Her fingers flexed on the grip of her sidearm. She felt naked in the cloning chamber. Though the cloning tubes provided cover – likely very valuable cover to the colonists – they did not provide any concealment.
Right now there did not appear to be anyone else present. There wasn’t a lot of need, other than the occasional check-in. The systems that ran the place were high-spec, and seemed able to work on their own once set up and provided with raw materials.
“Phosphorous is essential for human growth, especially of bones and teeth,” Cenz was saying. “A solution that contains it is therefore vital for the cloning process. I can sort of see a logic – the Governor clearly decided to help boost their population by simply creating more workers. Still, it’s a very questionable decision.”
“It’s a horrible decision,” Pirra replied sourly. “They’re barely feeding their current population. How are they going to feed these?”
“I presume the Governor feels he can ramp up the algae paste production to meet demand. I agree, though, that this is a foolhardy move. Something borne out of desperation.”
“And stupidity. Is it me, or do these clones look unhealthy?” Pirra pressed her face to the tube, looking at the human within. It surprised her for a moment how warm the glass was.
It was male, though overall it appeared there were more females. While she knew humans grew in a curled position, the spine on this one appeared too curved, to the point where he would have a hunched back.
Even the man’s head looked . . . smaller than it should have been.
“You’re quite correct. From what I’ve seen, I would estimate that 60% of these clones will not survive to maturity. Among those that do, most will suffer severe physical and mental impairments.”
Pirra pulled away from the glass. “Sixty percent?” She clicked out a curse that gave Cenz pause.
“I have no idea what you just said.”
“You’re better off not knowing,” she replied. “But that death rate is horrifying. Shouldn’t it be a fraction of a percent at most?”
“Yes. Under optimal conditions, the death rate is small, even if it is frequently unethical. But the colonists are doing things that are unusual – such as attempting to alter the genomes of the clones. I believe their goal is to create enough variation in the population to prevent inbreeding.”
Pirra shook her head. “Atrocious. I wonder what-“
A clanking noise came from outside and down the hall.
“Cover,” she hissed. Cenz was already ducking to move behind one of the larger pieces of machinery.
Someone – no, several someones – were approaching. Steadying her grip on her sidearm, she angled a small sensor out around the corner to watch. The view appeared in her HUD, and unless they were actively scanning it was unlikely their own systems would notice it.
Three men entered the room. They had the emblem of colony security and were in full kit.
A thread of fear went through her. Unlike the sloppy guards she’d seen in the rest of the colony, these men moved like professionals. They were certainly no strangers to zero-g combat, and were holding rifles that would rip through the suits she or Cenz had on with ease.
Their armor would be proof against her sidearm, if it came to violence. Only a lucky shot – or a carefully aimed one – would have a chance of taking one down.
They didn’t say anything, but checking for comm signals, she found that they were using an encrypted frequency.
A message appeared on her HUD, from Cenz.
They’re using a simple code. I’m in their channel – sharing now.
She heard a voice crackle in her ear. Their audio was clear, but she couldn’t tell one speaker from another.
“. . . passive detectors noted heat signatures. Not one of ours,” one said. His clipped tones didn’t sound local. A mercenary, perhaps.
“Too much heat from the cloning tubes at living temperatures to pick out an intruder. Fan out and find them.”
The second voice had a different accent, but likewise did not sound local.
“Do you think it’s the xenos?” The third voice did sound local, but it had adopted the more professional tones of his allies. She knew that meant they’d trained together for some time, he was not likely to be a rookie.
“Possibly. They disappeared from the hunter squad hours ago.”
“Shoot if you see them, we’re taking no chances. Even dead they have uses,” the one she took to be the commander said.
“The Governor said-” another cut in. The local.
“Screw him, he’s not out here. We don’t know what these SU-types are packing, but they’re armed. I’m not risking my ass for the Governor’s games.”
Pirra had hated the idea of surrender, but that cut the option out entirely.
She studied them for further information, but aside from the colony emblem on their armor, they had no insignia.
It was the kind of move that those who had experienced the worst sorts of combat used. They didn’t want to make their commanders a clear target, so dress them the same as the regs.
She sent a signal back to Cenz.
We don’t have a lot of movement options.
We go up at the first chance, take to the ceiling, Cenz said. Human perceptions work best horizontally, not vertically.
It was a fair point. Being on another plane would affect neither her nor Cenz to any significant degree. It was the barest of advantage, but she’d take all she could get.
The three began to spread out, a slow and cautious search pattern, but one that would find them. Her suit estimated forty-five seconds.
Reaching into her pocket, she felt for something – anything – that she could use as a distraction. As it was, they would be noticed if they attempted to go up. She had to create a noise to draw their attention another way.
She felt something hard, and pulled it out.
Her singing stone.
There wasn’t time for sentimentality. Pirra didn’t hesitate, throwing the stone down the row. She sent it at an angle where it hit the base of a tank and ricocheted, hitting another in a zig-zag pattern.
The stone sang for her as it flew. The sharp, keening cry was like a lament to her kind, and even humans rarely failed to be unnerved by the sorrow in its voice.
Other Terrestrial 