Cloneworld - 04 (49 page)

And then it was done.

Pippa stood wearily, and stared down at the corpse. She spat on it, then turned to Franco - rushing to him just as he collapsed. "Shit." She hauled him to his feet, and gave him a vicious hard slap across the face. "Stay with me, soldier!"

"Ha! I ain't going nowhere, bitch," he said, voice hoarse.

Pippa took the stump of his arm gingerly and examined the amputation. The blast had indeed cauterised his flesh, sealing the severed artery and blackening the stump as effectively as dipping it in a bucket of boiling tar.

Outside, more fighters and jets and SLAMs were lifting into the heavens. The stench of exhaust fumes came in through the bars. Soldiers were cheering. Engines revved, belching and screaming, metal on metal in sumps of oil. It sounded like Hell. It sounded like war.

"Come on!"

"Where're we going?"

"I have an idea."

They staggered from the stone room, Pippa stepping on one of Ziggurat's flopping dead hands, and into a narrow corridor. "They must be here somewhere," she muttered, and saw the doors leading off nearby. She moved to one, throwing back the thick bars. It was empty. The next held Queen Strogger and Anklebolt. They were wrapped in cunt_wire, immobile and scowling in the dusty gloom. Pippa stared at them, at the squirming, gleaming, constantly moving,
biting
wire.

"How do I get that off?"

"Ziggurat. He'll have a sonic screwdriver. That'll have the frequency."

Pippa leant Franco against the wall, and he waved weakly with his stump. "I'd give you a high-five," he coughed, "but looks like I ain't into that camaraderie-type shit anymore."

"What happened?" said Queen Strogger, eyes narrowed, lips drawn and gleaming, oil-smeared, chrome teeth shining. She was in constant pain, Franco realised. They didn't call it
cunt_wire
for nothing. It was a constant pain in the cunt... Even if you didn't have one.

"Ach! Ziggurat. 'Tis only a flesh wound. It'll heal. When I'm in Hell. Haha."

Pippa returned, holding what looked like a cross between a vibrator and a pistol. Queen Strogger read out various settings, and Pippa rotated the dials on the screwdriver's barrel.

She pointed it at them, and suddenly the cunt_wire went rigid, then flopped away. Queen Strogger and Anklebolt kicked their way free of the useless mass, like a nylon web, and stood, both with hands on hips, both with
attitude.

"You in pain, soldier?" asked Anklebolt, her metal face mashing and shifting like cogs in a gearbox.

"Ach, don't you worry you none about my little arse." Franco was breathing heavily, face corpse-grey, eyes waxen and dull. "I'll be reet and dandy." His bravado knew no bounds. Nor did his stubbornness.

"Come here," said Queen Strogger.

"Eh?" said Franco, blinking, his eyes closing, then opening, then closing, then opening...

"I can help you."

"Er, you can?"

"Come here."

Pippa moved to Franco, and supported him as he walked over to Queen Strogger. In her torso, about where her belly button should be, an opening went
schlup
. To Pippa, who wasn't an expert in these things, it looked like a vagina. The puckered walls quivered, gleaming pink and wet. Pippa shivered. It just wasn't right...

"My Battlefield Repair Unit Upgrade," said Queen Strogger, looking into Pippa's eyes. "Trust me. I can help him. Org Inc. are the best machine inventors in the whole of Quad-Gal. We've had to be. Our religion depends on it."

Pippa gave a nod.

Franco struggled feebly.

"No! No! Not the belly-pussy again! I'm not that ill! Honest! It's just a scratch, mate, honest!"

Inside the quivering hole, Pippa caught a glimpse of complicated machinery, of spinning wheels and stepping gears. She swallowed, hard, as a stench of hot oil flooded out of the opening. Chains and weights spun and went clank. Franco was half dragged by Queen Strogger, half pushed by Pippa, and if he'd had his own way, had all his faculties about him, he would have turned tail and legged it.

The stump of Franco's arm was plunged into the gaping belly-mouth, and Franco screamed a high-pitched scream like a little girl who's fallen off her scooter and grazed both knees.

"Franco!" snapped Pippa, and he stopped, looking sullen. "You made less noise when Ziggurat blasted your fucking arm off! Be a man! Be a soldier! Show me why you're Combat K!"

"I'd rather be on a different planet," mumbled Franco.

"Be still," said Queen Strogger, not unkindly. "This won't hurt a bit."

"That's what they all fucking say!" screeched Franco, struggling hard now, but his severed arm was trapped in the old org's belly. Chains were rattling. Gears were crashing. From deep inside Strogger's body came several deep
clangs.
Then a ratchet sound. There were thuds, and a chugging noise like an old steam engine.

"
Noooo!"
wailed Franco. "Not ag
aaaiiinn!
"

Clang shunk thad thuck suck clank clang chunk.

There was a pause.

"Is that it?" said Pippa.

"Oh no," said Strogger. "That's just the beginning..."

CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK WHUMP RATTLE RATTLE
SHRING
CHUMP CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG. CHINK. CHANK. CHONK.

CHONK.

"Wahhhh!" said Franco.

CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD SUCK CLANK WHUMP RATTLE RATTLE
SHRING
CHUMP CLANG CHUNK CLANG CHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK. CHINK. CHANK CHONK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK SHUNK THAD SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK WHUMP RATTLE RATTLE
SHRING
CHUMP CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THAD THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK CLANG SHUNK THUCK SUCK CLANK CLANG CHUNK. CHINK. CHANK. CHONK.

Rattle.

And then it was done.

Steam hissed from Queen Strogger's ears like spurts of toxic poison, and Pippa stepped back, releasing Franco, eyes wide, nostrils twitching at the myriad of acrid, acidic odours.

Franco was suddenly released, and staggered back, his arm held high in the air as a look of absolute horror crossed his face.

"What's she done to me? What's she done to me?
Waaaahh!
"

"She's given you a new arm, Franco!"

Franco stopped. He lowered his arm. It was metal. He stared at it.

"Er," he said.

He flexed his fingers, and made a fist. Everything gleamed like silver. He rolled his wrist in both directions, then stared first at Pippa, then at Queen Strogger.

"Er?" he said.

"You have been repaired," said Queen Strogger.

"I ain't a fucking car..."

"Franco!"

"Er. Yes. Well. Thank..." he chewed his lip, face contorting. "Thank - you," he forced out between gritted teeth.

"You have been upgraded," said Queen Strogger.

"You fucking..."

"Franco!"

"Okay. Okay." He held up his hands. Well. One hand, and one metal appendage which looked like a hand. He took a deep breath. He looked at his face, reflected in his metal hand and arm. It was joined quite neatly to his flesh. There were only a few thin metal cables which broke through the skin of his recent stump. "I suppose I need to say
thanks.
Thanks for the, um, new arm. I'm sure I'll put it to a lot of good use."

Queen Strogger grinned at him. "I'm sure you shall. I have also took the liberty of introducing various chemicals to your system."

"Chemicals?" Suspicion.

"Drugs."

"Drugs? Great!"

"Don't get too excited. Your human chassis is as weak as they get. I have given you antibiotics, and various anti-rejection agents to stop your own body fighting the cyborg additional. I've also pepped you up a bit; painkillers and stimulants and suchforth. Can't have you going to sleep on the battlefield now, can we?"

"Your concern for my welfare is much appreciated," said Franco through gritted teeth, voice dripping sarcasm.

"Good! Now then! Pippa! The way I currently understand this situation is that the Mistress and her sister, Tarly Winters, are waging war against the orgs. Their infantry and ships and weapons have set off to attack The Org States! Is this correct?"

"It is."

"We must stop them."

"I have a few ideas about that," said Pippa, smiling grimly.

They moved through The Monastery. It was deserted of personnel, and an eerie silence blew through the stone corridors. Outside the thick stone walls they occasionally heard shouts and yells and engines and rotors. But the army had moved on, moved away, headed off on its attack in the name of
Live TV!
on Clone TV.

Queen Strogger led the way. She was purposeful now, head held high, mechanicals whirring and thumping in her cyborg body. Princess Anklebolt III followed, quite obviously subservient. Both orgs clearly understood - their whole world was under attack, and they had to work together to sort out the shit. Only afterwards could they resolve their petty differences. Which, surely, they would.

Franco and Pippa jogged along behind the two orgs who, despite their age and sheer mechanical size, made fast progress. Franco waved his metal arm about forlornly.

"Look what she did to me!" he hissed. "She made me... bionic! I have a bionic hand! I'm one fifth metal! I don't believe it! I just don't bloody believe it! I mean, of all the rotten stinking luck..."

"You're a moaning twat," snapped Pippa. "Most amputees would
beg
for what you've been freely given! You're a fucking ingrate, Franco Haggis. Be thankful you're still breathing the fresh mountain air!"

"Twat! Squawk!"

"Oh great, the parrot's back. You big green coward! And hey, hey! Who're you calling an ingrate, anyway? An ingrate is it? But then, how could you understand
anything
about it, you're a bloody woman!"

"What's me being a
woman
got to do with it?" snapped Pippa. "You lost your arm! Now you've got a better one! Be pragmatic for once, will you?"

"Yeah but, y'know."

They'd stopped, Strogger peering up and down the deserted stone corridors. Then she set off, metal legs stomping across the cobbles, towards a steep spiral staircase. Anklebolt III followed. Behind Franco, out of reach of his bionic punch, fluttered Polly.

"'Y'know' what?"

"Just. Y'know."

"What the fuck are you talking about? I know Strogger said she was pumping you full of pills, but this is the Franco Haggis I remember from Mount Pleasant!"

"Don't mention that place."

"What, Mount Pleasant? The 'nice and caring and friendly home for the mentally challenged'?" Pippa grinned. "Go on. What's your problem now, dickhead?"

"This arm! This hand! It's just it's, my, well,
you know
, my
personal use
hand."

Pippa considered this. Only Franco could bring up the subject of
masturbation
on his way to a battle and impending death by bullets and detonation.

"Go on."

"Go on what? It's my, er, my
special hand
. Only it isn't anymore, is it? I mean, every time I do the dirty deed, I'll be bloody thinking about that there old Strogger machine thing, won't I?"

"Maybe it'll clean you up."

"Meaning?"

"Stop you being such a wanker!"

"Wanker!" squawked Polly.

"That's a bloody misrepresentation, that is!" snapped Franco.

"Yeah," continued Pippa, "maybe this will make the wild bad rag-tag Franco settle down, get married, have children. You know. The stuff any
normal
heterosexual individual is supposed to want to do."

"You ain't got no kids," sulked Franco.

"I ain't normal," said Pippa.