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they were in for a bumpy ride.
    "The opposition is in the area, gentlemen," Hedric called into the speaker. "Double strap if you can."
    Taking his own advice, he shrugged into the chest straps on his seat and latched them to the buckle equipped on his suit. In the event that something untoward should happen to the ship, there was a button on the underside of his right armrest that would initiate the personal life support system, otherwise known as the L.S.S. This was inextricably tied to his suit and the seat, which would eject and inflate the metal-meshed-plastic bubble meant to preserve his life until rescue. Barring several factors, of course; one, the seat had to clear the debris of the crumbling Lothogy; two, if they happened to be inside a wormhole at the time of ejection, then he was dead anyway. And three, the theory worked under the assumption that no one would be shooting at him.
    Myron took a sharp left, banking away from their docking point, and sent the ship screaming straight between two of the higher pyramid points. The MEDS screen flashed a warning that they had deviated from the specified flight pattern. Hedric turned the alarm off with a curse as one of the pursuing ships shot at them. Myron echoed the curse, toggling a switch on his armrest that thrust them into combat mode.
    The MEDS screen disappeared into the background as a three dimensional hologram of the surroundings shimmered into the cockpit. The pilot's chair sunk down and leaned back, giving Myron a clearer view of the battle. Buildings and land masses appeared blue, targets red, and Myron got to work.
    "Mesa certainly left an impression," Myron yanked up on the two flight sticks. The action tipped the Lothogy into a vertical climb and jostled Hedric flat against his seat. "What did she do? Piss on his favorite dog or something?"
    "Just get us out of here."
    "Sure thing, Captain, which way would you like to go?" Myron rolled the ship to avoid another spray of gunfire.
    Even through the hull, Hedric heard the whine of fourteen-foot rails as they barely missed the ship. Hedric glared at three red targets bearing down on them from the left. Two more were flaking them from the right, and one little cuss followed their tail. Myron was good, no doubt about it, but the odds of six against one were obviously not in their favor.
    "Space elevator or just a race?" Myron asked.
    Space was the preferable option given the dynamics of the ship. But an elevator would take time, and they both knew their pursuers would shoot at them and risk hitting the cable. The orbiting station would then shut the elevator down, disengage and quickly retract the metal cable before it could be severed. In theory, this would keep the cable from wrapping around the Earth and causing all manner of destruction, but it would also make the Lothogy a sitting duck for the Fomorri.
    "Outrun the bastards," Hedric ordered.
    Myron flashed a smile that looked half-crazed in the glowing blue of holograms surrounding him. He smacked a button on the dash - the one to open the petrol, Hedric recognized it - then flung the flight controls to the left and slammed both feet onto the pedals. The Lothogy made a quick transition and veered left, passing two of the Borden ships with heart-stopping speed.

*
    Audio Byte -- An Interview with Dr. Javiel Bravem, lead scientist in the Mavirus case -
    "The Mavirus was attacking certain parts of the female genome. We simply altered these genes."
    "So what you're saying is, they're not really human anymore."
    "The base code is still human. They are simply altered."
    "Yes but, they're not the female race as nature intended them to be."
    "You forget that the debate is not how God or nature intended women to look or be, but the basic need for survival. If we allow nature to take its course, the human race will be extinct in a hundred years."

Chapter Four

    Matthew Borden strode into the command deck of the Balor VII, too agitated to be pleased that his men had