A fireball lit the night sky and pummelled a tower that looked in the distance. Smoke billowed from it and flames engulfed it. The oldest clones pressed their hands against the passenger cabin windows.
"We're too late to help," Annika muttered.
"What is the tower?"
The question was met by simultaneous shrugs from Raylay and Ty.
"We should have brought your mom," Ty said. "She'd know."
Three Dialorians appeared. The raging fire enabled the clones to see them. One carried a white-skinned creature who had long, flowing locks and a delicate frame. The other Dialorians had a limp, lifeless corpse. Like the little girl, these corpses had skin the color of tooth cleanser. One had long hair, wide hips, and a shapely figure. The other was stocky, with a shaved head.
"The ruling tower," was Anthem's guess as she gazed at the smoldering structure.
Raylay typed a code into a touch device, and the door of the passenger cabin took a liquid form. The girls slid through it and produced their blasters.
"Stay low," Raylay whispered across the transport's roof.
The darkness concealed the girls, Raylay, and Ty as they crept through.
"And fire," came the hoarse, sharp command from Raylay. "Don't aim for the one with the princess."
Lasers sliced through the Dialorian carrying the mother. He and the corpse tumbled onto the footpath. His comrade staggered a few inches and crashed down beside him. The clones looked into the night sky as spherical shapes blocked out the triplet moons.
"Great," Raylay retorted. "Go back."
When the clones paused, he turned around and gave the transport a sharp nod.
"Low profile," he whispered.