. “I can’t say the same for your bosses though. I imagine they’re going to be pretty disappointed in you. But when you see them, and before they kill you for dereliction of duty or gross incompetence or whatever, I’d like you to deliver a message for me. You’re so good at talking, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

* * *

Priscilla watched as Vides spoke to the captain with that damn clown voice of his. Then the Reaper rig disappeared with the captain in another puff of frost.

The Hell Drivers turned back toward the building and started toward the family. The ground shook as the rigs stomped into the lobby. They didn’t get any better-looking as they got closer.

The wife stammered, “Those things are… are…”

“Awesome!” the kid whispered.

“Terrifying,” she said to correct her son. But they were both right.

“Oh, you haven’t seen the really scary part yet,” Priscilla said, and headed out into the plaza to meet the team. She waved for the family to follow, and the Decotes joined her at a safe distance.

They reached the team as Giggles’ canopy opened up and Vides stepped out. “Decote family. Let me introduce you to…”

A chorus of hisses and whirs interrupted him as the canopies of the present Hell Drivers opened up and the pilots stepped out into the plaza.

“…me.”

Priscilla watched the horror and confusion play out on Cullin and Natlia’s faces as they processed what they were seeing. A dozen exact copies of the same man.

Treye just smiled and said, “Awesome.”

11

“Impossible!” Gravitz was on the other side of the room swearing into his comm. The man paced back and forth and pulled at what was left of his hair. After the initial outburst, he had tried to calm himself or, at least, swear a little more quietly. “What do you mean a giant baby got him?”

The Rox Tolgath Lucrid ignored the blubbering bureaucrat and stared up at the skeleton that towered in front of him. It stood on two thick legs, and its whole body looked like it had evolved to offset the weight of a massive head filled with teeth. Forget the Canis Lupis, this was a predator that would make a worthy opponent.

And it wasn’t even the only ferocious beast in the room. Several skeletons were suspended by cables and props to shape the bodies of the once-mighty monsters. Even the Shagalinosks would cower in fear if they encountered such threats. There was nothing in Hama’s past that compared to this. He stood at the monster’s foot and had to crane his neck to see the beast’s head. It made him feel small and vulnerable. It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to.

Gravitz ended the call with an apology and shut off his communicator.

The government man had to search the room to find him, as Lucrid wasn’t where he’d left him. He worked his way around the bone display and velvet ropes to join the Rox Tolgath. Once there, the Miradian looked up at the skeleton as well.

“What was it called?” Lucrid asked with a nod to the skeleton.

“A dinosaur.”

“There’s never been anything like them on our planet.”

“Nor ours,” Gravitz said.

“If this is the sort of fauna Earthmen have to contend with, I’m beginning to understand their ferociousness.”

“No. No,” Gravitz said. “These things roamed Earth millions of years before humanity even appeared. The people of Earth never shared the planet with them.”

“Then why is it the centerpiece of this Earth museum?”

“I don’t know. I guess because it’s really big. Makes for a really dramatic display.”

“It is hoisted up here like some great trophy of conquest.”

“They dig them out of the ground. Then they brush off the bones with these little brushes and put them back together like a puzzle.” Gravitz mimed brushing dirt off an archeological find to help explain.

Lucrid’s eye narrowed. “Why?”

Gravitz shrugged. “I mean, this was supposed to be an Earth museum and it’s part of that history.”

“They never fail to disappoint,” the Rox Tolgath said, and turned away from the disturbingly large creature. “Even so, it gives me insight into our foe.”

Lucrid had spent much of his time on the planet wandering the museum. Mirada’s close relationship with Earth had given the Hama Empire much-needed intelligence on their enemy. It had been clear from their first encounter with Earth forces on Shandor that the Rox Tolgath Malbourne had underestimated them, and Lucrid was not about to repeat his mistake.

The museum had been a gift—a somewhat arrogant gift—to the Miradians. The halls of the museum were filled with what was no doubt propaganda from the planet at the center of the Alliance. So, they were most likely lies, but it at least told him what kind of image the people of Earth wanted to project. Beyond monsters of old, the center covered Earth’s development of space exploration, and Lucrid was admittedly impressed—if the facts presented were true—at how relatively fast the Earthmen had progressed. From winged flight to arrival on another celestial body well within a single lifetime was nothing to sneer at. It had taken Hama generations to accomplish such feats. It was shameful. And they would never be so foolish to announce this truth, much less put it on display in a museum. Of course, the Empire had immediately set to conquering the galaxy to make up for their delay in exploring it.

Much like Hama’s own history, Earth’s great conflicts had been the source of their greatest scientific advancements. War had a way of inspiring a species. It didn’t matter if it was out of desperation for survival or an abhorrence of the enemy, the result was the same: Science leapt forward. To highlight this progress and to beat its chest, Earth made sure the museum covered the larger terrestrial wars. There were at least three where the majority of the planet’s resources and population had been dedicated to conflict.

Earth took their warfare to the stars with the colonial conflicts and several incidents of interplanetary warfare before “Pax Alliancia” was achieved. Peace. The word made Lucrid smile. Peace was just another way of saying all of your enemies had been brought to heel.

After wandering through the halls for the past week, he was beginning to understand his enemy all the better. Certainly moreso than Gravitz did.

“So, there is some bad news?” Lucrid prompted. He knew Gravitz’s hesitation was in part due to his own intimidating presence. And while he appreciated the respect, the long pauses were quite annoying. “I told you not to underestimate the clown.”

“That was a huge mistake. I told you, the military shouldn’t be operating out in the open like that. My men—”

“Your men weren’t up to the task,” Lucrid said. “They are soft. Your whole planet is soft. I can’t say if you were soft before the Alliance, but your time with them hasn’t helped. A single generation without conflict will have that effect on a people. And you’ve gone several. In the Emperor’s infinite wisdom, all men in our great empire are required to serve five years of mandatory war. That’s how we have avoided generational softening.”

“What if there isn’t a war?” Gravitz asked.

Lucrid smiled. “There is always a war, friend Gravitz. The Emperor, in his brilliance, insists that we always leave a few fires burning that we may forge our men in the crucible of combat. A strong galaxy cannot be built on weak men. As your planet has demonstrated so well.”

“My men are not weak.”

“Oh, you think I’ve offended you. I assure you that was not my intent. I’m merely voicing an observation. What is it like to be offended by truth?”

He saw a flash of anger in Gravitz’s eyes. Good, there was potential in Miradians after all. Gravitz had finally had enough goading. Lucrid wondered what it might take, and he hid a smile as Gravitz came to his homeworld’s defense. “It’s not the fault of your soldiers. One rises to the level of your opponent. And you’ve had no one worthy to pit yourself against for some time.”

Gravitz seemed comforted by this. But Lucrid couldn’t have him getting too comfortable. “However, for so many men to lose to a single soldier is—”

“He’s not alone. There were more of them.”

Lucrid was genuinely surprised. “More of these clowns?”

“Not clowns. But a dozen other soldiers in power armor. Beasts. Creatures. A baby.”

“Like an infant?”

Gravitz nodded. “Apparently a very large infant.”

“What madness has Earth brought to the battlefield?”

“At least ten more in addition to the clown. I’ve instructed my forces to—”

“Tell them to stand down,” Lucrid said.

The anger returned and Gravitz snapped. “My men are capable of—”

“Spare me your rage, friend Gravitz. It’s effeminate and unbecoming of a man in your position. My agents will take it from here. I’ve been waiting to test their mettle against the Earth forces, and this is the perfect opportunity.”

Gravitz protested the command. “You don’t have enough men.”

“Each of my men are worth more than ten of yours. But, even if you’re right, it will be worth engaging. Once I learned our friend from Shandor was here, I made arrangements for a special surprise. It should be here soon. But, before that, I want to see what this clown is made of.”

The Rox Tolgath snapped his fingers and a Hamagonian agent stepped out of the shadows of the dinosaur exhibit.

“Yes, Rox Tolgath,” the agent said.

“Dispatch the Null,” Lucrid said.

The agent nodded and faded back into the shadows.

“The Null?” Gravitz asked. “Sounds ominous.”

Lucrid raised an eyebrow and turned back to study the giant skeletons further.

12

Treye stared at the group of identical men standing in front of him. The uncanny nature of the situation may have been what caused him to grip the toy spaceship a little tighter when he asked, “How are they all you?”

Vides couldn’t blame the kid for his curiosity or his trepidation. Even he had been taken aback the first time he saw all thirteen of himself in one place. It was awesome in the truest sense of the word and somewhat unsettling all at once. “Well, son. It’s a long story.”

One of the new Videses stepped forward. “His old team ditched him, so he cloned himself a dozen times so he could boss us around.”

“A long story that can apparently be summed up in a single, humiliating sentence,” Vides said. “Thank you, Three.”

“Happy to help, sir.”

It had been a simple enough explanation for the boy, but the mother still looked confused. She was more than a little overwhelmed, and the only question she could manage was, “Why?”

“A good question,” Priscilla said.

“The Hell Drivers needed men,” Vides explained. “So, I stepped up and became those men. I’d like you all to meet Videses Two through Thirteen.”

“But, there’s only eleven.”

“Four went to get a ride,” Vides explained, “so meet Two and Three and then Five through Thirteen.”

“Which is which?” asked the ambassador.

“It doesn’t matter,” Vides said.

“Oh, you have to show them,” Priscilla said.

He never expected to win an argument with the woman. There was no denying that she was way too smart for him. But it was a fact that he was willing to accept just to be around her because she was also way too beautiful for him. This was one argument she was never going to let go.

“No,” Vides said. “There’s no reason to show—”

“Oh, come on,” she said with a tone that sounded encouraging, but he recognized as a threat.

“Fine,” Vides said. Spite was reason enough, he guessed. He tapped a command on the comm mounted on his wrist. That sent a signal that told some nanites to do something—he was never clear on how the science worked, just on how the on switch worked.

The reactive tattoo over his left eye became visible and the Decotes gasped as a number one appeared over Vides’s left eye. All of them had them. Two and Three and Five through Thirteen were all marked with similar numbers over their eyes. Four’s was probably showing up, as well.

The mother covered her mouth and the husband said, “Well, that’s something.”

“Yeah it’s something,” Vides said, and disabled the tats. He watched the numbers fade from blue to pink to something resembling a light suntan before they disappeared completely.

Treye stepped forward and smiled at the man standing beside the armor that looked like a giant bear. He stuck out his hand. “My name is Treye.”

Nine squatted down to look the boy in the eye. He shook the child’s hand. “Hello, Treye. You can call me Atticus.”

“No!” Vides snapped. “No, don’t. Do not call him that. He’s…” Vides looked at the men in front of him. “Which one is Three?”

Three stepped forward. “Here, Sir.”

“Which one is he?” Vides asked Three, pointing at Nine.

“That’s Nine,” said Three.

“That’s Nine, kid.” Vides said. “Just call him Nine.”

“Why can’t he be Atticus?” another of the Videses asked.

“Because my name ain’t Atticus,” Vides said. “Now, all of you, back in your rigs. You met people, you said hi, now we have work to do. We have to go.”

Nine bent down and shook the boy’s hand. He looked at the toy in the kid’s hand. “That’s a pretty cool ship you’ve got there,” he said.

The boy held it out to show the solider. “It’s my dad’s. He used to never let me play with it. But now I can.” He made some rocket noises as the ship flew around.

It was enough to make Nine smile. “You’re some pilot.”

“Nine!” Vides snapped. “Back in your bear!”

The soldier gave a half-hearted salute and stepped back into his bear-shaped battle rig.

“What’s the plan now?” the ambassador asked. “The truck didn’t work.”

“The plan is the same as before,” Vides said. “We get you and your family safely off of this planet.”

“How do you think that is going so far?” the ambassador asked.

“You’re still safe,” Vides insisted, and looked around at the wreckage surrounding them. “But, to your point, we may need a more subtle approach. Four is going to fetch us a car that is going to take you to the ship while we blend into the shadows and keep a watch on your six.

“And your three,” said Seven.

“And your nine,” said Three.

“No one told you that you all could talk,” Vides said, pointing at each man. He then turned at the sound of an approaching vehicle, ready to act.

“It’s Four,” Three stated. “He’s here with the car.”

The luxury sedan slowed to a stop in front of the group, and a Vides stepped out of the driver’s side door. He gave a bow to Priscilla as she approached. “Your chariot, madame.”

“Why thank you, sir,” she said with a smile.

“Stop being charming around my girlfriend, Four,” Vides said. “That’s an order. Now, Decote family, into the car. That’s another order.”

The ambassador helped his wife into the back of the car while Treye walked over to Vides and tugged on his shirt to get his attention.

Vides smiled at the kid. “What is it, son?”

“I want to go with you, Mr. Vides.”

Vides crouched down and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Of course, you do, son. But I need you to go with your mom and dad right now. You see, someone’s got to keep them safe. And I really doubt your dad is up to the task. So, I need you to watch over them. Can you do that for me?”

The kid nodded with excitement.

“That’s good.” He sighed and ruffled the kid’s hair. “Because, seriously, he’s a total wuss. Now get going.”

He turned the boy around and gave the kid a gentle push toward the car. The boy stepped in and Vides grabbed the door. “Keep the windows up, stay low and don’t draw any attention to yourself. The Hell Drivers have got your back.”

He shut the door before Ambassador Quitter could suggest surrendering again, and the car pulled off. Vides walked back over to the Giggles rig and stepped inside. Nine got his attention before he could close the canopy.

“Vides, did you see that toy the—”

“What did you call me?”

Nine took a heavy breath and corrected himself. “Prime, did you see that toy spaceship the kid had?”

“Yes, I did. It goes vroom and swoosh and, if you’re a good little teddy bear, I’ll get you one just like it for Christmas.” He turned and addressed the rest of the men. “Now, we aren’t far from the extraction point, and if that hairy fella can handle a simple landing without drawing any attention to himself, we should just about be out of here soon. But this thing has already gone sideways once. So far, it’s been planetary forces, as far as I can tell from the way they scream. But we do have some intelligence saying those shark-eyed bastards from outer-outer space have a presence here in Vontpresser, as well. So, keep your eyes open and your mouths shut. Especially you, Eleven.”

“The name is E11iot.” The soldier in Thing 2 said.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re Eleven. You think you’re being clever with the ones as ells but you’re not fooling me. Besides, I meant Nine, anyway. Especially you keep your mouth shut, Nine.”

Nine’s voice came through the bear suit as gruff and menacing. “I want to have the discussion again where it was decided that we couldn’t pick our own names.”

“Okay, we can do that,” Vides said. “The decision is shut up. Discussion over.”

“I need a reason why,” Nine rumbled.

“Because you’re me, and I decide what we’re called. End of story.”

“We are so not you,” said Nine.

“We don’t even like you,” said Two.

“Well the feeling is mutual. Especially with you, Two. But, like it or not, you’re me. My DNA.”

“Well, we’ve been talking—” started Six.

“Oh, have I?” Vides asked. “I think I’d remember if I was talking to myself about disrespecting myself. Don’t you?”

“We want to pick our own names,” Six insisted.

“We took a vote,” Eight added. “It was unanimous.”

“Except it wasn’t. Because I vote no. Now, enough of this nonsense. We’ve got to get this wuss of an ambassador and his family safely off the planet. And right now, that means rendezvousing with that hairy first mate of Genie’s and getting off this rock.

“Now, Hell Drivers…” he let the canopy close around him. The view screen came to life as the systems activated and he became Giggles once more. Even his voice changed to that of a horrific clown. “Blend in.”

The others sealed themselves inside their rigs and began to disperse. Each took up their designated position in the formation and created an invisible perimeter that moved along with the asset.

* * *

“Your friend seems nice,” Natlia offered up.

As a dignitary’s wife, making pleasant conversation to diffuse tense situations had probably been a big part of Natlia’s life, and Priscilla had no doubt she was good at it. She was desperate to fill the silence with banal conversation to put everyone at ease.

She had never been much for small talk at all. “Vides? Oh, he’s crazy. He says it has something to do with the unfreezing process, but I’m pretty sure he was a little nuts when they froze him in the first place.”

“There sure are a lot of him,” Natlia said.

“Yep,” Priscilla said. “He’s the worst baker’s dozen in history.”

“Why are there so many of him?” Cullin asked.

Treye answered, “Atticus said it was because of his friends.”

Priscilla drove at the posted speed limit through the city streets. She kept an eye on the windows in the buildings above, half-expecting them to explode and reveal another attack force. So far there were no signs of an ambush. Or the Hell Drivers, for that matter. She knew the Videses wouldn’t let her down. Every one of the clones had Vides’s weird crush on her. They weren’t about to let anything happen to her. She forced herself to relax and answered the questions.

“The Hell Drivers were—well, I guess still are—legendary in the Alliance’s Special Forces. The Commander led them almost 100 years ago. When peace finally came—like so many other things—he couldn’t handle it. So, Commander Vides and the Hell Drivers swore a pact. They would be put into suspended animation to be called upon if they were ever needed again.”

“Wow!” the boy said. “They’re heroes.”

“So, what happened to the others?” Cullin asked.

“I guess they didn’t take the pact as seriously as he did,” she said. “They abandoned him. Left him alone. Vides was the first one into the freezing chamber. And once he was frozen, the others just went their separate ways.”

“Oh…” Natlia had no words. Who would? It was a sad story.

Even Cullin was moved by the tale. “Now I understand why he feels so betrayed by Mirada’s decision to leave the Alliance.”

Pricilla wondered how true that was. Vides was a blowhard and never let on that his squad leaving him frozen in a super-secret satellite for a century bothered him. It had to sting. Anyone would be hurt by that. She started feeling pity for the man and decided to move the conversation along. “Anyway, when we woke him up a few months back, and he was all alone, he needed some other people to fill out the rest of the unit. So, he volunteered to have himself cloned. A dozen times.”

“Volunteered?” the wife asked.

“Insisted,” Priscilla clarified. “He said he was the only person he could trust.”

“That’s a little sad,” the wife said. “I feel badly for him.”

“Feel bad for me,” Priscilla said. “I have to deal with thirteen of the old fossils instead of just one.”

“I thought cloning was banned by the Alliance,” Cullin said.

She shrugged. “A lot of things are changing. But I will tell you, based on my experience from the last few months, it is a really terrible idea.”

“Well, I guess having thirteen of yourself isn’t so bad,” Natlia said struggling to find the silver lining. “You’d always have someone to talk to.”

“Oh, no. They hate each other,” Priscilla explained with a laugh. “All of them. No two of them get along. Well, there’s a rumor that a couple of them get along a little too well, but I can’t remember which ones. I think it’s 7 and 9 because I want to say the 7 ate 9 joke works out better than it should.”

“You mean…” Cullin started.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s a whole thing. I’d rather not get into it and, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure they told me that in confidence. So, let’s forget about it.”

“Oh my…” the wife started.

“Yeah. If Vides ever found out that two of himself were doing himself… that’s a whole emotional bag of cats I am just not prepared to have on my hands.”

Naturally, an awkward silence followed this statement. Priscilla was about to reach for the radio to cover it up.

Since he was the only one who didn’t understand the implications of the statement, the boy asked, “Why are they all named numbers? Is that a soldier thing?”

“No, it’s a Vides thing.”

“Why don’t they just choose their own names?” he asked.

“They want to. Vides won’t let them.”

“Why not?”

“Some people think he was really hurt when his squad abandoned him. He woke up alone after almost a century in a galaxy he didn’t know. He’s a man out of time. There was no one left alive that he knew. So now he’s like an overprotective mother making sure the others never know the pain and emotional torture of what it’s like to be alone.”

“Oh,” the wife said, and pulled a hand to her chest. “That’s sweet.”

“The others say he’s just a big dumb jerk.”

“Which camp are you in?” the ambassador asked

Priscilla thought about it and decided that answering it would tell her things about herself that she probably didn’t want to know. “I’m in the camp that says watching thirteen men arguing with himself is really, really weird.”

Natlia grew sad and leaned back in her seat. She stared out the window as the city went by and played with a necklace that rested on her chest. “Family is family though. Isn’t it?”

This kind of conversation wasn’t really Priscilla’s thing. Feelings made her uncomfortable, and she hated Blayse for putting her in this situation. But she had to say something. She wasn’t sure where to start, so she decided to just go ahead and rip the band-aid right off. “Are you leaving much family behind?”

The woman didn’t answer right away, which told Priscilla the answer was going to be bad and probably longer than she wanted to hear.

“I’m leaving everything behind,” Natlia said. “I’ve never even been to Earth. We never had a chance to go.”

“My work kept us here,” the ambassador said.

“It’s not bad as far as planets go,” Priscilla said. “Some places are really nice. Especially the cultural sites: Paris, Venice, Norman.”

“I hear they are beautiful.” The wife turned her gaze back to the window. “But they aren’t home.”

Priscilla’s own family situation was anything but relatable. So instead of something insightful, she offered up some wisdom she had read on a coffee mug once. “Some say home is wherever your loved ones are.”

Priscilla looked at all of them. The husband stared out one window, the wife another. The boy was fixated on the toy ship.

Priscilla sighed. “But what the hell do they know?”

13

L’Mar had “delivered the package,” which apparently was just fancy human talk for shooting 12 idiots into space. The Gardwah altered the Alexander’s trajectory several times to ensure his vector couldn’t be matched to the Hell Drivers’ arrival on Mirada, and began his approach into the spaceport at Vontpresser.

He kept one eye on the soldiers’ progress in the outbound shells and hoped that some of them didn’t make it. Maybe their capsule didn’t deploy properly or maybe one or two burned up in the tubes thanks to faulty shielding. That would have been fine with him. He hated every last one of them.

Technically, only one of them had killed his brother. The one they called Vides Prime had been the one that drove the shard of glass through G’Har’s eye. But, even more technically, all thirteen of them were that same man, so every one of them deserved his ire.

L’Mar spent his idle moments in the Alexander’s cockpit plotting their demise. He had devised countless scenarios where all thirteen Videses met their ends at his hands. In some, he took them out one by one like an Agatha Christie novel, but with a happier ending. In others, L’Mar constructed massive traps that eliminated all thirteen at once. But his absolute favorite was a plan in which each death caused the next, so they all died horribly by their own actions. Planning their deaths was cathartic to be sure, but he knew that even the most intricate murder fantasies could never be realized. As long as the Hell Drivers served with the Oncilla, it was against his oath to harm them. However, if accidents happened and they should die upon reentry, there was no part of his oath that said he had to be sad about it.

In truth, it wasn’t even his oath. His brother G’Har had sworn a life debt to the woman known as the Oncilla and left it unfulfilled when he died at the hands of the Earth man. This failure was a shame the Gardwah could not allow. Since his brother’s murder at the hands of the man they called Vides, it fell to L’Mar to uphold his brother’s oath and maintain his family’s honor. Gardwah culture demanded it.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t looked for a loophole. L’Mar had spent weeks in the Records Hall searching the legal and traditional ramifications of the life debts in Gardwahican culture to find a way to free himself of the burden. He had even hired an off-world lawyer that specialized in Gardwahican business law to help. But all efforts had come up short, and L’Mar had been forced to leave his successful chain of ship service centers to his idiot cousin and take G’Har’s place in Priscilla’s crew.

His brother had been a fool to pledge the debt in the first place. He had been a fool in many ways. It was nothing new. Even as a little Gardwah, G’Har had shirked his duties and forsaken his chores, leaving L’Mar to pick up the slack. His brother had approached his education the same way and spent more time getting into fights than studying. His own dedication to learning was one of the reasons L’Mar had become successful in business while G’Har floated aimlessly about the stars, seeking quick fortunes through illicit means. It was left to L’Mar to support the family without his brother’s help. G’Har’s entire life read like a series of poor choices, but swearing a life debt to a genetically enhanced superwoman had been the poorest of all. Thanks to some genetic gifts, Priscilla was stronger, faster and more cunning than any Gardwah could ever hope to be. The idea that he could have somehow saved her life was a delusion of grandeur. It was a debt that could never be fulfilled. And now it was L’Mar’s to fulfill.

While it was true that his brother had been impetuous in many things, once L’Mar had met Priscilla, he had understood exactly what his brother had been thinking.

She was beautiful beyond all measure. And it wasn’t just a Gardwah/Human thing—a kink many of his people were prone to. He had never been into that sort of thing before. But she was different. Magnetic. This woman was not just beautiful for a human, she was beautiful compared to all things. Grace radiated from her in such a way that you could still feel it when your eyes were closed. He had recognized the appeal the moment he met her. So, despite her protests, L’Mar pledged his life to hers in lieu of his brother’s until such time that he could give it in defense of her own.

L’Mar fought the attraction. He focused on doing his job and did his best not to fall in love with the most perfect woman in the galaxy. It wasn’t easy, but he struggled valiantly. Deep down he knew it was wrong. But even deeper down, he wondered if maybe it was right. Being on board the Alexander with her put him in a constant battle with his own emotions. Love was forced upon him, daring him to take the leap.

At the same time love was taunting him, rage boiled deep within him. Rage against the Videses. That he should be surrounded by such beauty and evil at the same time and be powerless to act on either was a cruelty of which only the Great Gardwah was capable. Not only did he have to face his brother’s killer on a daily basis, there were twelve more men with the exact same face. Everywhere he turned, he saw his nemesis. He was being punished for some unknown transgression. It must be so, to desire a love that would never be given and a revenge he could not take.

When he wasn’t fantasizing about revenge, or Priscilla, he searched his soul to discover the sin he had unknowingly committed. Perhaps once he uncovered his guilt and atoned, he would be rewarded with vengeance and hot, hot Human-on-Gardwah action.

He began fantasizing about both of these rewards at the same time and accidentally ended up disgusting himself just as the Alexander entered Mirada’s atmosphere. L’Mar welcomed the distraction and turned his attention to piloting the craft.

Mirada was legally still a part of the Alliance for the next few hours, but he wondered if it was still business as usual at the Vontpresser Space Port. Things would change dramatically when the treaty with the Alliance ended and their confederation with Hama began, but L’Mar hoped the Miradians would at least honor their current treaty until he could collect Priscilla, the Videses and the family from under their noses. Traffic to and from the planet was already being scrutinized more closely, and securing permission to land had taken more convincing than normal.

The code provided by Alliance Intelligence was eventually accepted, and Vontpresser Airspace Control responded with a docking bay number inside the complex. He brought the Alexander in low over the city and watched the honeycomb structure of the space port unfold beneath him. The facility was emptier than he had ever seen it. Especially in the mid-sized and personal craft hangars. The larger docks were occupied by many heavy freighters of the same make. It wasn’t a design he was familiar with, and he was familiar with every design in the Alliance. They had to be ships from Hama.

The landing was uneventful as he flew casually over the city and performed a flawless touch down on the landing pad he had been assigned. He smiled as the landing pad lowered the ship down into the hangar. Flying had always come naturally to him, and he prided himself on his skill.

The smile faded when he saw the security forces approaching the Alexander. This was the more difficult part of working for a smuggler. Lying wasn’t something that came easily to him. He had always found honesty a better approach, and deceiving anyone left a bad taste in his mouth. He even let Vides—all of them—know his true feelings. Whenever one of them greeted him, he would respond with, “I wish to murder you, but now I cannot. Until that day, my insides writhe with a hatred that never sleeps, for every fiber of my being wishes to strangle you until you gasp your last mortal breath. At that moment, I will give the mercy you beg for, and you will take that breath. But only so I can steal it back once more in the following moment when I throttle the life from your convulsing body as it writhes in the throes of death.” Being honest with them was more polite than a passive-aggressive “Hello.”

He walked through the ship’s small cargo hold. Most traces of the Hell Drivers had been taken with them with the launch. A thorough inspection would give up the Alexander’s secrets, but he did not expect to be on Mirada long enough for that to happen. A cursory glance should raise no suspicions so long as he could keep the security team calm.

He lowered the ship’s cargo ramp and waved at the two-man inspection unit. “I am L’Mar and I greet you cordially,” he said with a warm smile.

They did not reciprocate the kindness or the wave. There seemed to be little warmth in them at all. Had Hama already destroyed Miradian hospitality? The two men studied him. Gardwah were taller than most humans by a foot or two, and he knew his height and hirsutism could make them nervous. He did his best to slouch to put them at ease.

“What is the purpose of your visit to Mirada?” the taller of the two officers asked. He was still shorter than L’Mar.

Priscilla was teaching him how to lie. It came naturally to her, and he would normally find that repulsive, but she was too beautiful to do anything wrong, so he listened intently when she spoke and did his best to be a good student. The first part of lying successfully, she said, was to do as little lying as possible. Filling your lie with the truth would make the two all but indistinguishable.

“I’m am here to pick up many disgusting creatures,” L’Mar said and felt guilty about how easy the deception had crossed his lips. It was a true statement but even using the truth in a deceptive nature was unsettling.

“Do you want to explain that?” The smaller officer asked when he realized there were no more details coming.

“No,” said L’Mar and broadened his smile. “I do not.” More truth. He had concocted a plan but was hesitant to use it. But it soon looked as if his charming smile wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m going to ask you to explain it,” the taller officer said.

“Ah, well it is a fascinating story. Have either of you ever heard of Globlet Fishing?”

There was no spark of recognition in their gazes. There was also no glint of humor. This was perfect, because the Oncilla’s second tip for lying was to make your lie boring. The more boring the lie, the fewer questions asked because the listener just didn’t care.

“It’s a great sport!” L’Mar said with genuine enthusiasm, for he was once again speaking the truth. Perhaps this lying thing wasn’t so difficult after all as long as you stuck to the truth. He continued, “An amazing creature, the Globlet. If either of you are sportsmen, I daresay you’ll never find a more rousing challenge. The beast is sure to test your mettle.”

“There are no Globlet on Mirada.”

“Of course there aren’t,” L’Mar said. “But there are no Haldebrand Snipes on Cransthia either.”

“This isn’t Cransthia. What are you doing here, sir?”

“I just told you. Globlet fish love Haldebrand Snipes. But Cransthia, sport fisherman’s capital of the inner outer arm, has seen such a surge in popularity that they’ve had to limit availability. They can’t keep up with demand. And that, my new friends, is why I’m here. Obviously.”

“Why are you… there are no Haldebrand Snipes on Mira… they’re not a thing here.”

“Of course not. But there aren’t any Sagitarian Muzzlefirkin on Sagitaria 3 either.”

The short officer threw up his hands. “What the fresh hell, sir?’

L’Mar rolled his eyes. Globlet fishing was his passion. They truly were majestic creatures: beautiful, graceful and oh so delicious. He was truly surprised when people displayed ignorance on the sport. If you asked him, a bad day Globlet fishing was better than a good day working.

“As everyone knows, Haldebrand Snipes love Sagitarian Muzzlefirkin. It really gets them in the mood, to speak metaphorically of their desire to reproduce. So, the more Sagitarian Muzzlefirkin, the more Haldebrand Snipes, if you get my drift—once again speaking metaphorically about said creature’s sex drive. But Sagitaria 3 is facing a shortage of the Muzzlefirkin.”

“Look, we don’t have any Muzzlefirkin or Snipes or Globlet fish on Mirada.”

“No, of course you don’t. Globlet can only be found on Danada, while the Snipes are exclusive to Cransthia and the only known populations of Muzzlefirkin are on Sagitaria 3, Rigel 9 and a back alley in Cincinnati on Wednesdays… if you’re lucky.”

The security team lost its collective patience. “So, what are you doing here?!”

“Like I said, Mirada Sandworms.”

The taller officer wretched at the word. “Those things are disgusting.”

“Yes.” L’Mar smiled broadly at the reaction. As far as he knew, rule three wasn’t make the listener throw up, but it was get them to stop asking you questions, and he assumed if someone was busy vomiting, they would stop asking questions. “Like I said, I am here to pick up a bunch of disgusting creatures.”

“And they’ll get you Muzzlefirkin to get the Snipes reproducing so you can go fishing for Globlet?” the shorter officer asked.

“Unfortunately, no. But they taste just like filet of Globlet. So I figure if I can put enough of them into some kind of paste...”

The tall guard turned away completely. The other raised his hands and encouraged the Gardwah to stop talking. “Okay, when do you expect delivery?”

L’Mar checked the communicator on his wrist and smiled. “Those disgusting bastards should be here any minute.”

“Fine,” said the one that could still talk. “We’re going to go and let my partner throw up in a bucket or something. But we’ll be back to inspect the shipment when it gets here.”

The idea of coming back to inspect the worms made the other guard wretch once more.

“Or maybe we won’t,” the smaller guard said to his partner, and led him away before anything else came up.

L’Mar felt a thrill rise up in him. As a child, even the smallest lie would turn his stomach like the security guard’s. It had made him weak in the knees. But now, there was an excitement welling up in him—the excitement of being dishonest and getting away with it gave him a rush. And wouldn’t Priscilla be proud of him? What would she say? How would she praise him, her successful pupil?

L’Mar walked back up the ramp to the Alexander’s hangar. He turned once more to look at the foolish guards who had fallen for his carefully crafted deceit. The fools. It took all he had not to laugh aloud.

Thankfully, an arriving vehicle stole his attention. The long, black car pulled into the landing bay and slowed. His heart raced. He could see Priscilla behind the vehicle’s wheel.

He couldn’t wait to tell her of what he had done. She would praise him. Or, even if she didn’t, he would be with her again. He waved to her and swore that one day, life debt or no, he would find a way to make her love him in return as he loved her.

And then he decided, right then and there, that he was going to profess his love for her. His oath be damned! Screw Gardwah tradition. Screw all of Gardwah. His heart wanted what his heart wanted, and that kind of love should never be bound. He was going to tell her of his feelings and let fate do as it would.

He wasn’t afraid. He knew fate would be kind. It rewarded passions such as his. L’Mar smiled as Priscilla stopped the car. Honesty would prove itself freeing once more. Everything was going to be wonderful from that moment forward.

Of course, he had no idea the Alexander was about to explode.

14

Giggles sat perched on a stack of shipping crates like some grotesque white-faced vulture as Priscilla pulled the car into the Vontpresser hangar. To avoid suspicion, she stayed within the area designated for road vehicles. This may have been unnecessary. The hangar appeared deserted, and the long shadows cast by the setting sun gave the place an air of abandonment.

The transitional nature of Mirada’s status had put everything into question. Legally, getting in and out should be business as usual, but they had already seen that there was an element on the planet that was willing to bend the laws to make sure the ambassador stayed put. Despite Vides’s concerns, everything in the port appeared fine. The bustle and din that usually filled the facility was toned down, but that was to be expected.

Priscilla’s voice spoke softly in his ear. “Everything look okay?”

Vides surveyed the area. Giggles’ scanners weren’t picking up anything out of the ordinary. The only heavy machinery on his system were cargoexos and other heavy lifting equipment in the neighboring bays. He parsed the data being fed to him from the other Hell Driver rigs as well. Nothing appeared on his monitors as a threat.

“Everything looks copacetic,” Vides grunted as he leapt from his perch on the crate. The battle rig took the thirty-foot fall in stride. Giggles’ computer measured the distance during the fall, did the math and adjusted the internal systems so the one-ton suit’s motors absorbed the brunt of the impact and left only a small crater in the hangar floor. He stepped up to the car door as it opened, and Priscilla stepped out.

“Too easy?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I think we earned a break,” Vides said with a shrug. “Don’t you?”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Not even a little. But if we move quick enough, we might be able to convince ourselves that’s what happened.” He switched his comm channel to the team. “Hell Drivers, on me.”

The ground in the hangar shook as the various Videses emerged from their hidden positions and grouped around the car. Only the larger Cthulhu rig had issues. It fell hip deep into the ground and took a moment to dislodge itself from the asphalt.

Vides eyed the Alexander on the other side of the hangar. “Looks like I underestimated the hairy fella.”

“You murdered L’Mar’s brother. Do you think calling him names is really necessary?”

“Oh, I’m the jerk here?” Vides said feigning a pain that no reasonable person would think he actually felt. “Right off the bat, that hairball made it clear he didn’t like me.”

“That’s because you murdered his brother,” Priscilla repeated.

“Yes, I realize that,” Vides said, trying not to lose his temper. “But I explained to him what happened with that and how it wasn’t really my fault. I guess his kind aren’t too forgiving.”

“Again, murdered brother.”

“Yes, I shoved a shard of glass through his brother’s face. I’ll own that. But no one likes being reminded about their mistakes all the damn time. How would you feel if someone kept reminding you about your biggest mistake?”

“Like the time I unfroze a Neanderthal solider who, immediately upon waking, murdered my loyal First Mate?”

“You know, you’re starting to sound a lot like him. I know he’s sweet on you.”

“So are you,” she said.

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How’s that?”

“I deserve you.”

“How do you figure?”

“Oh, please,” Vides said. “I think it’s pretty obvious.”

L’Mar appeared at the top of the Alexander’s loading ramp and waved to the woman like a child waves at his parents when he’s starring as a tree in his elementary school’s production of The Story About How Everybody Matters.

“There’s the big dumb idiot now.” Vides lifted his hand to acknowledge the wave and hopefully make L’Mar put his own hand down. “At least I’m not making a fool of myself for you.”

“No, you seem to have your own reasons for making a fool of yourself.” Priscilla waved back, and the Gardwah’s smile grew big enough to see across the hangar.

“Do you think that’s nice?” Vides asked. “You leading him on like that?”

“Like what?” Priscilla asked.

“Smiling and waving,” Vides said. “It’s cruel, knowing nothing could ever happen.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a crooked smile. “He’s ruggedly handsome, if you ask me. And I particularly like the way he makes a fool of himself for me. It’s nice.”

“Nice?” Vides was shocked. It went against everything he knew about acting tough to get women. Could he have been so wrong all this time? He smiled as he realized she was playing with him. He shook off the comment and chuckled. “Nah, I’ve known you long enough to know that ‘nice’ ain’t your thing.”

“Nice is every woman’s thing, Commander. It was sweet the way L’Mar stepped up to fulfill his brother’s life debt.”

“What kind of a moron swears a life debt to a gene freak in the first place?”

Her voice grew cold, and he reminded himself that gene freaks didn’t like being called gene freaks and that he should be more sensitive when talking to her or any other gene freaks when she was around.

She let the insult go. “G’Har was honorable.”

“If you say so,” Vides shrugged. “I never met the guy.”

“You did meet him, and you murdered him in the same moment.”

“Well, yeah, I met him. But I didn’t ‘meet him’ meet him. I barely got to know him.”

“Because you shoved a piece a glass through his eye.”

“We’re just going in circles now, Genie.”

L’Mar ran to the bottom of the Alexander’s ramp and waved again. Vides couldn’t tell if the Gardwah’s grin had gotten bigger or if he’d just gotten closer. Probably both. Either way, it was a goofy, lovesick smile filled with the same kind of hope that made everyone cheer for the underdog.

The hiss of a dozen rockets filled the air. Vides and the others looked up just in time to see the barrage streaking over the top of the hangar wall and come streaking for the Alexander.

“Get down!” Vides screamed.

The Alexander exploded with a deafening roar and a fireball that enveloped the entire ship and, most likely, L’Mar in flames.

Vides placed himself between Priscilla and the blast. Ten, Eleven and Four threw themselves in front of the family. The shockwave sent the car sliding sideways, but the Hell Drivers were planted firmly and shielded the family from harm.

Black smoke rolled like a bank of fog over them. Those without armor struggled to breathe as they choked on the heavy fumes.

When the smoke cleared, Things 1 and 2 had secured the boy and his mother while Big Baby tended to a whining ambassador.

“Why do I get the doll?” Decote bitched.

Vides was too busy scanning the area for the source of the attack to answer. He was getting the same readings as before. Cargoexos, cranes, forklifts and everything else showed up, but the system wasn’t identifying anything as a threat. There was nothing that looked even remotely like a rocket launcher.

Deafened by the blast, Priscilla shouted into her communicator. “L’Mar? L’Mar!”

“Get them out of here!” Vides shouted to his men over the roar of the flames. The wall of fire was sucking in air and turning it into noise. He yelled through the speaker in his armor at Priscilla. “Genie, go with ’em.”

Priscilla whipped around to look at him. He knew every word behind that look: ‘I don’t need protecting. No one tells me what to do. How dare you. Why were you smelling my hairbrush again?’ But they didn’t have time for an argument.

“I’m not trying to save you, woman,” Vides assured her, and pointed to the family. “I need you to save them.”

The look faded. She nodded and took control of the escape. Things 1 and 2 swept up the boy and his mother while Big Baby grabbed the ambassador despite his protests.

“Heads up, boys,” Vides said to the remaining Hell Drivers. “Things are about to get messy.”

The first attack came from within the billows of smoke. A gray object the size of a man burst through the cloud and struck Sabertooth in the chest with enough force to send the rig backpedaling across the landing bay.

The object bounced off the battle rig, did several flips and landed in front of the team to reveal that the man-sized object was, in fact, a man dressed from head to toe in gray. He was covered in a form-fitting armor of gray fibrous material that made it look like he was wearing his muscles on the outside of his body.

Once settled from all the flipping, the figure rose into a defensive pose and unsheathed a vibrating blade from a scabbard he wore inverted across his back. It was a sign. Several more men made their entrance into the arena of combat in an equally dramatic manner, bouncing off the large Hell Driver rigs, flipping, cartwheeling—one guy did that hands, feet, hands, feet kind of flip that cheerleaders did, and then tumbled and twisted and turned in the air before he landed next to the rest of them.

“Well, well, well. Looks like we got us some space ninjas, boys!” Once they stopped flipping, they were easier to ID, and it looked like the enemy had their own brand of dark assassins. This didn’t surprise him. Stealthy warriors and acrobatic assassins weren’t uncommon in cultures across the universe. And it seemed no matter how outdated a sword became on the modern battlefield, there was always a staunch contingent of fighters that refused to let it go. It was, however, the first time his clones were going toe-to-toe with a page out of history. “Now I want you boys to enjoy yourselves here, but you to have to remember to watch out—”

One of the dark figures shrieked and launched itself forward as if it had been crouched on a spring. There was a flash of light as he drew his sword and slashed at the Great Old One. With blinding speed, the figure retreated back to the circle and assumed a defensive posture.

“Six?” Vides asked the driver inside the Eldritch rig.

“He missed?” asked Six.

One of the Great Old One’s tentacles sparked, dangled for a moment, and then dropped to the ground where it writhed like a snake.

Vides sighed as he watched the mechanical tentacle wriggle on the ground. “Watch out for their swords. They’re laser sharp.”

The tense staring portion of the standoff ended when the lead space ninja screamed.

The Videses unleashed hell on the enemy. Bullets, blaster charges and rockets converged on the ninja grouping. The concentrated fire produced a great deal of noise and flashes as well as number of “Take that, you ninja bastards,” and a thick cloud of smoke.

The smoke cloud grew larger and began to fill the hangar.

“Which of you idiots fired the smoke grenade?” Two asked.

There was a chorus of denials as the smoke cloud grew thicker and larger.

“It wasn’t us,” Vides said. It wasn’t the other Videses fault. It was their first ninja fight. He had so much to teach himself. “These are textbook ninja tricks. Switch to thermal.”

Giggles’ display changed to a patchwork of color and the smoke disappeared. The Alexander burned in the background, making the system somewhat less effective. But the processor could compensate for the heat coming off the wreckage, and it should have been be able to pick out the smaller enemy targets. But there was nothing in front of him.

“Aw, hell,” Vides said just before the attack came from behind. He cursed himself for not catching on sooner. He was a little rusty when it came to fighting ninjas.

Vides turned and swung the clown’s massive arm. Giggles caught the assassin in mid-leap and the man in the gray armor was knocked back. But like some stupid, sword-wielding cat, he landed on his feet and vanished in a cloud of smoke before Vides could get a bead on him.

Blayse had dealt with enemies like this before, and he should have seen the disappearing act coming sooner. He cursed himself for the mistake. The others were falling for it as well, but he couldn’t blame them. They may be carbon copies of him, and they benefited from his training, but they didn’t have his experience, and it soon became apparent that ninja awareness wasn’t a genetic trait. The big-headed scientists were going to have to work on that.

A ninja struck the Sabertooth rig in the back and sent the big cat stumbling forward into the giant spider. Both rigs toppled to the ground in a heap of Hell Drivers and started blaming one another for the pile-up.

Nine screamed as another of the warriors landed on his back and drove the laser blade through the Ursine armor’s shoulder. The sword pierced the rig’s armor and slid past the Vides’s shoulder, slicing the skin.

Prime drew Giggles’ cannon and fired toward the bear. The blast struck the warrior as he struggled to remove the blade from the bear’s back and knocked the space ninja across the hangar.

The Reaper chased a ninja across the tarmac with a string of machine gun fire that ended up hitting Three.

“Damnit, Steven!” the Hell Hound growled. “Check your fire!”

“He was all flipping and shit. Yell at him for somersaulting in front of you.”

“What did you just call him?” Vides Prime shouted.

“Nothing,” Three said.

“I’ve told you…” Blayse interrupted himself and caught another attacker that was flying toward him in the clown’s giant hand.

The ninja dangled by the neck and struggled against the rig’s grip.

It was a futile struggle but the rig was busy taking calculations. The rig measured the movements, analyzed the armor and logged the information into the computer. It displayed the verdict, and it was just as he expected. The odd-looking armor wrapped around the assassins was augmenting their strength and speed.

Vides pulled the ninja closer and finally got a look into his enemy’s eyes. They were jet black. He could barely make out the iris against the sclera. He knew the look. “Hmmm,” Vides said before slamming the warrior into the ground. “It looks like we’re all out of locals, boys,” he said through Giggles’ voice box. “Meet the Hamagonians.”

Another warrior attacked Twelve, but his Locust was able to get a hand up in time to block the stab. The sword’s point pierced the armored paw with little resistance.

Sawbones came to the grasshopper’s aid and grabbed the warrior with a fistful of needles before he could strike again. Thirteen backed away and dropped the ninja to the ground. It took a few shakes to get the body off the needles.

Twelve pulled the sword out from his rig’s hand and examined the blade. “What are these things?”

“Ultrablades,” Vides said, trying to put one of the flippy little bastards in his sights. He finally zeroed in on the fighter and pulled the trigger. “It’s pretty old tech, actually. They just seem to have beefed it up.” He missed the first shot. And the second and third. It took several rounds to finally score a hit. “Still no match for very quick bullets.”

There was only one fighter left, and the Hell Drivers formed a ring around him.

The Spider broke rank and pounced with its front legs raised to strike. By the time Two landed, the spider was short two legs and the space ninja was making a break for the top of the hangar.

The warrior was working his way to the top of the hangar by scrambling up on the stack of shipping containers.

The Hell Hound moved after him first. “I’ve got him,” Three said, and started climbing after him.

“Stand down, Three,” Vides said.

The ninja was quick, but the Canine armor kept pace with the enemy as they moved from stacks of containers to rooftops and climbed higher and higher into the hangar bay’s superstructure.

“Three! Get back here!” Blayse shouted. “That’s an order!”

The Hell Hound wasn’t responding. The beast had his eyes set on his prey.

“Shut him down, Giggles,” Vides said with a wink.

“Unknown command,” the armor replied.

The ninja reached the apex of the hangar but was out of corners to hide in. The gray-clad warrior stepped out onto a crane that hung over the opening far above them.

The Hell Hound appeared behind him.

“I want to shut down Hell Driver Rig Three!” Vides shouted at his clown and winked again.

“Mixed signals, detected,” Giggles said.

“Gotdamned tic!” Vides said, and raised his rifle to fire at the crane. The sun was setting behind the predator and his prey and Vides lost them both in the light. “Stand down, Three!”

Three finally acknowledged the call. “I’ve got him, Prime.”

“Dammit, listen to me, Three!”

The Hell Hound pounced, paws outstretched and its massive jaws open for a quick and brutal kill.

Before the rig could land, the ninja transformed into a cloud of smoke.

The air above the hangar cleared the smoke quickly and revealed the Hell Hound staring at a pair of paws that had come up empty. The space ninja was gone, but Three wasn’t alone.

A shadow rose up between Three and the sun. The details were lost in the setting sun, but the figure that stood behind the Hell Driver was massive. Its shape fluctuated as the darkness around its form rippled, but Vides could make out a pair of arms.

The shadow rose slowly to its full height and lifted a hand to strike. An ethereal dagger appeared in its hand.

“Three!” Prime shouted, and fired at the specter. But he was too late.

The dagger sank through the back of the Hell Hound’s armor and emerged from the front covered in blood.

Vides heard Three try to scream in his comm, but the sound was cut short.

The mysterious figure raised the Hell Hound above its head with a single hand. A haunting laugh filled the hangar. It was everywhere and nowhere, but Vides knew it was originating from the man on the boom.

Vides watched as the coward who had stabbed one of him in the back cast the body from the crane.

Three fell for an impossibly long time before crashing into the burning wreckage of the Alexander.

Vides watched his favorite him plummet and turned away only at the moment of impact. He screamed and raised his rifle to fire again, but the shadowy figure was gone. The gantry was empty.

Powerless to do anything more, the Hell Drivers stood and stared at the place where Three had fallen as the sun set and the fires burned. Some of the smoke got into Vides’s eye.

15

“You’ve got to believe me when I say that I’m doing everything I can,” Newan Gravitz said into the communicator. He paced the small office space he had commandeered at the museum as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. “Of course I am. Things have gotten complicated here. If there was just something more you could tell me…”

There was a noise out in the hallway outside of the office. Gravitz paused and put a hand over the comm’s speaker. He listened. He even tilted his head so he could listen harder. When the noise didn’t repeat itself, he removed his hand from the speaker and resumed talking.

“No,” he said into the comm. “I have no control over him. Absolutely none.”

The door opened without a knock, and a Hamagonian stepped into the room.

“This room is occupied,” Newan said, and pointed to the comm in his hand.

The soldier from Hama stomped to the desk Gravitz was using and cleared the surface. He then produced a glass tray and set it on the table. The man set several more items on the table, ensured they were aligned properly, then stood up straight and stared at Gravitz. He said nothing.

“I’m on a call,” Newan said, holding the comm forward to illustrate his point in case the man from Hama wasn’t wearing a translator.

The protest elicited no response from the dark-eyed man. If anything, the man said even less than nothing and stared more than he had before.

Gravitz found it weird that the Hama barely blinked. It wasn’t xenophobia, he assured himself, just an observation on how freakish they were. He was losing his patience. “Get out. Now!”

The man’s expression remained flat, his posture rigid. There wasn’t even an acknowledgment that Gravitz had spoken.

“Please excuse my attaché, friend Gravitz,” the Rox Tolgath said as he entered the office. “He can seem quite rude, to those unfamiliar with our culture.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Gravitz said into the comm and ended the call. He turned his attention to Lucrid. “He did seem a little standoffish.”

“You’ll have to forgive him,” Lucrid said. “He is deaf, dumb and he doesn’t like you.”

“I see,’ Newan said with some surprise at the alien’s candor.

“I’m sorry, that’s not correct. It’s not that he doesn’t like you. What is the word I’m looking for?” Lucrid snapped his fingers as he took a seat at the desk. “He doesn’t respect you. That’s the one.”

Gravitz stared back at the attaché. “In that case, I’m flattered.”

Lucrid appeared in good spirits. There was something akin to joy in his movements as he kicked back in the seat at the desk and made use of the instruments the attaché had laid out to light a type of cigar. The Hamagonian took a deep drag, put his feet up on the desk and exhaled a cloud of purple smoke that smelled of the sweet scent of flowers.

The Rox Tolgath looked lost in the experience, so Gravitz cleared his throat and broke the smoke’s spell.

The interruption seemed to sour the Rox Tolgath’s mood “What is it now, new friend?”

Gravitz keyed in a search on his comm and projected the resulting image into the room. Security camera footage from the firefight in the hangar filled the small office. He played the footage at double speed. The Alexander exploded, the Decotes were attacked and the Earth forces dog soldier was thrown from the crane into the fire, all at a very fast clip.

Lucrid smiled as the footage stopped on the shadowy figure atop the crane.

“So, do you want to tell me what that was all about?” Gravitz asked.

“I would think it was about a hundred feet,” the Rox Tolgath said as he leaned back in the chair and drew deep on the cigar.

“How can you be so delighted?” Gravitz asked. “You just lost half a dozen men, and the family got away.”

Lucrid stopped puffing on the cigar and stared at him. He could feel the Hamagonian judging him. He didn’t know what to expect next, but was relieved when the Rox Tolgath leaned forward and tapped the ash from his cigar into the glass tray the attaché had set on the desk.

When Lucrid sat back, he asked, “Are all Miradians this emotional, friend Gravitz? Or is it just you?”

“You’re awfully calm for a man who just had his ass handed to him. Not to mention, the target could have been killed. I knew letting your men out there was a mistake.” Newan stiffened with resolve. He liked it when he sounded tough. “I’m putting my men back on this.”

“You do and I’ll have you executed,” Lucrid said, and blew a smoke ring.

“You have no authority to exe—”

“Then we will call it an assassination or a murder. Or perhaps a mercy killing. We’ll call it whatever you like, but you will still be very much dead.” Lucrid took another drag off the cigar and let loose another cloud of purple smoke before he waved away the tension. “But there is no need for that, friend Gravitz. Just let Hama handle it from here.”

“You just lost half a dozen men,” Gravitz reminded him.

“No, friend Gravitz. I just spent half a dozen men learning a lesson. And I’m not about to waste the knowledge that I’ve gained—valuable knowledge for us and our allies. This clown is no one special. We know that now. He’s emotional. Much like you. We’ve learned their tactics. Their lack of discipline. How they handle the loss of a comrade. It’s all very informative. Special forces,” Lucrid scoffed at the words and purple smoke piped from his nose. “They can barely function as a team. Just listen to the chatter as they panic. This is no team.”

He leaned back in the chair once more. “Yes. It was very informative indeed.”

“But your men,” Newan insisted.

“There are more where that came from. If you could even grasp the size of the empire you’ve joined, it would make your small mind swim with wonder.”

Gravitz hoped his wince wasn’t visible. He was new to this cold-hearted game of sending men to die. It wasn’t even his idea to play. His position put him here with Lucrid and he was beginning to wonder if he was up to it. It was easy to fantasize about being the ruthless politician when the stakes had been so low. Now things were getting all too real. But if he was going to do it, he might as well embrace the role.

He filled his lungs with air and imagined it to be courage. “I’m sending my men.”

Lucrid laughed at his defiance. The officer stood and crossed the small office.

Gravitz expected a knife in his stomach or for the silent attaché to draw a weapon, but Lucrid just reached out and grabbed his shoulders. “There is no reason to get your men killed, my new friend. We anticipated this.”

“You anticipated a giant murderous clown?”

Lucrid nodded. “Honestly, we hoped for this. We’ve been interested in meeting this clown for some time. And his friends.” He reached for Gravitz’s wrist and reactivated the footage. He found the moment when the shadow creature was most visible and zoomed in. “It’s the whole reason I am here.”

“That’s you in that thing?”

“It is. And I will be suiting up again later tonight. We have met the enemy and are prepared to deal with them. We will let them regroup and then take the offensive and finish them off. These Earth soldiers dress like monsters to frighten the weak. But tonight, it is they who will become afraid of the dark.”

“All alone?” Gravitz asked.

Another Hamagonian opened the office door and directed his attention to Lucrid.

“What is it?”

“They’re here, sir.”

“Very good.” Lucrid nodded back and the man left the room again. He put the cigar back in his mouth and smiled at Newan. “No, friend Gravitz. Not alone.”

16

“Gotdamn, I am way more emotional than I would have expected,” Vides said.

They had regrouped in a warehouse a few miles from the hangar once they were certain they weren’t being followed. No one had said much of anything. The other Videses had remained quiet while Prime brought Priscilla up to speed on the death of Three. He told her about the space ninjas and the really sweet move where he had grabbed that one right out of the air and then smashed him into the ground like a space ninja pancake. He told her how things were looking good until that one had lured Three up onto the crane with a cowardly ruse and then the giant shadow had driven a knife through Three’s heart—and his own, in a more metaphorical sense.

No one took the news well. The death of Three and the loss of that replacement Gardwah really soured the mood of the whole rescue mission.

“I mean I hated that bastard,” Vides said. “But that bastard was me. And, yeah, I know some people said that the self is nothing more than a bundle of perceptions, but I highly doubt that particular someone ever saw himself get run through by an evil shadow with a glowing blade, hoisted in a victory pose and tossed into the raging fire of an interstellar spacecraft. I guess what I’m saying is David Hume can kiss my ass. That blade pierced my heart, too. If that makes any sense.”

“Oh, yes,” Priscilla said. “Total sense.”

Vides looked away. “They killed him like a dog, Pris.”

“Well, he kind of was a dog,” she said.

“Thanks. Your sarcasm has warmed my broken heart.”

“You just said you hated him.”

“I mean, yeah, I hate all these guys. But I hated Three the least.”

Vides knew that compassion wasn’t her strong suit; Priscilla had been through a lot in her life that put her on guard. He’d noticed early on in their relationship that she either buried her emotions deep or had none to begin with. Either way, she didn’t wear her feelings on her sleeve. Like how she pretended not to be insanely attracted to him. Or like when he called her names and said she was an affront to nature, and she just stood there acting tough. She was tough. Probably tougher than him, even. It was one of the things he liked about her.

That’s why it meant so much when she put her hand on his arm and softened her voice. She was trying, and he knew it wasn’t easy for her. “Look, I’m sure it’s not easy.”

But he was tough, too, and it was no time to look weak in front of Ambassador Responsible For Three’s Death and his family. Vides pulled his arm away. “Don’t act like you know what I’m going through. There isn’t anyone in this world, or any other world, who could possibly know how it feels to see yourself killed like that.”

“I know how it feels,” said Two.

“Me, too,” said Eleven.

“Yes, I do,” said Four.

“I think pretty much all of us can relate,” said Nine.

“Shut up, all of you.” Vides said with a silencing wave. “And what are you doing just standing around? You think this mission is over just because we lost a man? Baby Doll and Locust, you two take the rear guard. Pestilence. Reaper. You take point. Keep an eye open for that shadowy bastard, Hama ninjas or whatever else this stupid planet is going to try to throw at us.”

Three of the affirmatives came back as expected: gruff with a hint of insubordination.

The fourth reply was raspy, drawn out and almost a whisper. It came from the Reaper. “I shall disperse myself.”

“What the hell was that, Seven?” Prime asked.

The Vides in the Reaper armor cowered at the tone from his commander. “I thought… I was trying to stay in character, sir.”

“In character?” Prime asked.

“Yeah, the whole creepy death… I figure maybe the Grim Reaper has a rough, quiet voice. Cold and uncaring since he’s just doing his job and has probably heard it all from the people he’s about to kill. So I said it like he would say it.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”

“Maybe that’s because he’s not you,” the Vides in the Bear armor said.

“Shut it, Nine.”

“My name is Atticus!”

“Even if you weren’t me, that would be a stupid name!” Vides Prime shouted back. “Now shut up and go find us some transport for the ambassador and his family. The rest of you, set up a perimeter. That bastard that got Three is out there somewhere and we can’t have him getting the drop on us again.”

Vides watched as the Hell Drivers dispersed. Once they had departed, he sighed and opened his rig’s canopy. He stepped out and sat down on a box with a water bottle he’d pulled from inside of Giggles. Priscilla’s eyes were on him. He could feel it. And he was certain she was about to speak. He could feel that, too. He waved her off before she could do any of her terrible consoling. “Why don’t you make sure the family is okay?”

She laughed at being dismissed and left him alone with his grief. He didn’t expect Three’s death to hit him so hard. He had lost soldiers under his command before. It was part of the job, and they were all missed, but this one felt like losing a part of himself. To a man, every one of his clones had been arrogant and insufferable. Three had been as well, but less so. He’d taken a shine to the Vides and made him his second Vides in command. This was, of course, confusing because everyone had assumed that he meant the second Vides was second in command, but Three was second, not Two, and they got it eventually. And Three had taken his responsibilities seriously. Unlike that idiot, Two. And he was respectful. Unlike that arrogant prick Nine. And he wasn’t lazy like Six or just depressing to be around like Twelve.

“I’m sorry you lost your friend.”

The voice startled him, but he smiled when he looked up and saw the boy. He fought back a tear because he didn’t want the kid to think some big crybaby was in charge of keeping his family safe.

“Ah, that’s okay, kid. I didn’t really like him anyway.”

“You looked pretty upset.”

“Yeah, well. It’s kind of like losing a dog, right? You cared about him, but you still got mad every time he took a leak on the rug or tried to hump your girlfriend’s leg.”

“I… I never had a dog. What do you mean hump a le—”

“What I’m saying is it’s kind of like losing man’s best friend. So he was kind of like my best friend except I’ve always been my own best friend so that’s not true. Except he was me, so it was kind of like losing man’s best friend and my own best friend at the same time both literally and metaphorically but I’m not sure if it was actually or technically which one it was. Do you see what I’m saying?”

The look on the boy’s face clearly said that he did not understand what Vides was saying.

Blayse took a deep breath and tried again. “It’s like losing a piece of yourself. A piece that mattered. Not like an ear lobe or a nipple, but I’m talking like losing a leg or, at the very least, one of the more important fingers like the thumb or the middle one. So, yeah, I’m going to miss him, but I could probably just get a hook or a peg leg or something.” He smiled at the kid because reassurance was important. “Yeah, I hated him, but I don’t think I’m really going to miss him for much longer.”

Vides had to stifle another tear that threatened to make a break down his cheek. What the hell?! This wasn’t like him.

“I’m going to miss my friends, too,” the boy said, and sat down next to the soldier.

He looked at the kid, and the boy was hesitant to make eye contact. He just looked at the toy spaceship in his hands as he spoke.

Blayse knew he had to say something, but comforting people wasn’t his thing any more than it was Priscilla’s. There was definitely a hearts-and-minds component to military operations, but that was a separate division. He had always specialized in the blood-and-guts division himself. But he had to say something.

“Yeah, moving is rough,” he admitted. “My old man was in the military, just like me. So we moved around a lot when I was your age. That made it hard to make friends. Every time you’d just get to getting someone to like you, you’d have to pack up and move to the other side of the planet or another part of the galaxy. So, you know what I did?”

“What?”

“I made up my own friends. Raygar was one of my best friends. He was a tiger, you know?”

The kid perked up. “Really?”

“No. Not really. I already told you I made him up. He was imaginary.”

“Oh.”

“But that didn’t make him any less of a friend. We’d go on walks in the woods. Raygar was a great listener. Oh we could talk for hours, Raygar and I. We talked about all kinds of things: life, girls, philosophy.” Vides trailed off into a memory.

“Are you still friends?”

“Oh, no,” Vides said and allowed himself a laugh. “He may have been a great listener, but Raygar was also the jealous type. And one year, when my parents forgot my birthday, all my imaginary friends threw me a surprise party to make up for it. Well, I’d never told Raygar about Peanut, Tall Timmy, the Little Red-Headed Girl or any of my other friends.”

“What happened?”

“He ate them,” Vides said. “Tore them to ever-loving shreds. I can still hear the screaming sometimes when things are quiet. Like when I’m waiting for a drop. They’d already started singing Happy Birthday and weren’t even to the part where they sing your name yet. There were balloons. Some of those popped. It was a bloodbath and there weren’t enough little birthday napkins in the world to clean up that mess… the cake was just ruined.

“And that was pretty much the end of my friendship with Raygar right there. I don’t care how good a listener someone is, if you eat my imaginary girlfriend, that’s the end of our friendship right there.

“So what I’m tryin’ to say, Treye, is that friends are useless.”

The Decote boy looked horrified. Hard truths had a way of doing that to a person. But he was growing up soft in a world that was about to become hard and somebody needed to break it to him if his father wouldn’t.

“Even Alix?” The kid finally asked with a weak voice.

“Yeah, even Alix.”

“But I don’t think he would eat my girlfriend.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him, kid. Besides, where is Alix now? You’re on the run. The whole world is literally against you and where is he? Is he here for you when you need him the most?”

“He’s at home,” Treye said. “I think it’s past his bedtime.”

“That’s what I thought,” Vides said. “Forget friends, kid. You have to learn to be your own man.”

Treye didn’t have much to say after that. He had a lot to think about and was probably chewing on the newfound wisdom. Vides patted him on the back, and the kid walked back over to his parents.

He was left alone with his thoughts until a few minutes later when Priscilla took the seat vacated by the boy.

“I know you’re a tough son of a bitch, Vides.” She had a harder edge to her voice than before. The tender thing wasn’t working for her and now she sounded more like the woman he loved. “But are you okay?”

“Are any of us ever really okay?” He asked.

“No, I mean specifically, are you okay?” She pointed over to Treye. “The kid said there was something really wrong with you.”

Blayse shrugged. He couldn’t hide anything from the love of his life. “I may be taking my own death a little harder than I expected, Genie. I guess we’re never truly prepared to watch our own end at the hands of an alien terror weapon.”

“How are the others?” she asked.

“I just told you how we were doing,” Vides said. Wasn’t she listening?

“No, you told me how you were doing.”

“It’s the same difference.”

“Is it?”

Vides slammed the water bottle down. It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as he wanted. A glass would have been better. That would break and crash. This just kind of went sploosh. “Dammit, Pris. They are me.”

“And doesn’t that make you them?”

“Oh, they aren’t that lucky. They may have my good looks and amazing physique and courage but that’s where it ends. I don’t get it. We should be an unstoppable team. Thirteen—” he sniffed hard, “Twelve of me acting as one. We should be unstoppable.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. You have to stop thinking about them as extensions of yourself. You have to let them be themselves.”

“Being themselves is being me.”

“They seem to want to be their own men,” she said. “Nine has picked a name. Eight has his own idea of what the personification of Death should sound like. They’re obviously capable of having their own ideas.”

“Bah,” Vides snapped up the water bottle and took a long drink before pulling it away from his mouth. “They’re all a big disappointment.”

“Why do you resent them so much?”

“It’s not just me, all right? They hate each other, too. Except for Seven and Nine. I think there’s something going on there and I tell you that it is my biggest fear in the world that I accidentally walk in on that.” He shivered. “There wouldn’t be enough therapy dogs in the galaxy to pet away a shake-up like that.”

“Maybe if you—”

“Maybe we should just stop talking about me for a minute.” He pointed to the family. “We’re here for them, after all. How are they doing?”

“Natlia is holding it together; the husband, not so much. He’s watching his world fall apart, everything he’s worked for, blah blah blah. He just keeps babbling. He keeps saying he can fix this, he can fix this.”

“It’s a lot to face. Being a complete and utter failure at your job and to know that the consequences of that failure means the death of thousands and the suffering of millions.”

“You talked to the kid. How’s he?” She asked.

“He’s a good kid. He reminds me a lot of me. He’s been served a shit sandwich on moldy bread, but I gave him some advice on how to turn that horrible hoagie into one hell of a Reuben on rye.”

“When you say all those words like that do you actually think you’re communicating with other people?”

Vides just nodded. “Yeah, he’s soft but that boy’s going to be okay.”

He looked over and the saw the mother talking to the kid. Her gaze quickly shifted to Vides. She glared at him for a moment then stood up and marched over. She pointed a finger at him. “What on Mirada did you tell my child?”

“Shit, lady. I don’t remember. It ain’t my fault if he wasn’t paying attention.”

There was a double honk and Vides looked over at the Giggles rig. But it wasn’t the armor; a car was pulling into the warehouse with a Vides at the wheel. It wasn’t as glamorous as their last ride, but it would have to do to get the family to the backup exfil site.

Vides saddled back up in his rig and enclosed himself in the armor. The clown bowed to the two women and presented the car. “Your chariot awaits, Madames.”

17

Much like the larger Metroplexes on Earth, Vontpresser extended hundreds of miles in every direction. Night had fallen over the city, and Vides thought the vibrant lights that took over the sky made Mirada look even more like its former ally.

Marketing messages provided the bulk of the illumination in big, bold statements about product benefits, lifestyle affinity, and how much sex you could get with a pair of shoes. In comparison, the streetlights did little illuminate anything.

His scanners translated the text of the signs in real time and presented them to him in his heads-up-display. But most of them were written in bad English to begin with to appeal to the younger, hipper kids who took their style cues from Earth’s fashion. These brand names made no sense whatsoever. They were just a random mash-up of words the creators thought sounded cool. Typewriter Angel was a café, Flashdance Panda made wigs and Resentful Potato was a restaurant that did in fact sell a potato dish, but the name’s relevancy was just a coincidence.

Commerce had changed since his time in the tank. Vides had gone under with a wallet full of cash. His decision to enter suspended animation was made, firstly, out of a sense of duty. But he’d be lying if he didn’t say that compound interest on his life savings wasn’t a secondary factor in his decision. When they thawed him out, however, he found that money didn’t really work the same as it had a century before. You could print just about anything you needed from matter machines. The only thing you were paying for now was ideas. Art, designs, entertainment, matter machine formulas and anything that was actually still affected by scarcity like real estate.

There were fewer places to spend money. Restaurants were common everywhere, the local equivalent of a café as well, but retail had mostly disappeared. On many Alliance planets, there was little in the way of shopping at all.

But here on Mirada, it was alive and well. Most of the population’s first relationship with Earth culture had been through marketing, and they took to the practice like they were born to play the game.

Mixed with the fascination of Earth culture, many of the early stores had been thinly veiled knockoffs. But the imitations were done well enough that some of Mirada’s oldest companies looked an awful lot like Earth’s.

MT&T sold the latest communicators. McDougal’s made burgers. Merle Scheib would custom paint your Honyota, Volksford or Mercekia poorly for just $29,000. Any color.

As a matter of fact, the family was riding in a Volksford that had been painted electric blue by Merle Scheib, which is why the car was also yellow in parts. It wasn’t nearly as nice as the luxury car from earlier, but the vehicle blended in better with what little traffic was left on the road.

The Hell Drivers moved as discreetly as possible above and below the city streets. They used the rooftops, sewers and conduits to keep pace with the car and protect the family. The darkness was their friend, and they became shadowy creatures of the night as they kept watch on the Decotes in the Volksford Pettawagon.

Vides watched their locations on screen and called for an update. “Five, report in.”

“I’ve got a visual on the family,” Five said. “Everything appears fine.”

“Is anyone else a little freaked out by how much this place looks like Earth?” Two asked. The Spider moved from rooftop to rooftop. Two had reconfigured the rig’s legs to maintain 100% mobility after the loss of its two forelimbs. Thanks to this, the missing legs had done little to slow him down.

“I am,” said Eleven, Six and Eight.

The others grunted.

This was the Videses first trip to Mirada. They had been briefed as much as possible, but mission dossiers rarely covered pop culture history unless it was relevant. Prime explained the similarities. “Up until a few weeks ago, these fellas loved Earth. Hell, we were practically best friends with Mirada. They loved everything about us. Enough that they copied a lot of the things from back home.”

“Why does it feel off?” Thirteen asked.

Vides stood on a rooftop and he looked around the city. It did feel oddly familiar but alien at the same time. Like the Miradians had studied Earth through a telescope and done their best to recreate it without understanding all of it.

“They tried to do what we do. And they did their best, I think,” said Vides. “Some of it just didn’t translate. Sure, that’s part of it. But the Miradians are fiercely proud, for some reason, and I guess they figured that by putting a 10% mark of Mirada on something they borrowed from Earth, they could say it was part of their culture all along.”

“That just sounds ignorant,” Eight said.

“Yeah, well, you’re new here,” Vides said. “I used to come here all the time back before I had myself frozen so I could later be thawed out in a time of distress to once more be the hero that Earth needed. I always had a blast on Mirada. The people were polite. Very relatable. We all agreed that Earth music rocked and Miradian music did not rock. You could hang with them, you know?”

Vides looked out over the city. They had been good times and, as far as aliens went, the folks on Mirada felt more like cousins than just about any other race in the galaxy.

Nine growled, “I think you were making a point.”

“By the time I got here, the two cultures had already embraced one another and become best friends. You looked around and it was easy to forget you were on another planet. Especially when it came to eating. Earth cuisine was so popular that the majority of the restaurants here were Earth brands. Hell, I can’t even name a Miradian beer. They all drank that Colorado water. Well, one time when we were here for some R and R and I got out of the city a bit, I saw a place with a sign extolling Miradian cuisine. Something you all may not know about yourself is that we could be considered a bit of a gourmand.”

“What’s a gourmand?” asked Seven.

“It’s like a foodie that doesn’t have to take pictures of every damn thing he eats,” Vides answered. “I’ve savored the food of a hundred worlds and I just had to try Miradian cuisine myself.”

“How was it?” Eight asked.

“It was a hamburger,” Vides said.

“A Miradian hamburger,” Ten said.

“No just a regular old Earth burger.” Prime shrugged at the memory. “The only difference was it had gravy on it.”

“And that’s Miradian cuisine?”

“Yep. They just add a little something and pretend they made the whole thing up.”

“Like Southern gravy?” Two asked.

“Nah, that brown stuff,” Vides clarified.

“Gross.”

“Meh.” Vides thought back to the burger. “It wasn’t bad. You can’t ruin a lot of things by soaking them in gravy.”

“Makes sense to me,” Nine said.

“Gravy on a burger does,” Prime agreed. “But calling it your own… not so much.”

“They should get to call it theirs. It was their idea,” Nine said.

“The burger wasn’t,” Prime argued.

“But the burger–gravy combination was.”

“So if I put ketchup on my fries, I invented fries?” Prime asked.

“No,” Nine said. “Because it wasn’t your idea.”

“If I didn’t think to do it, then how does the ketchup get on the fries, genius?” Prime asked.

“I mean you weren’t the first person to think of it,” Nine said.

“Are you trying to tell me that in the entire history of burgers and gravy, no one put gravy on a burger before?” Vides asked.

Nine stammered. “I just think—”

“I already told you what we think!” Prime snapped.

“We’re entitled to our own thoughts!” Nine snapped back.

“Yeah, he’s allowed to have a wrong opinion on gravy burgers,” Two said.

“It’s not wrong!” Nine shouted.

“Everyone, shut up,” Vides said, and killed their mics so he wouldn’t have to listen to them bicker. When they all got going it was like his voice rattling around in his head and he hated to hear himself argue with himself. “When you all get your own DNA, you can get your own thoughts. Until then, I’ll tell you what we think about gravy burgers, our favorite movies, the top ten dog breeds, exactly how many ways cats suck, how many times is the right amount to shake it, and anything else I decide I want us to think. Now, everyone, stop the arguing and check in.”

They did so.

Two and Five sounded disciplined.

Nine had more attitude than normal because he had clearly lost the gravy burger argument.

Six and Seven had the usual amount of attitude.

Eight, Ten and Eleven followed.

And Thirteen finished it off.

Vides nodded at the completion of the roll call, did a quick count on his fingers and realized Four and Twelve hadn’t responded.

“Four? Twelve? Check in.”

Vides sorted through the options in Giggles’ heads-up display until the two units in question were highlighted on the map. They were half a click behind him. Right where they were supposed to be. A quick scan showed there to be no interference from terrestrial or aerial signals. In short, everything looked fine.

“Big Baby? Locust? Do you copy?” Prime challenged.

A response came over the mic. But it wasn’t either of the Videses. It was a low guttural growl filled with hate and scorn. It rumbled for five seconds, and then the line went dead.

The locator beacons for the rigs followed a moment later when the icons representing the Locust and the Big Baby rigs disappeared from his scanners.

“What did they say?” asked Nine.

“They didn’t say anything,” Prime said. “It was a growl.”

“A growl?” Nine repeated.

“They’re trying to scare us,” Vides said.

“Four and Twelve?” Two asked.

“Not Four and Twelve, you moron. Whoever just murdered Four and Twelve. They’re trying to intimidate us. But it’s not going to work.”

“If I’m being honest, I am a little intimidated,” Two said.

“No, we’re not, dammit!” Prime corrected him

“What do you think they meant by the growl?” Nine asked.

“It means they’re right behind us, and we’d better be damn ready for an attack.”

* * *

“We’re going to have a problem, Genie.” Vides’s voice crackled over her comm.

Priscilla was behind the wheel of the family sedan and scanned the area around her. The streets were quiet, but it wasn’t unusual for that time of night. “I don’t see anything,” she responded over the line.

A tank roared into the avenue from a cross street and blocked the road.

Priscilla slammed on the brakes as the cannon turned toward them and the family members screamed. She looked over her shoulder as she threw the car in reverse and mashed the accelerator.

The family rolled forward to the floor as the inertia caught them off guard.

Armed hovercycles shot out of the cross streets and sped after the car as Priscilla cut the wheel and spun the car into a lighting fast j-turn that threw the ambassador against a car door. She straightened the car and sped down the road.

The Miradians were closing the trap with more forces at the next intersection.

“Hold on, please,” she said, and cut through two plate glass windows and a small fashion boutique. The car came out the other side with more yellow paint showing than before and sped down the street.

The road ahead was clear, but it wasn’t long before the chase was on.

One of the hovercycles pulled alongside the car. The pilot waved for her attention and pointed for her to pull over.

Thing 2 came crashing down on top of the small craft and drove it into the ground. The hovercycle’s belly dragged along the asphalt and turned the road into a bed of sparks for a hundred feet before the engines were able to compensate for the extra weight. But it was too late. The Hell Driver punched through the acrylic canopy and ripped it from the cycle.

Priscilla watched the Vides toss the pilot away, and the vehicle disappeared from view. She watched Thing 2 emerge from the resulting explosion and run to catch up to the car. The rig ran alongside. The pilot inside was trying to reach her on the comm.

Static filled the channel as the enemy attempted to block their signal. She could hear bits and pieces of what the soldier was trying to say, but the message wasn’t getting through.

She gave up on the comm, rolled down the window and shouted into the wind. “What?”

“I said—” Thing 2 was tackled by a Miradian Warbot before he could finish.

Priscilla turned right at the next corner and listened to the family scream as they rolled across the back seat. The father yelled as if he’d been attacked, the wife stifled a scream and the boy loved every minute of it.

Priscilla leaned forward and looked up into the buildings. The Hell Drivers were converging on her position and starting to fire on the enemy behind her. But it wasn’t enough. Bullets began peppering the road around the car. Things that weren’t on fire were suddenly on fire as rockets fired wide and took their toll on the businesses that lined the avenue. The forces had Miradian markings like the ones from the villa and the battle in the street. But it looked like they had finally taken the gloves off. They were everywhere.

She turned onto another street and sent the family scrambling for their stomachs.

“Where are you taking us?” Natlia asked when she could finally sit up enough to talk.

“We need to get off the streets,” Priscilla said. “Somewhere less open.”

“Take your next right,” the woman responded, and Priscilla complied.

“But that’s—” the husband started.

“We’re going to Mount Wonder!” the boy squealed as Priscilla crashed through a set of crossbars guarding the entrance to a massive parking lot.

The car sped across the open space. “This isn’t better,” Priscilla said.

“Keep going!” Natlia shouted back. “Take us into the park!”

“Don’t do it!” Cullin said, finally contributing to the conversation with his trademark pessimism. “We can’t endanger civilians.”

“Keep going,” Natlia insisted. “It’s closed. They’re redoing the whole park.”

Priscilla crashed through a ticket booth into the main plaza of Mount Wonder, Vontpresser’s second-biggest family fun experience.

Giggles landed in front of the car as it skidded to a stop on the polished concrete pathway. He put a gloved hand on the hood to make sure the vehicle was parked. “Everyone all right?”

Priscilla nodded and stepped out of the car.

The giant clown in front of her was dwarfed by two massive statues that stood behind him. They looked as if they were carved from stone and rose at least 70 feet in the air. The two men wore crowns on their heads and crossed a pair of colossal swords over the main entrance to the park.

“Where the hell are we?” Vides asked.

More Hell Drivers arrived in the plaza as Priscilla rushed the family from the vehicle.

The Sabertooth rig leaned back to take in the full height of the statues. “What are these things?”

“They’re from Ruler of the Realm!” the boy exclaimed as Priscilla raced him and the family deeper into the park. “They’re awesome.”

18

The Mount Wonder Theme Park of Vontpresser might as well have been billed as the Happiest Place That Wasn’t the Happiest Place on Earth. The sprawling complex was “Mirada’s favorite family playground built on pop culture that was in no way inspired by Earth.” It was a lengthy tagline because the lawyers insisted that, since everything was basically inspired by Earth, the tagline should clearly state that none of it was.

Earth’s most popular IPs had been lifted, reshaped, repainted, renamed and then placed in the park around a colossal structure that was Mount Wonder itself.

Aside from being filled with complete rip-offs of other properties, it had been the first theme park on Mirada. Naturally, its construction had been a point of contention. So much so that it almost wasn’t built at all. The Ministry of Culture opposed its construction from the very beginning.

There was no need for such a facility. That was the public statement. But secretly they were more concerned about the cultural implications. Theme parks were an “Earth thing” and therefore belonged on Earth, not down the street from the Mirada National Gallery of Pottery and Other Interesting Shards. The park would clearly serve as a Trojan horse for Earth culture. The minister feared that children would go to the park, enjoy themselves and start thinking Earth was better than Mirada.

Initially, they hid behind noise, traffic and infrastructure concerns. When those failed to temper the excitement, the minister noted that Vontpresser already had a park where Miradian families could go and enjoy themselves while learning about the history and importance of early textile production at the same time. With Pioneer Park, there was simply no need for a second recreational area. The ministry insisted that there wouldn’t be enough demand for both entertainment-themed thrill rides and loom demonstrations. But the fervor never died, and in the end they were forced to attempt to use legislation to halt its construction. The planetary government literally tried to outlaw fun. But the cries for a park that wasn’t really just “learning in disguise, you boring jerks” drowned out the votes, and Mount Wonder moved forward.

The only thing the ministry could do was blunt the effect by declaring that no extraterrestrial intellectual property could be featured in the park and that all the burgers would be served with gravy.

The developers conceded and set to work removing the TMs and circle C’s from everything they could get their hands on. In the end, it saved them money and they weren’t entirely sure it diluted the final experience.

That’s why Vides and his men, the other Videses, stood at the base of two monolithic, Tolkienesque statues from a series called the Ruler of the Realms, looking at signs directing them to attractions called the Invader of the Forgotten Tomb, Space Battles and Meet the Fuppets.

Priscilla led the family between the two towering kings and into the park itself as an enemy mech stepped into the center of the plaza. The bipedal machine was two stories tall and armed to its painted-on tiger teeth. Vides recognized the model as a BattleJack. It was an early Alliance design. The Miradians must have pulled it out of storage and dusted it off. This made Vides laugh because it made the enemy look desperate. Then he stopped laughing because he recognized the parallels it had to his own life and he no longer thought it was funny.

Blayse was itching for revenge and knew the rest of the team was as well. But the Hamagonians were behind Three’s death. Not Mirada. He wasn’t going to get his vengeance here.

“That’s an Earth design, boys,” he said on an open channel. “Looks like we’re dealing with the locals again. But this time they’re loaded for bear. Nothing personal, Nine.”

“Atticus,” Atticus said.

“Shut up.”

Two explosive blasts anchored the BattleJack’s feet to the ground. Once locked in place, it began spewing rockets from every hole it had.

The Hell Drivers ducked, weaved, evaded and did everything but run away as the explosive projectiles turned the concrete concourse into rubble and ruin.

With its rockets spent, the BattleJack spun up two large rotary cannons that stood in for hands in the model’s overall humanoid design.

“Just like we practiced, boys,” Vides shouted. “Two, tangle. Thirteen, do your thing.”

The Hell Drivers went to work. The Spider dropped in behind the BattleJack and fired a high tensile cable that fused itself to the mech’s leg. The “Eight-Legged Bastard,” who was now down to six legs, dashed between the mech’s legs and scrambled up the BattleJack’s chest. Across, over, under, around and through, the cable trailed behind Two as he worked to bind the assault craft’s limbs together.

Refusing to go easy, the BattleJack pilot continued to fire as his machine toppled to the ground. The mech landed on its back and Sawbones tagged into the fight.

The “Damn Doctor” appeared in front of the pilot and stood over the vehicle’s canopy like some evil anesthetist in a maneuver Thirteen liked to call the Unwelcomed House Call. The Doc gave the pilots inside the BattleJack a moment to know fear and then drove a syringe through their protective canopy. Green smoke flowed from the syringe and filled the mech’s cabin. It wasn’t a moment later when acid in the smoke began to eat away at everything inside: the mechanics, the electrics and the pilots. The BattleJack was no longer a threat.

“Hell, yeah!” shouted Five.

“Keep your cool, Sabertooth.” Vides was proud of himselves but didn’t want it to go to their heads just yet. He knew how carried away he could get with a win. “It’s not over yet.”

The rest of the Miradian forces crossed the parking lot and helped make his point.

“Reaper.” Giggles pointed to the massive statues. “Give us some cover.”

He swore he saw Death smile as the spectral Hell Driver faded away into the night. The rig reappeared a moment later at the base of the first statue.

“Hell Drivers,” Vides shouted. “Behind the line!”

Seven drew back the rig’s deadly scythe and struck. The blade sliced through the base of the statue cleanly. He struck several more times to cut a proper notch from the king’s robe and fell back behind the barrier his actions were about to create.

The Hell Drivers pulled back inside the park as the Ruler of the Realm crashed down and created a twenty-foot wall between themselves and the Miradian military.

Vides smiled and turned his back to the barrier while Giggles got the lay of the land. The HUD fed him the architecture of the park. Structural components, height, line of sight, everything he needed to know to plan the Hell Drivers’ defense of Mount Wonder.

“Five and Nine, I need you to stick with the family and Priscilla. Stay close.”

The two Hell Drivers acknowledged the command and ran deeper into the park.

“Eight, I need you to find us a back door to this place.”

Pestilence nodded and faded into a mist before disappearing completely.

“Six, take the Great Old One up on the fake mountain by the guy with the whip. Seven, you see that guy that looks like a bat brooding on a skyscraper? Take his place. You brood. I need you two to keep the skies clear on my command.”

“Thing 1 and Thing 2, you’re here on the ground with me, Two and Thirteen. If we can keep the fight here, maybe we can give the family a chance to get away.”

The Hell Drivers took their positions as the planetary forces began to fill the plaza. They started moving with more caution when they came across the fallen mech.

Giggles motioned for the Drivers to stay low. Vides hugged a wall near the ruins of the King’s statue and watched the feed from Reaper’s view on his display. This gave him a breakdown of Mirada’s men and equipment, as well as projected trajectories of any aimed weapon. It was a considerable amount of data. The Miradians were done messing around.

His boys had sure given them hell, and Vides smiled at the enemy’s response. They were scared. Just like he wanted.

Thing 1 began fidgeting.

“Sit still, soldier,” Vides said. “The fight will happen soon enough.”

Thing 1 settled back in position. But it didn’t hold long.

“I said, sit still.”

“This is bullshit, Prime,” Ten said. “These guys aren’t tough. They’re the same ones we fought in the city. And we handed them their asses.”

“That’s true enough,” Prime said. “But as you can see, they learned their lesson and brought more asses. That changes our approach.”

“It’s more of the same. Why are we hiding?”

“It’s not hiding, you dumbass,” Two said. “It’s called taking defensive positions. You can see what they’re packing as well as I can.”

“And they’re playing it safe,” Prime added. “They’re even holding back their air support. They know we’re waiting here.”

“So why bother waiting at all?” Thing 1 said. “Let’s get them.”

“Stand down,” Vides said.

“We’re the Hell Drivers!” Thing 1 shouted.

Thing 2 got caught up in the excitement and added a, “Hell yeah, we are!”

“I like your spirit, boys, but it’s not just about the attitude. We have to play this smart.”

“You’re not the boss of us,” Thing 1 said.

“Yeah, I am,” Prime said. “And I am us.”

Thing 1 stood and shouted, “I’ve had enough of this. You’re not us. You’re not our father. You’re not our brother. You’re nothing. What makes you think you can boss us around?”

“Because I’m your gotdamned commanding officer. Now sit down, soldier, before I put you down.”

“Screw this.” Thing 1 gave Prime the finger and turned away. Before Vides could stop him, Ten leapt over the fallen statue and took Thing 1 to war.

“Hell Drivers!” Ten screamed, and hit the ground on the other side of the statue running. The rig’s guns were blazing. Rockets launched from hidden compartments in the monstrous Thing’s armor.

The enemy forces scrambled for cover as the surprise attack came at them.

“That damned fool,” Vides cursed to himself. He opened the comm lined and screamed, “Cover him!”

The Hell Drivers opened fire and the battle space lit up with a hundred explosions of various sizes. Everything was tracked on his display, and the amount of light it put off caused Vides to squint.

Thing 1 was blur as it moved through the enemy force. Its guns blazed and soldiers fell. What it couldn’t shoot, it smashed, tackled or threw. It turned a lamppost into a cudgel and took out the knees of a warbot before sending a contingent of ground troops scrambling over the fences.

Vides felt a swelling of pride as the Hell Driver moved through the enemy forces. “Would you look at the son of a bitch go!”

Ten was unstoppable. By the time an enemy drew a bead on him he had moved on, and targeted shots fell on an empty space.

Prime was beginning to think Thing 1 could take the entire force on his own. Soldiers fell as the battle rig drew their fire into one another. A tank fired at Ten and struck an APC that had just arrived on the scene. It never had a chance to deploy its troops.

Vides’s thinking changed when a pair of hovercycles dove into the fight from above. The two craft had a glowing cord strung between their vehicles and swooped toward Thing 1.

The Hell Drivers all screamed for Ten’s attention, but it was too late. The plasma wire burned through the rig’s torso and cut the armor in two. The man inside suffered the same fate, and his vitals went flat in Giggles’ display.

Vides sighed and observed a moment of silence for himself. That was two of him he’d lost that day.

Before he could finish the moment of silence, he heard Thing 2 react.

“Don’t do it, Eleven!” he warned. He knew it wasn’t enough. Words rarely were, and Giggles dove toward the rig to stop Thing 2 from doing something stupid.

He didn’t move fast enough. Thing 2 leapt over the fallen king and swore revenge through Thing 2’s horrific voice modulator.

Before he could fire his first vengeance round, the rig was cut down in a coordinated blaze of bullets, blasts and tank shells.

Vides crouched back behind the statue and closed his eyes. More dust had made it past Giggles’ filtration device and made them water. He felt his face tighten at the corner of his mouth.

“Confirm sound retreat,” the armor prompted.

It hadn’t been his intention. It was the twitch. But maybe that damn tic was trying to tell him something.

With the death of Thing 2 came a pause in the action.

Both sides felt it.

The enemy had no doubt experienced the Things’ deaths as a good sign and found a burst of confidence. Emboldened by the small victory, the soldiers stepped out from behind cover and began to advance on the Hell Drivers’ positions.

Vides experienced it as pure rage. Three. Twelve. Four. Ten and Eleven. He’d been killed five times that day and he was pretty pissed off about it. He knew the others felt it as well. He wouldn’t have to tell them how to feel on this one.

Six was the first one to scream for revenge. His cry for vengeance was echoed quickly by the others.

“Let’s get these bastards!” Two shouted.

“Hold that act of vengeance,” Prime said, before the passion for the men overran his command.

“We can’t let them—”

“And, we won’t let them get away with that,” Prime interrupted. “But we’re not going to win an all-out assault without taking more casualties. Now, normally I’d be willing to sacrifice a couple of you—especially you, Two, and probably Nine—but more than that would jeopardize the mission.”

“You’re not going to—”

“No, I’m not going to just let them off the hook. But we need to play this my way. The smart way.” Vides closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see himself say it. “We need to retreat.”

19

Lucrid stared at his fallen enemy.

The hunt had been invigorating. Prowling through the night, springing from rooftop to rooftop like an animal. Stalking their prey had brought him more in tune with his new armor. He was becoming the Beast. Powerful. Cunning. Violent. The suit now felt like an extension of his self.

The victorious predator, he stood over the one that looked like a menacing insect. It had scaly limbs and large, faceted eyes. But they hadn’t been large enough to see him coming.

The Rox Tolgath had been pleased with both his own performance and that of his rig. The Hama scientists had provided him and his men with formidable weapon systems, and they had performed flawlessly. The new stealth technology had shielded them from the Earth forces’ sights and allowed him to close within two meters of his foe before the man in the bug even detected him. By the time the pilot sensed his presence, he had drawn his weapon and driven it through the giant insect’s thorax. The man inside had screamed as the blade pierced his body.

It was this sound, or a sheer stroke of luck, that had alerted the giant infant with the creepy, half-shut eye. The baby warrior put up a valiant struggle. But it was not enough to overcome the rest of his men. They had dispatched the threat with the utmost professionalism and violence.

Haral and Krastin wore armor identical to his and had performed admirably.

That the weapons systems performed as intended was not a surprise. The Emperor’s Dark Works was composed of the finest engineers and the brightest minds drawn from a thousand worlds. They were geniuses. Especially when it came to destruction and terror.

They had been working on the new rigs ever since the encounter on Shandor. There, they had not accounted for the Alliance terror soldier’s presence in the fight. In fact, they weren’t even sure where the man had come from. Hama Intelligence had a full accounting of the Alliance’s military capability, and it showed nothing like the clown in its inventory. HI had no idea where the soldier came from or how he could have been so effective against both Hama’s forces and the Shandorian soldiers.

Rationally, it was only a man, but this clown’s presence had a surprising effect on even the most hardened troops. Its appearance, music and effects combined to form a lethal pageantry that had an almost paralyzing effect on the troops, novice and veteran alike.

Using fear as a weapon was nothing new to the empire. Hama ruled through terror. It was part of the Emperor’s doctrine. But they had always accomplished it through overwhelming force, merciless laws and some torture. The fact that the Alliance was able to inspire such emotion across two disparate species with a single soldier proved that they were able to tap into something more primal. The Emperor was less than pleased with the events and demanded that the minds of the Dark Works be put to creating a terror soldier for Hama.

As expected, the scientists delivered. Inspired by the tales of Earth’s Boogeyman, the armor was an all-but-formless shadow. Darkness enveloped the suit and flowed around it. Beneath the darkness was a beast of immense strength. Clawed and fanged, it incorporated the traits of the galaxy’s most fearsome predators. All but the eyes. The eyes were like that of the Earthians themselves. Sharp, focused and capable of the most fearsome atrocities. They would see themselves when they looked into the eyes of Hama’s Beast.

In their nightmares, Earth children believed that the Boogeyman hid in their closet or beneath their bed. It preyed on them in the darkness when they were the most defenseless. Thanks to the Emperor’s Dark Works, this childhood terror was now free to roam beyond the bedroom and could haunt Alliance forces wherever they were.

Three suits had been created. The thinking had been simple. If one was scary, three would be even more so. Apparently, the Alliance had the same idea. But unlike these so-called Hell Drivers of the Alliance, each Terror Squad suit was identical.

Lucrid pried open the front of his victim’s mask. The bug’s face came off with encouragement from his shadow blade. This had been his squad’s first mission, and his men had not disappointed him. They had accomplished their mission with utmost efficiency. They had been sent to sow fear, and the man inside the fallen shell looked pretty frightened to him.

He tossed the faceplate aside. These Earth men, however, had been a disappointment. Lucrid had not been on Shandor himself, but he had spoken to men that had. The fear in their voices had been masked by false bravado but not eliminated completely. What they had seen on Shandor had shaken them.

The man beneath his boot now was not of the same caliber of the soldier that caused them so much grief. He studied the man’s face inside the bug. It was not unlike his own. Earthmen had evolved along a similar path to the Hamagonians. Biologically, that is. Obviously, Hama men were superior. This man’s eyes were lifeless. Brown and black inside a field of white that was quickly clouding gray. Outside of their eyes and the shade of their skin, they were not so different physically. But they were far different in every other way.

“Look, sir.” Krastin piloted the second Terror Squad suit and served as his second in command.

Lucrid turned to see that the officer had pulled the head from the giant infant and was working it like a child’s puppet. “I’m a big baby, wah, wah, wah!” the man mocked. “Change my diaper, wah, wah.”

Lucrid grabbed Krastin by the throat and lifted him from the ground, armor and all. His own suit made it easy. The strength it gave him was incredible. It would be easy to get lost in such power. “Never tell your commanding officer to change your diaper, trooper. Not even when you’re mocking the enemy. Do you understand?”

Krastin couldn’t answer, but Lucrid knew he had been clear. He threw the soldier to the ground. Krastin dropped the armor’s baby head and it started rolling away. It had only gone a few feet when the pilot’s head slipped out and began rolling along a separate path.

The head stopped and stared up at the Rox Tolgath.

Lucrid snorted and returned to the task at hand. The carnage amused him. Then he spun back around with a snap and stared back at the Earthman’s face.

“That can’t be.” He shoved Krastin out of the way just as the man was getting back to his feet and reached for the severed head.

“What is it, sir?” Haral, the third and final Terror Squad pilot, asked.

Lucrid grabbed the severed head by the hair and picked it up off the ground. He walked back over to the first Earthman and set the head down next to the pilot of the bug armor.

“Look at this, soldier,” Lucrid said to Haral. “What do you see?”

“Two points for us,” Haral said with a smirk.

“Look at the faces, you fool,” Lucrid said as he studied them himself.

“They are pretty ugly, sir,’ Haral said.

Krastin joined the pair and studied the heads. “Haral is right. They’re hideous.”

“They are that,” Lucrid said. “But both these Earthmen look the same to me.”

“Sir, that’s racist,” Krastin said.

Lucrid glared at the soldier and then snapped, “These men are identical.”

“They do look an awful lot alike,” Haral said. “Except, I mean that one still has a body and the other is much shorter now.”

“Do you think the Earthians have twins?” Krastin asked. “My cousins are twins and you can hardly tell them apart. Except when they talk, because one of them is a complete moron.”

“It must run in the family,” Haral said.

“It does,” Krastin confirmed.

“Oh, you’re thinking I meant twins,” Haral said, and Krastin nodded.

It was possible the two dead men were twins. The people of Earth and the people of Hama were more similar than he wished to admit. But it seemed too obvious an answer. Lucrid shook his head. “No. The galaxy isn’t cruel enough to make two men that ugly.”

He crouched down over the bodies. A syringe extended from his rig’s hand and he plunged the needle into the dead man’s face. The suit extracted blood from each head, and the computer processed the samples. It returned an answer within moments and confirmed his suspicions. “These men are genetically identical.”

“Now that is racist, sir,” Krastin said.

“They’re clones?” asked Haral.

Lucrid nodded. The display in his suit begged for his attention, but his thoughts were running through the implications of his discovery. “What games are these Earthians playing?”

Haral addressed an incoming signal and got his commander’s attention. “Sir. The Miradians have engaged the Earthians.”

“What?” Lucrid opened his own comm. Gravitz picked up the call from the comfort of his office. The Miradian’s face filled the display in Lucrid’s helmet.

“I told you and your men to stand down,” Lucrid sneered. He was losing patience with the man. “We will handle this.”

Gravitz was like any bureaucrat from a thousand worlds; he mistook the power at his disposal as something of his own creation. It was an ignorant belief that made stupid men dangerous. “This is still my planet, Lucrid. Mirada will handle this.”

“Gravitz, you do not want to test the limits of my patience. When it breaks, so do bones.”

He watched the emotions flash across the bureaucrat’s face. He was insulted. He was afraid. He was defiant. But, finally, he was smart enough to do as he was told.

“I’ll tell my men to stand down,” Gravitz said. He was a good little coward. And like all cowards, he tried to get the last word in and make it sound tough. “But only for an hour. After that, we’re moving in.”

With the curt reply, the line went dead and Gravitz’s face disappeared.

Lucrid swallowed the rage. It was best to remain calm. He would deal with Gravitz later. He looked at Krastin. “Find out where they are.”

20

Vides didn’t like retreating. Tactically, it had its value, and there was no shame in regrouping, but he never was one for falling back. It felt like the opposite of progress. Now it happened to be necessary, so he sent Sawbones and Pestilence to cover their retreat while the rest of the Hell Drivers rendezvoused with Priscilla and the others.

The smuggler had found a shady spot for the Decotes in an underground loading dock at the center of the park. The whole place was built on a network of tunnels to hide the mundane tasks and uglier employees from the public in order to maintain the magical illusion that was Mount Wonder above.

“We couldn’t get out,” Priscilla said. “They had the exits covered.”

Vides swore. “I’m getting a little tired of these guys’ good luck.”

“It’s not luck,” Priscilla said, and nodded to the family.

The Decotes didn’t look happy. Being trapped in an off-brand theme park by a military force was one thing, but something else was going on. Natlia hung her head and held her boy in her arms. The ambassador looked as if he’d just done a lot of screaming. Treye was doing his best to pretend his world wasn’t collapsing around him. He focused on the spaceship in his hands, making rocket noises quietly to himself and probably pretending he was a million lightyears away.

Vides opened Giggles’ helmet. “You want to fill me in on all the hangdog expressions I’m seeing?”

“Do you want to tell him?” Priscilla asked the ambassador.

Cullin’s voice was raspy. “I’ve got nothing to say. I told you I’m not going to stand here and be accused of—”

“He’s been calling in our position.” Priscilla held up an item in her hand and tossed it to Vides.

He rolled the secret communicator over in his fingers. It was military grade and, as far as he could tell, not made by the Alliance. He held it up for Decote to see.

The man looked away.

Vides tossed the piece of tech to Two. “Crack this.”

Two grabbed the tech out of the air and nodded silently to his commander.

Blayse raced across the loading dock and struck the Ambassador in the face with a giant clown hand. It could have killed the man if Vides wasn’t such a master of his craft, but he cut the power assistance enough so that the blow allowed the man to live but still knocked him on his ass.

Decote did his best to roll with the punch and stumbled out of reach of a second blow. “What are you doing?” the ambassador screamed.

“You got me killed five times today you son of a…” Vides cast a quick glance to the kid. “…a badger.”

The ambassador spit and a tooth bounced across the concrete. He wiped the blood from his mouth and tried to act tough, as if he was still in control. “You’re supposed to protect me.”

“I’m here to keep you breathing. I don’t have to keep you chewing.” Vides dove forward to land another blow.

Priscilla caught the clown’s fist and stopped it cold.

Vides often wondered whether her augmented strength was any match for the servos in his rig. He’d never had to test it before, and he subtly dialed up the power. He stopped before he had his answer, but the feedback he was getting was enough to make him think twice about tussling with her without her permission.

She put a hand on Giggles’ chest and walked Vides back across the room. He let her do it, but he wasn’t sure he could have stopped her if he tried.

Cthulhu’s tentacles went rigid and then began to peel away from the rig’s face as Six’s helmet opened up and revealed the angry clone inside. “So, we get sent here to rescue this guy’s ass and all this time he’s the one who’s been getting us killed?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Seven.” Vides locked eyes with the ambassador. “It’s what we call a traitor.”

“I’m Six,” snapped the man in the Eldritch armor. He pointed a finger at Death. “That’s Seven!”

The Reaper pulled back his own face and snapped back at Six, “Call me, S7even!”

“Using a 7 for the ‘T’ is cheating,” Nine said.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Seven said while rolling his eyes. “Atticus.”

“All of you, shut up,” Blayse said. “The point is, this Judas just Benedict Arnolded us hard enough to make Vidkun Quisling want to call up Wang Jingwei for a party with the Rosenbergs.”

The ambassador heaved at the accusations but lost his focus about halfway through. By the end, he just looked confused at the string of names. “I didn’t follow any of that.”

“I think you understand those names just fine,” Prime said.

Two sighed. “I’ll start looking them up.”

“Forget it, Two. All you need to know is that this man is a backstabbing son of a monkey that sold his own planet out for a piece of Empire pie. But what he doesn’t know is that that pie tastes bitter and acrid and maybe like the baker dropped a hair or two in it. Which seems bad at first but is even more disturbing when you find out the baker is bald as a cue ball.”

Priscilla winced. “Enough with the pie!”

“It doesn’t matter about the pie!” Vides shouted. “Because he’s going to find it awfully hard to eat it with my fist in his mouth.” He lurched forward toward Decote once more but stopped short when Natlia placed herself between the clown and the even bigger clown.

“This is preposterous!” She helped her husband back to his seat and dabbed at the blood on his lip with a tissue she had in her purse. “Why would he be working with them? The Empire is executing Alliance representatives all across the galaxy. Everyone knows this. His position puts our lives in danger.”

Vides looked at the boy. The spaceship in his hands had finally come to a rest. The drama had become too much to ignore.

He looked back at Priscilla. “They don’t kill you if you have something they want.”

Priscilla followed his gaze to the boy but didn’t see the connection. “What are you talking about, Vides?”

He took a step closer to the boy and bent down so he was at the kid’s level. The boy recoiled a bit. Vides didn’t blame him. He’d just handed his father his own ass in front of him. His fierce protector had just attacked his father; it was natural for the kid to be a little conflicted. But he needed the kid to listen. He spoke softly. “It’s okay, son. Would you do me a favor and show the nice lady your spaceship?”

Treye still wouldn’t look at him. He kept his eyes focused on the toy. But he nodded slowly and walked over to Priscilla. He handed her the toy.

Priscilla gave Vides a funny look, but he just nodded toward the ship.

She examined the rocket and rolled it over in her hand until she saw the name printed on the hull. She read it to herself and looked back at Vides. “Son of a bitch.”

“Dammit, Genie!” Vides snapped. “There are children present. You need to watch your mouth. Don’t say bitch. Say monkey or something. Son of a monkey. Get it? Monkey for bitch. Okay?”

“You don’t really think that—” she started to ask.

“I do,” Vides said, and waved for her to join him for a private conversation. Once they had separated from the rest of the group, he continued. “It’s just common decency to clean up your language around impressionable children.”

“I mean this,” she said, and held up the toy.

“I do. I really think that, too.”

She studied the toy again and shook her head. “The whole fleet was destroyed just after you were put on ice.”

“That’s what they tell me. But do you know what they told my mama when they put me in mothballs?”

“That you had been killed?”

Vides shrugged. “Maybe. I’m really asking. I don’t know what they told her. I really regret not writing her a letter at least before the A/C kicked in.”

“You never believed the fleet was destroyed,” she said quietly.

“It just doesn’t sound like something someone from my time would do.”

“No, it’s ridiculous.” Priscilla didn’t believe it. “I would have heard something about it. There would be rumors.”

“What’s ridiculous is that the fleet was the most powerful fleet ever built. Their armament is heads and shoulders above what the Alliance has now. In its time, there wasn’t a thing in the galaxy that could stand against a single ship. No one would just throw that kind of power away.”

“The AI was corrupt,” she said. “They said it was crazy.”

“We are woefully outgunned. Old Thurgood’s stunt on Shandor bought the Alliance some time, but it won’t take long for Hama to finish repairs. If the fleet really was still out there, it could turn the tide of the war.”

“You can’t really think that,” she said.

“I do,” said Vides loudly enough for the rest to hear. “And so does he. Don’t you, Ambassador I’ve Got a Secret?” He waved the ship in the man’s face.

Natlia laughed. “Don’t be silly. That’s just a toy. My husband has had it for years. It sits on his mantle. It’s a model of the ship that brought him to Mirada.”

“Is that what he told you?” Priscilla asked.

Natlia hesitated. “Yes,” she finally said, but she didn’t sound as convinced as she had in her protest speech a moment before.

“I think it’s a little more than that.” Vides looked back at the ambassador. “Isn’t it?”

The man shrugged and then lowered his head. “I just want what’s best for my family. Why should they have to leave Mirada? This is their home. It’s the only home they’ve ever known. With this, they could stay. We could all stay.”

Natlia stopped dabbing at his bloody lip. “What are you saying, honey?”

“What he’s saying,” Vides said, “is that he just tried to pull an Ephialtes of Trachis on the Alliance and us by proxy.”

This one stirred a little passion in the traitor. He stood up with clenched fists like he was going to fight a metal clown with his dumb bare hands. “Stop calling me names!”

“Robert the Bruce from the movie!” Vides shouted.

“Stop it!” Cullin yelled.

“Mir Jafir!”

“I don’t know who that is!”

“He’s a gotmonkey traitor, just like you, you lying sack of… hamsters. You saw your chance to sell out the Alliance to save your own skin and you took it. These are not the actions of a noble man who’s trying to provide a good example for his son.”

The ambassador was done arguing. He looked at his wife and then his boy. He hung his head and sat back down. Natlia tried to tend to his lip once more, but he pulled away.

“That’s what I thought,” Vides concluded.

“Oh, Cullin.” Natlia sat back down with Treye.

“What’s the plan now?” Priscilla asked Blayse.

“Same as before. This mission doesn’t change just because he’s a shi… donkeyheel. We get them safely off planet and back to Earth. We’ll hand them over to Cason to see if your crackpot theory about the fleet has any truth to it.” Vides strode over to where Two was working on the tech Priscilla had taken off of the ambassador. “The good news is, we finally have the upper hand. We’ll have to fight these guys again. But the next time, it will be on our terms.”

He opened a comm line to the Hell Driver on point. “How’s it looking out there, Eight? “

There was no answer.

“Eight?” he asked again.

“Is that you, clown?” It was the growly voice from earlier. But this time it sounded happy, like it had a secret it couldn’t wait to share. “They’re all you, aren’t they, clown? Every one of them. That’s quite something. This is going to be fun.”

The line went dead and the lights in the loading dock went out.

“Well, three-toed tree sloth,” Vides said. “Here they come.”

21

Vides started shouting orders to the other Hell Drivers. He wasn’t sure what was coming for them, but his sensors were screaming something fierce. Giggles’ helmet snapped shut, and the display painted his face in red as a hundred targets converged on their position in the loading dock.

He pointed to a delivery van at the end of the loading dock. “Genie, get the family into that truck and get them ready to move.”

“Two and Six, stay with the family. Fix, Seven and Nine, on me. They’re coming in hot and they’re coming in from all sides.”

Vides watched the threat indicator readout. The swarm of bogeys was closing in from all directions. He kept Giggles’ rifle trained on the ramp that had brought them under the park. It was the only way in.

The threat display was overwhelming. Vides squinted against the light and it brought on another spasm in his face. “Aw, dammit!”

“Show and Tell mode activated,” the rig announced. The threat display went blank and was replaced with the lyrics to London Bridge Is Falling Down. A bouncing ball started leading him through words to the song as the music began to play and Giggles began to dance.

It was designed for a PR stunt that had never happened, and when Giggles rolled onto his back to simulate the falling of the titular bridge, he wished he’d never thought of the damn thing.

It wasn’t his fault. The damned Hearts and Minds boys thought a school tour might be a way to soften the blow to a planet’s psyche after the Jolly Juggernaut and other members of the Hell Drivers had leveled their cities. But now he was blind and on his back as the threat moved in.

“Cancel, dammit! Cancel!”

The suit had Ring Around the Rosie cued up, but the lyrics vanished and the threat indicator returned. The situation hadn’t improved in his time away.

Vides got back to his feet and pointed the cannon back to the ramp. “This ain’t right,” Vides said as he reassessed the information on the display.

“What isn’t?” asked Priscilla as she forced the ambassador back into the car. “And what the hell was that dance?”

“This says they’re already in here with us.” He tapped his helmet with the palm of his hand like he was getting bad reception on his old TV. Then he spoke to the armor. “Someone’s lying to us, Giggles. See if you can clear out the false positives.”

The machine complied, and strings of code flashed by faster than the human eye could comprehend as the rig checked the validity of the data it was receiving. As it did, the red dots began disappearing from his display until only a few were left. These each flashed as the rig’s computer confirmed them as genuine.

Giggles was still indicating that one of the targets was in the room with them. Vides turned to confront it but found the area empty. He walked over to the concrete wall and rapped his knuckles on it. “Check again, Gigs. There’s nothing here.”

The wall exploded and a monster came crashing through. The concrete turned to dust and the rebar creaked as the threat barreled through the wall and tackled Vides.

Even in his war rig, Vides felt the force from the collision. The attacker grabbed the clown around the waist, spun him and threw him across the garage. Giggles rolled several times before colliding with the opposite wall.

The dust settled around the inky black shape, and Blayse got his first good look at his enemy. Darkness clung to it like static and made discerning any detail difficult. The machine was big. Bulkier than the Cthulhu rig, but roughly the same shape—which most people would call monster shaped. One thing he knew for certain was that this was the one who had killed Three.

They all knew it.

“You murdering son of a bitch!” Six screamed, and charged toward the beast. He swore as he ran, and the Eldritch rig converted the curse into demonic chants worthy of the Great Old One.

The archaic curses filled the loading dock, and Vides had to scream over the noise. “Six! On the family!”

Six almost had his tentacles on the shadow beast when an armored fist burst from the ground and grabbed his rig by the ankle. It was enough to send the Hell Driver tumbling forward. In an impressive maneuver, the pilot caught himself with his face tentacles before he hit the ground. But the beast that had come through the wall was already in the air and coming down to deliver a killing blow on Cthulhu’s back.

Before the strike could fall, the shadow was knocked aside by Two in the Spider rig. The noise the pair made as they clattered along the ground proved the dark creature was merely a machine underneath its undulating shadow.

“Two, I said get back to the family,” Vides shouted as the Spider wrestled with the darkness.

There was a howl behind him, and Vides spun to see another shadow at the top of the ramp that led back to the surface. It came down the ramp, but slowly and methodically, like a predator ensuring his prey could not get past.

The hand that had broken through the floor was a torso now. Identical to the other two enemies, it pulled itself through the hole it had punched in the floor and joined the fight.

Vides retrieved his gun, raised it and fired at the one coming down the ramp.

The shadowy figure disappeared.

“The hell?”

It popped up a moment later but several feet to the right.

He fired again. The figure disappeared once more. It just blinked out of existence and reappeared ten feet closer and more to the left. He fired several more times and the scenario repeated itself.

“Stay in this dimension, you sombitch,” Vides shouted.

Before he could fire again, a cloud of black smoke erupted in front of him. “Dammit, more ninjas,” Vides cursed. He broke for the family as several of the agile warriors emerged from the smoke and engaged the Hell Drivers. Vides shouted to the Bear, “Nine, help Six back up!”

“Forget that,” Nine said. “I’m on the new guy.”

The Short-Faced Bear turned and raced toward the beast that had dug his way out of the ground.

“Nine! Get back here! Why the hell aren’t any of me listening to me?”

Giggles arrived at the van just in time to grab a ninja out of the air and throw it back into the fray. The Hamagonians seemed bent on taking the entire family alive. He was thankful for that. It was the only advantage they had left.

He could see the family cowering in the van. They were huddled together and trying to get as low as they could in the back. He saw Treye pointing over his shoulder, and Vides turned to see a second attacker coming at him.

It was a feint, and Vides spotted the real threat in his helmet’s camera a moment too late. A third ninja had already leapt towards him with his sword drawn. The armor they wore made them too damned fast.

The only thing faster was her. Priscilla stepped into the attacker’s path.

The woman was a blur as she dodged several slices and thrusts. Then she had the sword. Even though you could just make out the black of his eyes through the mask, it was easy to read the look of astonishment on the attacker. And even though he’d watched it happen, even Vides had no idea how she had come into possession of the sword.

Vides was grateful his armor was recording everything, and he looked forward to playing that footage back later to see how she had done it.

She returned the man’s weapon, stabby end first, and engaged another attacker.

“Nine! Get back here,” Vides shouted. He didn’t even have time to cast a glance Nine’s way. He had to track him on the screen. The clone was still after one of the shadow beasts.

“It’s Atticus!” Nine said, and kept moving toward the target.

One of the attackers was on Prime now. He felt a blade pierce through Giggles’ armor and slice through the back of his shoulder. He winced as he grabbed the attacker from his back and threw him through the hole in the wall.

He turned to fire, but one of the beasts was in his face and took control of the barrel.

The shadowy monster growled and tried to rip the gun from Giggles’ hand.

It was rig against rig in a test of pure strength. Earth ingenuity and knowhow against Empire copycats. And Earth was losing.

Warnings flashed in his display as the servos reached their limits. He could feel the metal start to fatigue. He could swear he smelled smoke. Something somewhere went zzzzzt. And the beast was still winning.

Its eyes glowed red as it leaned over him. It snarled, “I thought you were supposed to be something to fear, clown. You disappoint me.”

Vides watched in his display as Two grappled with one shadow and Nine chased the other. Six had finally gotten to his feet but was set upon by several of the smaller soldiers. Everything was going wrong.

“If I’m being honest, I’m a little disappointed in myself, as well.”

The beast twisted and the clown went airborne. Giggles crashed into a concrete wall and fell to the ground. Vides got to his feet and the Hamagonian terror weapon was on him again. The beast pinned him against the wall. He couldn’t move his rig’s arms. His enemy was simply stronger.

The beast leaned in close. There was nothing he could do to stop it. “Do you like my suit? You gave us the idea. But where your armor was designed to frighten everyone, we only had one person in mind. Aren’t we lucky you’re all the same man?”

The rig started sounding alarms as the horror from Hama began to squeeze Giggles’ wrists and the armor began to give.

The beast continued, “Earth is over, my friend. Hama will rule the Known. You were the only surprise the Alliance had.”

“Smell my flower, you sumbitch.” Flames shot from the flower on Giggles’ chest and engulfed the beast’s head.

The Hamagonian didn’t even flinch. And when the fire went out, the machine was smiling at him. It was the smile of a werewolf that had just soaked up half a dozen silver bullets. “You didn’t really—”

“Nope,” Vides said. “Distraction.”

The Sabertooth rig was larger than Giggles, and Five brought the full weight of the “Terrible Tiger” to bear on the beast. He managed to knock the rig off its feet and send it rolling across the loading dock.

Vides grabbed Giggles’ rifle from the ground as the enemy monster got back to his feet. “Hold him, Five.”

He raised the cannon to fire, but the Hell Driver leapt in between them determined to fight Two’s killer alone.

“Get out of the way, soldier!”

That finally got Five’s attention.

The Hamagonian’s evil laugh filled the room as he charged the Tiger.

Claws emerged from the rig’s paws and began to glow red hot as Five superheated the deadly talons. The Sabertooth roared and braced for the impact.

But the Empire’s armor was just too strong. The beast drove its shoulder into the cat and lifted Five from the ground. The rig’s weight didn’t even slow the beast down, and the Hamagonian powered across the parking lot. He drove Sabertooth into Giggles and the two Hell Drivers crashed back against the wall.

The impact was enough to knock Five unconscious. Vides called for the clone to get up, but the vitals from Five’s suit told him shouting wasn’t going to help. He ordered Five’s suit to release a military grade smelling salt and started to pull himself free from the Sabertooth’s bulk.

He watched the scene as he struggled to get Five out. The situation was grim.

Reaper had been swarmed by several of the smaller super troops. The Spectral Soldier swung the deadly scythe in wide sweeping arcs that made a deathly thrum but did very little damage. One of the damn space ninjas drove a sword through Death’s leg. Vides heard the clone scream through the armor and cursed. Death was going to be somewhat less terrifying with a limp.

The Spider was losing even more legs as one of the beasts had gotten the Awful Arachnid on its back and was pulling off limbs and laughing as it went.

Nine was locked in a battle with the other Hama terror soldier. The rig was the most powerful of the Hell Drivers, and it was struggling. Every time Nine threw a blow, the shadow dissolved and reappeared somewhere else to strike. It was like fighting a living darkness.

Priscilla was busy taking on three of the smaller dark assassins. She was holding her own. Each one of them looked surprised when she easily disarmed them and used their weapons to stab another. Vides wished he’d had a half dozen of her, instead of a dozen of him.

Five started to come to, and Vides pulled Giggles’ leg free from the tiger. He stood and lifted the rifle. His display flashed a dozen warnings, but the long and short of it was that the rifle had been damaged in the fight.

Nine roared as the Terror Squad member hoisted the Bear rig above its head and tossed it aside. Several of the smaller soldiers pounced on the fallen Hell Driver before he could get back up.

“Five, help Pris protect the family now!”

The clone was still getting his head about him and nodded as he moved to comply. The family had been forced to abandon the van, as they were now huddled in a corner protected only by the lethal woman. Sabertooth hurled an attacker out of the way and stood shoulder to shoulder with the smuggler.

Vides ripped a water pipe from the ceiling and closed the distance to the beast before it had time to gloat over Nine. The swing rocked the shadow’s head back, and Vides hoped the alien’s real head was in it. “We’re not done,” said the clown.

The beast smiled and lunged. The two machines traded several blows as the bastard from Hama taunted the man from Earth. “The Miradians wanted to take you,” the beast snarled. “But I wanted to face the Shame of Shandor myself.”

Vides took another swing at the head.

The beast caught the pipe and ripped it from the clown’s hand. He followed this up with a blow that sent Giggles back into a wall.

The shadow dropped the pipe. “But now I can see that you’re nothing special. So, when we’re done here, I’m going to let them finish you off. It may give their pathetic army a boost of confidence.”

Giggles launched off the wall in an attempt to spear the beast. The Hamagonian saw it coming and stepped aside and brought an elbow down on Giggles’ back.

Vides hit the ground and slid off the end of the loading dock. The beast landed next to him. “Some legend,” he scoffed. “Big scary monsters of Earth. You know what frightens me more, clown? A man who would copy himself. That’s just sick. And all you’ve done is ensured that you will lose over and over again.”

Vides sprang to Giggles’ feet faster than the Hamagonian expected and landed a flurry of blows on the beast’s head. “You may have been inspired by us. But you don’t scare me a bit.”

The beast caught his fist and twisted Giggles’ arm with little effort. “I’ll give you something to be afraid of.”

The beast took a giant step back and screamed. It was ungodly. The shriek was loud enough and so high-pitched that everyone in the room stopped. The other shadows stopped fighting and screamed as well. The cumulative effect forced Vides to try to cover his ears.

Even the shadows that clung to the armor seemed affected by the noise. They began to ripple and rupture like they were being blown away by the sound. But any hopes of this being a weakness were soon dashed. The darkness came away from the armor and fell to the ground, where it spread across the floor like an oil spill. It surrounded them all and rose into the air to fill the room with a void.

The darkness and sound intensified. And then the sound stopped. And the darkness flowed out of the room.

The beasts from Hama were gone.

Vides spun around. All of the enemy was gone. But Five was dead. The rig had been split in two, and it lay piled at the feet of the family they had been sent to protect. The ambassador and his wife were still recovering from the crippling effect of the sonic attack.

It took a moment before anyone realized the kid was missing.

22

“Being killed six times isn’t nearly as hard to take as watching those alien bastards make fools of all of me like that.”

Natlia was in tears. Cullin rocked back and forth, clutching the model ship his son had dropped. Maybe he finally understood that if you make a deal with the Devil, you’re going to get the horns and was starting to feel a little ashamed of himself. Maybe not as much as he should be, but it was a start, and Vides felt that with the proper encouragement, he could get the treacherous bastard there.

Five was still in two pieces and the rest of the Hell Drivers were trying to pull themselves together.

“Has anybody seen either of my legs?” The Spider was down to four functional limbs and the Vides inside the rig was doing his best to salvage at least one more.

“Screw your legs!” Seven had stepped out of his armor and was putting a field dressing on the hole in his thigh. “You’ve still got twice as many as I do, and none of yours are bleeding.”

“It’s your own fault your dumb ass got stabbed,” Six said. “You should have moved quicker.”

Seven fired back, “You were flat on your face for half the battle!”

“And I still got more of them than you did!”

“The hell you did!”

“Everyone, shut up!” Vides shouted. “Priscilla was the best man the Hell Drivers had on the field today. We all failed. Equally. Except Nine. He failed more.”

“It’s Atticus!” The Bear roared.

“Even if we could pick our names,” Two said, “that’s a stupid name.”

“Oh, I’m getting this from a Todd?” Nine said.

Vides and Two shouted back, “My father’s name was Todd!”

“Enough of this!” Vides stomped across the loading dock and grabbed the model from Cullin’s hand. “Start talking, Decote! What were you selling?”

The ambassador made a grab for the model. “I told you already!”

“I’m not buying it!”

“What’s going on here?” Six asked Two. “Prime is using this guy’s real name instead of jokes.”

“Gather round, Hell Drivers,” Vides said as he spun around. “It’s time for a history lesson.”

Two, Six, and Thirteen moved in close. Seven limped.

Vides held the model up so they could all see it. “This right here is called Urania. She was named for the Greek muse of astronomy and navigation. The most advanced ship the Alliance ever conceived of, built and abandoned.”

A hand went up. “May I ask a question?”

“Not if it’s about Uranus.”

The hand went down.

Another replaced it. “You said abandoned?”

“That’s right. About the same time the Alliance decided it didn’t need Hell Drivers anymore, it also decided that having the biggest, baddest battleships in the galaxy was a bad idea. So, they got rid of them. All of them.”

“The ships were also crazy,” Priscilla added. “Everyone knows that.”

“I’ve been called the same,” Vides said. “You want to put me out to pasture.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Priscilla pulled a hologram of the Urania from a historical source and projected the ship above the group. She did this in part for reference, but also because she didn’t like all the Videses staring at her at once. “The AI was unstable. Unpredictable. The Alliance gave the fleet a ridiculous amount of firepower and a batshit crazy computer. They had to get rid of it.”

“A whole fleet?” Nine asked without raising his hand. Discipline was going to shit in the HD.

“That’s right. A fleet big enough and powerful enough to stop these Empire bastards in their tracks. And it might still be out there.” Vides pointed back at Cullin. “It seems our ambassador here thinks he knows something no one else does. And he was willing to sell that information to those Hama bastards for a chance to stay on Mirada.”

“I didn’t want to lose my family,” Cullin shouted.

“Well, how’d that work out for you? Not well, because I seem to remember you having a little boy a minute ago.” Vides wore dumb looks like a uniform and he put one on for a little show he would call, ‘Where’s the boy?’ He started looking around the loading bay for Treye.

This sent Natlia into tears, and Priscilla gave him a mean look. It was the first one she’d given him that he didn’t like.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Vides said. “What I meant was, we were taking your family with you. You weren’t going to lose them. You were going to lose yourself. Face it, you weren’t willing to give up your status, or your nice house and powerful friends.” Vides’s face twitched and he winked, so he added an, “Ain’t that right?”

There was finally rage in the ambassador’s eyes. Vides knew he could find it. The calm and collected politician had disappeared for a brief moment. Cullin clenched his fists and his lip began to curl. But, credit where credit was due, the man had a professional poker face and it quickly settled back into its dignitary mode. The ambassador took a short breath and reiterated, “I would do anything for my family.”

“Aww,” Two said.

“It’s touching, all right. It warms my old heart,” Vides said. But then he held up the ship and yelled, “Now, spill, Anton Mussert. Where’s the fleet?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not going to fly, Patrick Stanley Vaughan Heenan. What were you going to sell them?”

“There are rumors,” Cullin said. “Rumors that the fleet wasn’t destroyed, but hidden.”

“No one pays anything for a rumor. And you know it. You’ve got something more. Where’s the fleet?”

“I don’t know.” The veneer was cracking again. Maybe Decote wasn’t as cool under pressure as everyone said. The anger was coming through.

“You’re a smart guy, ambassador,” Vides said. “Did you really think ‘I don’t know’ would be enough for you to win favor with the new tyranny?”

“It was for my family. I was willing to take the chance.”

“Now you listen here, Stig Wennerström—

Priscilla turned and shouted at Vides. “Why do you know so many traitors?!”

Vides just shrugged. “It’s a hobby?”

Priscilla turned back to Decote and smiled. But it wasn’t a nice smile. “Here’s the deal, Mr. Decote. He’s going talk your ear off and keep at it with this esoteric knowledge about Earth’s greatest traitors until you fess up. I will not talk your ear off. I’m going to rip them off until you tell me what I want to know—one at a time until I’m all out of ears.”

“You can’t be—”

“I’m going to get started with your wife’s.”

Natlia could barely shriek through the tears. “What?”

“Sorry, Natlia,” Priscilla said with a shrug.

“Why hers?” Vides prompted with a smile of his own. This woman never ceased to amaze him. This is how puppies must feel all the time.

“Yeah, why mine?” Natlia moved her hands and prepared to cover her ears. She wasn’t certain Priscilla wouldn’t do it.

“It’s nothing personal. Well, it is personal. But because I like you, Natlia. Your husband deserves to have his ears ripped off. He has lied, sold us out and been responsible for many, many deaths. But you haven’t. You seem to be a truly innocent person caught up in some pretty unfortunate circumstances beyond your control. I feel sorry for you, but I also admire the strength you’ve shown through it all. So, if I rip yours off first, we won’t have much debate about whether I’m serious or not about the whole ripping off ears thing.”

“Plus,” Vides added, “every time that coward looked at his wife, he’d think, ‘Why doesn’t she have any ears.’ And then he’d go, ‘Oh that’s right, because I’m a coward and a traitor and I should have been a better person and my wife wouldn’t be deformed.’ But it would happen quicker than that. It takes a lot less time to think something than to say it out loud. The ear/coward realization would happen like that.” Vides snapped his fingers but they didn’t make a sound. “Anyway, your earlessness would remind him he’s a treacherous piece of shit.”

“Piece of shit?” Cullin had one last act of defiance in him. “I guess you’re done with the animal swearing?”

“Kid’s not here, you’re an asshole.” Vides said. “You want me to hold her down, Genie? If she panics, the blood is just going to spray everywhere.”

“Fine!” the ambassador screamed. He took the model ship back from Vides and pulled it from both ends. The Urania model opened to reveal a compartment inside that housed a memory chip.

Vides elbowed Priscilla gently. “I love secret compartments.”

Cullin removed the chip and handed it to Vides.

“That is some old tech,” Priscilla said, looking at the chip in Vides’s hand.

It looked like a standard memory chip to him. He rolled it over in his hand as if that would tell him the contents. “What’s on here?”

“A breadcrumb,” the ambassador said, and moved to put his arm around his wife. “A place to start. It’s all I have. Honest.”

Vides nodded. He’d seen enough cowards crack to know Decote was done lying. “Who else knows about this?”

The ambassador shook his head. He looked at his wife when he answered. “I was working through Gravitz. I don’t know who else he told. I don’t think he would have told anyone.”

“You also thought you could trust him,” Natlia scolded him.

Priscilla motioned for Vides to step away from the couple. She spoke quietly as they walked.

“We’ve got to get this to Cason.”

“I thought we covered this,” Vides said. “He’s with Alien Babe. I get the Earth Babe.”

“Lucky me,” she said. But it didn’t sound like she meant it.

On the other hand, it didn’t sound like she didn’t mean it either. There was still hope.

“My plan is to wear you down. Is it working?”

She didn’t answer. She changed the subject. He knew that meant it was working. Priscilla pointed to the chip in his hand. “Cason needs to know about this.”

“First things first, we have to get out of this bootleg Wally World and then get off this stupid planet.”

“I’m not going without my son.” Natlia had found all the defiance her husband had lost and put it into that statement.

It didn’t surprise Vides at all. “I knew you were going to say that, ma’am.”

“We’re not leaving without him,” Cullin added.

“And I’m going to get your kid back. But it’s because I like him. Not you. It’s not his fault you’re his father. And lucky for him that I can already see that he takes more after his mother. You won’t get to pick his path forever, you know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We can all see it. The pressure you’re putting on him to follow in your footsteps. To give up his dreams of becoming a great artist to be just like you, a government man.”

“An artist? I’ve never said—”

“Oh, you’d never say it,” Vides said. “It’s in the looks—the disapproving looks, the long silences, the insincere affirmations. ‘It’s a great picture, son, but I don’t think dogs have thumbs and I know they don’t ride rocket cycles.’”

The ambassador looked at his wife who only shrugged in response. He turned back to Vides. “I’ve only ever wanted the best for my son.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. How do you know what’s best for him? Just because it was your path? All that pressure to grow up to be just like his old man. But he’s not you, and you need to realize that. He has his own dreams and desires. Just because he sprang from your loins doesn’t mean he’s a little you to mold in your own image. Every son needs to be his own man, and the sooner you realize that, the better.”

Vides finished the speech with a debate-ending stab of his finger and waved to his clones. “Hell Drivers, get a comm station up and running.”

The remaining Videses acknowledged the order and moved to the far corner of the loading dock to set up a field station.

Vides made a display of turning away from Cullin and facing Natlia. “Don’t you worry, ma’am. We’ll get your boy back. I guarantee it.” He gave her a reassuring wink. Or it could have been a reassuring facial tic. Even he wasn’t sure anymore, and that was frustrating.

He turned away and moved to join the others. Priscilla walked at his side. “What do you think?”

“This is the part I hate the most,” Vides said. “The poor kid is most likely dead.”

“You just told her that—”

“I heard what I said. What I’m saying now is that if we don’t get our shit together and start acting like a team, none of us are going to make it out of here. I’ve got about ten minutes to whip these boys into shape and make real Hell Drivers out of them. We need to act as one. One unit. One Mind. One Vides.”

Priscilla put her arm on his and stopped him. “You know that’s not it at all.”

He turned and looked her in the eyes. Those gold-flecked eyes that betrayed her secrets and made him want to share all of his at the same time.

He couldn’t hold her gaze, and he turned away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pris.”

“Haven’t you been listening to anything they—or you—have been saying this whole time?”

“I talk. Other people listen,” Vides said, and thought he ended the conversation by joining Two, Six, Seven and Nine at the field comms center Two had established.

“They’re trying to find themselves,” she said, proving not only that the conversation wasn’t over but that he’d have no choice in saying when it was. “They’re trying to distinguish themselves. They’ve chosen their own names. This idiot is calling himself Atticus.”

“Hey,” Nine said.

“It’s a dumb name,” she said, and continued. “They’re each trying to find their own style. They’re looking for their own identities.”

“They have an identity,” Blayse said. “Mine!”

“Look, they may have come from your DNA, but you have to let them be their own men. It would do them a world of good, and honestly, I think it would be a lot less weird for everyone.”

Vides gave her a hard look. She may be stronger, faster and smarter than him, but no one was going to tell him how to run the Hell Drivers. His hard look dissolved quickly in her gaze. He had an argument ready, but he held it back and reconsidered what she was saying. He owed her that much. She had been there when they’d thawed him out and been around for most of the cloning process. Aside from Cason and that boob Thurgood, she was one of the only people he knew in the world.

Blayse looked at the Videses. Two was an idiot, but he had shown an aptitude for adaption and tech. He was running the spider on four cobbled-together legs at this point, and Vides wasn’t sure he would have been able to pull off such repairs in the field.

Seven had a flair for theatrics that Blayse secretly admired. He’d never been able to do voices without cringing a little inside, but Seven had found a fitting persona for Death. The voice and the way Seven moved in the rig brought an extra element of terror that he knew he’d never be able to pull off.

Six was quiet, but until that damn thing had come through the ground and grabbed his foot, he’d been steadfast and dependable even if he did have that dumb look on his face all the time that the kids made fun of them for when Blayse was growing up.

And Nine was an asshole. But sometimes the world needed an asshole, and Nine was possibly the toughest sumbitch he’d ever met outside of himself.

He looked back at the woman and signaled defeat. “You know, I’ve always suspected you’re smarter than me, Pris.”

“I am definitely smarter than you, Blayse,” she said.

“Yeah, well, this just proves it,” Vides admitted.

“Everyone already knew it,” Seven added.

“I get it. You’re right,” Vides admitted. “About being smarter and the letting them be themselves. I see that now. These boys need to be their own men, and they can’t be me anymore because I’m already me. I’ve been me my whole life. And so have they, but it’s been a lot shorter of a life and I can’t expect them to understand what it’s truly like being me.”

He turned and addressed the men. “And I’ve been holding them back in an effort to make them into what I wanted, when what I really needed to do was let them be themselves and wow there are so many parallels between this and what I just told Ambassador Overbearing over there!” Vides turned back to Priscilla, who must have had a headache because she had her face in her hand and was massaging her temples.

“I mean holy shit, right? It’s ironic how much it’s the same thing.” Vides turned back to the men and continued. “Anyway, what I’m saying is she’s right. I’ve been too hard on you, boys.

“But I’ve always been my own worst critic. Aren’t we all? We all have aspects of ourselves that we hate, and you guys are those aspects. Two, you remind me that I may not be the brightest star in the sky. Six, that dumbass face you make used to get my ass kicked as a kid. Seven, you remind me of a lost dream in show business that ended tragically with the cruel casting notes of a cereal commercial. ‘Unappetizing appearance,’ they said. Nine, you’re just a dick.”

Judging by the looks on their faces, his speech wasn’t nearly as cathartic for them as it was for him, so he figured it was best to wrap things up. “But our shortcomings are easier to forgive when we see them in other people.

“The truth is, I’m proud of every damn one of you. You’ve done the Vides name and the face proud. But it looks like I need to do some growing. It’s time I let go. You all deserve your own identity. Your own self.” He took a deep breath. “So, I ask you. Who do you want to be? What do you want me to call you?”

At first, they suspected it was a trap. That’s because they were him, and he was suspicious by nature and really good at spotting traps. Two finally stepped forward. “Todd. Call me Todd.”

“Todd,” Blayse repeated and then saluted. “It’s nice to meet you, Todd.”

Six stood up a little taller and said, “Vincent.”

Vides saluted and said the name. “Vincent.”

Nine smiled when he said, “Atticus.”

“I’m not calling you that,” Blayse said. “Pick something else.”

“Atticus!” Nine snapped.

“Look, you can pick any damn name there is. Why are you being so difficult?”

“Blayse,” Priscilla said with a tone he remembered his mother using a lot.

“Fine, you’re fucking Atticus,” Vides said, and gave a sloppy salute. “Happy?”

The man in the Bear rig considered it all and smiled. “I am.”

“Steven,” Seven said when Blayse’s gaze fell on him.

“Steven,” Vides said with a salute. “A good normal name, not like Atticus at all.”

He finished the salute and looked at each of them. “It’s a pleasure to know all of you. Now let’s get to—”

“Thirteen reporting in,” the comm interrupted. “Why haven’t you guys been answering?”

Vides picked up the comm. “Oh, hell. I forgot you were out there. Uh, just a quick summary, Eight and Five are dead, the bad guys took the kid but I gave a great speech about you all getting to be your own man and you get to pick your own name now.”

Thirteen didn’t respond for a moment.

“I feel just awful about this. I assumed you were standing behind me or something.”

“Raph,” Thirteen said.

“How’s that?” Vides asked.

“I want to be call Raph.”

Vides considered the name and shrugged. At least it wasn’t Atticus. “Join us in the loading dock, Raph. We’re putting a plan together.” He killed the comm and nodded at Todd to continue.

“I was able to tap into the park’s systems. Schematics, surveillance. Here’s what we’re looking at.” He brought up the information on the comm station, and the projector laid out a map of the entire theme park along with enemy locations.

“Good job, T…Todd.” He looked at the others. “Hell Drivers, I need a plan.”

Blayse stepped away as the others ran scenarios. He took a seat on the edge of the loading dock.

Priscilla sat next to him. “How do you feel?”

“Pretty good,” he said and watched the men work. “Better than I thought. It’s like watching the chicks leave the nest.”

“I think it’s for the best.”

“Yeah, they look pretty happy.”

“I think it’s for the best for you,” she said, and smiled.

Vides nodded and smiled back. He realized he was making that dumb face and shook off the moment. “I need to get back to the boys.”

“Sir,” Todd said, and manipulated the display to bring up images of the enemy forces. “It looks like that Hama bastard was telling the truth. The Miradians are preparing to move in.”

Blayse nodded and asked Todd to give him a wide view of the park once more. He studied the park layout silently and then smiled.

“What are we going to do, sir?” Steven asked.

“We’re going to do what the Hell Drivers do best,” Blayse said. “We’re going to scare the enemy to death.”

23

Staff Sergeant Shankz studied the fallen statue. Ruler of the Realm was a family favorite in the Shankz house, and they had always stood in wonder at the magnificent statues when he and his wife brought the kids to the park. Now they formed literal and metaphorical lines that he had to cross. He was here because of an order. An order he didn’t agree with until half an hour ago. Like so many in the ranks, he had nothing against Earth, and it was with reservations that he had even assembled in the park. But those reservations had disappeared when the fighting had started. They had fired on Miradians. It was obvious now that Earth had no desire to maintain peace.

Shankz stiffened his resolve and led his men over the fallen statue. He leapt on top of the barrier and waved for his men to follow. He took several cautious steps across the rubble and kept his rifle ready to fire at anyone hiding on the other side.

There was no one there.

His comm blipped and his commander’s voice spoke. “What are you seeing?”

He crooked his head as he spoke into the comm mic attached to his shoulder. “There’s no one here.” Shankz scanned the park. The night had taken it fully and covered it in silence. Nothing made a sound. Nothing moved.

“Any sign of them?” his commander asked.

“Yeah, there’s a sign,” Shankz said unevenly as he studied the mark left on the ground on the other side of the statue. A simplified version of the clown’s smiling face was burned into the ground with the words ‘follow the leader’ surrounding it. Comically large footprints led away from the clown’s face, deeper into Mount Wonder. “They’ve left a trail.”

“Get your men after them,” his commander ordered. “We’ll clear out the debris and follow.”

“Affirmative.” Shankz waved for his men to follow him and started working his way down the rubble. The rock and plaster crumbled under his feet. He lost his footing more than once, though he managed to reach the ground without completely falling and making a fool of himself in front of his men.

The clownprints led down the path into the darkened midway. Both sides of the avenue were lined with games of skill where people could throw away a fortune for a large yet cheap prize they’d tire of carrying within fifteen minutes.

Aside from being flypaper for a sucker’s money, the midway served as the main entrance to the rest of the park, and the trail went straight down the middle of it.

There was hesitancy in his every step, but he led his soldiers bravely into the dark while keeping one eye on every booth and piece of possible cover along the way. He expected something to pop up from one of the games at any moment, but nothing moved.

Shankz stared into the darkness. There was something there at the end of the lane. It was a figure, still and unmoving. But something moved around it like it was blowing in the breeze. It had to be part of the park. He raised his rifle and brought the sight up to his eye. It was his imagination. The technology in the scope confirmed it.

A bell clanged behind them and half the men jumped. All of them turned to address the threat.

The bell was at the top of a test-your-strength game in the middle of the midway. The hammer still rocked on the ground and the peen hung in the air, but there was no sign of whoever had rung the bell.

When Shankz turned back around, he was staring Death in the face. He always liked to think he’d laugh, given this opportunity, but he screamed instead, and the mechanical skull half-hidden by a decaying shroud grinned at him and faded away before his very eyes.

A half a beat later, the midway sprang to life. Lights snapped on, music began to play and the mechanical contraptions inside the booths started moving.

Startled, the men lit up the midway with rifle fire. It was a massacre of stuffed animals, and the balloons didn’t stand a chance.

When the shooting finally stopped, nothing moved.

Animal fluff hung in the air and the smell of burning rubber mixed with the ever-present smell of cotton candy and kettle corn.

What was left of the midway lights went out once more.

And then a clown laughed. It was goofy and ghastly, like the innocent laugh of a child you thought had been asleep in another part of the house. It reverberated off the midway and faded. Then the voice said, “The doctor will see you now.”

The lights came back on and Shankz was standing face to face with the galaxy’s worst medical practitioner. It was a sickly face, stitched together from other faces and partially hidden behind a blood-stained surgical mask.

Shankz tried to react—to run, to scream, to faint, to anything—but he was frozen in horror by the sight before him.

The doctor leaned in closer and whispered, “I’m going to need you to cough.”

Miradian soldiers wore a protective cup as part of their standard issue armor. The kick cracked that cup in two. It was the most intense pain Shankz had ever experienced. It was unbelievable. He wanted to collapse. Instead, he flew. The doctor’s kick sent him into the air, and he came crashing down on the roof of a funnel cake stand.

“His bedside manner may leave something to be desired.” The fairground speakers were normally reserved for lost-children announcements and weather notices. But the clown had taken them over, and his horrid voice boomed across the park. “But he’s sure to leave you in stitches.”

Screams filled the midway as the mechanical medicine man began taking new patients.

The pain in his crotch was blinding, and Shankz writhed in agony around the Funnel Cake Fun For All roof. He tried to will the pain away. He had to help his men. He forced himself to roll toward the midway until he reached the roof’s edge. He grabbed the lip, pulled himself forward and looked over into the avenue below.

His men were dead. All of them. Comically large syringes stuck out of their chests, quivering. Some were strangled with gauze. Others had oversized tongue depressors shoved down, or through, their throats.

The demonic doctor was gone.

Shankz grabbed for his comm mic. He took a painful breath and rolled over to radio in the catastrophe.

He never sent the message. The doctor was standing over him.

The doctor pulled back the surgical mask to reveal a gnarled smile of broken teeth. He held up his hand to reveal an oversized thermometer and said, “You’re going to want to try and relax.”

Shankz screamed.

* * *

The explosions turned the plaster statues to dust, and Hovertank Commander Kyllen ordered his driver through the debris.

The engine engaged the gear, and the battle tank slammed forward over what was left of the rubble. The massive fans on the engine blew the dust into a thick white cloud as it passed over the statue’s remains. The rest of the tanks followed their lead into the park.

Kyllen watched the screens in front of him. He should be seeing Shankz’s men up ahead on the thermal scans. There was a colorful spectrum of several small fires, but nothing he could ID as the group of soldiers.

He filtered through the optic displays and gasped when he came to the night vision. Shankz’s entire squad lay dead before them on the midway. Giant needles stuck out of most of the bodies. Some were stacked two or three to a syringe.

“What in the hell happened here?” he wondered to himself, but he didn’t want an answer.

“Air Six Zero.” Air support was reporting in. “We just spotted movement in the lagoon.”

“Take us there,” Kyllen commanded the driver.

The driver hesitated.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s the bodies, sir. What do you want me to do?”

Kyllen weighed his options quickly. “Find a way around.”

“We could hover right over them, sir.”

“We’re not Earthian, soldier. We respect our dead. Besides, I wouldn’t put it past these monsters to rig the bodies.”

The tank driver nodded and directed the tank to the left. He surged ahead and plowed through the midway’s booths. They collapsed easily as the armor passed through them and the other tanks followed their lead, passing over debris but not desecrating a single body.

They cleared the midway and cut left into the Pirates of Mirada themed area of Mount Wonder. The area boasted many attractions based on the popular Miradian tale of piracy and myth, and nothing else, no matter what Earth lawyers had to say about it.

The central feature of the pirate section was a massive lagoon. Every hour on the hour, several ships from Mirada’s age of sail would meet in the middle of the body of water and perform what was billed as the galaxy’s most dangerous stunt spectacular—weather permitting.

Hovertank Commander Kyllen was more than familiar with the attraction. It was his son’s favorite part of the family’s visits to Mount Wonder. He had literally seen it dozens of times. And something wasn’t right.

The show began with a single ship in the center of the lagoon. There was a song about being carefree traders with a cargo full of booze.

At the end of the song, they were then set upon by the Pirates of Mirada to the tune of The Life of a Pirate. It was his son’s favorite song from the show. Even now, the words rang in his head:

High seas and low tides

Upon the waves we ride

Pirates free to loot and steal

We do what we want, that’s the arrangement we made.

It was an almost catchy tune, but as there was a gift shop, it was technically classified as a jingle.

After the song, they’d circle the lagoon several times to pretend it was a bigger place than it really was, and then spot the merchant ship and begin their attack. They’d swing from ropes, clash swords and toss countless soldiers into the water. After a few minutes of this, the ship would be theirs.

Being the take-no-prisoner variety of pirates, they’d start forcing the survivors to walk the plank. Several sailors would take the plunge before the damsel was forced to the end of the board. She always faced her fate with courage and a quip. But she never got wet. Just before stepping into the deep, the good guys would arrive.

The Miradian soldiers would announce their presence with a cannon shot across the bow. This one erupted in the water near the crowd and was always a hit on hot days. The naval ship would sail into view with the heroes singing their own tale of who they were and how brave they were and so forth, while the pirates bristled and arrghed at the incoming threat.

Once the naval vessel pulled alongside the pirates’ ship, the real fight would begin. Cannons and rifles would fill the decks with smoke. Sailors and pirates would fly from the riggings into the water below.

When Kyllen was a child, the show ended with the sinking of the pirate ship and the pirates treading water while the heroes sang about how a pirate wasn’t a pirate without a pirate ship.

But there had been a movie and several sequels since.

The stunt spectacular had been updated over the years to include elements from the franchise. This upset purists and other old people, but for those who were fans of people being thrown into the water, the show just got better.

The show now ended with a giant kraken emerging from the lagoon. The pirates had to join forces with the merchants and the navy to fight the beast. More ships were sunk, more pirates and people went flying everywhere. His kid loved it.

In between the hourly shows, the lone merchant ship sat in the middle of the harbor just waiting to be attacked. That wasn’t the case now. As his tank pulled up to the edge of the lagoon, all three of the ships were massed together as if the show was in progress.

The commander looked at his screen. The thermal image was acting strange. He cycled through the settings for a better reading. All of them were suffering from interference.

He smashed the monitor with his fist like they’d taught him in officer school and saw no improvement in the display.

“Open the hatch,” he commanded the driver. “I’m going to take a look.”

The pilot nodded and tossed a switch on the instrument panel. Kyllen released the pressure lock that held the hatch shut, pushed it open and stood up into the night air.

“Oh, God,” Kyllen said as he spotted Staff Sergeant Shankz on the front of his tank, pantsless and positioned like a napping toddler with a giant thermometer sticking out of him.

He turned away so he didn’t have to watch as he pushed the body off the tank and let it fall to the ground. The action seemed callous, but anything was more dignified than leaving Shankz as he found him.

Kyllen tried to erase the vision from his memory and raised a pair of field glasses to his eyes. He sighted the ships.

Something was wrong out on the high seas of Mount Wonder Lagoon. There was movement at the top of the merchant ship’s mast. A flag was being hoisted up the mast. It was the traditional pirate flag, skull and crossbones. But someone had spray painted a giant red nose on the skull and turned it into a clown.

He scanned the base of the mast. Whoever was raising the flag should be there somewhere. He scanned the ship’s deck and caught movement once again.

A ghostly figure stood on the prow of the merchant ship like a haunted figurehead and stared back at him. The apparition was holding a scythe and beckoning him into the water with a bony finger and a twisted grin. Then it stopped and pointed to the right.

Kyllen followed the gesture and spotted a clown in a pirate hat holding a torch. The clown waved and touched the torch to one of the ship’s imitation cannons.

The cannon flashed red and blew a puff of smoke that turned into a lazy ring, just like it did during the stunt spectaculars. It would be followed by a long whistle and a plume of water erupting somewhere close to where the crowd gathered to watch.

The whistling began on cue and the pirate clown made a show of putting his fingers in his ears.

The tank on Kyllen’s far left exploded in a blast of heat and shrieking metal. He jumped and caught himself on the lip of the hatch. Another tank at the other end of the column exploded a second later and sent him flinching the other way. He swore and dropped back into his tank.

“Advance!” Kyllen shouted back into the body of the tank. “Fire on those pirate ships!”

The cannons on the pirate ships started lighting up with show effects, show sounds and show smoke while real shells rained down around them.

The tanks fired into the lagoon as they pushed forward onto the water. Their engines turned the lagoon into a smoky mist as the amphibious armor charged ahead toward the flotilla.

Water exploded around them as the offensive fire continued. A tank on his right sank. His armor corps was taking a beating. Hovercraft became dead in the water as the onslaught disabled engines. His tanks were becoming submarines.

Kyllen was soon left alone in the command tank. He yelled at the gunner to keep firing.

Several shots struck the pirate ship and the vessel began to sink. Was it for real? He wasn’t sure. Was it on a track? How did it happen during the stunt show? He couldn’t remember if he ever knew. But the ship was going down as his tank approached the center of the lagoon.

“Hit the others!” he shouted.

But his commands were drowned out by the firing of another cannon. There was a shock at the rear of his tank, and he felt the balance shift as it rolled into the lagoon. Kyllen was thrown from his seat into a growing pool of water. He quickly realized what was happening and shouted his orders. “Abandon tank!”

The tank was upside down now, and his gunner was the first one back on his feet. Together the pair reached up and pulled open the emergency hatch on the tank’s floor.

Kyllen helped the gunner and the other two out of the sinking tank before he drew his sidearm and followed. By the time he managed to pull himself out, everything was quiet.

His tank was sinking, and it wouldn’t be long before it was on the bottom of the lagoon. He yelled to his men to follow him and dove into the water. He swam for the merchant ship. It didn’t sink in the show, just the pirate ship. He was almost certain of it.

He grabbed the cargo net that hung conveniently from the side of the ship and pulled himself out of the water. He hit the deck, ready for anything. The ship was empty.

Kyllen kept an eye on the ship’s deck while he helped the rest of his men up the net. The rigging made him nervous. Ghosts like to hide in the rigging.

The four men moved, back to back, toward the center of the ship without saying a word. Each man looked and listened for any sign of the enemy but detected none.

“I think they’re gone, sir,” one of his men said.

The ship lurched beneath them. Two of the men stumbled so badly they had to put a hand down to steady themselves.

The ship lurched again and tilted violently as a rumbling grew in the water around them. A roar drew their attention as a monstrous sea creature rose up out of the water next to the ship. It had the face of an angry squid and wore a thousand tentacles as a beard. The creature towered above them.

“Sea monster!” one of the men shouted, and the other two began firing. Soon they were standing there, pointing empty pistols at an animatronic attraction built to frighten children.

Kyllen slapped the man that had yelled across the shoulder. “It’s part of the show, you moron.”

“Not that one,” he said, and pointed behind Kyllen.

The commander spun around. A smaller but much more terrifying sea monster stood on the deck behind him, dripping with slime, tentacles hanging from its face, hulking above the tallest of the four men.

The pirate clown appeared behind the beast and said with a smile, “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn, you sonsabitches.”

* * *

Captain Wylow had to avert her eyes as the carnage on the ship unfolded. From her seat in Air Six Zero, she watched the large Kraken thrash about with the choreographed light show to portray its defeat at the hands of the pirates’ heroic first mate—who was actually a sea witch or something. It had been awhile since she had seen the movies once, and she couldn’t promise she hadn’t fallen asleep during them.

While the spectacle played out, the smaller and deadlier sea monster thrashed the Commander and his tank crew in a less staged and much bloodier performance that caused her to cringe.

Wylow opened her eyes once more when her aircraft came to a sudden halt in midair. She was looking straight down at the park below like she was crashing, but she wasn’t going anywhere. The engines whined as she worked the throttle, but she wasn’t moving. She looked up through her canopy and spotted Air Six One and Air Six Two and realized her predicament.

Her unnatural position could only be explained if she, like the other two aircraft she could see from her canopy, was stuck in an unnaturally large spider web strung about the mountain at the center of the park.

Her suspicions were confirmed when a giant mechanical spider crawled over her canopy and chomped at the plasteel with giant metal mandibles.

She wasn’t about to go out that way. The captain begged for one more burst from the engine and Air Six Zero came through one last time. It couldn’t pull her free, but it entangled the aircraft deeper into the webbing and twisted the cockpit away from the immediate threat. Before the metal beast could react, she pulled the lever at her side. Explosive bolts detonated and sent the canopy into the night. The rocket motor fired in her seat and shot her into the park. It all happened in a second. Wylow felt the chute deploy and just hoped she was high enough off the ground.

Her answer was a jerk against her shoulders as the air filled her chute’s canopy and slowed her descent.

The captain pulled frantically at the cords and steered herself as best she could to avoid getting snagged on a number of obstacles. Trees weren’t a worry, but statues of bootleg versions of superheroes filled the landscape beneath her as she drifted toward the Hall of Virtue where the Virtue Legion held court over the League of Evil.

She was heading for a statue of Skeletron. The skeletal enemy of DudeBro rode a purple tiger and stood as one of the tallest structures in the area. She steered as much with hope as with the parachute and breathed a sigh of relief as she barely missed snagging the canopy on the tip of his outstretched power sword.

The captain turned her attention back to her landing spot and found, to her great dismay, that it was going to be in the literal outstretched arms of Death.

She pulled with everything she had and turned the chute away from the Reaper. The ghost swung its scythe as she passed overhead, and she lifted her knees to avoid the blade. The chute drifted right and put a hedge between her and Death. Wylow hit the ground and released the harness. She was down. She was safe.

Or she would be, if it wasn’t for the giant bear.

* * *

There was still some general mopping up to do. Todd took down a few stray aircraft while Raph and Vincent hunted down the straggling foot soldiers.

Vides surveyed it all from the top of Mount Wonder. Fire and smoke marked the various conflicts. The Hell Drivers had done well. It was the first time they felt like a team. A real team.

A comm line chirped in his ear. It was his Pris. He pulled up the video in his helmet so he could see her. She was standing with the Decotes. “Are you about done out there?”

“You should have seen it, Pris. It was beautiful. Like a work of art but with blood and bullets instead of boring-ass paint. These boys really got their act together.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “We just got the call. Our ride is on its way.”

“Good. It should be less dramatic than the last one since no one’s ratting out our position,” Vides said, and leered at the ambassador. “Pris, I’m going to need you and the Hell Drivers to stay on mission. Get the Decotes to the ship.”

“What about our son?” Natlia asked. “We’re not leaving without our son.”

“Our first priority is to get you and your husband off the planet. Then—”

“We’re not going anywhere without Treye,” Cullin shouted.

“I get it, but first things first. You’re the priority.”

“I’m not going anywhere without—”

“You don’t get it do you, ambassador? This isn’t a rescue mission to save the Decotes. It’s a rescue mission to make sure you don’t talk to the wrong people. Now there’s a lot of ways to make that happen. I’m going to get your boy, but first you’re going to get on that ship.”

“I—”

“Genie, make him stop talking, would you?”

It only took a look from the woman to get the man to comply. She turned back to the camera. “You can’t do this alone.”

“The hell I can’t. You and the boys get them to the ship. I’ll let you know when I’ve got the kid.”

“They beat seven of us, Prime,” Atticus reminded him.

“Yeah, well this time I’m going to get the drop on them.”

“You’re walking into a trap,” Vincent added.

They weren’t wrong, but he couldn’t risk the ambassador falling into the enemy’s hands. It was a harsh reality, but the kid wasn’t a priority for the Alliance. “You have your orders, Hell Drivers. Stay on mission. I’ll get the kid. That’s final.”

But it wasn’t final. It turned out that the rest of the Hell Drivers were just as stubborn as he was.

24

Becoming a soldier for the Empire was not easy. Every man from Hama was required to serve the Emperor in military service, but the title was not freely given. Before a man could even claim the distinction of soldier, he had to endure a year of training on Gardathia, an entire world dedicated to making men fit. The planet was unforgiving and miserable and served to test the will of even the most stalwart of men.

Those who completed the term emerged in peak physical condition and as experts in personal combat. From there, it was off to war on any of a dozen fronts in the Empire. If they survived a year on the lines, they were welcomed formally into the Emperor’s ranks.

Krastin and Haral had both been through Gardathia and hell on other worlds. They had proven themselves beyond compare within their individual units and been elevated to Hama’s special forces. They learned the tactics and strategies of the deadliest force in the galaxy. They learned to kill with the most advanced weaponry and the most basic of instruments. They learned subterfuge and tradecraft. They learned advanced sciences, alien psychology and how to topple worlds.

It was not unreasonable to say that Krastin and Haral were two of the best-trained soldiers in the Emperor’s Forces. Between the two men, they had received every course of special instruction and education the Empire could offer. And none of it prepared them for watching over a nine-year-old boy.

When Lucrid made his way to the basement of the museum, he found the Decote child bound to a chair with a ridiculous amount of rope. The boy’s head was covered with a hood, and Krastin and Haral stood in full Terror rigs with their weapons pointed at the kid.

“What is going on here?” the Rox Tolgath asked. “Your suits are supposed to be charging.”

“We needed them to watch the child, Rox Tolgath,” Krastin replied.

“He is a child,” Lucrid seethed. “The child of a weak species. Why is he tied up?”

“It was Haral’s idea, sir.”

Haral did a double take toward Krastin. “It wasn’t… we both agreed it was best. It was both our ideas.”

Lucrid bent down and examined the ropes. There had to be thirty feet of rope, and as many knots, keeping the kid in place. “Isn’t this a little excessive? He’s nine.”

“Yeah, and thank Hama he’s not 10,” Haral said.

“How much trouble can a 9-year-old be that you have to tie him up like this?”

“Well, he got out of the last set of ropes, Rox Tolgath,” Krastin informed him.

“And the ones before that,” Haral added.

“He escaped you?” Lucrid was amused. But it was the kind of amusement where the kicker was that someone died at the end. Probably Haral.

“Yes, sir. He escaped. That’s why we decided to tie him up three times, sir,” Haral said.

“You realize this is a bad look for members of the Emperor’s Terror Squad.”

“Yes, sir,” Krastin said with the appropriate amount of shame, “we do.”

“But you did it anyway?” Lucrid stood up and crossed his arms. It had been a disappointing few hours after the battle with the clown. His victory had been glorious, but his decision to leave the rest of the Earth force to the Miradians had been disastrous. They had failed spectacularly, and the ambassador had gotten away. Lucrid knew they wouldn’t leave without the boy, but it was an extra step he never should have permitted. Now, there was this.

“Yes, sir. It was better than the alternative,” Krastin said.

“Which was?”

“Well, the first time he got away—” Haral started.

“The first time?” He roared the question.

“Yes, sir, the first time he got away…”

“But we tracked him down and got him back,” Krastin jumped in. He pointed to the child in the chair as proof.

“Yeah,” Haral continued. “We tracked him down to a part of the museum that’s still under construction.”

“Well, good. At least you recovered him promptly.”

Krastin just shook his head.

“No, it was bad,” Haral clarified.

“I don’t understand,” Lucrid said.

“Well, he set a bunch of traps for us,” Haral explained.

“I’m sorry, did you say traps?”

“Yeah, traps.”

“Like, we saw him at the bottom of these stairs and we thought we had him, so we ran after him. But halfway up, down come these buckets of stuff on a rope and they just clobbered the shit out of Krastin.” Haral reached over and hit a button that released Krastin’s helmet. The shadow retreated into darkness and the suit withdrew to reveal the soldier’s head.

A bruise covered the middle of Krastin’s face. The rest of his face flushed with rage. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure you got hit a second later and you landed right on top of me.”

Krastin reached over and hit the same switch on Haral’s armor. The helmet pulled back and revealed that Haral was more black and blue than gray.

Haral was upset as well. “So that makes you an idiot and me brave for willingly stepping into harm’s way to accomplish the mission.”

“Is that what happened when you burnt your hand on the doorknob?”

“The what?” Lucrid asked.

“Little bugger put a blowtorch on the other side of a doorknob. When we went to follow…” Haral retracted his rig gauntlet and held up a hand that was blistered and throbbing.

It was the throbbing that made Lucrid wince.

Krastin continued quickly, trying to get to the part where they weren’t idiots. “Well, we finally caught him and—”

“And Krastin wanted to eat him!” Haral said.

“I did not!”

“You threatened to eat him.”

“To scare him, you moron. I wasn’t…” he turned to Lucrid. “I wasn’t going to eat the kid. We caught him and brought him back here and tied him up.”

“Yeah, but then he got out again,” Haral said.

“Then he got out again,” Krastin agreed, and shook his head at the memory. “That second time was even worse.”

Lucrid waved a hand over his own face to indicate the state of Krastin’s. “Worse than this?”

Krastin held up a small device and tossed it to Lucrid. “He had this, sir.”

“It’s a voice changer, sir,” Haral explained.

“He had recordings of myself, Haral and you,” Krastin said. “He led us around by the nose.”

“Ears,” Haral said.

“Shut up, Haral. He used it to lure us into more traps.”

“The buckets again?”

Krastin nodded. “Yeah, the buckets again. We thought we outsmarted him by ducking.”

“But he just used extra buckets,” Haral sighed. “And another doorknob.” He held up his other hand to show the blistering.

“He tricked Haral out of his boots and made him walk on glass,” Krastin said.

“Made him?” Lucrid asked.

“I thought it was you, sir. It sounded like you. You said it was a loyalty test.”

Lucrid put his face in his hands.

“It’s okay, Rox Tolgath. I passed.” Haral opened the boots of his rig and held out a bloody foot.

Lucrid groaned as he took a seat.

“Yeah, well. It’s not as bad as what Krastin did.” Haral punched several buttons on Krastin’s armor and the crotch opened to reveal a bag of frozen peas strapped over the man’s underwear.

Lucrid took a sharp breath. “Dare I ask?”

“I had him, sir,” Krastin said. “I mean I had him. So I’m running after him and then he jumps out of the way and I go sliding. Heels over head, land on my back sliding. The little bastard had greased the floor, sir, and I slid right into a shelf that all but split me in two.”

Lucrid winced again, because how could a man not after hearing that?

“And then the bowling balls,” Haral prompted.

“Oh right,” Krastin said. “Do you know what bowling balls are, sir?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, there were about ten of them on the top shelf, and I don’t know why anyone would keep something that heavy on the top shelf, but they all came crashing down one after another until… well… I blacked out, sir.”

“It was pretty funny, sir,” Haral said.

“That’s because they weren’t your balls, Haral!”

“Anyway, after the third time, we thought it best to break out the suits, tie his ass up and make sure he stays put.”

“The third time?” Lucrid was going to kill both of them. “He tricked you morons three times.”

“No, the third time he just hid,” Krastin said. “And then we found him.”

“Yeah, but we did spend half an hour chasing a completely different kid,” Haral added.

“Well yeah, there was that.”

“What kid?” Lucrid asked.

“I don’t know.” Krastin shrugged. “Just some other kid. But we thought he was the first kid. Our kid.”

“But the new kid also set booby traps for us,” Haral said.

“Yeah, he burned my head,” Krastin said, and pulled back his uniform’s skull cap to reveal a burnt scalp.

“And he hit me with a freaking iron.” Haral turned to reveal the imprint of a clothes iron on the side of his face.

“And there was that spider—”

“Oh, damn, yeah, the spider.”

“Both of you, shut up!” Lucrid shouted as he leapt from his chair. He pointed to the boy. “Ungag him.”

“You don’t want to do that, sir,” Krastin said.

“Yeah, he just goes on and on about how Giggles is going to save him and Giggles is going to kick your ass.”

“Giggles this, Giggles that,” Krastin mocked the boy.

Haral pointed at the impression. “Yeah, like that. The kid’s like a rusty trombone.”

“How the hell is he like a rusty trombone?” Krastin asked.

“He just plays one note.”

“I hate you, Haral.”

Lucrid decided it best if he ignored the men. They didn’t matter. What mattered was that they had Decote’s son. He leaned down and spoke through the hood into the child’s ear. “Is that so? You think this clown is going to come for you?

“Your friend is weak. So is your father. Your mother. Everyone is weak compared to the might of the Emperor. That is why your clown friend will fail. And that is why the Alliance has already failed. Strength is the reason Hama will rule the Known. What do you think of that?”

He wanted to hear the fear in the kid’s voice, so he grabbed the hood and pulled it from the child’s head.

“Oh, shit,” Haral said. “It’s the wrong kid.”

“What the hell?” Lucrid stared at the strange child in front of him. It wasn’t Decote. “Wrong kid?”

“It’s the kid from the third time,” Krastin explained, and closed up his armor. “Our kid must have switched places with him.”

Lucrid’s temper boiled. He had never experienced rage as actual heat before. “Find him, you morons!”

“Yes, Rox Tolgath,” Krastin said, and the pair moved out.

“You going to need to switch those peas?”

“Shut up, Haral!”

25

Aside from affording Lucrid invaluable insight into his foes, one of the things he appreciated most about the museum was how quiet it was. The space was designed for focus and contemplation, and the air inside seemed to eat sound.

The Rox Tolgath stood in front of the wolf display, watching the pathetic Earth predator enjoy a meal of his own. Beyond the glass, the beast was chewing away, but Lucrid only heard his own thoughts.

He was enjoying the solitude until a man walked up behind him and joined him at the display.

“I’ve always admired the wolf,” Vides said.

He looked at the man’s reflection in the display’s glass. He was much smaller outside of his battle rig, of course, but he still had expected a somewhat larger foe.

The Earthian didn’t even glance toward Lucrid. He kept his eyes focused on the beast behind the glass. “What’s he dining on?”

“Former ally.”

His foe didn’t seem surprised by the answer. The Alliance soldier just nodded as if he had expected the answer.

The animal took a break from his meal of raw Gravitz, strolled to the edge of its enclosure and lifted his leg again.

“A filthy creature,” Lucrid said.

“Nah, he’s just giving people fair warning to stay in their place.”

“They are all such simple creatures. Predictable.”

“You could call it that. I like to think of them as dependable. He sticks to what he knows and doesn’t care if anything tries to stand in his way. That’s loyalty. I always did like loyalty.”

“This beast is alone. He has no one.”

“I’ll give you that. His true power is in the pack. But there’s also a phrase you probably don’t know because my guess is you don’t know much of anything. The phrase is ‘lone wolf.’ That’s a wolf that’s been separated from its pack. Sometimes they’re forced out. Sometimes they choose to go their own way. But here’s the thing about the lone wolf. They’re stronger, smarter and a hell of a lot meaner than your average wolf.”

Lucrid smiled, and he finally turned to face the man inside the clown. He studied the man from head to toe and wasn’t much impressed. He could see experience in the lone wolf’s eyes, but they weren’t the eyes of a thinking man. Just a violent brute. A weapon and nothing more. He was disappointed. It wasn’t that he expected his equal to come from the Alliance, but something closer in stature would have been preferred.

“You’re much smaller than I expected, Mr. Vides.”

“Yeah, well you’re a much bigger asshole than expected, alien guy.”

“Of course, you don’t know me. I am the Rox Tolgath Lucrid.”

“I don’t much care,” Vides said.

Metal footsteps echoed through the museum wing as the clown walked up behind its pilot. The machine was burnt and banged up in a hundred places. Its time on Mirada had not been easy.

“Your clown is looking a little worse for wear, Mr. Vides.” Lucrid smiled as the shadow armor winked into existence behind him.

The two warriors stood outside their armor, sizing one another up. Both stood their ground.

Vides looked at the beast that stood over Lucrid’s shoulder. The man from Earth finally had a verdict. “Copycat,” he said.

“Hardly,” Lucrid laughed. “You may have inspired us, but our technology is vastly superior to yours.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t figured it out just yet that it’s not the machine that matters. It’s the man inside that makes the difference.”

Lucrid smiles. “I think it’s considerably more than that.”

The punch was sudden and blurred his vision. Vides had struck fast, but without anger, and landed the blow across the bridge of his nose.

“Still think that?” Vides asked as he lowered his hand.

Lucrid cursed his reflexes as he lowered his hand from his nose. He didn’t want to give the man the satisfaction. He glanced at his fingers. They were covered with blood.

“You’re not a man of many words, are you?”

Vides shook his head. “Not many you’d like.”

“Very well.” The Rox Tolgath took a step back into his rig. The shadows unfolded and enveloped him. Behind the fluid darkness, the machine closed around him, covering all but his face.

Vides nodded and backed into the clown as the battle rig opened up. The canopy closed around him, leaving only his head exposed.

“You’ll never take the child,” Lucrid said.

“I’m not here for the kid,” Vides said as the clown’s head closed over his own.

Lucrid closed the Terror Armor’s helmet and the scanners came to life. Vides wasn’t lying or trying to force a metaphor; the man was very much alone.

Lucrid commanded his rig to draw his sword, and the shadowy blade appeared in hand as he raised it to strike.

But the clown had already closed the distance. The rig tackled him before he could phase out of the way, and the two mechanical monsters went crashing through the glass into the wolf enclosure.

The predator scurried out of the way with its tail between its legs before peeking back out from behind a rock a second later to growl.

The Shadow Armor landed on its back with the clown on top. He stared up into the menacing clown face and grunted as Vides talked to him through the stupid machine. “My name is Giggles,” said the clown. “Today we’re going to learn a new game. It’s called Who Can Hit the Hardest.”

Vides landed several punches on Lucrid’s rig before he managed to orient himself. He caught the clown’s fist and brought a knee up to his chest.

“I’ll go first.” He kicked and sent the clown flying back up through the window and into the museum hallway. Lucrid phased the armor and became invisible to the Earth man as he gained his feet and jumped back into the hallway. The Rox Tolgath worked his way behind the clown before phasing back. To the man in the clown suit, it would appear as if the Shadow Creature puffed back into existence.

Lucrid wrapped an arm around the clown’s neck and put the machine in a headlock. Vides grabbed futility at the beast’s forearm and tried to pull it away.

“You were foolish to come alone!” Lucrid growled through the beast.

Lucrid felt the clown step back and before he could react, Vides had thrown him over the clown’s shoulder and he was on his back once again. He spun quickly, prepared for a follow-up attack, but the clown just stood there grinning at him with the blood-red smile.

Giggles chuckled and then sounded the howl of the lone wolf.

The sound enraged him, and he sprang. He swung the blade, but the clown moved and landed a punch in what would have been his kidneys. Lucrid came back with an uppercut that sent Giggles stumbling back. He pressed the attack, and the once-quiet halls of the museum rang with the sounds of battle.

His rig was faster. It was stronger. But the man behind the clown was doing his best to prove his statement true. The fool seemed a step ahead of the shadow as they fought down the hall.

Lucrid finally caught him with a lucky kick and sent the clown flying back through an archway into the next exhibit. He phased out of the visible spectrum and followed Vides into the museum’s military history wing.

He laughed to himself as the clown looked around the room. He would appear to the Earth man when he was ready, but he enjoyed taunting him for the time being. They were surrounded by the history of Earth’s greatest conflicts. These paled in comparison to Hama’s mighty history.

Lucrid moved about the room and looked at the antiquated equipment. It tracked with Hama’s history up until a point when the Earthlings decided war was something to be avoided and then condemned. He stopped in front of a display entitled “The Forever Truce.” It depicted an Earth leader and an alien commander coming together in solidarity to condemn war. The entire wing of the museum stood as regret, an apology.

“Look at this.” His voice was echoing off the stone walls as Vides searched blindly for its source. “You grew ashamed of your might. We thought we had found a worthy enemy in the Alliance. But you’ve spent the last fifty years apologizing for your might.”

“I’m not apologizing for anything,” Vides said.

“Yes, but you’re an anomaly. Aren’t you? Everywhere we have fought the Alliance, your forces have run. And if you had any sense, you’d do the same.” Lucrid phased again and appeared in front of the clown. He slashed with the shadow blade.

Vides was too fast, or lucky, and turned to miss the blade. It hummed through the air and removed one of the pompom buttons from the clown’s chest.

The clown caught him with a left, and Lucrid had to take a couple of quick steps to stay upright. This gave Vides an opportunity to land a couple more blows before Lucrid phased out of the visible spectrum again.

Lucrid stepped into one of the displays and watched as his enemy searched the room in vain. He laughed to himself and turned around. The power armor startled him, and he almost struck out, thinking it was Vides. But it was only part of the display. He studied it as the clown fumbled around trying to find him. It wasn’t unlike Vides’s armor. Lucrid moved over to the plaque that explained the diorama and studied the information.

“Of course. It all makes sense now,” Lucrid said and reappeared next to the display. He pointed to a photograph of a man in the power armor labeled as Sgt. Blayse Vides and laughed. “This is you. No wonder you fight like an old man.”

Vides spotted Lucrid and charged across the room.

Still laughing, the Rox Tolgath disappeared and stepped out of the way as the Alliance soldier went crashing through his own display.

“Did they thaw you out?” Lucrid asked, and phased back in. “Or whip you back up in a lab?”

Vides was quicker this time and got a hand on the shadow armor. The man inside the clown screamed so loudly that Lucrid could hear it inside his own rig.

“That’s the spirit!”

Rage drove his enemy now, and the clown landed a series of blows in short order that put Lucrid back on his heels.

He lashed out with the shadow blade and watched in disbelief as the clown jumped in front the blade. Lucrid buried it to the hilt in the clown’s waist. However, it did little to slow the attack.

Vides grabbed the hilt of the sword and twisted away. This pulled the weapon from his rig’s grip. Lucrid tried to retrieve it, but the clown had him around the throat with one hand and grabbed him around the thigh with the other. Before he could wriggle free, the clown had thrown him through a display case in the center of the room.

Lucrid rolled back to his feet in time to catch a cannonball in the face. The clown juggled several of the relics and hurled them at the Hamagonian one after another. Each one threatened to knock him over. The cannon itself did. His armor IDed the object as a 785-pound M1841 Howitzer just before it hit him in the face.

Out of artillery to throw, the clown came at him with a weighted stanchion post. In the hands of Vides’s war rig, it was enough to drive Lucrid back. The Rox Tolgath dodged and ducked when he could, but the clown backed him against a wall and then kicked him through it.

Lucrid lay on the ground, amused by it all.

“I’m glad you’re laughing,” Vides said as the clown stepped forward. “Clowns get a bad rap for being scary when all we want to do is make the world smile.”

Vides pulled the shadow blade from Giggles’ hip and pointed it at Lucrid. “And your death is going to give me a serious grin.”

Lucrid laughed louder. “You were right about the lone wolf, Mr. Vides. He is a mean one.”

Vides raised the sword to strike.

“But I’d still rather have friends.”

Haral phased in on Vides’s left and struck him across the face hard enough to dent the clown. The war rig fell to the right and into Krastin. The final Terror Squad member had phased in on Vides’s right and sent him back to the left.

Both of the shadows took turns punishing the clown as it struggled to find a target for its own blows.

“The lone wolf may be a noble creature after all,” Lucrid said as he stood up, “but what good is nobility, if it gets you killed?”

26

The one on the left hit him again. Then the one on the right. Then Lucrid sucker punched him. His display was flickering with each hit. Giggles’ insides were starting to look like his outsides. He swung and his fist passed through that damn shadow again. It was like trying to hit a ghost.

He got close to hitting one of them, but the damn thing caught Giggles’ arm. The next thing he knew, he was flying through a glass display case housing an assortment of Pogs in the Pastimes of the Past exhibit. Shards of glass and pots went everywhere as Giggles slid across the floor.

“Lone wolf? Ha!” Lucrid’s voice boomed. He’d blinked out of existence again. “You are a dog, clown.”

Vides sighed as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. You could tell a lot by how an enemy mocked you. Sure, it could be that Lucrid’s vocabulary was lacking, but the wolf–dog comparison was too obvious. He wasn’t a clever enemy. He was nothing but a thug, hiding behind a gun. Take the gun away and he wouldn’t be dangerous at all.

“I’ve got him, Prime,” Raph said on the comm.

“’Bout damn time,” Vides said as he got to his feet.

“There were lots of knots,” the Hell Driver explained. “But I’ve got him and we’re heading back to the ship.”

Vides stood and faced the Terrors Squad. Lucrid blinked back into existence and all three lined up against him and Giggles.

“Are you ready for us to put you down, lonely little dog?” Lucrid asked as the others chuckled.

“I told you earlier, Lucrid,” Vides said using his own voice instead of the clown’s. “The wolf’s power is in the pack.

The Great Old One came crashing through the museum wall, grabbed one of the shadows and drove him through the opposite wall.

The Bear came through the ceiling and landed on the other. Atticus reached down and grabbed the creature by the scruff of its shadow and hurled it back down the hall.

That left Lucrid.

Giggles started walking toward him. “Yeah, you probably thought I’d come here alone like some idiot. And, I’ll confess, that was my plan. But the guys here talked me out of it.”

“It’s good to have friends,” Lucrid said as a cloud of smoke erupted at his feet.

Several of those damn space ninjas stepped out of the smoke. They stood there for a minute looking really tough. Something about space ninjas was that they really liked to glare. It didn’t bother Vides, though. It gave the Reaper a chance to move in behind them.

The scythe caught three of them in one swoop and stacked them all up on the end like some kind of space ninja shish kabob. The others scattered as Steven shook the dead from his weapon.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Lucy,” Vides said, and marched forward.

The shadow that clung to Lucrid’s armor pulsed, and the man disappeared. Lucrid’s voice bounced off the walls. It had always had a haunted quality to it, but Vides detected a hint of concern in the spectral tone. “We are vastly superior to you. Our technology. Our armor. Our men.”

Vides searched the room, quickly filtering through each of the rig’s displays. “Yeah, your suits are pretty fancy, I’ll give you that.”

Lucrid hit him from out of nowhere. The armor didn’t even appear until it had collided with the clown. Vides shifted the momentum and twisted so he was the one doing the pushing. The motors in Giggles’ legs pumped away as he barreled both rigs through a wall and into the dinosaur exhibit.

They collapsed. Giggles came out on top. Vides unleashed a barrage of fists on Lucrid’s rig. He was feeling every hit of the fight, so he knew Lucrid had to be feeling them, too. The shadow disappeared in his hands and the last punch he threw shattered the marble beneath and left the impression of the clown’s fist in the museum floor.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Lucy,” Giggles said. “You can’t quit the game just because you’re losing.”

The lights in the exhibit hall went out and the emergency lights came on, leaving the room dimly lit and full of monstrous shadows projected from the bones. Lucrid’s laughter was everywhere and nowhere. “You’re in my world now.”

Vides moved deeper into the room.

“Your armor was designed around a single fear.”

The voice lost its omnipresent quality and sounded like it was coming from a nearby stegosaurus. It wasn’t anything like what Vides thought a stegosaurus might sound like, but it was still unnerving.

“Mine was designed to encompass all the fears of your kind.” This time the voice was coming from the skeleton of a cave bear.

“Well aren’t you the little ventriloquist,” Vides said.

Through the hole in the wall, he could see Atticus holding his own against Lucrid’s man. Vincent tried to entangle his opponent with the tentacles on his rig’s face, but the shadow disappeared and reappeared behind him. The Cthulhu flipped the machine over its shoulder and brought it back in the fight. The Reaper looked like he was playing with the ninja as he used his own stealth tech to keep them confused.

“Fear of the dark. Fear of shadows. Fear of spirits and ghosts.” The voice leapt around the room from skull to skull. This room sure had a lot of skulls.

“I was always afraid of public speaking, myself,” Blayse said, and turned down another row of bones.

“I am your people’s boogeyman, clown. Not this armor but me. I am all your fears in one.”

There was a roar behind him. Vides turned and swung. The rig’s fist turned a Pronothrotherium skull to dust. The voice leapt to another display.

“But most importantly, I am your biggest fear. Your fear of failure. Earth can’t stand to lose.”

Lucrid leapt out of the shadows and screamed as he launched a flurry of attacks.

Vides felt each hit, and Lucrid’s fist rocked Giggles’ head around. He finally found an opening and got in a hit of his own. The follow-up fell on a cloud of dissipating darkness as the shadow vanished once more.

“The Hama learned long ago that losing wasn’t anything to be afraid of,” the disembodied voice said.

“Yeah, well maybe you’re just more used to it than we are,” Vides replied.

A puff of shadow exploded in front of him. Lucrid was there and landed two more shots before fading away again.

“Failure is a great instructor,” Lucrid said.

“So was Mrs. Lamb, my third grade teacher.”

Another assault came, and Vides was struggling to focus as the hits rattled his head. Giggles managed to grab the shadow beast’s wrist and wrench it back. But it disappeared in his grip like a handful of sand oozing away in the surf.

“I am Earth’s legacy, slipping through your fingers.”

“Two… Todd here, sir,” said the voice in his ear. “I’ve got him.”

“Gimme,” Vides said. “I’m getting awfully tired of his mouth.”

Lucrid continued, “There is no shame in second place.”

Todd sent the packet, and the code flashed across his display as Giggles uploaded the new protocols. The display reconfigured itself quickly. It flashed through the different spectrums, showing an empty room until it landed on the new design. Lucrid appeared right in the middle of his screen and threw what would have been an invisible fist. Giggles caught the shadow’s blow just as the rig appeared.

“I guess no one told you,” Vides said. “Second place is first loser, loser.”

Giggles unleashed a flurry of punches that knocked the shadow from Lucrid’s face. The attack was so violent that the darkness struggled to stay attached to the armor.

Lucrid vanished. Or thought he did. The shadow pulsed and he stepped away, believing he was invisible once more. Vides grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him back into the fight. He landed a dozen more punches before Lucrid even tried to punch back.

Hama’s tech was strong because it was newer. But Vides had been riding in Giggles for years, and he wore the rig like an old glove. With the element of surprise neutralized, Blayse could show the man from Hama what a Hell Driver could really do. He slipped jabs and ducked hooks all while countering each attack. If Lucrid managed to get a grip on Giggles, he managed to twist his way out. It wasn’t long before the beast was backing away every chance it got. Giggles kept up the pressure.

“Yeah, failure is a teacher,” Vides said. It was his turn to talk smack. “But only if you hate the feeling. If you make the mistake of embracing it, you’re going to learn to like it.”

Lucrid leapt, but Giggles sidestepped the attack and drove a clown fist into Lucrid’s kidney. He had to feel that one.

The blow sent the beast onto its face. Lucrid quickly scrambled back to his feet. “This isn’t possible.”

“Well, it turns out Todd is an electromechanical genius.”

Giggles kicked Lucrid and sent the man flying through a T-Rex skeleton.

Vides bent down and picked up a bone. His armor identified it as a tibia, but all he knew was that it was big enough to make even the biggest dog wag his tail, and it was made of solid stone.

Lucrid pulled himself from a pile of the fossilized bones. He stood just as Giggles chuckled and said, “Batter up!”

The bone connected with Lucrid’s chest and sent the shadow soaring across the room. Lucrid hit the ground and slid until the base of another display stopped him.

Vides swaggered toward the fallen Hamagonian. It had been too long since he was able to enjoy a good swagger. The pressure of filling the new team. Catching up on a lot of history. Serving as the Alliance’s one-man army. It had all distracted from the important things like a good swagger.

“The problem with you, Lucrid, is you think you came in first long before the game was over.”

Lucrid stood slowly. It looked like his armor was starting to give him fits.

“But we’ve got a whole lot more to go.”

He turned to face Vides just in time to catch another swing. Giggles brought the cudgel down on Lucrid’s leg and heard it snap. The armor sparked at the knee.

“Oh, that might put you on the sidelines for a bit,” Giggles said.

Lucrid lashed out but missed. Vides didn’t. He ducked under the shadow’s swing and came up behind him. He let Lucrid turn to face him before bringing the bone down on his head. He struck several blows against the armor’s helmet. Over and over, he swung until pieces of it began to fall away. The fight had all but drained out of his opponent when the Shadow’s head fell to the ground.

“There you are,” Giggles said with a smile.

Lucrid swore. Vides’s translator didn’t know what it meant, but he was pretty sure he got the gist.

“You will fail. Like you always have. The Alliance will fall! Earth will be ours!” Lucrid made one last desperate swing.

“Not so fast.” Giggles stepped out of the way and drew back his Dinobat. “It’s our turn to be on offense.”

The bone broke, but so did Lucrid’s armor. The darkness that had clung to the rig disappeared for good. The chest plate bristled with electric sparks and small fires. Lucrid was sent flying back into the T-Rex display that was now but a skull dangling from the ceiling.

Vides walked over to his fallen foe, raised the bone and brought it down with everything Giggles had left.

Lucrid screamed.

The bone ruptured the rig’s power supply. Everything went dead. He couldn’t move. Vides knew it and tossed the bone aside.

He withdrew Giggles’ helmet and looked his enemy in his cold black eyes. “We’ll be taking the kid and the family. You can have Mirada for now, but don’t get too comfortable. I’ll be back for a burger smothered in gravy before you know it.”

Lucrid laughed. “You think you’ve won?”

Vides looked over as Atticus entered the room. The Bear joined Vides and heaved a very dead Terror Squad solider off of his shoulder. The rig landed next to Lucrid. Vincent appeared a second later and dropped the body of the other squad member on the other side.

“Where’s the head?” Vides asked.

The tentacles on the Eldritch armor moved and spat the rig’s helmet at Lucrid’s feet. “Death sends his apologies. He said there wasn’t enough of the little bastards left to scrape together a corpse.”

Vides nodded. It was a bit gruesome but a nice touch.

“This is not over,” Lucrid snarled.

“I didn’t think it was,” Vides said. “But you’re going to have to find something a lot bigger and a lot scarier than the dark if you want to beat the Hell Drivers.”

Vides left him there, staring up at the monstrous skull that dangled from the ceiling. Lucrid had suffered a big loss. He must have learned a lot.

The Hell Drivers turned to leave. The wolf from the display had followed them into the room and stood with his tail wagging so fast you could hardly see it.

“I never thought about it much, but this room full of bones must be exactly what dog heaven looks like.” Vides and the others left the room. As he passed the wolf, he pointed to Lucrid. “He’s all yours, boy.”

The wolf woofed, raced across the room to the fallen monster and lifted his leg.

27

The Galahad was nowhere near as luxurious as the Alexander. As a small freighter, its interior was spartan and designed only for function. No one needed comfort to haul goods across the galaxy. They just needed space. It wasn’t her kind of ship at all, thought Priscilla.

The Decotes had done what they could to turn the hangar into a room befitting a memorial service. It wasn’t much. They had dropped some things. Arranged some food on a table. And printed out seven copies of a headshot Steven had secretly taken to try to get acting gigs. The family was forever grateful for the return of their boy and wanted to do what they could for their heroes. Natlia couldn’t stop crying or touching the child’s face, and Cullin promised over and over that the boy could be an artist if he wanted even though Treye didn’t know what he was talking about.

She sat quietly with the family as the Hell Drivers gathered in the hangar and Vides began the service to his fallen men.

“It is never our wish to leave behind our fallen brethren. And one day we will bring Mirada back into the fold and give these fallen heroes of the Alliance the funeral they deserve. Until that day, we remember them for their courage and honor, for they truly were our brothers.”

Blayse coughed as he pulled a stack of notecards out of his uniform. He looked away from the notes, took a deep breath and began.

“Tennison Vides was a good man. He piloted Thing 1 exceptionally well and was a music lover, I’m told. He had recently taken up guitar.” Vides looked up from the notes. There was genuine surprise on his face. “No kidding? The guitar?”

Vincent nodded.

“I always wanted to play guitar. Isn’t that something?”

He took Ten’s card off the top of the pile and shuffled it to the back.

“E11iot, Tennison’s partner in the Things, was a good man. He fell avenging his genetic brother’s death. That is truly an honorable way to go. Not the best move tactically, but no one can question his dedication to the team. Together, Thing 1 and Thing 2 scared the hell out of the enemy.”

He moved to the next card. “Percival was a… Which one was Percival?”

“Eight,” Steven said. “Pestilence.”

“Oh, yeah. I see it with the P’s.” Vides nodded for confirmation and received it before returning to the card. “Percival was a good man. His dedication to his team was matched only by his talents in the kitchen.”

Vides looked up from the card. “He was a cook?”

“Where did you think all the food was coming from?”

Vides shrugged. “You know, I’m really going to miss his brownies.”

The others nodded in agreement. They were some really great brownies.

“And Eig—Percival, of course. I’m going to miss him.” Vides then mumbled to himself, “I never knew I had being a cook in me.”

He was learning a lot about himself and moved onto the next card. “Fred was a good man. He’d give you the shirt off his back if it meant he didn’t have to look at you half naked anymore?” Vides looked up for an explanation.

Atticus explained, “He had a weird thing about nipples.”

“Oh,” Vides said, and finished reading. “He was generous with his time and nobody was a better listener.”

All of the men nodded at the sentiment.

Vides moved on to the next card. “Garfield was a good ma— Is this Sabertooth?” he asked.

The men nodded.

“I’m not calling him Garfield,” Vides said.

“Come on, Prime,” Raph said. “It was his dying wish.”

Vides sighed and read the card. “Garfield was a good man. He loved lasagna and hated Mondays.”

The men started giggling.

Vides shouted, “This is a damn joke, isn’t it!”

‘Yeah,” Atticus said with a laugh. “No one really knew Five.”

“Fine, then. Five was a good man. He was quiet. There. Done.”

“There’s one more, sir,” Todd said, pointing to the last card.

“I’m not falling for any more jokes.”

“It’s not a joke, sir.”

Vides looked at the card in his hand. It was Three’s. The Hell Hound himself. Blayse fought back a lump in his throat and read the card. “Threeodore Roosevelt Vides was… he was a good boy. Reliable. Loyal. He was the first to fall because he was the first to stand for what he knew was right. He was brave and didn’t deserve to die the way he did.”

He took a deep breath that shuddered on the way in. He let it happen. It was that or cry. “Even now, I’m sure he’s looking down and keeping an eye on us. I just hope he was looking when that wolf lifted its leg on old Lucrid back there. I think that he would have enjoyed that little bit of irony, seeing as how he drove the Canis rig and all. And he deserves some happiness.”

Vides tucked the notecards back into his vest and stepped forward. The rest of the Hell Drivers did the same and formed a circle. The commander put his hand into the circle and the others followed.

A reverent silence filled the Galahad’s cargo bay as those that weren’t part of the circle looked to the ground. Priscilla felt something growing at the back of her throat as the silence went on.

Captain Antarius Thurgood was broad-chested, thick-headed and anything but subtle. He had moved up behind Todd and Raph, put his hands on their shoulders and leaned into the circle. “Oh no, what did I walk in on? A cryfest?”

“What the hell do you want, Thurgood?” Vides was using his scary voice. It was calm, dispassionate and made kittens cry.

“No one’s come up to the flight deck to thank me yet,” Thurgood said.

“Who is this ass?” Raph asked.

“Antarius Thurgood.” He reached a hand into the circle which no one took. “Captain of the Galahad, rescuer of your ass.”

“Rescuer?” Vides asked.

Thurgood nodded. “That’s right. I’ve rescued you, so I guess now you could call us even.”

“Exfil isn’t the same as a rescue, Thurgood,” Vides said.

“Sure it is. So we’re even now. You rescued me from Shandor. I rescued you from Mirada. Square.”

“Exfil is literally part of the plan,” Steven said.

“No. Your plan was the hairy guy. But he died. So, I had to come to the rescue.”

“You were Plan B,” Vides said.

“Still a rescue.”

“Still part of the plan. Now back off while we finish honoring real heroes, or I’ll write up a little notecard for you, too.”

“Fine.” Thurgood put up his hands like he was saying he was sorry. But he also waved them a little like he was saying it wasn’t a big deal. “We’ll call it even.”

“No,” Vides said. “You still owe me. I want to be clear on that.”

“Fine,” Thurgood said with a pout. He backed away from the men and took a seat next to Priscilla. He stood back up, moved the chair uncomfortably close and sat back down.

“Miss Priscilla,” he said, trying to ooze charm.

Priscilla shifted her chair a little because it was uncomfortable sitting too close to anything that oozed. “Thurgood.”

“Looks like I should have been with you down there.”

“We already had to rescue one helpless boob that was trying to get us killed. We didn’t need another.”

Thurgood laughed at her joke because he thought that’s what she wanted. Then he asked seriously, “It was a rough one, huh?”

“He lost half his team. Just to rescue an ambassador that didn’t want to be saved.”

“You know it’s not as simple as that,” Thurgood said. “It never is. The ambassador has some information.”

“You knew?” It was her turn to use her scary voice. And it was a lot scarier than Vides’s.

Thurgood went white and did his best to explain quickly. “The council hoped.”

“I don’t like being lied to, Antarius.”

A sheepish smile emerged. “I do.”

She made a fist. “I will hurt you.”

“Relax, Oncilla. No one lied to you.”

“Then let’s say I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

“Okay, that they did do. But it wasn’t me. I didn’t find out about it until they called on good old Plan B here. Besides, what do you care? You’re just in it for the money. Right?

He was right. That’s what she told everyone. That’s what she told the council. That’s what she told L’Mar. It’s what she told herself. “Right.”

“I take it he said something?”

“Who?” she asked as her thoughts returned to the present.

“The ambassador,” Thurgood said with a smile, most likely assuming his good looks were what was distracting her.

“We have a breadcrumb,” she said.

Antarius opened his hand.

She shook her head. “It’s going to Cason.”

“Oh, it’s always something with that guy. You know he’s not nearly as great as everyone says.”

“I’ll give the info to Cason.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d rather give it to an intelligence officer rather than an officer that’s a complete moron. Now why don’t you fly the ship and let these men mourn.”

“You’re needed on the deck, sir,” an ensign said from the door to the hangar.

“Again?” Thurgood whined, and stood up. “Captaining was so much easier with a crew of a thousand.”

She looked over at Vides and watched as he and the team shared their words amongst themselves. The Hell Drivers broke their circle, and Blayse nodded toward Thurgood’s departure as he came to see her. “What did Captain Fancy Pants have to say?”

“The Alliance knew Decote had something.”

“I figured as much.”

“You knew?” she asked. “Seems I’m the only one being kept in the dark here.”

“Now calm down, Genie. I didn’t know anything. I’m just used to not being told everything.”

“I don’t know if I could get used to that.”

Vides thought about it and nodded. “I hope you don’t. I like you just the way you are. It’s what makes us such a great team.”

“Maybe next time I get a rig of my own.”

He dismissed the idea immediately. “Nah. It would only slow you down.”

He sat down next to her, moving the chair a little closer as he did. He pulled the memory chip from his pocket and held it up for both of them to see. “What do you think?”

She moved her chair closer and studied the chip. “I don’t know. A secret that big would be hard to keep for almost a century.”

“Is that what you thought about me?” he asked with a smile.

“I still don’t know what to think about you,” she said, and then quickly changed the subject back to the matter at hand. “What do you think?”

“It could be something. It could be nothing. I haven’t a clue,” he said, and put the chip back in his pocket. “But I can’t wait to see what’s happening back on Earth.”

The End

If you liked Benjamin Wallace’s take on space,
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Junkers: The Missing Season

DADS VS

Dads Vs Zombies

Dads Vs The World

Dads Vs Zombies: Year 2

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OF DAMIAN STOCKWELL

Horror in Honduras

Terrors of Tesla

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Table of Contents

- Title Page
- Untitled
- Copyright
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
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- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
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- 25
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- 27
- Duck & Cover Series
- Also by Benjamin Wallace
- Join My Readers Group
- About the Author