Cloneworld - 04 (51 page)

Slowly, and oozing cooling oil and steam, Strogger reversed and retracted the piston, dropping tiny lumps of rock into the pit she'd just created.

"Well," chirped Franco, happily. "That's the end of that, then! Let's just say it was a happy divorce
before
the necessity of the wedding ceremony." He was unreasonably chipper; it was nauseating to witness.

Tarly rose from the pit vertically, unharmed, and her feet touched down on the rim. She grabbed the still-retracting piston, and twisted, flinging the huge, mighty Strogger a good hundred metres down the parade ground.

Strogger rolled like a marble, steel and iron and alloy parts grinding and crashing, sending showers of sparks into the air and cutting deep jagged grooves across the alloyconcrete.

"Shit," said Pippa, blinking, and hoisted her MPK. She flicked off the safety catch.

Franco glanced down. "Er. You think that'll work?"

"It's worth a fucking try, unless you've got a better idea?" snapped Pippa.

Franco hoisted his Kekras, and they unleashed a payload of screaming bullets on General Tarly Winters, bullets spinning and whining through the air, thumping into her flesh with
thump-thump-thumps
as she turned from Strogger's flailing, rocking body - like a turtle stranded on its back - lowered her head, staring straight at Franco -

And ran at them...

Franco shook his yammering gun, as if urging it to fire yet more bullets through willpower alone. Hundreds of bullets slammed into Tarly Winters, but were absorbed into her flesh, ejected from her naked back as if passing through molten wax, like maggots wriggling from a corpse. And all the while, her flesh
squirmed,
like snakes in a barrel, noodles in a honey-pan, larvae in a nest of rotting, rancid corpse-meat.

"
Shiiiiit..."
screamed Franco as Tarly came closer, and closer, and then she was there, grinning at him, and she swung her arm left, snapping Pippa's still-juddering MPK machine gun in two, and reached through Franco's gunfire to take his Kekras from him like toffees from a child. She tossed them aside, where they clattered across rock.

"Hello, Franco," she said.

"Er, you wouldn't hurt me, would you, love? After all, we
are
going to get married!"

"That's a cheap trick," growled Pippa.

Tarly turned on her. "Shut up,
bitch."
She back-handed Pippa and sent her rolling off across the parade ground, blood spraying from smashed lips.

Franco held up his hands, and started to shuffle slowly backwards.

"Now listen, love..."

"I'm not your
love!"
squealed Tarly, and leapt - to be caught around the midriff in the pincer grip of Princess Anklebolt III's expanded mechanical hand. It was huge, like a set of giant pincers, each hinged gripper exploding to the size of landcar.

Anklebolt threw Tarly into a giant TV screen. The glass shattered, screeching, and the hundred-foot screen
imploded
with a detonation of electricity. Power surged through Tarly Winters, sparks ejecting like industrial fireworks
through her
as she jiggled in the centre of the screen, energy pouring through every atom. When finally the light show ended, Tarly toppled from the centre of the destroyed screen, hit the ground with a wet smack, and slowly stood up and rested her hands on her hips.

"Uh-oh," said Franco, and looked around in panic. He rushed over to Pippa, and helped the Combat K killer to her feet.

"I think you upset her," said Pippa, wiping blood from her mouth with a grimace.

"
I
fucking upset her? Why is it always me, eh? Why can't it be some other dumb schmuck?"

Tarly charged Anklebolt, looking ridiculous - like a midget attacking a giant. Again, the pincers came crashing down, but Tarly was ready and dodged the blow. Anklebolt's steel claws smashed through the rocky ground and lodged there. Tarly walked casually around Anklebolt's back, leapt up, and ripped something
free
from her spine. Anklebolt went suddenly rigid, and almost with a gesture of contempt, Tarly dropped a small cube to the ground and kicked it away.

She turned and looked at Franco.

He gulped.

Tarly started towards him.

"What's wrong with her face?" said Pippa softly, head tilting, eyes narrowing.

Franco blinked. Something
had
happened to Tarly's face during her massive electrocution in the giant TV. Now, it was open to her brain, or open to
something
slick and glossy inside; slick, and glossy, pulsing, and glooping. Fingers of snake tentacle wavered around the open pit of her face, like the half-burned petals of a predatory flower.

"That's pretty damn gross," said Franco, weakly.

"She's
your
fucking fiancée!" snapped Pippa.

"Will you
stop
saying that!"

"Distract her! I'll be back in a minute!"

"
What?"

And then Pippa was gone, and Franco flapped around in a sudden panic, running to grab his discarded Kekras and turning back just in time to stare at his betrothed marching towards him, her face detonated open. He went weak at the knees. Suddenly, his biomechanical arm didn't feel like such a disfiguration.

Tarly stopped in front of him.

Franco could see through to the centre of her skull, the hole surrounded by wavering snake tentacles, each snake having its own set of eyes and an open maw and flickering tongue.

"I hope you ain't come for a snog," said Franco.

"No, Franco, my darling," said Tarly, and her voice was tinny, distant, as if she'd swallowed her voicebox and was speaking from inside her belly. "I've come here to kill you."

"That's all right then," he snapped. "Because if I had to kiss
that
then I'd
want
to be fucking dead."

Tarly squealed, a high-pitched buzzing noise: half woman's scream, half hissing snake. She leapt at Franco, who stumbled back, Kekra coming up to fire directly in her open face, her open
brain,
unleashing screaming bullets on hot streams of fire and gas that ate into Tarly, kicking her back to roll, and come up fast, and leap again. Again, Franco fired a volley into her snake-rimmed face, watching with horror as the snake tentacles wriggled and thrashed, the centre of her head seeming to
absorb
the bullets and spit them out the back of her skull. The white flesh was churned up, but no blood came out, and Franco was back-pedalling, panting, and he realised with a mental kick he needed his grenades, lots of fucking grenades! But the best he had was in his pack. On his back. With the shotguns.
What bloody good are weapons on your back, slackboy nutjob?
his mind screamed at him.
You're a gremlin-faced dumb-arse pot-bellied Combat K reject!

Hey
! he snapped back at himself.
I didn't realise my fiancée's face was going to explode and wriggle like a can of industrial maggots on a fishing trip, did I?

Tarly forced her way forward like a climber through a blizzard, leaning into the onslaught as she approached, and Franco went paler than pale. For the second time she snatched his guns. The hail of fire halted, leaving a ringing sound reverberating through the snow, and she lifted the guns to her open face and...
ate them.
The snakes thrashed in a feeding frenzy, and from the back of Tarly's head came curls of hot metal shavings, ejecting with wisps of steam and a high-pitched
zinging
sound.

"Er," said Franco, backing away even faster.

"That wasn't a nice thing to do to a woman you shared such
intimate
experiences with," said Tarly, snakes writhing.

"Er," said Franco, and in a rush, scrabbled with his pack, yanking free a D5 and presenting himself aggressively, as if to say,
A-har! You didn't expect that, did you?

"Tut, tut," said Tarly. "You're so predictable."

"And you're so
dead,
snake meat!" A
boom
echoed across the rocks, and echoed back from the rearing mountains. Franco peered through the smoke to see how much damage he'd done - which was none at all.

"Foolish," said Tarly. "
That hurt
."

"Yeah, well, it shouldn't have done - you already look like a woman with her head torn open!" She grabbed the gun with a fluid movement that left Franco staring stupidly at his hands.

She levelled the D5 at him. "Let's see how you like it," she said.

"Now don't be like that, love," said Franco, lifting up both hands and cringing.

"Squawk!" Polly screeched at the last moment of her vertical dive from high above, and Tarly glanced up - to get the parrot Special Friend full in the face - hole - thrashing-tentacles - whatever. There was a metallic
whump,
and Tarly dropped the D5, both hands snapping up to the parrot now wedged in her head-hole, pecking like mad, its beak a flurry of violent activity as Franco dropped to his knees and scrabbled in his pack. He pulled out two Babe grenades - so named because they gave you a good
fucking.

"Polly, get out of there!" screamed Franco, but he needn't have shouted. Tarly had grabbed the bird, and dragged it slowly away from her face - along with ribbons of her own stringy, writhing snake flesh.

Polly was flapping and squawking. Tarly threw the metal bird to the ground and ground it underfoot. The Special Friend flapped around listlessly, emitting
pops
and little blue sparks, and then was still.

Tarly looked up.

"Catch!" snapped Franco, and threw a Babe grenade into her open writhing face. There was a pause, but a short one because Franco had initiated a slam-fuse - then a
boom!

Tarly went spinning backwards, black smoke pouring from her head, and Franco rubbed his hands together and grinned. "Job's a good 'un," he congratulated himself, and walked cockily to Tarly's prone, shattered body. He stared down at the blackened stump of her neck. He'd quite literally blown her head clean off.

"I fucking told you not to mess with me," said Franco, wagging his finger. "Everybody underestimates Old Haggis, so they do, but this time you got it, and you got it good."

Smoke drifted from Tarly's detonated head.

Her leg twitched.

Franco glanced back, to see Pippa emerging. She carried a yukana sword, and Franco shouted, "Hey, little lady, you won't be needing that anymore! I did the job, and did it well, with a good old bomb!"

"Franco!" she screamed, and something about the look on Pippa's face told Franco it was damn serious. And he was right. Hands grabbed his arms, and he struggled for a moment, wrestling with... with...

He turned. "But... you're dead!" he wailed. She obviously wasn't. Yes, she had no head, but more snakes had erupted from the scorched stump of her neck, wavering around madly, little black eyes staring at him with unabridged evil. "Get off!" he struggled. But Tarly was strong. Real strong. "Get it off me!" screamed Franco, fighting as hard as he could, but he was outclassed, and he knew it...

There was a
hiss
, a slap of flesh, and one of Tarly's arms came free. Franco gawped, uncomprehending. There came another hiss from Pippa's yukana as she cut Tarly's other arm off
.
Both arms were still holding onto Franco and he staggered back, a creature of four flapping arms, and howled a long, high howl as befitted any man put through such trials and tribulations. He tried to pull free the severed arms, which still gripped him and squeezed and shook. He screamed and slapped at them, and they quivered, and he tugged at them, and Pippa ran to him, cutting them again into four pieces. Finally, the pieces fell to the rocky ground and Franco danced back like a man on hot coals. "Eugh! Eugh! Eaurch!" he was saying.

"Keep away from them," said Pippa, and turned her attention back to Tarly. She was standing perfectly still, armless, headless, and Pippa wondered how many more bits she'd have to cut off before the bitch got the message. Suddenly, Tarly Winters...
shattered.
Or melted. Her body seemed to turn into a blob, sinking down towards the rocky ground in a fattening mass. From her clothing burst a hundred pale white snakes, and they wriggled in a high-speed frenzy, down between the rocks, down into cracks and holes and gaps, down through snow and ice and - Pippa blinked - in an instant, the snakes were
gone
. Tarly was gone.

"It it dead?" muttered Franco, grabbing his D5 shotgun and poking one of the cut arms with the toe of his boot.

"I... don't think so," said Pippa. "Gone, but not forgotten, yeah?"

"What a bitch," said Franco.

"You pulled her."

"I didn't know she was an alien!"

Pippa levelled a beady eye at him. "Yeah, right, that's what they all say. I'll go and help Strogger and Anklebolt. But you!" She pointed.

"Yeah?" he said, suddenly bright at the prospect of
not
having to marry General Tarly Winters.

"Go and see to the parrot."

"
And ho, ho, ho! Here we are above the battle, with the Mistress herself live in her War Balloon! Hello, there, Mistress, can you tell me how do you think the war is going?"