Planet Hephaestus. Badlands.

Those who ever landed in an escape pod usually carried this experience with them for the rest of their lives.

"I hate landings like this." Blaze piped in once the roar of landing thrusters subsided.

Immediately, he heard the all-too-familiar "Shut up, Blaze."

Sergeant untangled himself from the cradle and checked on the passengers. Condition normal. The girls looked shaken, but weren't injured. The replicant grinned and tried to hail the commander, but there was no answer. His smile faded. Sergeant frowned and hailed again, to no avail.

"Weather is crap," Blaze piped in again, watching large raindrops bombarding the front viewport.

Noting that the passengers' clothing was incompatible with the weather conditions, sergeant walked to the hatch.

"Blaze, stay here." he ordered over comm. "I'm going to see the major, he's not answering the comm. Probably interference due to rain."

"Strange," Blaze replied as he called up a map on his tacblock. "I'm reading his pod clearly."

"So I'll check." Sergeant opened the hatch and jumped out, just to sink ankle-deep into reddish brown mud.

Ignoring the rain drumming on his visor and armor, the replicant looked around for the officers' pod. It was less than a hundred yards away and he walked over, struggling to lift his feet from the muddy ground. Every step was an uphill fight: the ground sucked at his feet like some unknown carnivore, and clumps of dirt stuck to his boots seemed to weigh hundreds of pounds each.

Finally reaching the pod, sergeant activated the comm link again.

"Major, sir, this is RS-355-085. I'm by the pod, Sir."

No answer. Sergeant waited five seconds or so, then pressed the lock key and entered the pod.

The operatives were dead, one didn't need a degree in medicine to see that. Sometime during the landing, the pod clipped a rock outcropping, and a piece of stone broke off, decapitating both officers. Now it was stuck in a bulkhead.

Replicant stared at the bodies for a moment, then left the pod and locked the hatch. Commanding officers' death meant that now the sergeant was in command. And the last order they received must be completed. At any cost.

"Well?" Blaze asked curiously as soon as sergeant returned.

"Dead, both of them." Sergeant didn't need more than a couple of words to explain the situation. "Clipped a cliff on landing and were decapitated."

"What are we going do?"

Sergeant shrugged. "Deliver the passengers to Eldorado."

It suddenly dawned on him that their conversation must look like a pantomime to an outside observer. He turned to the women and activated the vocoder again.

"Ma'am, both major and captain are deceased. I am now in command of the operation. I am Sergeant RS-355085, and this," he pointed to Blaze, "Is RS-355090. Please remain calm and do not panic."

He fell silent, trying to find suitable words, but for some reason, nothing came to mind. Talking to civilians was not one of replicant's skills, and the standard set of commands for emergency measures in areas affected by natural and man-made disasters didn't seem suitable for this particular situation. Actions proscribed during mass riot suppression... even less so. It seemed unlikely that the women would appreciate something like the "On the ground, face down, hands behind your head" command, especially accompanied by liberal use of obscene expressions, as recommended by instruction manual.

After some thinking, the sergeant decided to continue in a different key.

"We are in hostile territory - planet Hephaestus. Therefore, I request that you do not initiate contact with local population and stay close to us, ma'am."

Despite his misgivings, there was no panic among the civilians. After the successful landing the passengers composed themselves quickly and now looked bewildered rather than scared. Upon hearing the news of the officers' deaths, the twins exchanged a silent look and just listened to the replicant's speech quietly and attentively.

"What are you going to do next?" asked one of them.

The replicants couldn't help but be stricken by the melodiousness of her voice. Until now, the only female voice they ever heard - not counting the terrified screams during riot suppression - was the tactical block. And that was a pale imitation of the real thing.

Sergeant realized that he was just standing there agape and waiting for more. Closing his mouth, he glanced around, embarrassed, as if anyone could see his face through the helmet's opaque visor. Finally convinced that nobody noticed anything, he answered the question, trying to sound emotionless like before.

"Complete the mission and deliver you to Eldorado, ma'am."

Both soldiers checked weapons and gear, their smooth practiced motions akin to those of battle mechs - similarly identical, faceless and determined. Inspection complete, the sergeant opened the hatch to emergency equipment compartment and produced a stack of bright yellow protective coveralls.

"Make your selection, ma'am." He held the packets out to the girls.

"Don't you think we'll be too noticeable in this?" one of the twins asked matter-of-factly. "Also, you are bound to make the locals nervous with your armor."

That didn't stop them from studying the labels, though. They chose and unpacked the coveralls, but now studied them as if seeing such equipment for the first time.

"Ma'am." Noticing their trouble, sergeant took one of the outfits and showed how to unfasten it. "What do you mean by noticeable?"

"You said it yourself that locals are hostile," the other girl joined the conversation. "And you don't have your own ship anymore. So the logical thing to do would be to change into something less conspicuous, buy tickets to Eldorado and just fly there."

The sergeant nodded, showing that he considered her argument, and continued with the explanation.

"Ma'am, Hephaestus is controlled by the Foundation Union. There's no communication with Eldorado, so we will capture a transmitter, send a signal and wait for help."

"What if there is no help?" one of the girls predicted gloomily, as she fought the fastenings on her dress. "Who cares about us enough to get us off a hostile world? It's a better bet to get out of here on our own. There must be communication with some neutral planets, no?"

"Ma'am?" the sergeant was genuinely surprised.

He was in the exact situation he's been prepared for all his life: in the enemy territory, deep behind the lines, where one should hide and sneak attack the enemy. The young woman's words contradicted the replicant's entire world view. He couldn't comprehend the idea that one could simply go and buy a ticket to Eldorado.

"If there is no help, ma'am", he continued, " We will capture a ship with a pilot."

"Awesome." the young woman summarized quite mirthlessly.

The twins either forgot to introduce themselves, or didn't think it was necessary.

The other passenger suggested an alternative plan. "Let's split up. "We'll fly like normal tourists, changing flights, and you can wait for help, capture ships and do whatever you want. "And once we get to Eldorado, we'll see whose route was fastest and easiest. Okay?"

"No ma'am." The sarcasm was completely lost on the sergeant. "Your plan is not acceptable. Please finish changing your garments, we are leaving. We need to move as far as possible before nightfall."

"What about the officers?" Blaze inquired.

"I'll take care of that." The sergeant climbed out into the rain again.

A couple of minutes later he was fitting a plasma grenade onto the pod. That done, he was just about to set the timer and tripwire mode, but had a sudden stroke of genius - to take the officers' dog tags and return them to the HQ back home. In addition to being a corporate ID, each of these dog tags was also the crowning achievement of nano science - a multifunctional computer with enormous capabilities.

The replicant detached the dog tags from the bodies, carefully packed them away into his backpack and turned to leave, but then his eyes caught sight of a bag the commanding officer carried on his belt. Deciding that in their situation it would be unwise to waste resources, sergeant took the bag and inspected its contents. It turned out to be full of coins - Union marks they started minting just before the war. Sergeant tsked and moved to put the useless item back, then decided that he might get reprimanded for losing a large sum of government issued money, so he added it to the backpack as well. With that, he left the improvised tomb and set the grenade to tripwire mode.

"Ready?" he asked as he entered "their" pod again.

"You could say that." Replicants' new wards sounded gloomy.

Survival coveralls were made of thin microcapillary fabric and protected the wearer from extreme temperatures, moisture and pressure, which would ensure survival even in a less hospitable environment than Hephaestus' mud and rain. Even though the coveralls were a bit big on the girls, microclimate systems were working well, so one could call the passengers' new gear satisfactory. Certainly more so than their civilian outfits, given the present conditions. However, they didn't seem to think so, judging by their muffled, but expressive comments regarding the new clothes. The replicants only understood about half of the words, but caught the general feel of displeasure.

"Do you have a map?" one of the girls asked as she inspected a light helmet doubtfully. "Are there towns or well-traveled highways around here?"

"Yes, ma'am." the sergeant nodded.

The young woman's reply surprised him again. "That's where we must go."

He didn't expect to hear a well thought out and reasonable suggestion from the passenger; the replicants were taught that once in a critical situation, all civilians turned into helpless creatures prone to panic and requiring constant care and control.

However, RS-355-085 observed no panic. Instead, the passengers showed initiative and offered reasonable ideas. If they were, indeed, with the Intelligence Service, then their ideas should be at the very least heard. The replicants had no idea what to do in a peaceful city and how to behave in order to avoid too much attention. But the young women seemed perfectly convinced that they could blend into a crowd of civilians. The sergeant also began to think that such an infiltration would be successful. Looking harmless and attractive would confuse any civilian. The replicant himself, however, was leaning towards an idea that he was accompanying Consortium agents.

One argument for this theory was their complete obliviousness to nudity. During classes the instructors mentioned the multitudes of various taboos and voluntary limitations civilians accepted; public nudity was one of them. The young women, however, changed their clothing in front of the replicants without hesitation. Besides, Consortium wouldn't put in all this effort to extricate them from hostile territory for no reason.

RS-355085 picked up a notepad and downloaded a local map from his helmet tac block.

"Here, ma'am." he said, showing the notepad to the young woman. "Eighty kilometers south of here there's a town, Stratos city".

"I told you they were from Intelligence." Blaze seemed to have come to the same conclusion as the sergeant.

"And the road... " Ignoring his brother, the sergeant continued. "This is the closest one, leads to a mine. Approximately fifteen kilometers from here, ma'am."

The girls exchanged glances once again. If they had opaque helmets on, the sergeant would have thought they were communicating with each other, but he could see the women's faces and their lips didn't move. Still, he could have sworn the twins could understand each other. Some cutting edge implants, similar to what the replicants themselves had?

"So how about we get transportation?" suggested the girl holding the notepad.

"What for, ma'am?" the sergeant asked confusedly. "It's not difficult to capture a vehicle, but it will attract attention and make it easier for the hostiles to detect us."

He offered the young woman a small box.

"Comm links, ma'am. Tune them to our frequency. Time to go." He waved at his squad mate and went outside into the torrential rain.

After a moment's hesitation, the twins put helmets on and followed. One of them made several uncertain steps over the mud and stretched out her arm, catching the downpour with a gloved hand. Then she took off the helmet and looked up at the sky, happily despite the rain that made her squint. The replicants watched her, dumbfounded, trying to guess if this behavior was typical for humans.

For them, this was the first time under real rain. The space station where their lives began ten and a half years ago had no atmospheric events, for obvious reasons. And in the stony wastelands of Hel, where the first battle of this war was fought, no rain was expected in the next couple hundred years. The sergeant felt an urge to take his helmet off as well and find out what it was like to stand in the rain. But the training ingrained into his entire being forbade such silliness. All the dangers possible on an unfamiliar planet, from unbreathable atmosphere to a number of viruses and bacteria capable of ending those who disregard safety precautions in mere hours, were instinctively expected by every replicant. Armor is your second skin. Symbol of safety. Your own world, even with an illusion of solitude.

* * *

The other girl distracted the replicant from his thoughts. She fumbled with the comm link for a moment, then walked over to the soldiers and asked a bizarre question:

"How do you set these up?"

"Ma'am?" the sergeant was genuinely surprised again.

Deciding that she might have been inexperienced in working with that particular model, he took the comm from her hand and quickly tuned it to the required frequency.

"Now put the earbud in, ma'am, and the mic..." he turned back her coveralls collar and carefully pasted the mic strip onto her neck. "...goes here, ma'am."

Having completed the process, he walked several steps away and activated his own comm.

"Ma'am, this is RS-355-085. Can you hear me okay?"

"Perfectly well," a woman's voice sounded in the ear bud. "Can you do the same for Rie?" she nodded towards her sister, still motionless under the rain.

The young woman was so absorbed in watching the deluge that she didn't even notice the approaching replicant.

"Ma'am." he called out to her. "Allow me to assist you with your comm link."

"Huh?" the girl called Rie looked at the replicant distractedly. "Yes, of course."

Resignedly, she allowed him to put the set on her, and then, with a regretful sigh, put the helmet back on.

"What if I want to turn it off?" she asked over the comm link.

"Just take off the mic or take out the earbud, ma'am."

Sergeant approached his squad mate and the two engaged in a quick conversation only they could hear.

"Let's move," the sergeant finally ordered.

"To the road, I hope?" A woman's voice inquired in the headphones.

The girls fell in behind the soldiers and followed somewhat clumsily, slipping in the mud.

"We made quite an entrance, so they'll be looking for us," the young woman continued, "But with a car we can get as far away as possible from the pod much faster. Then we can abandon the car, and there they are chasing the wind."

The sergeant thought it over. Theoretically, if it were just he and Blaze, they could cover quite a distance just running by the time any search party appeared, but in the present situation... He looked back at the girls slipping and sliding in the muck, sighed and reluctantly agreed.

"Yes, I agree with you ma'am. Set for the highway."

* * *

The replicants set a fast pace, trying to get as far away as possible from the landing site. Looking at how swiftly they could move even loaded with backpacks, it was hard to believe they were creatures of flesh and blood.

"We will arrive shortly, ma'am." the sergeant informed the young women during a short stop in a rocky crevice.

Despite all doubts, the new companions held their own during the forced march. The sergeant made a mental note: the young women's physical fitness was in compliance with the regulations adopted by several enforcement agencies within the Consortium.

"Five more kilometers and we will reach our destination." he said aloud. "Are you hungry?"

"We'll eat once we get a car." One of the girls replied. She was perched on a large rock.

The other, called Rie, silently waved them off and began scraping the sticky mud off her shoes with a piece of stone.

"By the way, how do you plan to stop a ride?" she asked.

"A ride, ma'am?" Blaze sounded bewildered.

"Transportation." Rie explained without interrupting her task.

"We will destroy the crew, ma'am." the sergeant replied; Blaze nodded and patted his carbine lightly. "Civilian cars are not armored, and therefore, this will not be problematic."

Reactive ammo used by the Consortium could effectively take out lightly armored targets as well, but the replicant decided not to talk about that.

The girls exchanged a look again.

"Maybe we shouldn't leave a trail of bodies?" Rie offered a novel suggestion.

"We will hide the corpses." The sergeant was slightly offended by the idea that he could make such an error as leaving witnesses behind or not hiding corpses. Replicants were taught to cover their tracks from a very early age. Long before they would begin practicing on "dummies" - criminals whose personalities were erased.

"Alright, you'll hide the bodies." The girl agreed. "But there will be a search for missing people, and it's really not that hard to track a missing citizen's car route. Our route, that is."

"We cannot leave witnesses," the replicant said stubbornly.

"We can cover one crime with another," The other girl, assigned the name of "Not Rie" by the replicants for now, joined the discussion. "Do you have a paralyzer?"

"Yes, ma'am." the sergeant took a black rectangle out of his pouch and opened it with a click, extending a pistol grip.

He didn't consider paralyzers to be particularly useful; a low powered energy weapon only capable of stunning an unprotected live target for a short time. Even a car window would be an impenetrable barrier for one of these.

"Then it's simple." Not Rie continued. "You hide, we take our helmets off, walk to the road and stop a car. Then we shoot the driver with a paralyzer, take everything valuable so it looks like a robbery, and leave."

The sergeant thought it over. It seemed like a reasonable suggestion. To his embarrassment, his own knowledge of criminal activities was very vague. The young woman's expertise was quite impressive. The replicant came to a conclusion that the protected subjects were, after all, Consortium Security agents.

"What's the probability of success?" he inquired.

"A hundred percent," Rie laughed. "What can possibly go wrong?"

The sergeant gave her a doubtful look, but remained silent. He wasn't quite so sure - the tried and true method with witness elimination was, in his opinion, much more reliable.

"Let's do that." He finally made a decision and handed the paralyzer over to the young woman.

"Great," she replied happily and took the weapon. "Just one small thing left to do."