Chapter 10

"As you probably know," said John. "The Land Wars of some twenty years ago began in Euro as a result of long standing tensions between the Western and Eastern Alliances. The last straw, however, was the issue of who would control the independent Western Slav Association."

"John, is this necessary?" Rada asked. "What the fuck has this to do with us?"

"It's sets the stage, my love, so please bear with us," he answered. "Now, the Western Slavs had one of the few remaining tracts of open land left in Europe, the Plain of Silesia. The Plain was stripped, barren, with little potential, until, the development of terra-forming technology."

"Ah!" George leaned back as if suddenly getting the point.

"Terra-forming brings unproductive, leached soil back into arable farmland," John continued. "Although Euro could long feed its population using artificial processing, many, and, if I may say, most wealthy Euros, developed a taste for organically, soil grown, meat and vegetables. What the Terra-formers didn't have was available land, so..."

"So, they put pressure on their government to strike deals with the Western Slavs..." George interrupted.

"Which put them into a kind of imperial rivalry with the Eastern Alliance, correct," John agreed. "Well, of course, now terra-forming is big business and three years ago the companies formed joint ventures with Cityplex. In that case, Cityplex based combines struck deals with the Bakhunins, whose Rides bordered Cityplex. Factions within the band disagreed causing a split into the North and South Bakhunins."

"We know most of this, John," pleaded Rada.

"Sure, beloved, but please be patient. We have to follow the process - all will become clear, I promise." Rada looked doubtful, so John blew her a kiss. She smiled and shrugged. "The next topic we need to cover briefly is, colonisation. Euro is bursting with population. Despite extreme birth control laws, there are far too many people. Euro society is highly regulated, stifling, crowded and, like Cityplex, people live in artificial environments in enormous buildings we call 'plexes.' Euro folks want out, and, for those with money, one 'out' is colonising 'the West.' Again, it's big business, and joint ventures between Euro and Cityplex have struck lucrative deals with the Northern Bakhunins to open land up for settlement."

"Aha?" George cried, pretending he'd understood everything all along.

"We should now regard terra-formers and the colonisers as one in the same interest. They have become so intertwined, there's scarcely any difference. Colonial companies are called 'Societies', because, originally, thats what they were - societies to promote Western colonisation. Several 'societies' in Euro have been well funded to the extent they can hire airships, survey, publicise, market, and engage security firms to protect their clients. Both Euro and Cityplex Governments, however, have been somewhat weak kneed about it all - until now."

"Huh? Why now?" asked Rada.

"Who knows?" John shrugged. "Bribes, lobby money? It's not important. What is important, is there is now serious money involved in both colonising and terra-forming and both Governments are slowly coming around to support them. That is the overall situation and, now, I'd like to formally invite Pfeffer Diep to the discussion."

John waved his arm in Pfeffer Diep's direction, and the little man perked up. "Ah," he said, in a high pitched voice. "My name is Pfeffer Diep. I am of mixed parentage - my father's family was originally from Cambodia. My mother, however, was from Niedersachsen and that is where I got my good looks." He paused for effect, but only John chuckled. Looking around, he continued. "I have a Doctorate in Enhanced Biology and another in Organo-Cybernetics. I'm a specialist in Genetic Construction and Clone Microbiology."

"Fucking Hell!" Rada gasped. George just stared in awe, unable to open his mouth.

"I was employed by the Inkubis Institut some 15 years ago and have been involved in clone research until last year."

"Ah!" said George.

"If I may?" John interrupted. Pfeffer Diep nodded. "Pfeffer Diep visited Cityplex on vacation about two years ago. He sought out an Ark bar in the old sector and handed a memory fillet to someone he thought reliable. By chance, that person was a Durrutti by the name of Mikele."

"Mikele?" Rada cried.

"Yes, the same. Mikele saw that the fillet was passed to me. On it was some useful information for us and an invitation to establish regular contact. Naturally, we were skeptical at first..."

"You see?" added Pfeffer Diep. "At first Inkubis was in the business of supplying enhanced clones to the military. I approved of this - I saw it as patriotic - but, the war finished and Inkubis's market dried up. They then went to supplying security firms, mercenary groups. I was beginning to have my doubts. But, this whole 'colonisation' thing was the last straw for me. I decided to give over what information I received to the Arks, to use as they saw fit."

"Unfortunately," John smiled. "Most of it was bunk!"

"Ah, yes," Pfeffer Diep grinned wryly. "For a time I was used as a conduit for disinformation. In my innocence, I didn't realise what I was given was false. I had been compromised early on and certain, ah, groups supplied me with lies to keeps the Arks off balance."

"We believed it, at first, and Suetonius took a lot of convincing we were being set up. 'A million soldiers ready to embark from Euro' - 'tank carrying airships' - 'personal plasma weapons strapped to a person's finger.' All crap. The Societies couldn't possibly put together that kind of force. No plasma weapon in the universe draws energy from the substance of space. It was all bullshit designed to lose our faith in Pfeffer Diep and to screw with our heads."

"Precisely, and I fell for the whole thing," Pfeffer Diep admitted. "You see, every Euro citizen is chipped at birth. A micro chip in inserted in the rear cranium, here," he indicated. "Mostly, these are used for benign purposes - your social security, various entitlements, personal worth, and do on..."

"I don't call that 'benign'," Rada protested.

"Ah, because you're not a Euro citizen, my dear," he told her. "There, we accept it as a fact of life. Now, these chips are very clever. Security Services can track you to the scene of the crime, for instance, and, ah, they can listen into your conversations."

"Shit!" Rada exclaimed.

"Somehow, unauthorised people gained access to my chip and tracked my activities. I think it likely Inkubis in league with a Society called, SNL, Societe Nationale de Liberation. Some people have their chips removed - outcasts, who are forced to live in the fringes because they've broken some serious law. Outcasts cannot gain access to anything, apartments, services, benefits, nothing. You require a chip for those things. One day, I was getting out of the train when I was approached by one outcast. I remember him from Inkubis - he was a geneticist. He bumped me and placed something in my hand - it was a holo-fillet. From what was revealed on that fillet, I knew I had to flee Euro and deliver it personally to John."

There followed a pause - everyone looked at John for a reaction. "Ahem," John coughed. "Pfeffer Diep landed in Cityplex and went straight to the bar in the old sector. There, he talked the Bakhunins into slipping him over the border. It took two months, but we eventually brought him to Iberica."

"What was on the fillet, John?" George asked.

"That's why we're here," he replied. "However, tell us about the clones, first, Pfeffer Diep?" he suggested.

"Ah, clones!" he said. He flicked on the cube and a figure appeared, slowly rotating. It was of a naked man, or manlike creature. "The base model was the Dagger. Enhanced features included fighting qualities, naturally, but they were none to bright. Low self awareness. We felt that a conscience would inhibit them too much. Next, we have the Lance, the Sabre..."

"There's our boy!" Rada exclaimed.

"All those early models relied too heavily on functioning drugs. Eventually, they burned up their systems resulting in an early retirement."

"Retirement?" George queried.

"Yes. They were usually brought back to the lab where anything useful could be harvested. Then, they were euthanised."

"Killed? What a fate - it's abhorrent!" Rada snapped.

"Maybe, but to let them linger would be inhumane. It's otherwise a slow death and painful."

"Go on?" John urged.

"Some four years ago, we were asked to develop a model specifically for covert operations. He had to have superior fighting qualities, of course, but, also, a brain of exceptional complexity. The requirement was to provide him with multiple, separate personalities, each one with high adaptive characteristics. An organic node was developed, integral with the brain, which acted as a communication device and motherboard. Its operator can use this to flick from one personality to the next, relay instructions, update programming and receive feedback. Such a model was the perfect tool for infiltration, sabotage, intrigue of every nature. The model has his whole historical recollections uploaded. Torture cannot force the model to reveal his true mission, because his dominant consciousness has no access to it, unless the operator instructs it. He really believes in whatever reality has been programmed into him."

"Wow!" George exclaimed.

"Three have been constructed so far. They are very expensive to make. Each one can be customised for the client's intended use. We call him Model 'Q-Plasma'."

"Q-Plasmas?" Rada pondered. "And there are three? Where are they and who's using them?"

"SNL, I believe," Pfeffer Diep replied. "Number one," he said, flicking to the next image on the cube.

George and Rada gasped in shock.

"Fladomir," John spoke up. "Leader of the Southern Bakhunins, otherwise known as 'the true Fladomir.' He isn't, of course. The 'true Fladomir' is Fladomir the Ninth of the Northern Bakhunins, otherwise known as the 'false Fladomir'," he tapped the side of his head as if to free the confusion. "His mission in all this is to establish control over all the dissident factions of the Bakhunins, which he has. I believe his next task is to take certain actions that will lead to war with the Northerners, in alliance with Cityplex."

"How?" Rada asked.

"By a series of provocations. He must tread a careful path as many of his followers are not stupid. Whatever he does, he must carry Southern opinion with him."

"For what purpose?" Rada asked. "Why go to war? Ark against Ark? It's unnatural!"

"True. But, SNL want the Bakhunins removed as an obstacle to the acquisition of land. And, they want Ark unity destroyed. What better way than to place a maverick in charge of the belligerent Bakhunins - one you have secret control over?"

"Okay," Rada nodded, dumbly. "Who's next?"

"This one," John said. "His name is Armin de la Perriere, captain of the airship, Normandie."

"Uh, huh!" Rada said. "And his mission?"