Chapter Twenty-One
They held a meeting in the mess hall while their ship travelled above the clone ships, in the direction of earth. It was nerve wrecking and Anatu expected the clones to discover than any time.
They continuously scanned a wide circuit to ensure no other ships followed. So far their cloak performed perfectly. Everyone was tense because they knew, the moment it didn’t, they would all be dead or captured. Agrippa doubted the marines had any idea what the clones would do to them. They had millenia of perfecting their cruelty. After a few days, Amelagar left Anatu and a marine on the bridge and the rest of them gathered for lunch.
They sat on the bunk beds and raised the table that was set into the floor. Agrippa had directed every bit of power to the engine, cloak and cryo chambers. Unlike the Rising Sun, this ship couldn’t massage aching backs or form tables.
Agrippa stood from her chair on the bridge and stretched. “Anatu, I will monitor while I eat, I will be quick so you can relax and eat as well.”
Anatu shrugged. “I prefer to stay here; can you pass me some food.”
“Sure.” She turned and stopped. Coloel Farnham sat across from Amelagar, with the two sergeants on either side of him.
Amelagar had a ferocious scowl on his face and he stared, unblinking at sergeant Scott.
“You’ve got a problem with me?” He saw Agrippa hovering and coughed. He got up with a flourish. “Please have a seat ma’am.”
Agrippa smiled at him and sat down next to Amelagar who still glared at the sergeant. She put her hand on his.
“Do not do charming human male manners to impress her, she is mine.”
“Wouldn’t think of doing that captain.”
Agrippa wiggled closer to Amukkan and he put his arm around her.
“We can’t win this war if they keep churning out more ships,” Colonel Farnham said. He looked at Agrippa, his face set in grim lines. “Do you think they can do that ma’am, without running out of materials?”
“Yes, the cloning technology allows them to grow anything they need in whatever quantities they need them.”
“We’re fucked, pardon my French, ma’am,” another marine said.
Agrippa frowned, that was an English word he kept asking pardon for. Humans were weird.
“We need to cut them off at the source,” Amelagar said.
The commander leaned forward. “So let me get this straight, no matter how many clones we kill, they’ll simply send more?”
“Yes.”
“And there are doubles of all the clones in these ships, waiting to be activated, back on Tunria?”
“Yes, and doubles of the ships as well,” Amelagar said.
“Fuck me,” the marine muttered and washed his hand over his short hair. “Pardon my French ma‘am.”
The small observation desk one story up was the only privacy any of them had. Apart from the basic bathrooms.
“Then what use is this mission? We can’t win against those odds.”
“You want to give up?” He’d surprised her. What little she’d seen of humans, giving up was not in their nature.
“Hell no.”
Their glances held and in his she saw his reluctance to put her in even bigger danger. But they both knew it was their only chance.
“I think I can increase our speed,” Agrippa told Amelagar. She knew what he planned and fear nearly crippled her, but it was their only chance.
“What are we talking about?” Colonel Farnham turned to face them.
“We will go to the home world and destroy the cloning temples.”
“Are you crazy?” Sargeant Bjorn looked incredulous.
Colonel Farnham cleared his throat. “What about our mission to destroy the Tunrian ships before they reach earth?”
“It doesn’t matter how many we blow up. We need to cut off their supply.”
“I didn’t join this mission to take on the cyborg home world mate,” Sargeant Scott said.
“It is the Tunrian home world and I am not your mate,” Amelagar bit out.
“You will obey orders marine,” Colonel Farnham snapped in a voice that would get anyone in line.
“How long will I be away from my human,” Anatu asked sullenly from the bridge and the marines rolled their eyes.
“The mission will be at least ten years longer,” Agrippa said gently. It may take longer, but the speed at which their ship moved shaved of years of any journey. She planned to refine it during their journey so that it shaved off months, maybe years.