Replicants. The dogs of war on a leash held by greedy corporations. Living weapons with serial numbers instead of names. Genetically perfect soldiers, created for one purpose only – complete the mission at any cost. But what should they do when the thunder of battlefield is light years away, commanding officers are gone and there’s a civilian world around them? An enemy’s civilian world.
Two replicants must not only escape from enemy territory themselves, but also deliver two civilian women to the command HQ. Their wards are doing their best to compromise the mission, but orders are clear – these saboteurs are not to be left behind or killed.
Targeted Age Group:: Adults, young adults
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I wanted to write a story about people who don't necessarily have a grand special destiny or a quest to save the world single-handed. When we hear stories about famous battles, individual soldiers aren't in the spotlight, but they matter too.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
To a degree, some of my characters were inspired by people I served with or otherwise knew. They aren't portraits of those people, of course, more of a tribute to them.
"Escort? As in, bodyguard? Talk."
"Not bodyguards." For a brief moment, bewilderment won over fear in the young woman's eyes. "Courtesans. We pose as his girlfriends at parties and sleep with him for money."
"Courtesans?" The replicant sounded confused; he cut the loudspeaker and turned to Blaze for explanation.
"You, civilian expert… what's a courtesan?"
"I don't know, Sarge." Blaze was just as befuddled. "I've never met this term before."
"So why do they sleep with him for money? What's the point of that?"
"I don't know, Sarge." Blaze repeated; he thought for a moment and offered a theory. "Maybe he gets cold at night?"
"Why doesn't he activate climate control then?"
"How should I know?" Blaze was exasperated. "Who knows why mutts do things. Maybe it's fashionable, or prestigious. Like that hookah thing. Would you want to sleep next to them, Sarge?"
Replicants looked the women over. Sergeant squatted down and pressed a gloved hand over Angela's shoulder. He read the sensor data, then repeated the process with the other sister. They were warm, as is normal for mammals, and soft. And strangely intriguing. That last part the replicant figured out without the sensors.
"I don't know…" Chimbick mumbled, unsure. "Maybe I wouldn't mind…"
"Well, he doesn't mind either! And why don't you ask them, they are the courtesans after all."
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