《Entangled》 Chapter 1 The two Mantamechs penetrated the clouds in perfect synchrony. Robbie/Eve felt the nauseous thrill of G-force as they levelled off, an all-too-brief hypoxic high. They were cruising in the stratosphere of EXO19. Storms broiled beneath them in cerulean swirls. Lightning pulses cracked the cloudscape. Above, a terrible gap of nothing crossed the predawn sky. Just looking at it set Robbie¡¯s pulse racing with excitement/sent a chill down Eve¡¯s spine. Even with their neural entanglement implants desynced, Robbie could ¡®hear¡¯ his wingmate¡¯s thoughts. But they were no longer one/one. Robbie watched Eve through his left wingtip camera. Her Mantamech was cocooned in a vapor cone, a ghostly shock collar traversing the thin air between storm and stars. The wormhole had dropped below the horizon. Sunrise back on Mars was barely worthy of the name¡ªa cold star rising through the dust¡ªand Earth hadn¡¯t seen a sunrise since The Great Cascade. Now, EXO19¡¯s sun broke behind the curvature of the horizon. A golden wave rushed across the surface of the clouds. Gaps in the storm revealed the ocean tens of kilometres below, shimmering blue beneath curtains of light. The sun rose further. Robbie¡¯s nosecam polarised the view, filtering the light to a tolerable glow. He could see¡­two black ??s. Moving. The ¡®Eve¡¯ half of Robbie/Eve separated the delayed sonic booms from the background thunder of the storms below, then analysed the pause between them: <0.0001% of a second. There could be no doubt: the ?mech pilots were entangled too. Robbie/Eve felt a surge of adrenaline/a hollow feeling in the pit of their stomach as they zoomed in on their counterparts. The enemy craft were based on the same post-Cascade mecha tech. But it had been decades since the Christophites left Sol System, and their designs had evolved. ?mechs were bigger, sleeker, with vantablack wings and stiletto-spike tails. By contrast, Robbie/Eve¡¯s Mantamechs felt drab: grey wings with overlapping ailerons, stubby tails ending in a spiked sphere. In parley, only one pilot would speak¡ªverbally, as entangled thoughts never ¡®sounded¡¯ coherent to anyone but your wingmate. They had previously agreed to let Eve do the talking. ¡°ATTENTION, Christophite mechs! We are Mech Lieutenant Evelyn Umbasa and Mech Lieutenant Robert Cassidy and of the Martian Mecha Corps. This planet¡¯s airspace is under quarantine due to the emergence of a Class IV wormhole in orbit. For your own safety, please return to your base. Over.¡± Robbie strained against the haptic straps of his crash corset. He loved his wingmate¡ªa platonic love engendered by the hundreds of hours they¡¯d spent synced in training. But he couldn¡¯t help feeling that when he was with her, his wings were clipped. In the MMC dojo they¡¯d released opponents from simultaneous chokeholds too soon. In 2vs2 chess, they¡¯d spent too long executing Schrodinger¡¯s Castle moves, rather than going straight for the Qing. In flight simulations, her tactical reticence was a drag factor¡ªthey¡¯d opted to parley almost as much as they¡¯d engaged in virtual combat. Robbie had been craving real combat his whole life, from his childhood in the Cascade refugee camps, through bar fights in the Helles Basin strip, to the MMC academy on Olympus Mons. Now, here he was, aged 22¨Cstandard, out in the EXOs at last. He wasn¡¯t here to ¡®parley¡¯ with Christophite terrorists, he was a Martian Mecha Corps pilot. Sex, Death and Mechs. He could feel his Mantamech around him now like a second skin, a sensory homunculus of titanium. Frankly, he felt like a god. He wanted the Christophites to bite back, to say something that would justify hostilities. They did not disappoint. ¡°We are Priestess Pilot Alicia Eminescu.¡± The idea disgusted Robbie. ¡°We recognise neither your jurisdiction nor your quarantine,¡± continued the Priestess. Her accent was old-Earth¡ªarrogant, infuriating, yet strangely more intimate in Robbie¡¯s earpiece than Eve¡¯s thoughts in his head. ¡°What you blasphemously refer to as a ¡®wormhole¡¯ is an Artefact of Saint Christopher, the grace by which he carries the Children of Ectogenesis through the River of Spacetime. You will leave this consecrated atmosphere¡ªnow¡ªand return to that red hell you call home. Or we will cleanse EXO19 of your presence. Over.¡± ¡°Your ¡®Artefact¡¯ is just an asshole in the sky¡­¡± ¡°What my wingmate means to say is that the status of the wormhole network is part of the ongoing peace talks between Mars and the Church of Saint Christopher. Over.¡± ¡°We are the Artefacts¡¯ natural custodians,¡± said the Priestess. ¡°Humanity would never have reached the EXOs had we not forced matters with the Great Cascade...¡± ¡°My parents DIED in the Great¡­¡± Over the parley channel, Eve said, ¡°We propose a d¨¦tente. Let¡¯s all disengage, put our mechs into Ground Walker Mode and deploy parachutes. Over.¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. The Priestess¡¯s laugh echoed in Robbie¡¯s cochlear. ¡°You¡¯re twenty kilometres away, Martians. Why don¡¯t you come over here and make me?¡± ¡°You got it, Christophite¡­¡± But it was too late. Robbie had already fired his afterburner. As their thought trains collapsed into one/one, Robbie/Eve felt the G-force ramp up in Robbie¡¯s crash corset. Simultaneously, they could see his Mantamech from Eve¡¯s perspective, accelerating over the clouds to engage the enemy at the head of a billowing contrail. Belatedly, they fired Eve¡¯s burner, feeling her crash corset constrict and pulsate, pumping blood to her brain so they could use it to assess their tactical options. A synchronised dive to the cloud layer was still possible. But the Priestess clones had also lit their burners and were closing fast. If Robbie/Eve dived, they would be hunted from above like bats in the Aviary Dome on Deimos. The air in front of their mechs distorted into kilometre-long red beams. Ahead, the ?mechs shimmered against the golden crescent of the rising sun, their own lances deployed and ready. Robbie/Eve used Eve¡¯s craft to paint the enemy with targeting ladar and fired 192 m2issile clusters from Robbie¡¯s Manta-wing batteries. A simultaneous fl¨¦chette launch from the ?mechs filled the air with hypersonic diamonds. Eve¡¯s mech broke into a rolling pattern, her proton beam swatting the incoming projectiles out of Robbie¡¯s path while one of the ?mechs did the same for her counterpart. The m2issiles/fl¨¦chettes sizzled out of existence like moths against a forceflame. Meanwhile, Robbie¡¯s Mantamech and its ?mech counterpart bore down on each other head on. The collision alarms were a caustic shriek in Robbie/Eve¡¯s ears. They felt the nihilistic rush of killkillkill in Robbie¡¯s endocrine system/Eve¡¯s body convulse from the G-crush as her crash corset gimballed to counter her Mantamech¡¯s roll. For an instant, a second dawn bloomed in EXO19¡¯s upper atmosphere as four proton lances clashed at Mach 8¡ªa colossal FLASH which would have been visible from both orbit and sea level. Robbie/Eve flickered in/out of consciousness as their crash corsets battled to keep the blood flowing. Camera views were grainy and overloaded. There was a sensation of heat and the smell of propane, but it wasn¡¯t clear where or who it was coming from. The view cleared as they exited the conflagration. They could see a falling cloud of burning debris¡ªone mech was down. Something was wrong. Very wrong. In Eve¡¯s cameras, the view made sense. It showed one of the ?mechs¡ªa Priestess clone¡ªplummeting towards the clouds in a ball of flame, while Robbie¡¯s Mantamech banked around to the North. The remaining ?mech burned hard for the South in retreat. In Robbie¡¯s cameras, reality looked different. From this viewpoint, both ?mechs had survived and were coming about in a heart-shaped arc, deploying puffs of chaff in their wake. It was Eve¡¯s Mantamech that was aflame, falling cloudwards in a terminal spiral. It was a mech pilot¡¯s worst nightmare, a situation so rare it was practically a fable. A quantum paradox¡ªwhere one half of an entangled pilot pair saw one reality and the other saw something different. There was only one resolution: desync so that reality could collapse back into one strand. The alternative? Tactical chaos in the short term, and¡ªif you survived¡ªquantum dementia in the long term. But which reality would prevail? 50/50. The ultimate game of roulette. But the burning sensation was getting stronger and stronger¡­ Even with their implants desynced, Robbie could ¡®hear¡¯ his wingmate¡¯s screams, could feel the superheated straps of her crash corset as she thrashed within its cage, could smell her melting flesh mixed with propane as she plummeted. But it was too late for parachutes. It was too late for anything. But there was nothing, just his own stupid thoughts in his own stupid flyboy head¡ª denial>anger>bargaining>depression>acceptance collapsing down to just one. Vengeance. The Priestess clones were completing their arc, lining up in their sleek ?mechs for another run at Robbie, wiggling those blacker-than-black wings in a come-get-me taunt as old as aerial combat itself. ¡°You¡¯ve got it, bitch¡­¡± said Robbie over the parley band, as he once again punched his afterburner and levelled his proton lance. The two ?mechs converged, their lances forming a killer V in Robbie¡¯s flight path. He fired his remaining m2issiles, and the atmosphere swarmed as the Priestess pair responded with their own fl¨¦chette stream. But now he didn¡¯t have Eve to protect him. He oscillated wildly on his axis but was quickly overwhelmed. He yelled in frustration and dived for the cloud cover, aborting his attack. Vengeance would have to wait. The wind buffeted his Mantamech as he levelled out in the storm. Synced with Eve, it would have been easy to ride the turbulence, but left to his own judgement he found himself slammed from air pocket to thermal and back again. His proton lance cauterised the clouds, causing superheated rain to blow back into his cameras as steam. He could fly ¡®blind¡¯ using radar and ladar alone, but mechs were stealthed¡ªhe needed line of sight to see the Priestess clones, and vice versa. He deactivated his proton lance and the red beam winked out. His did, at least. The Priestesses¡¯ lances stabbed down from above, causing redlit blisters of steam to billow and pop in the clouds like underwater explosions. Robbie swerved and dived, his thrusters whining, his body bruised and beaten by the vasodilatory efforts of the crash corset, his visibility once again a big fat Zero. Suddenly, the lancing stopped. His camera vision cleared¡ªor at least, became just hurtling clouds and lightning pulses. He felt his heart hammering against the corset straps. Had he¡­lost her/them? Something large and black¡ªvantablack¡ªloomed in his tail camera view. A terrible wingspan in the unmistakable shape of a ?. The image turned to radioactive static as the pursuing mech powered up its lance. Robbie bucked twice in his crash corset. This double mule kick sent a fly-by-wire signal cascade back through his mech fuselage to the spiked sphere at the end of his tail, which jettisoned and shot back into the nosecone of the ?mech. Robbie fired his burner¡ªagain¡ªand dove, bursting out from under the cloud layer just as the nuclear air mine detonated. He would like to have been able to say he heard the Priestess clone¡¯s screams, but it was probably just his imagination. He would have liked to see the mid-atmosphere mushroom cloud too, but the blast cooked his tail, dorsal and wing cameras. He did see a brief super-bright flash reflected on the ocean¡ªstill many miles below¡ªbefore the view returned to storm grey waves, storm grey skies, and in the distance, the true dawn. ¡°That was for Eve¡­¡± he whispered to the sunrise, daring to hope. Perhaps he had killed both the ?mechs in the blast. Perhaps he¡­ The remaining ?mech dropped out of the clouds and landed on his back with a squeal of rubbing fuselage. Jangling in his crash corset, Robbie shook his wings and fired his thrusters, but she wouldn¡¯t budge. With most of his cameras blind, he used haptic sonar to feel out their positioning and realised why. During her descent, the Priestess had transformed into Ground Walker Mode. She was now clinging to him, her ?mech¡¯s mechanical arms and legs locked around his Manta¡¯s torso. Together, they were tumbling through the air towards the ocean¡ªhis one remaining camera showed sea, then storm, sea, then storm, sea¡­ ¡°What are you doing?!¡± he yelled over the parley band. ¡°You wanted me in Ground Walker Mode¡­¡± snarled the Christophite. ¡°You¡¯ll kill us both!¡± ¡°You think I¡¯m afraid to be martyred, Martian?¡± Robbie tried once more to shake her off, but her grip just increased. His wings crumpled and his fuselage buckled. The haptics in the crash corset responded¡ªthe safety cut-offs must have been damaged in the collision; he was being crushed. He might suffocate long before they hit the ocean, and he couldn¡¯t eject with her wrapped round him like this. And he probably deserved to die. His rashness had got his wingmate¡ªhis friend¡ªkilled, and for what? What did he have to show for his life? Nothing. He closed his eyes, woozy from the lack of air. Then he forced them open, he should at least look death in the face¡­ The ocean and clouds spun before him. A jagged, violet fork of lightning fell from the storm. He was briefly away of an eruption of sparks around his corset, then he saw¡­ Two mismatched eyes, the vantablack pupils dilating with pleasure¡­ They hit the ocean, and everything went black. Chapter 2 Robbie awoke to the smell of salt and propane. He was still in his crash corset, suspended upside-down in the pilot¡¯s cavity of his Mantamech. Red LEDs lit the cramped ovoid space. All external camera views and telemetry screens were dark. But of course, there was no Eve now. Not in this reality. Robbie tensed his abs and looked towards his feet. The effort made his ribs hurt like hell¡ªat least one of them was broken. Crying out, he reached between his legs for the emergency release cord and pulled. ¡°Gah!¡± He landed headfirst in a metre of salty-as-fuck water. He rolled to his feet and spat, the straps of the collapsed corset clinging to his jumpsuit like the mummy in that corny spherifilm he and Eve used to watch between training sessions: Pharaohs of Mars. From the orientation of the part-flooded cavity, he deduced the Mantamech was belly-up; the undercarriage exit hatch somewhere above him. Wincing with pain, he climbed up onto the corset¡¯s gimbal housing¡ªstill suspended by steel struts¡ªand reached for the handle. LOCK > UNLOCK > RELEASE It wouldn¡¯t budge. Why? Two possibilities. One: the door had buckled and fused when the Priestess had crushed his Mantamech in her grip. If so, he could blow the ejection charges in the hatch frame to free himself. Two: the Mantamech was already underwater. If he blew the charges, the cavity would flood or implode, killing him. Eve¡¯s brain would have been able to calculate the probability of each scenario. But all he had was his own stupid flyboy head. He punched the bulkhead in frustration. Then closed his eyes. Remembered the calming exercises Psyche Officer Olivia had taught him. Breathed deeply. And thought in a logical voice that sounded almost like Eve¡¯s. Followed by a darker thought: Normally, the ejection sequence was triggered by a special combination of movements performed in the haptic straps of the crash corset. But with the corset collapsed, Robbie had to set the manual override. LOCK > UNLOCK > RELEASE > PRIME [Warning: locking bolt detonation in T ¨C 5 seconds once Prime Confirmed.] > CONFIRM PRIME Robbie leapt back into waist-high flood water and covered his head with his hands. The blast was deafening in the small space. The air left the cavity, water rushed in¡­ ¡­but it was just sea spray. He looked up and saw a ragged square of pale indigo sky. Robbie climbed out of the ruined hatch and onto the belly of the Mantamech, blinking in the morning sunlight. The day was already brighter than any he had ever experienced on Mars, and it took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust. The Mantamech was floating in an endless expanse of calm grey sea. The remains of the storm¡ªand the mushroom cloud¡ªcould be seen on the horizon. The water for kilometres around was strewn with blacker-than-black objects¡ªthe shattered wreckage of the Priestess¡¯s ?mech. He allowed a hollow smirk to spread across his face. There was no way she could have survived this. Hell, it was a miracle he had. He remembered a science class assignment at the Red Moon refugee school in Helles Basin: the Egg Drop challenge. Using just ration packaging, they¡¯d had to design a protective structure to protect a synthetic chiXen egg from a kilometre-high drone drop. Robbie¡¯s had failed¡ªhe¡¯d never been good at protecting things. Yet this was what the Priestess had done for Robbie when she¡¯d wrapped up his Mantamech in a death grip. He laughed at the irony, only to double over coughing as the salty air stung the back of his throat. EXO19¡¯s oceans might be ¡®dead and sterile¡¯, but the salt could strip the lining from your gullet if you weren¡¯t careful. Robbie reached into the pouch of his jumpsuit, pulled out his osmosis mask¡ª his ¡®dental dam¡¯ as they called it in the MMC barracks¡ªand plastered the atom-thin graphene film over his nose and mouth. Now all he had to do was wait to be rescued. He sat down on one of the Mantamech¡¯s crumpled wings and stared into the distance. The largest bodies of water on Mars were the domed caldera lakes, which were impressive enough. But this ocean was vast, with no shoreline or caldera rim to limit the horizon. The wormhole crossed the sky like a negative sun. Eve had said it would orbit once every ninety minutes, or eight times in one of EXO19¡¯s twelve-hour days. As it approached the zenith, the water around the Mantamech started to get choppy.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Then more than choppy. Huge roiling waves began to fan out across the surface. One crashed over the titanium belly of the mech, washing more water into the cavity. Robbie gripped a buckled aileron as the craft pitched wildly. Walls of water rose up on all sides. It was as if the storm had returned, despite the fact the skies were clear except for the sun and that terrible moving gap of nothing. Finally, the wormhole passed and the sea calmed. ¡°Fuck¡­one of those every hour and a half?!¡± He hoped Search & Rescue would locate his black box transponder before the next flyby. He stood up on the wing and once again looked to the horizon. As the waves settled, he saw¡­ Two vantablack ?s. ¡°Fuck¡­¡± he repeated. The ?mechs were in HOVA¡ªHumanoid Overflight Vertical Alignment¡ªmode several hundred metres out from Robbie¡¯s position. He was well within their line of sight, and the diminishing waves provided little cover. He considered jumping back into the flooded cavity, but Eve¡¯s phantom logic stopped him. One of the ?mechs had disgorged a cluster of biomechanical tendrils from its left fist and was reeling something from the ocean¡­ ¡°No¡­¡± A human shape. Could the Priestess have survived? He watched as the broken-looking body was reeled into a stasis pouch nested in the ?mech¡¯s belly. Then the other craft turned towards him, proton lance arm extended¡­ Robbie took a running dive off his Mantamech¡¯s wing. He hit the water a split second before the world above bloomed orange. He twisted onto his back, paddling frantically to try and not surface, even as the oh-so-salty sea tried to buoy him towards the flames. He swam, and swam, and swam, arms straining, broken ribs grinding, as he tried to find the edge of the burning propane field. His lungs screamed for air. Finally, he saw a patch that was more daylight than firelight and surfaced. He gasped, the graphene film of his osmosis mask flopping in an out of his mouth with each breath, protecting him from the smoke and fumes. He dived again and resurfaced further out. From here, he could see the slagged wreckage of his Mantamech in the distance. There was no sign of the Christophites. He lay on his back, exhausted. He must have passed out because he dreamed. *** He stood at the edge of the diving board, gazing eagerly at the plunge pool 500 metres below. Eve was in an identical but separate chamber on the other side of a thick lead wall, trembling in her hydra suit, muttering numbers in their heads. Soon they would sync and dive as one/one. He winked at the two-way mirror set into the chamber wall. The rest of his MMC cadet squad would be watching. He wondered which of them he¡¯d sleep with tonight. He admired himself in the reflection¡ªthe way his toned abs flexed beneath his jumpsuit, the way his pretty-boy face fooled superiors, opponents and lovers into underestimating him. Nothing happened. The mental silence was deafening. ¡°Come on, Cadet Cassidy, we don¡¯t have all day. JUMP!¡± If he jumped without Eve¡¯s mathematical acuity, he¡¯d hit the water at the wrong angle and break his neck. Someone shoved him over the edge. *** ¡°Gah!¡± Robbie was slammed awake as a wave sent him tumbling underwater. He struggled, not knowing up from down, before his head burst above the surface. The wormhole was directly overhead, eclipsing the midday sun. Robbie wished he¡¯d recovered the buoyancy aid from the Mantamech¡¯s cavity. Even if this dead sea kept him afloat, he could still drown if he flipped over. He would have to try to stay awake. The waves calmed as the wormhole passed in its relentless orbit. The sun now shone at full force and Robbie felt hot, despite being half-submerged in water. Drinking wasn¡¯t a problem¡ªhe could suck sea water through his osmosis mask¡ªbut there was nothing to eat, and his energy faded with each tidal pummelling. This was a gruelling cosmic dojo fight, and he was losing. Where was S&R? What was taking them so long? Night fell. Alien constellations filled the sky. On Mars, the stars had always been filtered through a dust-coated dome, but here on EXO19 they were piercingly bright. The wormhole came again, a dark satellite swallowing the stars. The seas rose in response. A vantablack piece of wreckage collided with Robbie¡¯s head¡ªK.O. in the cosmic dojo. *** He was naked and falling. Someone was locked onto his bare back, arms and legs squeezing like a lover/killer as a pool of nothing rushed up to meet them¡­ *** Stars. Ocean. Day. Night. Repeat. The taste of blood inside his osmosis mask. Fighting to stay conscious¡­ *** He was in the nave of a cathedral. A figure stood in the centre of the aisle: naked and pale, lithe and feminine, with a tattoo of a ? on her lower back. A knife appeared in his hand as he closed the distance between them. She spun and kicked out, but he got behind her, locked in a half-choke, held the blade to her throat. Confused, he tightened his grip. If he was dreaming, why did she feel so real? If he was dead, why did she feel so alive? He could feel her pulse against his arm, slow and steady, like she was just waiting for her moment to strike. He could feel the backs of her powerful thighs against his, could feel himself hard against her ?atooed spine as his body betrayed him. She was real and alive and dangerous. He wanted to fight her and fuck her, he wanted sex and death and¡­ *** A V-mech drifted above the ocean in HOVA mode, the eye symbol of MMC Search & Rescue emblazoned on its undercarriage. The night sky was alight with decoy flares. ¡°Whoa, we got a live one¡­¡± blared a god-like voice from an external parley speaker. ¡°Robert Cassidy, in the flesh. Even saltier than usual, I¡¯d bet.¡± The voice belonged to Mech Lieutenant Trent Moreno, and Robbie knew his wingmate¡ªMech Lieutenant Najib Choudhury¡ªwould be nearby, recovering his black box. ¡°Hold tight, partner. You¡¯re coming in¡­¡± A net dropped from Trent¡¯s fuselage. Robbie was hauled out of the waves and into the V-mech¡¯s medevac bay, where a med tech he hazily recognised strapped him¡ªa little too tightly¡ªinto a gurney rigged to an electromagnetic gimbal designed to stay level in flight. He attempted a weak smile. ¡°Hey Wendy. What took you so long?¡± Wendy injected something into his arm and secured herself in the wall rigging. ¡°You didn¡¯t call.¡± There was a series of clunks as the V-mech reconfigured to Aero Cruise Mode and a dual roar as Trent/Najib accelerated. Robbie closed his eyes. Chapter 3 Priestess Pilot Alicia Eminescu stared at herselves. She was floating in two biovats, positioned opposite each other in the hospital bay at Mercy Base. Both of her were naked; both were rigged with medical tubing. But this was no mirror image. One of her was barely recognisable: mottled with bruises and burns, muscle and tissue exposed where radiated skin had sloughed off in the extreme salinity of EXO19¡¯s ocean. Her ?mech¡¯s crash corset had forced her into a brace position¡ªpreserving the brain on impact¡ªbut her other internal organs were pulp. The other Priestess was pristine, fresh from the ectogenic sac. Her gothic-pale skin was unblemished; her eyes¡ªone green, one blue¡ªwere free of the G-burst capillaries common to mech pilots. Her black hair drifted upright in the biovat fluid, revealing a single scar above her left ear where the eunuchoids had inserted the implant. As direct clones, the entanglement was perfect, with none of the duplication/duplication effect that non-clone pilot pairs experienced¡ªa tactical advantage of picoseconds. The last thing she remembered was a purple flash. Then, she awoke in the biovat, first as one, then gradually two as the implant created neural pathways in the fresh clone, her consciousness burrowing into the blank wetware like Artefacts through spacetime. Now, a eunuchoid in white scrubs entered the bay. Like all its kind, it was bald, mute, and genetically conditioned for subservience. Alicia watched it drag a modesty screen in front of each biovat, obscuring her floating bodies from the neck down. The screens were patterned with neotapestries of a muscular Saint Christopher carrying a child across a starlit river. She¡¯d been hoping to see her ?mech squadron¡ªFaythe, Carlos and Francis¡ªbut the man who entered wasn¡¯t a pilot. Alicia mentally groaned. Priest Captain Mallory Quinn: head of the Logistics Choir at Mercy Base; a frank pain-in-the-ass, may the Saint forgive her for thinking it. He wore ill-fitting vantablack vestments and had a face like one of the rats that used to plague the vestry in her father¡¯s church. He approached the new clone, not hiding his preference for her undamaged face over the flaking visage of her ruined self. Alicia didn¡¯t like the way his murine eyes flicked down to the modesty screen, like he was trying to see through the Saint to where her naked body was paralysed in the biovat. He stepped close, his wet lips almost pressed to the glass. ¡°I know you can lip read, Priestess. Your father was deaf, yes? And so pious that he refused the Ectogenesis that would grant him new cochleae. A ¡®Christian¡¯, in the old sense of the word, pre-Schism, pre-Christophite. I wonder what he would make of you, his only daughter, now in her¡­fourth body, is it?¡± But of course, he couldn¡¯t hear her. And she had no choice but to ¡®hear¡¯ his monologue. His nasal drawl might be inaudible through the biovat fluid, but she couldn¡¯t close her eyes. ¡°With the Bishop Commodore¡¯s permission, I have reviewed the black box recordings from the wreckage of your ?mech¡ªthe ?mech that is currently scattered over kilometres of ocean, that is. The other is radioactive dust. ¡°Your actions were foolhardy. Our orders were to hold this hemisphere but avoid confrontation. The Mars-Christophite peace talks are ongoing. If word of your skirmish¡ªa nuclear skirmish¡ªgets out¡­¡± He drummed his fingers on the glass.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Everyone in the squadron knew why Mallory had been promoted beyond his years and ability to Priest Captain in the Logistics Choir. The Quinn family were heavily invested in the Christophite Mercantile Corp. Rumour had it there were backchannel deals being struck between the CMC and the Martian Oligopolies ahead of the peace talks. Was this really to be the result of two generations of holy war? The sanctity of the Artefacts desecrated so that the likes of Mallory Quinn could get richer¡­ It made Alicia feel sick. Both of her. ¡°So, I will not be authorising yet another instantiation of you,¡± continued Mallory. ¡°These bodies will be your last. And you will not be assigned another ?mech. You¡¯re grounded.¡± ¡°The Bishop is aware of my edict,¡± said Mallory, as if reading her thoughts. ¡°Judith is fond of you, but she sees the logic of my position. We cannot have your actions jeopardising humanity¡¯s first chance at peace since the Great Cascade. The matter is already decided, but I thought I¡¯d give you the ¡®heads up¡¯ before you¡¯re decanted. To let you¡­acclimatise.¡± Mallery adjusted his vestments. ¡°There is one other matter. We¡¯re going to send an envoy to the Martian Mecha Corp¡¯s Forward Operating Base and propose a d¨¦tente while the new Artefact matures. It will be difficult: you killed one of their pilots in the skirmish, and Priest Pilot P¨¦rez lanced the other during your medevac. They¡¯ll want blood. So, we¡¯ll need to send a¡­gesture of goodwill. Something we¡ªor indeed, you¡ªno longer need.¡± He turned around and approached the damaged Priestess¡¯s biovat, looked into her bloodshot eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s give peace a chance, eh?¡± *** Alicia¡¯s new clone needed a lot of sleep. There were neural pathways to consolidate, muscles to synthesise and strengthen after storage in the ectogenic sac. Her damaged clone also slept¡ªin fitful, futile attempts at post-traumatic self-repair. She alternated sleep between the two selves, always keeping one awake in case Mallory returned. It was a pointless exercise¡ªshe was still paralysed in the biovats ¡ªbut her father had taught her to look danger in the face. She dreamed / watched herself dream. She was standing in Saint Christopher¡¯s Cathedral, between the giant mirrors placed on either side of the nave. Her reflection stretched out either side of her, duplicated to infinity. The frothy waters of the River of Spacetime surged through the transept, partitioning the altar from the congregational pews. Five years ago, she had stood on the wet marble, feeling the weight of the baptismal tungsten vest and the eyes of a thousand Christophites at her back. But today she was naked and alone. No. Not quite alone¡­ Footsteps on marble. Someone was coming up the aisle. Alicia spun as he thrust. She sidestepped¡ªbarely¡ªand kicked out at her attacker¡¯s knee, but he slipped behind her, locked an arm around her neck, held a blade to her throat. She knew she was dreaming. She could see her clone¡¯s eyes twitch from across the hospital bay. And yet¡­it felt so real. He felt real, pressed up against her, as naked as she was. His breath was in her ear, but his voice was in her head. A ripple of doubt spread across the surface of his thoughts, but the arm against her throat tightened, the blade pressed closer. A single bead of blood ran down her throat, between her breasts¡­ *** Both of her were awake. Her old self was still in her biovat, looking down at her new self, who stood in front of the glass. The eunuchoid had given her a jumpsuit and withdrawn to a respectful distance, arms crossed behind its back, eyes lowered. It was time to desync¡ªto become one and one. Alicia wondered which one she would be¡ªthe perfect specimen in the jumpsuit or the sacrificial cripple in the vat. She placed one hand on the vat and looked herselves in the eyes. Chapter 4 ¡°Dreams?¡± ¡°Yeah. Dreams.¡± ¡°Are these ¡®dreams¡¯ about Eve?¡± MMC Psychological Officer Olivia Rodrigues was at least three times Robbie¡¯s age, with unedited silver hair and bionic eyes. He had cultivated a crush on her over the years. Normally, it made these sessions tolerable. Today he just wanted off this couch. The windowless prefab hut was hot¡ªEXO19¡¯s salty air was playing havoc with air con units all over the FOB¡ªand his sunburned skin was itchy as fuck beneath his brig fatigues. He could hear the sound of Mantamechs on high alert outside: the jet-whine of Aero Fighter take-offs; the pneumatic clunk of Ground Walker patrols. ¡°It¡¯s perfectly normal,¡± continued Olivia from the couch opposite. ¡°Amputees feel phantom limbs; mech pilots hear the thoughts of their wingmates after they¡­¡± ¡°My ¡®dreams¡¯ aren¡¯t about Eve.¡± While she waited for him to elaborate, Robbie stared at a photoprint on the wall of an Earth city, pre-Cascade: strange blue skies, tall buildings by a beach, a statue on a hill which looked disturbingly like a ?. ¡°What are you dreaming about, Robbie?¡± ¡°The enemy pilot.¡± Olivia¡¯s eyes shifted in concentric silicon circles. ¡°Your body language suggests that these dreams aren¡¯t exactly¡­platonic.¡± ¡°Look, I know this sounds crazy¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m your Psyche Officer.¡± ¡°¡­but it¡¯s like she¡¯s in my head. And I¡¯m in hers.¡± ¡°Can you ¡®hear¡¯ her now?¡± ¡°Not exactly¡­but it¡¯s like she¡¯s on the tip of my tongue. Like when you feel the mech through the haptic straps of the crash corset, except it¡¯s her I can feel.¡± Olivia nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Transference.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve redirected your anger and guilt over Eve¡¯s death onto the enemy pilot.¡±Stolen novel; please report. ¡°But my dreams are¡­¡± ¡°Kinky?¡± ¡°Is that a diagnostic term, Psyche?¡± ¡°Eve was like a sister to you, a quantum twin. With this ¡®Priestess¡¯, there is a friction. You tried to kill each other. Your desire for both intimacy and revenge is manifesting as a sexual urge.¡± ¡°You¡¯re saying I want to hate¨Cfuck a Christophite?¡± ¡°Your mental construct of a Christophite. We don¡¯t know what she¡¯s like outside of your dreams.¡± Robbie gripped the sides of the couch. ¡°Firstly, I wouldn¡¯t fuck a clone. That¡¯s just wrong.¡± ¡°Societal taboos can heighten arousal¡­¡± ¡°Secondly, this doesn¡¯t feel like a ¡®mental construct¡¯. It feels like we¡¯re¡­entangled.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not possible, Robbie.¡± Robbie knew this. Mech pilots had to be carefully crossmatched with a compatible psyche before they received the implant. And after the first sync, only wingmates could hear each other¡¯s thoughts. And yet¡­ ¡°Is there no way the lightning strike could have¡­¡± ¡°Hold that thought, Robbie. Let¡¯s try a little exercise.¡± Olivia unclipped a stylus from the breast pocket of her khaki blouse and scribbled something on an e-ink tablet. She passed the device to Robbie. I¡¯m trying to help. If we can prove you¡¯re psychologically compromised by grief, the board may be lenient. Trent/Najib had recovered Robbie¡¯s black box from the slagged remains of his Mantamech. Of course, it couldn¡¯t record Robbie/Eve¡¯s entangled conversations, or the chaotic syncing/desyncing that followed. But it did save the parley between Robbie and the Priestess, the proton lance clash, Eve¡¯s death, and Robbie¡¯s subsequent dogfight with the Christophite clone pair. Robbie now had to explain the loss of one pilot, two Mantamechs, and the detonation of a nuclear air mine in the atmosphere of a pristine exoplanet. And¡ªpotentially¡ªa lost chance for peace. The court martial was due today, but Olivia had managed to schedule this ¡®mandatory psychological debrief¡¯ in advance. What was said in this hut was supposed to be confidential. But they both knew MMC Intel had ears in the walls. It took him a moment to write his response with the stylus¡ªhe still wasn¡¯t used to the low-Turing tech out here in the EXOs. I don¡¯t need your help. Don¡¯t risk getting yourself in trouble for me. Olivia looked at the tablet, cleared the screen and wrote: This is very serious. You¡¯ve risked the peace deal. They¡¯re talking about capital punishment. ¡°I¡¯m ready to take responsibility for my actions. Eve¡¯s death is on me¡­and the Priestess.¡± He stood up and made to leave. ¡°Mech Lieutenant Robert Cassidy, it is my professional judgement as Psychological Officer of the Martian Manta Corps EXO19 Forward Operating Base that you are emotionally compromised by grief and therefore cannot currently stand court martial.¡± ¡°No, this changes nothing. I¡¯m ready to answer¡­¡± A klaxon alarm sounded. The hut¡¯s door flew open, and Brig Warden Walter Okafor burst in. Olivia took a sharp intake of breath. ¡°Mech Lieutenant Cassidy!¡± barked the Brig Warden. ¡°You will accompany me at once to the Command Centre, by order of Base Commander Caravaggio.¡± ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± said Olivia. ¡°Patrols have spotted a ?mech approaching the FOB.¡± ¡°It¡¯s her,¡± hissed Robbie. ¡°Walter, give me a mech. Let me fight.¡± ¡°You¡¯re under court martial, Mech Lieutenant!¡± ¡°Actually, he isn¡¯t fit to¡­¡± began Olivia, but the Brig Warden cut her off. ¡°In any case, the enemy is alone and in Ground Walker Mode. The pilot has opened a parley channel. Seems she wants to talk¡­¡± He turned back to Robbie. ¡°¡­to you.¡± Chapter 5 ¡°Send me.¡± Alicia stood ¡®at ease¡¯ but didn¡¯t feel it. Bishop Commodore Judith Yu was tall for someone of advanced age and old-Earth descent. She had been the headmistress of a Christophite Convent School before heeding the holy call-to-arms, and every kiloton of that schoolmarm scrutiny was being brought to bear across the altar. The ceremonial whip¡ªfastened to her vestments by a Kevlar sash¡ªonly enhanced the effect. ¡°I am sending you, Priestess Pilot. The other you.¡± ¡°With respect, Bishop Commodore, the other me died in a nuclear fireball. That specimen in the hospital biovat is a broken shell.¡± ¡°Precisely. Why would I send a fresh clone? As much as it pains me to admit it, Priest Captain Quinn¡¯s plan has a certain symmetry. You get your punishment, I keep my best pilot, the Martians get their pound of flesh. The peace holds.¡± From the corner of the private chapel, Mallory grinned like the rat that got the cXeese. Alicia supressed the urge to punch him in the throat. ¡°I can offer him¡­¡± She corrected herself. ¡°Can offer the Martians something the damaged me cannot.¡± ¡°And that is?¡± ¡°Single combat.¡± Mallory sniggered. The Bishop raised an eyebrow, but Alicia held her gaze. ¡°I will challenge their best pilot to single combat, mech vs mech. The two of us will head to a remote part of the planet, and fight until¡­ ¡°Priestess Pilot,¡± said Mallory, stepping forward. ¡°I know your father was an old-school Christian, but this is not the Middle Ages. One cannot simply¡­¡± ¡°My plan also has ¡®symmetry¡¯,¡± snapped Alicia. ¡°I get my punishment, and the Quinn Family get their precious profitable ¡®peace¡¯.¡± ¡°Do you really think the Logistics Choir is going to waste another ?mech, let alone more ectogenic resources on re-cloning and resyncing you when you lose this ¡®single combat¡¯? If there is anything left to resync¡­¡± ¡°I have no intention of losing, Mallory. And when I return¡­¡± ¡°Enough!¡± The Bishop unhitched her whip and placed it on the alter. ¡°Priest Captain Quinn, step outside.¡± Mallory bowed low to kiss the tip of the whip before leaving. The smirk never left his face. With him gone, the Bishop snapped her fingers. Hermetic shutters clanked open. Daylight streamed through wall-to-ceiling stained-silica glass windows. ¡°Alicia, come here.¡± Alicia stepped around the alter and stood by her superior. Mercy Base was a series of connected dropships parked by a waterfall in one of EXO19¡¯s Moss Zone valleys. The sunlight filtered through spray, spores, and stained silica, creating a rainbow effect that reminded Alicia of the peafowl on her father¡¯s farm. The vantablack of her jumpsuit and the Bishop¡¯s vestments swallowed the light whole. ¡°You said ¡®him¡¯¡±. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You said that your current clone could offer him single combat. Are you aware of a specific MMC pilot you wish to challenge?¡± Alicia considered lying, pleading post-ectogenic brain fog. But the old headmistress was too astute for that. ¡°I believe the pilot from the skirmish is still alive.¡± ¡°Implausible. He survived the crash, sure. But Pilot Priest P¨¦rez killed him during your medevac. Direct proton lance hit, as confirmed by telemetry data from both of his ?mechs.¡± ¡°He lives.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°The Saint has granted me visions¡­¡± The Bishop looked down at Alicia. ¡°Do you really believe that?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Then you¡¯re asking me to grant this request on a hunch?¡± ¡°I¡¯m asking you because it makes sense.¡± ¡°You think peace will be achieved through combat?¡± ¡°Single combat. If you want peace, prepare for war.¡± ¡°As Mallory said, this is not the Middle Ages.¡± ¡°Yet the offering of human hostages is permissible?¡± ¡°Remember yourself, Priestess Pilot¡­¡± ¡°Remember yourself, Bishop Commodore! Why are you letting Mallory and the Logistics Choir call the shots? Why is the tail wagging the dog?¡± The older woman turned to the glass. The ethereal light sparkled in her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t like that jumped-up brat any more than you do, Alicia. But this war has gone on long enough.¡± ¡°If it went on a little longer, we would win. We have the better mechs, we use clone pilot pairs¡­¡± ¡°We are outnumbered five-to-one. True, our technological advantage has allowed us to run riot for two decades, to carve out space for ourselves among the stars. We have broken the Martian monopoly on humanity¡¯s future; we have ensured a multipolar universe.¡± ¡°And the Artefacts?¡± As if on cue, the wormhole crossed the narrow strip of sky between the valley cliffs. Both women bowed their heads and waited until it had disappeared before speaking. ¡°The peace talks will decide their fate,¡± whispered the Bishop. ¡°It is likely that both sides will keep the Artefacts in orbit around their respective EXOs. The deep space Artifacts are in dispute¡­¡± Alicia slammed her palm onto the glass. ¡°We should control them all! The rest of humanity wasn¡¯t even going to use them until Saint Christopher martyred himself in the Great Cascade!¡± ¡°Alicia.¡± The Bishop turned to face her. ¡°On the journey to EXO19, I was looking through old yearbooks from the Convent School I used to run. A quarter of the students¡ªand half the staff¡ªare now dead, consumed by this war. You think only of revenge, for what happened to your father.¡± ¡°And can you blame me?!¡± Alicia fought hard to hold back the tears as the memories flooded her freshly cloned mind. *** Sorin Eminescu¡ªalong with his infant daughter¡ªhad fled the Martian refugee camps to escape the anti-Christian pogroms that followed the Great Cascade. The rioters didn¡¯t care about the schism, the difference between Christianity and the Christophite sect. They just saw ?s, and Olympus Mons turned a blind eye. Sorin never said what had happened to Alicia¡¯s mother. Alicia never asked. When the authorities reluctantly declared the wormholes open, Sorin built a farmstead on EXO001. Alicia¡¯s childhood was peaceful, spent amid crop fields, peafowl pens, grassy plains and low rolling hills. She did her chores, read the Bible, and honoured her deaf father by being his ¡®ears¡¯¡ªlistening out for the howl of the gerwolves that occasionally descended from the northern forests to harass their peafowl. Sorin would go out with his rail-carbine and return with a gerwolf fang for Alicia¡¯s collection. Always look danger in the face, he would sign to her. Never run. His eyes would drift to the picture of her mother, framed on the mantlepiece.Stolen story; please report. Never run. On her tenth birthday she was submerged in a tepid brook in the name of Christ. But her gaze was already upon the circles of nothing that crossed the sky, day and night. Where did they lead to? War came to EXO001. Streaks of red and gold crisscrossed the night sky. In her sixteenth year, two Mantamechs landed in the crop fields. Alicia had learned about mechs from spherifilms, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of those huge grey humanoids. Each was as tall as the grain silo! A metallic voice blared through the farmstead. ¡°We are the Martian Manta Corps. We suspect this dwelling of harbouring munitions for Christophite terrorists. You will evacuate to the surrounding hills while we complete our search. This is your first and last warning.¡± She signed the message to her father. But Sorin Eminescu wanted to look danger in the face. He told her to head for the hills without him. I have to stay with you, she signed to him. Mechs don¡¯t have lips. How can you talk without your ¡®ears¡¯? But he shoved a day pack with money, food and water into her arms and told her to leave. She secretly followed him. Watched from behind a hedgerow as he stood, defiant, in front of one of the Mantamechs, his arms crossed, looking straight up at the camera on its ¡®head¡¯. He didn¡¯t speak or sign, but Sorin Eminescu¡¯s message was clear. This is my home. I¡¯m not running any more. The Mantamech raised its right thruster-leg. There was a pneumatic hiss, a dull crunch, a scream. Her scream. She wanted to break cover, rush the mechs, to pound them with her bare fists¡­ A wormhole passed overhead. Alicia stopped herself. Turned. Headed to the hills. Walked for two days to the trade launchpad at EXO001City. Used all the money in her day pack to purchase transit on a shuttle heading for one of the wormholes. Worked and begged and fought and charmed her way through the EXOs for a whole year until she arrived on EXO007¡ªone of a handful of worlds fully under Christophite control. Gave a blood sample at a Church clinic. Received an implant. Walked into their mirror cathedral on sore heels to be baptised for a second time. Floundered beneath the River of Spacetime, even as she clawed her way out of the ectogenic sac on the altar, naked and reborn. Watched as they pulled her corpse from the water, lifeless and blue and donned in a tungsten vest. *** ¡°You think only of revenge,¡± repeated the Bishop. The sun was beginning to set behind the valley as another of EXO19¡¯s short days drew to a close. ¡°But I must consider the safety of Mercy Base, and the whole Christophite flock. The Martians need their pound of flesh, and while your other clone is alive, my hands are tied.¡± ¡°Revenge is just individualised justice,¡± whispered Alicia. Judith snorted. ¡°The eunuchoids are prepping the other clone for transit. I suggest you go and say goodbye to yourself.¡± *** Alicia didn¡¯t go straight to the hospital bay. Instead, she headed for the refectory. She craved the company of her ?mech squad. She found Faythe/Faythe, Carlos/Carlos and Francis/Francis halfway through Saint¡¯s Grace at the second-evening meal. ¡°¡­and may you guide us through the River of Spacetime. Amen.¡± When they opened their eyes, all six abandoned their wine and fungal pat¨¦ to embrace her. Carlos¡¯s hugs took the longest, and his second clone¡¯s lips quivered by her ear. She pushed him gently away before he could speak. She wanted company, not complications. Back at table, they all did their best to ignore the spare chair next to Alicia. ¡°What was it like/what was combat really like?¡± said Faythe/Faythe, eagerly stumbling over her words while trying to keep both her red ponytails out of her wine bulbs. ¡°She¡¯s seen it all before, right?¡± One of Francis winked at her as the other bit into a bread roll generously slathered with pat¨¦. He was bald, but one of him had a crescent-shaped birth mark across the right side of his large head and did the talking for both of him. ¡°She¡¯s a veteran of the Ragnar?k Brigade¡¯s assault on EXO012¡­¡± ¡°That?¡± scoffed Alicia as she scooped up a bulb of wine, losing herself to bonhomie and braggadocio. ¡°Those pirates were nothing. This guy was good¡­¡± ¡°Clearly not that good!¡± said one of Carlos, hotly. The other Carlos looked sullen. ¡°Just the one guy?/In both Mantamechs?¡± said Faythe/Faythe, before literally stopping herself. ¡°I thought MMC pilots didn¡¯t use clone pairing¡­¡± ¡°Oh, I took care of his wingmate,¡± said Alicia. The wine was making fast work of her virgin liver. ¡°Spliced her with the lance on the first pass!¡± ¡°Bet he was pissed,¡± sniggered birthmark-Francis. ¡°Infidels can¡¯t clone like us¡­¡± ¡°WON¡¯T clone,¡± corrected Carlos. ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s with that?¡± said Faythe/Faythe in stereo. ¡°Some kind of ethics thing, the Declaration of Tharsis or some such¡­¡± ¡°So, no Ectogenesis?¡± ¡°No immaculate birth¡­¡± ¡°Gross/sinful!¡± Listening to her squad¡¯s banter, Alicia felt the warm rush of familiarity. But something¡ªsomeone¡ªwas missing. She was missing. It wasn¡¯t the same without a clone, without someone to bounce her thoughts off. As the wine flowed, she felt increasingly overwhelmed in the conversation. She stood up to leave. ¡°Going already?¡± slurred Francis. ¡°Yeah, I need to check on¡­¡± ¡°We get it.¡± ¡°And just so you know¡­¡± started Faythe. ¡°¡­we think what Mallory is doing sucks,¡± finished Faythe. ¡°Yeah,¡¯ said Francis, slamming a meaty fist onto the table. ¡°Fuck the peace!¡± ¡°FUCK THE PEACE!¡± they all roared, and both of Francis got to his feet. ¡°?MECH CRUSADERS! FOR THE SAINT!¡± ¡°FOR THE SAINT! OOH-RAH!¡± they chorused, then downed the rest of their wine bulbs. ¡°Thanks¡­¡± whispered Alicia, trying not to tear up for the second time that day. One of Carlos caught up to her in the doorway. A glance over his shoulder showed the other looking on. ¡°Alicia, are you ok?¡± ¡°Well, my other self is being sent as a sacrificial lamb to the Martians for an ill-thought-out peace brokered by out-of-touch elites, but other than that I¡¯m fine.¡± The look on his face made her immediately regret her caustic tone. Carlos P¨¦rez was a decent man¡ªa few years older than her in years but decades in temperament, all old-Earth chivalry. He was good looking in a homely way¡ªchiselled jaw, wine dark eyes, body toned and compact beneath his vantablack jumpsuit. Perhaps that was why she¡¯d kissed him back, that night after they first landed¡­ But he was just too much. Every day since that kiss, she could feel his eyes tracking her around Mercy Base. Could hear the question implicit in every one of their strained interactions. He was like a gerwolf puppy, both of him. And Alicia just wasn¡¯t much of a romantic. She liked her paramours edgy, competent, and gone in the morning. ¡°Look, I¡¯ve got a lot on my mind. But thanks for your concern. Seriously, it means a lot.¡± She smiled and started to walk away down the central base corridor. Carlos matched her pace, his voice lowered. ¡°You should know that we think Bishop Yu has made a serious error of judgement here. A very serious error. We¡¯ve discussed¡­options.¡± She stopped and faced him. ¡°Options?¡± He hesitated. ¡°We could temporarily, er, relieve the Bishop¡­¡± ¡°What you¡¯re talking about is treason, Priest Pilot P¨¦rez.¡± He lowered his head. Bad puppy. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s just we¡¯re all so upset¡­¡± ¡°Goodnight Carlos.¡± *** The hospital bay seemed crowded. Both biovats stood vacant. Alicia¡¯s damaged self was propped in a wheelchair as two eunuchoids prepped her for transit. Mallory watched over the proceedings, tapping at an e-ink tablet strapped to the sleeve of his vestments. A sneer spread across his face as Alicia¡ªthe fresh clone¡ªwalked in. ¡°Come to bid yourself farewell, Priestess Pilot?¡± Alicia looked into the bloodshot blue and green eyes of her former self. She was heavily sedated, so there was no direct connection. But something still passed between them. She turned to Mallory, allowing her bottom lip to tremble. ¡°C¡­can I have moment? Alone with¡­myself?¡± The Priest Captain made show of consulting his tablet, then nodded. ¡°There is a power in mercy, Priestess. Something you would do well to learn. Perhaps the MMC will be as merciful as me and give her¡ªyou¡ªa quick death.¡± He whistled to the eunuchoids who paused their ministrations and followed him out of the bay. Alicia stepped up to her clone, wondering how much of her was still in her. Clone pairs generally slept synced, so that one didn¡¯t psychologically diverge too far from the other. It had been several days since they¡¯d been one/one. Were they still the same person? She stood behind the wheelchair. Pressed her cheek to her hair, damp from sweat. Wrapped her arms around her neck. Tightened her grip. CRRRRRACK. The alarm from the medical monitor sent the eunuchoids rushing back in. They saw Alicia¡¯s head flopped forward at an angle, with Alicia standing behind with a blank look on her face. Mallory was close behind them, his rat face purple with rage. ¡°WHAT DID YOU DO?! GENDARMES!¡± Four officers of the Christophite Gendarmes burst in. Their black tactical suits and carbines made the hospital bay even more crowded. One of the eunuchoids clutched its bald head and rocked back and forth in horror, while another tried to comfort it. ¡°Arrest the Priestess for murder!¡± yelled Mallory. ¡°Technically, it¡¯s not murder,¡± said Alicia. ¡°Then¡­suicide! A mortal sin, outside of martyrdom!¡± ¡°I¡¯m still here, aren¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Then¡­damage to Logistics Choir assets!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t lecture me on ¡®assets¡¯. You were going to sacrifice me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a liability! Gendarmes, detain her in the name of the¡­¡± ¡°Gendarmes, stand down,¡±. Mallory¡¯s head snapped around as the Bishop made her way into the bay. ¡°Stand down?!¡± Mallory gestured at the limp Alicia clone in the chair. ¡°She¡¯s just killed our only chance at peace!¡± Judith Yu assessed Alicia¡ªalive and dead¡ªwith a cold hard stare. ¡°Then I guess it¡¯s lucky we have a spare. Priest Captain Quinn, authorise the dispatch of one ?mech with the full non-nuclear suite of armaments and a crash corset calibrated to Pilot Priestess Eminescu¡¯s specifications.¡± ¡°WHAT? Why?¡± ¡°I was willing to sacrifice her broken half. But I will not allow another young consciousness to be snuffed out without a fight.¡± ¡°Then let¡¯s clone her and send¡­¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have time.¡± ¡°She¡¯ll die anyway!¡± ¡°At least this way, it¡¯s fifty¨Cfifty.¡± ¡°At least¡­¡± purred Alicia. ¡°But¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯ve heard my decision, Mallory,¡± said the Bishop. ¡°Execute it.¡± As Alicia filed out behind Judith and the gendarmes, she whispered to a gawping Mallory. ¡°There is a power in mercy, Priest.¡± Chapter 6 ¡°¡­single combat. Mech vs mech. No wingmates, no backup¡­and no nukes. Over.¡± Robbie stood at attention in the FOB Command Centre as the Priestess¡¯s parley voice boomed through the speakers. The huge wall screen showed her ?mech locked in the crosshair of a perimeter defence cannon: her thruster-legs straddled a rocky outcrop, her vantablack wings were folded into vertical shoulder fins, her glossy nosecam ¡®head¡¯ shone dark gold in the morning sun. Base Commander Oscar Caravaggio prowled the CC¡¯s floor, weaving between manned ops consoles in his exoskeleton. ¡°Status update!¡± ¡°Enemy m2issile bays remain closed; proton lance accelerator powered down,¡± said a tactical officer in a bulky matte-white headset. ¡°We have her surrounded to the north by two Mantamech pairs in HOVA mode, as well as the cannon, sir.¡± ¡°And she¡¯s definitely alone? Just one?¡± ¡°Mech Lieutenants Goring and Hassan are in AFM at 15,000 metres with 20/20 visibility. Skies are clear, sir.¡± ¡°Can we execute a capture operation?¡± ¡°I believe so, sir. If we shoot out the hydraulics, I estimate a 76% chance we could take the pilot alive¡­¡± ¡°NO!¡± The word left Robbie¡¯s lips before he could stop himself. The whole CC turned to stare at him. ¡°That should be ¡®NO, SIR!¡¯, mech lieutenant!¡± barked Walter Okafor from somewhere to Robbie¡¯s left. The Brig Warden had brought Robbie¡ªand a rather insistent Olivia¡ªto the confab zone, an open floor area in the middle of the vast CC. Caravaggio now entered this zone. Robbie stared up at the grizzled Base Commander, who towered above him in his exoskeleton. ¡°This is my mess, sir! Let me clean it up.¡± Olivia cleared her throat. ¡°Sir, it is my view that Robert Cassidy is not in a fit mental state for court martial, let alone combat. The Mech Lieutenant is exhibiting symptoms consistent with the transference of guilt at the death of his wingmate¡­¡± ¡°Responsibility for one¡¯s actions is not a mental health issue, Psyche Officer Rodrigues,¡± said Caravaggio. ¡°I agree.¡± A woman in a sharp civilian business suit stepped forward. Olivia¡¯s bionic eyes focused on the newcomer. ¡°And you are?¡± ¡°Trudy Devon. I represent the Federation of Martian Industry.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware the Oligopolies had a representative on EXO19.¡± ¡°Well now you are.¡± The rep turned her icy smile to Robbie. ¡°My entanglement partner¡ªmy ¡®wingmate¡¯, if you will¡ªis attending the peace talks on EXO15 as we speak. All agree that your skirmish with the Christophites was unfortunate. But the solution proposed by the enemy pilot is rather¡­elegant.¡± ¡°Elegant?!¡± said Olivia. ¡°You¡¯re talking about a deathmatch! We¡¯ve already lost one pilot¡­¡± Robbie flinched at the memory of Eve, burning in her crash corset. ¡°¡­and the Christophites have lost one of theirs. Isn¡¯t that ¡®elegant¡¯ enough?¡± Caravaggio¡¯s mechanical joints whirred as spun to face Olivia. ¡°The Christophites use clone pairs; they did not truly ¡®lose¡¯ a pilot! We did! As long as this Priestess is alive, she can repair and replace at will.¡± He briefly looked down at his medical exoskeleton in disgust. ¡°To concede the situation ¡®as-is¡¯ would be a sign of weakness.¡± ¡°Permission to speak frankly, sir?¡± said the officer in the headset. ¡°Everybody else is,¡± grumbled the Base Commander. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind, Finch?¡± Finch¡­Michael Finch. Robbie remembered the young tactical officer from Eve¡¯s thoughts. They¡¯d been close. Very close. ¡°Our strength has always been in our numbers, sir. In a one-on-one fight, the ?mech is plainly superior to the Mantamech. Our best course would be to kill or capture her now and send a message to their base that we consider the matter concluded, pending no further hostilities.¡± ¡°I can beat her, Sir!¡± said Robbie. ¡°I¡¯ve defeated her once already, two of her in fact¡­¡± ¡°With respect, Mech Lieutenant,¡± said Michael, ¡°¡®Defeated¡¯ is a strong word. You used a tactical nuke. The Priestess is still alive. And Eve¡­¡± His voice caught. ¡°Eve is¡­¡± Robbie looked into the pale faceplate of the Tactical Officer¡¯s headset. ¡°Michael, I¡¯m truly sorry about what happened¡­¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Without Eve, you¡¯re just a callous flyboy.¡± Robbie¡¯s temper flared. ¡°Watch yourself, Finch¡­¡± ¡°Watch yourself, Mech Lieutenant,¡± said Walter. ¡°You¡¯re still under court martial¡­¡± ¡°Robbie needs therapy, not court martial¡­,¡± said Olivia. ¡°ENOUGH!¡± roared Caravaggio. ¡°Psyche Officer Rodrigues: you¡¯re dismissed.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± ¡°This is a combat situation, not a therapy session. Although I will be recommending Tactical Officer Finch to your services. Brig Warden Okafor, escort the Psyche Officer back to her hut.¡± When she and Walter had gone, Caravaggio looked between Robbie, Trudy, and Michael. ¡°Finch¡ªbring up the map.¡± Michael slotted a spherifilm cartridge into his console. A rotating projection of EXO19 appeared above them, showing the mapped areas of the planet. Much of it was dark. ¡°The fight will have to be somewhere far away from both the FOB and the Christophites¡¯ base,¡± said Caravaggio. ¡°Open water,¡± said Trudy. ¡°No,¡± said Robbie, remembering his time on the dead sea. ¡°As Michael says, her ?mech will be superior in AFM. I want the option to force her down.¡± ¡°You want to fight her in HOVA?¡± said Michael. ¡°Or Ground Walker Mode. Our¡­my dojo training will be superior for close quarters combat.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a hell of an assumption, Flyboy.¡± Robbie ignored him. ¡°How about the Moss Zone valleys in the Southern Hemisphere?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the only fertile belt on the planet,¡± said Caravaggio. ¡°We can¡¯t have proton lances let loose in the valleys. I¡¯d suggest the mineral plains on the northern continent¡­¡± ¡°Absolutely not,¡± said Trudy. ¡°Those are earmarked for mining colonies. Let them fight somewhere unimportant¡ªthe polar ice caps, perhaps¡­¡± ¡°EXO19 doesn¡¯t have ice caps,¡± said Robbie, feeling a surge of pride as he remembered Eve¡¯s recollection of the science briefing. ¡°The oceans are too salty.¡± ¡°What about this?¡± said Michael. The spherifilm projection zoomed in on a section of ocean at the equator, exposing an aerial view of what looked like a crystal volcano. ¡°A salt glacier.¡± ¡°A salt glacier?¡± Robbie scoured his memory for this part of the science briefing, but it was like searching for a missing tooth. ¡°A massive flow of rock salt,¡± said Finch. ¡°Discovered by S&R just a few days ago, while searching for your transponder. A salt dome¡ªthat mountainous structure¡ªhas breached not only the planet¡¯s surface, but the surface of the ocean as well, forming a slow-moving glacier over twenty kilometres in diameter.¡± ¡°An island made of salt,¡± mused Caravaggio. ¡°Wait,¡± said Robbie to Trudy. ¡°You said that you didn¡¯t want us fighting over the mineral plains on the northern continent. Don¡¯t the Oligopolies want to mine the salt glacier?¡± ¡°I think there¡¯s enough salt on this planet, eh, Mech Lieutenant?¡± The CC staff laughed at the rep¡¯s joke, and Robbie felt his face turning ¡Ìbeet red. ¡°Of course, there could be petroleum traps,¡± said Michael to Trudy. ¡°Pockets of explosive fossilised halophilic algae within the salt strata.¡± ¡°We are of course interested in any propane derivatives for Mantamech and orbital shuttle fuel. But¡­¡± The rep paused for dramatic effect beneath the projection, as if delivering the killer blow in a pitch to investors. ¡°¡­any such traps would likely be small and buried under kilometres of salt. Well out of proton lance range, and not worth the cost of drilling.¡± ¡°Enough with the TED2 talks, you two,¡± said Caravaggio. ¡°The salt glacier it is. Cassidy¡ªget out of those brig fatigues and into a jumpsuit. Finch¡ªopen a parley channel. Tell that Christophite bitch we accept her challenge.¡± ¡°You took the words right out of my mouth, Base Commander,¡± said Robbie. He turned to face the ?mech in the ?hair on the screen. *** The muscular flight tech wrapped the last corset strap around Robbie¡¯s thigh and pulled it taut, almost cutting off the circulation. ¡°All done, Mech Lieutenant. Give us a flex?¡± Robbie flexed his arms and legs, and the Mantamech groaned around them in response. ¡°Haptics online. Give me visuals, Chad.¡± Chad¡ªthe flight tech¡ªflicked a switch on the cavity wall. The screens around the corset came to life, showing the interior of the FOB hangar bay. A telemetry readout showed a flight systems check in green text. Hydraulics fluid pressure > Nominal Propane pumps > Online Left leg thruster > Check Right leg thruster > Check Proton lance accelerator > Ionisation ratios nominal M2issile bay load > 400/400 (100%) Nuclear air mine > 0/0 (0%) Nose camera > Check Left wing/arm camera > Check Right wing/arm camera > Check Dorsal camera > Check RADAR > Online LADAR > Online Handshake ping for wingmate¡­error Handshake ping for wingmate¡­error Handshake ping¡­ Chad stepped back and admired his handiwork. ¡°Good hunting, sir.¡± ¡°You know it, Chad.¡± ¡°Martian Mecha Corps, SIR! We came for¡­¡± ¡°SEX, DEATH AND MECHS!¡± Their combined voices echoed around the cavity, but the words felt hollow in Robbie¡¯s chest. Despite the titanium colossus around him, he felt naked without Eve. And where Eve¡¯s thoughts should be, he now had¡­ Chad snapped off a salute and climbed out through the belly hatch. He was just starting to close the hatch when Robbie heard a familiar voice telling him to wait. Olivia climbed into the cavity. Her bionic eyes looked him up and down. ¡°You look like the Vesuvian Man.¡± ¡°The what?¡± said Robbie. ¡°Never mind. Robbie I¡­I¡¯ve tried to take care of you. And Eve. And all the other recruits from the refugee camps in Helles Basin. And now Eve is dead, and now you feel compelled by some transference effect to embark on this misguided revenge fantasy.¡± Her metal eyes glistened in the LED lights of the cavity. ¡°Olivia¡­¡± ¡°I wanted to say I¡¯m sorry. I failed you.¡± ¡°Olivia¡ªthis is NOT your fault. It was my foolish actions that got Eve killed. It¡¯s my duty to take the Priestess on and finish this. Finish her. It¡¯s like the Base Commander says: personal responsibility is not a mental health issue. Vengeance is therapy.¡± ¡°No¡­¡± whispered the Psyche Officer. ¡°Vengeance is just a void.¡± Then she stepped up to the crash corset and kissed him on the mouth. The Mantamech jolted in response. The kiss was over as quickly as it started, before Robbie could commit to it or break away. The hatch door clicked shut behind her. Robbie was still reeling from whatever that was when Micheal¡¯s voice appeared, tinny in his earpiece. ¡°Proceed to hanger doors and enter HOVA mode. You¡¯re cleared to fly.¡± Chapter 7 Alicia punched the afterburner and felt the crash corset constrict around her jumpsuit as her ?mech hurtled over the ocean. The radio crackled. ¡°¡­still can¡¯t believe that unholy shroud-wipe is alive. I watched him burn¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re breaking up, Carlos. I¡¯m crossing the radio horizon.¡± The maturing Artefact permitted no comms satellites, and relay balloons would betray the position of Mercy Base through triangulation. Soon, she would be on her own. No wingmate. No backup. Just a void in her heart where the Saint should be. The truth was, she¡¯d been alone since that day in the crop fields of EXO001. ¡°Alicia! Wait! There¡¯s some¡­I¡­.want¡­.t¡­.say¡­.¡± ¡°Goodbye, Carlos.¡± She killed the comm and stared at her nosecam screen. The salt glacier rose out of the ocean. Waves foamed furiously against collapsing cliffs. The salt dome¡ªa crystalline mountain¡ªdominated the horizon. Between dome and cliffs stretched kilometre after kilometre of sparkling salt flats. The sky above was a perfect pale indigo. A contrail appeared to the northwest. And a voice in her head. She matched his deceleration. Both mechs transformed from AF to HOVA mode with practiced ease¡ªthrusters defusing into legs, arms unfurling from fuselage clamps, wings splayed like titanium angels as they braked to a stop over the glacier. The delayed sonic BOOM>BOOM>BOOMS echoed off the salt dome>dome>dome. They faced each other across the salt flats. The noonday sun hung between them. The salt blistered and cracked beneath their thruster-legs. She painted him with targeting ladar, felt a tingle in her corset straps as he did the same. The Artefact appeared in the western sky, tracing its dark meridian. An alarm sounded in her ?mech¡¯s cavity. PROTON STREAM DETECTED. The Martian was powering up his lance. She clenched her right fist tight around the corset strap, felt the hum of her own linear accelerator. Two red beams cut through the air; a fireball blooming where they met. Alicia¡¯s crash corset rattled as she leant into the press, but she tempered her thrusters, letting him start to push her back towards the salt dome. Alicia tried to keep her rage from her thoughts. With her almost pinned against the salt dome, the Martian shut down his lance and launched a m2issile stream. It was the moment she had been waiting for. She diverted all power to her left-leg thruster and pivoted on her spiked tail¡¯s axis. Her ?mech pirouetted in midair. She torqued her body in the corset, clasped fists gyrating in a figure-of-eight pattern that translated into a pink blur as her proton lance batted the m2issile swarm out of the air. Black scorch lines appeared in salt dome¡¯s foothills. When the last projectile fizzled out, she brought her lance around in a kilometre-wide slash. The Martian backflipped¡ªbarely avoiding getting sliced in two¡ªand accelerated towards the ocean. She pursued him over the collapsing cliffs, firing her own m2issile load in the process. They pitched and swerved between salt pillars, m2issile impacts blossoming in chaff clouds, lances sizzling in the sea spray, engines screaming from the salt dust. M2issiles spent, they remounted the glacier and sped over the salt flats in parallel. Suddenly he banked and tried to side-tackle her in mid-air. Running on instinct and adrenaline, she coiled her body into a ball and summersaulted within the corset. Her ?mech barrel-rolled and came up behind him. She levelled her lance, but he braked, and she slammed into his huge Manta-cowl. They both dropped to the flat like skimmed stones. Alicia¡¯s braced in her corset as her ?mech slid to a halt in Ground Walker Mode, kicking up half a klick of salt dust. When her cameras cleared, she saw him staggering to his feet, the Mantamech¡¯s hulking design showing its age. She leapt into the air and bore down on his ¡®head¡¯, trying to pin him with her ?mech¡¯s spiked tail. He sidestepped at the last second and she penetrated the salt flat instead. A long crack appeared on the glacier¡¯s surface. As she tried to pull free, his Mantamech¡¯s club tail slammed into her side. Her corset gimballed as her ?mech toppled onto its back¡ªspawled across the new, thin crevice created by her tail-stomp. Her nosecam showed the Artefact crossing the indigo sky overhead. ¡°Saint¡­¡± she gasped and fired her thrusters in a backflip attempt. But he was too quick. With a single swipe of his lance, he severed her legs at the knee joint. Thin jets of propane and hydraulic fluid squirted from the stumps. She started to raise her lance arm, but he crushed it beneath his thruster boot and aimed his own lance down at her pilot¡¯s cavity. Alarms wailed. The air between his lance and her chest began to shimmer. She had one last move to play, one desperate, dangerous gamble¡­ Robbie/Alicia looked down at the legless ?mech pinned beneath their boot/up at the huge Manta cowl eclipsing the wormhole/Artefact directly above. Around them, salt particles began to rise. Inverted gravity tugged at their corset straps. The Mantamech¡¯s boot started to lift from the ?mech¡¯s lance arm¡­ Robbie triggered his lance. But the wormhole had pulled his aim off. The red beam severed The Priestess¡¯s left shoulder fin and disappeared down into the crack. A kilometre of superheated ions punched into the glacier. He ¡®heard¡¯ the echo of her thought even as he frantically cut the proton stream. BOOM! A wall of flame shot from the crack. Both mechs were thrown into the air. Molten salt rocks like micro meteors scorched Robbie¡¯s wings and fuselage as the pyroclastic cloud billowed him skywards. The wormhole¡¯s gravity pulled him clear of the explosion¡ªuntil it seemed he would fall upwards forever into the gaping maw of nothing¡­ The wormhole passed. The Mantamech spun in the indigo sky. His wings were smoking stumps. A pre-recorded voice looped from the cavity speakers: EJECT¡­EJECT¡­EJECT¡­ Robbie didn¡¯t need telling thrice. He executed the ejection sequence movements¡ªkick-kick-double punch-kick-kick. The belly hatch blew its charges and his corset burst from the Mantamech¡¯s chest. He spun in the air for several seconds, trying to stabilise enough to pull the chutes. He mentally called for Eve¡ªneeding to dive as one/one¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t her who answered¡ª Robbie closed his eyes. Arched his body. Thrust his hips forward. Raised his head and shoulders. With his fall stabilised, he pulled the cord. His eyes snapped open as the corset straps pulled taut against his shoulders, three grey chutes deployed above him. The vista below was like a scene from a spherifilm about the Great Cascade. The glacier was in a state of explosive collapse. The entire salt flat had fallen into the sea, molten salt slurry exploding on contact with the water. Only the salt dome remained, the angry ocean pounding its base like a blood-drunk dojo combatant. A trio of vantablack chutes tacked above the inferno, riding thermal currents up towards the summit. He followed her. They landed in a crystal caldera filled with huge salt stalagmites¡ªa forest of teeth. Robbie¡¯s feet splashed in a rainwater rockpool as his chutes caught in the spiked canopy. He had barely shrugged out of his corset straps when the ground erupted around him. Fl¨¦chette carbine. He dove left and rolled behind a stalagmite, then right as its spiked tip broke loose and crashed to the ground. He bolted between stalagmites, salt shrapnel shredding his jumpsuit and leaving micro cuts on his back, arms, legs and buttocks.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. He vaulted over a large silica boulder and crouched behind it. The firing stopped. Robbie tried not to think as he unclipped his service carbine¡ªan implosion-round six-shooter¡ªfrom his left calf. Robbie breathed in, breathed out as Olivia had taught him. Cleared his thoughts. Picked up a piece of polished silica and raised it over his head. When nothing happened, he risked a peek over the boulder. Nothing but stalagmites. She couldn¡¯t see him, and he couldn¡¯t see her. Unless¡­ Robbie/Alicia crouched behind the boulder clutching the six-shooter/crept through the stalagmite forest reloading a fresh fl¨¦chette cartridge, knee-deep in the rockpool next where the Martian¡¯s empty corset and grey chutes lay flaccid¡­ The shot hit the stalagmite to Alicia¡¯s left with a dull POP. The spiked structure imploded into a distorted tetrahedron which hovered in the air for a fraction of a second. Then the shockwave blew Alicia off her feet. ¡°Saint!¡± She landed on her back in the rockpool, the fl¨¦chette carbine flying from her hands. The air was a blizzard of frenzied salt particles¡ªluckily the fall had winded her, or she would have inhaled the caustic debris. She pulled an osmosis mask from the pocket of her jumpsuit and plastered it over her mouth and nose. Able to breathe again, she flipped to her feet and pulled her combat knife from its sheath on her thigh. Alicia/Robbie couldn¡¯t see a thing through the salt mist. Robbie hissed in frustration as he tried to keep the carbine level with one hand while he slapped on his osmosis mask with the other. He fired again. And again. And again¡­ POP.>POP.>POP. Stalagmites imploded and collapsed with a sound like breaking glass. The mist intensified. POP. SMASH. He crept forwards. Salt particles clung to the film of his osmosis mask. An intact stalagmite loomed out of the gloom. He stepped around it, gun held outwards¡­ A flash of vantablack filled his vision. He yelled¡ªverbally¡ªin surprise as the top of her foot slapped into his wrist. He squeezed off the last shot¡ª POP¡ªjust before the gun went flying from his hands. He¡¯d barely got his guard up before she completed her axe kick and lunged. He saw the knife in her thoughts and grabbed her attacking wrist. The black blade cut through his jumpsuit and grazed his lower rib, but he was running on adrenaline now. He fell onto his back, dragging her arm between his legs, his calf under her chin, torquing the arm against the joint. Amazingly, she held on, and sunk her teeth into his leg, strait to the muscle. This time he did feel the pain. ¡°Gah!¡± He released, kicked her away and drew his own knife from his other calf. They both rolled into a crouch, face-to-face for the first time outside of dreams. She was lithe in her jumpsuit, wiry muscles visible beneath the vantablack material. Her jet-black hair was tied up into a severe knot. She had preternaturally high cheekbones, and arresting blue/green mismatched eyes¡­ ¡°Hello, Martian¡­¡± She slowly stood to her full height¡ªonly a few centimetres off his own¡ªsmoothly swapping the knife to her other hand. He slowly matched her movements. ¡°Priestess.¡± The dust began to settle. They were in a clearing of sorts, created by his shooting. He now a slight advantage. He had maybe ten kilos on her, and greater upper body strength. But she didn¡¯t look scared. She looked... Dominant. Vulnerable. Exotic. Beautiful. Dangerous. He should kill her now. They circled closer, like two animals. You could cut the tension with a¡­ Blades clashed; sparks flew. They whirled apart; positions reversed. Alicia stared at the Martian. She¡¯d fantasised about this moment, about killing this arrogant flyboy who¡¯d killed one of her and left another maimed. She could do it too¡ªshe was faster than him; he was rash and graceless without his dead wingmate. Just slip under his guard and push the blade through his torn jumpsuit and into those perfect abs¡­ The way he was looking at her, though. With those deep, brown eyes set in that square-jawed yet strangely delicate, almost feminine face. She liked the way he was looking at her¡ªnot like Carlos looked at her, like a sad puppy chasing a mech who wouldn¡¯t know what to do if he caught her¡ªbut like a hunter who had sighted his prey but didn¡¯t know if it would kill him first. It reminded her of the first time she¡¯d seen the Artefact over EXO001¡¯s skies, that desire to be consumed, to be swallowed whole and taken somewhere new¡­ Blades locked. Feet tangled. They fell to the hard salt ground, a knot of limbs. He quickly got on top of her, forced his blade downwards towards her throat. She thrust her knife upwards, the tip of her blade caressing his jugular. Their lips were almost touching through the 2D film of their osmosis masks. It wasn¡¯t clear who decided to¡­ In one reality, graphene lips met. Knives clattered to the ground. Robbie¡¯s hands seized Alicia¡¯s wrists and pinned them over her head. They savoured the gain/loss of control as¡ªin another reality¡ªcold blades slipped into soft throats and warm blood flowed. Instead, they kissed harder, growing hard/wet as they rode the DMT death-rush beyond oblivion until two/two realities collapsed into one/one. Back in his own body, Robbie felt strangely self-conscious. He broke the kiss and sat back on his knees. What was he doing? This woman was his enemy, she¡¯d killed Eve, yet now here she was, legs flexing beneath her jumpsuit as she¡­ ¡­kicked him in the face. He reeled backwards, blood pooling in his mouth even as she stood over him, her face momentarily ugly with rage and lust. He covered his head to defend himself, but she grabbed the zipper on her jumpsuit and peeled herself out of it in one smooth motion. For a moment he just gawped up at her. Her black hair had come loose in the tussle, falling over her pale breasts. Her osmosis mask was a barely visible bubble popping in and out of her lips. Her mismatched eyes glowed in the twilight. The word had barely crossed his thoughts when she dropped onto him, pinning his arms with her knees and mounting his face. She was so wet that he was forced to drink her in through his mask, and he found the taste of her intoxicating. ¡°Fuck!¡± She gasped mentally and verbally as the graphene tip of his tongue began to orbit inside her. Robbie/Alicia shuddered as the pleasure centres ignited in both of their brains. They could now optimise his lapping even further. And they now had two bodies to play with¡­ In a smooth motion, they pivoted Alicia¡¯s body so that she faced his legs, then used her hands to claw open the crotch of his fl¨¦chette-shredded jumpsuit. They savoured Alicia¡¯s locker pin-up view of Adonis abs and throbbing cock/savoured the breath in Robbie¡¯s his lungs as he finally came up for air. The view from his eyes was now up over her ass and bare back¡­ Alicia felt a wave of revulsion pass through Robbie¡¯s mind. He grew even harder. Robbie/Alicia gripped the base of Robbie¡¯s shaft with one of Alicia¡¯s hands, then pitched her forward like a marionette. They moaned in parallel as she slowly bobbed onto him, his bulbous cock distending the osmosis mask as it slipped into her mouth. With her other hand, they reached behind her to grab Robbie¡¯s hair and pull him into her once again. For a moment, Robbie/Alicia felt like an oxygen-starved ouroboros, a snake eating its own tale. The sensation was overwhelming. It wasn¡¯t quite true to say that Robbie had never had cock down his throat before¡ªhe¡¯d had an experimental fling with [REDACTED] a couple of years back¡ªbut the feeling of his own cock in a foreign throat was too much for Robbie/Alicia, as was the mirrored sensation of enthusiastically eating her/being eaten out. Devoured¡­. They came apart, physically and mentally. Robbie gasped for air on his back, clutching his throat from the residual sensation of his own phantom cock. His face was soaking wet with her, the salty air and her fluids mixing into a heady brew. Alicia pushed herself onto one elbow and leaned over him, smirking. Robbie reached up and grabbed her by the throat. She gagged, blue/green eyes bulging in surprise as he planted his feet and flipped her. She tried to lock her legs around his ribs, but he used his free hand to grab her ankles and lunged forwards, forcing her feet up to her ears. Alicia/Robbie eased up the choke just a little, but didn¡¯t completely relinquish it. Instead, they dug Robbie¡¯s heels into the ground, causing his shoulders to pin Alicia¡¯s legs even higher. They entered at a perfect angle. Waves of pleasure washed between their brains as they began to thrust/writhe in hypoxic ecstasy. They had Robbie withdraw a little, teasing themselves before ploughing back in. They had Alicia clench her tight vaginal muscles in a surprisingly effective down boy clamp. Then they were just mindlessly fucking, harder, harder, his choke keeping her killer instincts on lockdown, her clenching preventing him from totally losing his load¡­ But they could only stave off the inevitable for so long. The heady mix of her lack of air, his clamped cock, her overstimulated virgin G-spot, and his pent-up aggression reached a crescendo. They came in perfect sequence, the orchestral cascade of her orgasm a perfect foil for his explosive whiteout. They experienced both/both as a continuous rush of beautiful white noise. Somewhere, salt glaciers melted into the sea. Stars exploded. But it didn¡¯t stop. Bounced between two psyches, two endocrine systems, the orgasm became recursive. It couldn¡¯t dissipate, so it just built, and built, and built. Robbie¡¯s hand fell away from Alicia¡¯s throat, and the sudden rush of air was like oxygen to a space station fire. They were only dimly aware of Robbie¡¯s load filling her/Alicia¡¯s nails sinking into his back/his hands grabbing hold of her ass/her teeth sinking halfway to his jugular as they tried/failed to contain the rushrushrushrush. Time became meaningless. Robbie/Alicia could have sworn they levitated. The comedown, when it came, was slow, smooth. Amazingly, Robbie stayed hard beyond the peak, and they kept fucking, riding down the serotonin curve. They were both shaking now, her feet spasming against the ground/his hands losing their grip on her as muscles deflexed. They looked down at her blue-and-green eyes/up at his contorted gaze. At some undefined point, they separated their bodies, but not their minds. They never wanted to desync again. This was real, this was what being ALIVE was. Sex and death. They lay on their backs, staring at the sky through two pairs of eyes. Night had fallen. EXO19¡¯s aurora appeared overhead, green waves rolling over alien stars. Through this celestial sea came a shimmering circle of nothing. Stalagmites quivered. Beads of sweat ran upwards over skin. The void held no answers. Epilogue Trent/Najib circled the salt dome¡¯s summit in a clockwise/anticlockwise holding pattern, their S&R mechs throwing V-shaped shadows onto the shattered stalagmites below. ¡°Cassidy!¡± blared Trent through his parley speaker. ¡°What the fuck¡­are you¡­doing?!¡± They had expected to find Robert ¡®Flyboy¡¯ Cassidy alone with his ?mech trophy, or to find that Christophite bitch gloating over the wreckage of his Mantamech. But it appeared the two pilots had come to some sort of¡­unauthorised agreement. Before Trent could get a response, his wingdude¡¯s ever-calm thoughts echoed in his brain.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Trent toggled the parley from the exterior speaker to the radio channel. ¡°ATTENTION, Christophite mechs! Both of our pilots are alive. Repeat, both pilots remain very much ALIVE. We request that you stand down while we extract¡­¡± The wormhole had appeared over the horizon in Najib¡¯s nose/Trent¡¯s dorsal camera. The two ?mechs were hurtling towards it, lances out. But¡­something was wrong. The wormhole was trailing what looked like giant tentacles across the morning sky.