Rogue Clone by Kent Steven L

Rogue Clone by Kent Steven L

Author:Kent, Steven L. [Kent, Steven L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2006-09-26T00:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Every ship in the Galactic Central Fleet was more than forty years old. That did not mean that they were in bad condition or that they had seen a lot of action. In fact, few of the ships had traveled over the last few decades. New and clean as this transport was, it had antiquated technology. To prevent glare in the cockpit, the only light in the kettle—that was what we called the cattle car in which the soldiers traveled—came from red emergency lights. That was to my liking. I was, after all, a stowaway. I sat in the back of the kettle not far from the cargo area where nobody noticed me.

The men around me did not like the dark atmosphere. “Like traveling in an armpit,” one man complained. “Sending us back and forth in a damned drain pipe,” another man said in a different conversation. The best line came from the man sitting beside me: “Not even fit for clones.”

The inside of the kettle was anything but luxurious. The walls, ceiling, and floor were bare, unadorned metal. A line of benches ran along the wall of the cabin offering enough seating for maybe one-quarter of the men on this flight. Safety harnesses hung from the ceiling. In the case of an emergency, men would strap themselves in with these harnesses and hang from the ceiling like butchered cattle in a slaughterhouse freezer. The harnesses became rigid when in use, preventing the men from swinging into each other.

In a transport like this, passengers were nothing more than cargo. There were no windows and no way of knowing what was happening outside of the ship. The launch from New Columbia was smooth enough, but moments after we took off, the pilot signaled us to harness ourselves in.

Batt Wingate and his commando-escort sat somewhere in the front of the kettle. I could not see them. It did not matter. I knew they were inside and besides, there was only one way off this bird. Once we landed, I would slink toward the door so that Wingate would pass me before he left. The mood in the kettle changed as the men fastened themselves in. Now, nobody spoke. Most of the men hung absolutely silent. A few smoked cigarettes and spat their smoldering butts to the floor.

Outside the ship, the gears of war were turning. Swarms of fighters might spot us and attack as we left the atmosphere and entered the blanket of space. A lone fighter could destroy a transport, but it would take multiple missiles. These ships looked and flew like pregnant seagulls, but they had powerful shields and thick armor. This ship could survive a direct hit from a particle beam cannon. If one or two fighters homed in on us, we would likely survive the attack long enough for the Confederates to send help.

I looked at my watch. Just under four minutes had passed since the bombardment began. By my best guess, the GCF ships had been in the area for six minutes and would broadcast out in another two.



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