Gary struggled pinning the final medal onto my chest. My formal Mother's Hand uniform had arrived the day before my meeting with the prince. It was ghastly; all black with a red stripes down each leg, black epaulettes on the shoulders and with a row of gold buttons down the front, each one with the robed figure of Mother inscribed.

Gary's tongue was sticking out between his teeth in concentration. He didn't fit into his old Mother's Hand uniform, so wore a brown suit, with a black tie and his own collection of medals secured onto his chest. He had been invited as my plus one to the media event and especially for the occasion he had even managed to create a braid in his mullet ponytail.

The week had gone by fast. The highlight was me sticking my prosthetic arm in my veterinary scanner, pretending to clean it for the cameras while actually searching for bugs. To my relief, I found no transmitting tech inside my arm. The nagging pain behind my jaw from where my rig had been removed had subsided too.

Gary slapped me on the shoulder.

"Smart man," he said admiring his handiwork. "You look good. Like the super-soldier you are."

"I feel like an idiot," I said quietly.

Gary looked behind him, his screenwall was there, watching us at all times. He spoke in a measured way.

"Well you look like the part Mother wants you to play. So be nice. Get mothered for the afternoon and then we will drink a thousand beers and celebrate your service being all over."

"Okay. Deal."

Outside a black Limousine had arrived to collect us.

"Let's go," Gary said.

***

We were driven through the smart homes of Section Three then passed through agricultural sections with fields of soy. Soon the checkpoint gates were lifting granting us access to great industrial sections, one with power plants and another with rows and rows of windowless white buildings that I had never seen before.

The only major industrial facility I had ever set my eyes on was the sewage towers on the edge section two, and that was covered in barbed wire and patrolled by Mother's Hand. According to rumor, that horrid black stained building was also where the bodies of dissidents were disposed of.

As we drove, Mother's Hand were everywhere, gathered in groups of two and three standing motionless along the highway, like scarecrows, their eyes glassy and unblinking even as we drove past.

We had to pass through multiple border checks, waiting each time while our invitations were checked and confirmed.

Finally, we made it to Section Ten.

We were welcomed with stunning green rolling fields, in the distance were huge mansions, the great shuttered estates of Mother's spacefaring sons. For my lifetime, Prince Drako, Prince Artero, and Prince Hieros had all been away, leading the defense against the Scynthians and their cunning Ardonian allies.

An old memory came back to me of a Mother's Heart worker in my foster home. She was in her eighties and when she spoke of Prince Drako's departure to the stars to take on the fight with the Scynthians her eyes shone with patriotic tears.

Mother's sons were our heroes, the Mother's Hand their armies.

Prince Rufus and Mother were at this time, alone on Earth.

***

We arrived at the gates of the Golf Course. They were huge, twirling black iron curling up twenty feet framing into the image of Mother's hooded form.

Two guards strode forward, heavily armed with rifles on their chest. Their shining black armor glinted in the sun. One held a scanner up to vehicle and after a moment gave a small nod.

The gates wheeled back leading to an immaculate marble drive. The club house lay before us framed with an avenue of huge statues.

"Woah," Gary said.

Our limousine purred to the clubhouse we had to drive down the long straight drive passing the huge statues of Mother's ancestors, Gods from forever ago, cast about the galaxy to govern and protect.

Finally, we passed the images of her sons before coming to a stand-still in front of a stone statue of her towering cloaked figure, a match of the giant statues which dominated her city. Beyond a staircase swept up to the golf club.

"Lovely statues." Gary said. "Very welcoming."

He kept a faux-brightness to his voice, but I didn't need to look to know he would be tapping his middle-finger on the seat-rest.

"Just charming." I managed. My collar was scratching, my neck was sweating and I started to feel ridiculous, coming here with medals pinned to my chest that I didn't earn, not really. We had no memories of our service; they could have just given these to me randomly to build some kind of trust or pride in the scam of my six years. And I didn't want to meet the giant prince. A space-faring immortal with unbreakable skin.

But yet here I was.

A modelesque brunette bio-worker walked down the stairs, dressed in a sharp black pencil skirt, matching blouse and high heels. Her gaze never left us. Like her legs had their own eyes. I was sure she would fall, but bio-workers could do things like this, chop a carrot without looking, or run backwards like while staring ahead. One of the many ways in which they were unnerving.

I realized then, from the tight-fitting red dress, to the perfect features – we were looking at none other than an Amy; a member of prince's own personal cohort.

We got out of the car and stood awkwardly in front of her.

Amy's were as close to a real human celebrity you could get in Mother's Land. with several holocube shows about all aspects of their existent; from Becoming Amy, to Who wants to be the Next Amy, to their celebrity lifestyle, travelling around with the Prince in his Gravcopter, not including the shows the Amy's host themselves; from the opening new factories, sharing scientific discoveries and so much more. There were many of them, and while some people went all in; on the holocube shows, collecting the dolls and games.

I couldn't think of anything more insane than actually competed to become an Amy. But people did it and people watched.

"828-KAL, 147-GARY, Welcome," she said blankly, large blue eyes staring past us. "Follow me please."

We followed her up and through the doors to the inside of the clubhouse. She led the way, hip-swaying and high heels clicking. The theme of grandeur continued, with massive oil paintings (in case perhaps an especially un-observant off-worlder had missed the statues) faces of Mother's lineage filling the walls formally posed, upon a backdrop of sweeping space, stars and planets.

We were guided through this hall to the rear veranda, beautifully carved from wood and painted white which served as a driving range. Ahead, stood the prince.

The size of the Prince caught me off guard once again. Nine-feet tall, powerfully built, blonde hair cut short on the sides and floppy on top. He was dressed all in white, pantaloons stuffed into socks. Wearing a tight white shirt tucked in, with the sleeves rolled up exposing forearms the size of my new thighs. He was facing away from us standing with a wide stride, holding a massive golf-club across his broad shoulders, one hand on the handle and one on the head of the club.

Another fifteen Amy's surrounded him. All dressed in red. Despite each Amy being of different ethnicities, hair type and features, all of them were near-stick thin, and the same height, same build. They matched.

"Your highness," one said to his side she gestured towards us.

"Hmm?" The Prince turned his head to her. Each feature of his face was twisted with power, a strong lumped nose and a right-angled jaw.

"828-Kal and 147-Gary are here for their visit."

"Ah yes. Of course."

His thick lips parted in a smile to reveal polished teeth the size of my thumbs pressed together.

Prince Rufus towered above, casting me in his shadow and extending a great slab of royal hand towards me.

I had to force my body forward and let my tiny hand be enclosed in his. His eyes locked with mine, in our shared shadow they seemed black, like I was staring into two back holes that would suck me in an destroy me. He squeezed my hand and pain shot up my arm. My hand was crushed. I knew then, in any moment he could pull my arm clean from its socket and fling it across the range.

"Hello," the prince said, his voice was deep and accent clean-cut. He followed up with a friendly slap on my shoulder that rattled my teeth.

"Hello 147 – I am sure it was terribly hard for you while Kal was away." The prince threw the comment away, barely sparing a glance at Gary.

He looked young. A human would age him mid-twenties. But our rulers aged slowly. From what I knew, Prince Rufus was at least eight-hundred years old and as our legends told it, landed in our world, more than five hundred years ago.

I opened my mouth and closed it again, with the hotness of the day and my collar pressing against my neck, I felt quite faint.

A cold hand was on my own. It was the Amy that brought us in, slightly stooped, her blue eyes locked intently on mine. Her lips pressed together in a tight grin the way an old lady would. She cocked her head slightly. "Hello Kal."

"Hello," I managed, feeling sick swirl in my gut.

It is Mother.

Gary was sweating in his uniform too, his jowls shining but pale. Like me, he was scared skiffless.

I decided to speak. "It is a great honor to be invited here your highness. From 147-Gary and myself, we are both so happy to uh, be in your presence."

Should I address mother? Do they know, I know it's her?

The prince leant back, a bemused smile on his lips. His eyes flicked briefly at Mother.

"It pleases us to hear you say that Kal."

He straightened up in a fake way, like we were all acting parts in a play. "It is of course I that should be thanking you. For your great service to our people. Mother's Hand are the backbone of this planet. I am curious; how has it been for you, post-service? No memories of any kind? No... echos? Nothing strange?"

"No... nothing your highness," I lied.

They didn't need to know I remembered the name 400-Ana.

"Not a jot eh? One of the greatest gifts we can give is shielding your minds from the horrors of war. Horrors that my brothers and I have had to bear witness to. We've shouldered so much, to keep you safe. You understood that of course.

I can tell you this – you were a wonderful soldier. I feel like I know you, which is ridiculous isn't it? Once you are in our training camps, it's just genetics and luck, ahh, but you had that little je ne se quoi that let you rise. Once unshackled from all that make us weak, even the most timid sometimes become our most savage soldiers. Fascinating no?"

"No– I mean–"

"You mean yes," The prince said, nodding along like I was a child. "Oh dear. Of course, you mean; "Yes, Prince Rufus." He nodded at me, coaxing me on.

"Yes, Prince Rufus," I said. My mouth was dry.

He snapped his fingers to another one of his beautiful entourage. She glided forward. "Bring this fellow a club and let's have these few swings eh?"

***

I watched the prince wind up on the tee, raising the golf-club high, muscles bunching, like a horse about to kick and then his body spun with grace and he hit the ball with a deep thwaack and it powered off into the distance. I tried to keep my eyes trained on it, but it was gone – vanished. The prince continued to squint into the distance.

"Gosh, eight-hundred yards, oh and it's bouncing." The prince said. "I think I've got it about 832 yards."

A soft electronic voice murmured from a roof speaker. "Prince Rufus, you scored eight-hundred and thirty-three yards."

"Ah." The prince said. "I was off. "May need to get myself prescription glasses." He briefly smiled at us in appreciation of his own joke.

I exchanged a glance with Gary.

How can he see that far?

My go was a disaster. I've never played golf and I scooped the ball about 50 yards ahead. "Terrible!" The prince called out behind me. We took turns. The prince laughing a little more each time I messed up, until I began to miss-hit the ball to roars of his laughter.

"Oh gosh," the prince said, wiping a tear from his eye. "This has been fun. Phew." He took a sigh, suddenly all laughter gone. "Photos!" He snapped his fingers in an Amy's who left and returned a few moments later retrieving a fidgeting and frightened fully human photographer.

The photographer was wearing a navy pant suit, despite it's loose-fitting nature, I realized she could have been an Amy herself, she was the same tall slim build, with light brown hair, black-framed glasses and a big camera.

"Come here 828-Kal. This is for the front page." The prince said throwing an arm around me. "Photographer, make sure you capture the beauty behind! Have you ever seen such a place?"

"No, your highness," she mumbled. The photographer seemed pale and taut like a wire about to snap.

Something about her features seem familiar...

I studied the features photographer, then looked back at the Amy Mother was inside, the Amy who had met us at the front of the gold house.

They're skuffing twins. I realized. They were nearly identical.

I swallowed, trying to imagine what it must be like, seeing your own blood – your own sister trapped in this hellish entourage.

I turned back to the photographer, to see he eyes on me. The photographer gave me the tiniest, shake of her head, human to human for, please don't say anything, and managed to fake a forced smile while she held the camera up and snapped a photo.

Me and the prince, his arm slung around me, clubs in hand.

"Lovely," The prince said. "Now. 828-Kal, why don't you get one with your boyfriend."

"I.. uh... Of course." I didn't bother to correct him that Gary and I were in no way romantically involved. Our desperately sparse records of get a girlfriends had somehow made it into Mother's system. But now wasn't the time to state that.

Gary came and awkwardly stood next to me. We both managed a terrified grin.

The photographer snapped away and bent over to view the picture in her viewfinder. I caught the glint of her necklace from her top. Upon it dangled a Christian cross.

Why the skuff is she wearing that?

I tried to force a cough to get her attention.

But I was too late.

"Don't move," the prince said. His voice had a razorblade edge to it. "Girl. Show me your necklace."

The photographer seemed confused for a moment then her hand jumped to her neck and her face flushed.

"Your highness... it is nothing, just an heirloom from my Grandmother."

The prince stepped towards her and with a jerk snapped the chain from her neck.

"Mother, look at this." He dangled the cross in front of the photographer's twin Amy. The vacant stare sharpened, the women rolled her shoulders forward into a slight stoop and her lips pushed forward sourly.

Mother reached up and took the necklace. "Why do you have an outlawed symbol, child?"

The photographer's face began to crumple as she stared into the face of her own blood. She shook her head. "Please, I beg of you, I meant no offence..."

Mother's face was grim. The prince used his golf club to lift the girl's chin. "Address your ruler correctly."

Tears slid down her cheeks.

I was just three when the OneCulture doctrine had been issued. Crushing the tiny budding resurgence of all cultural practices.

All old-world symbology was outlawed, an on-your-life decree. Discussions of heritage, celebrations of Old World culture all outlawed.

The Mother pursed her lips turned to look at Gary and I.

"My deepest apologies to both of you, for this girl's disgusting insensitivity. I am sure you are offended."

I swallowed. Because not being offended would be offensive to Mother.

"I'm sure she doesn't mean it your highness," I said. "I support our OneCulture so completely I've forgotten what any of those... outdated symbols even mean."

Above us I could hear a distant thrumming whomp-whomp of a gravcopter. It began descend about fifty meters onto the driving range, blowing up a cocoon of wind. I caught Gary's expression, he eyed the way we had come, as in, let's get the hell out of here.

But we were trapped.

"My boy," Mother said to the prince. "Take Kal and Gary away, I'll deal with this."

The prince slowly lowered his club. "Disgusting. They just never learn, do they Mother."

The prince gave an irritable sigh and leant his golf club on the side and ushered Gary and I towards the helicopter.

His Amy's followed, strutting across the golf range, like ants towards a sugar cube.

Mother, still in the Amy's body, was stood on the veranda with the photographer who was wiping her eyes on her sleeve as she stared at her twin sister.

The prince stormed ahead towards the chopper clambering into the large hold with us, there was a throne-esque seat directly behind the two pilots to carry his weight square. Gary and I took seats next to one another.

"Strap in chaps," he said sharply, shaking his head and clearly still annoyed. The Amy's climbed inside the chopper gathered all around us. Then the prince paused, letting out a sharp sigh. "Oh bugger it."

He flung his straps back and hop out the gravcopter, pushed his way through his workers, walking with purposeful strides towards the veranda.

I squinted to see him through the chopper doors and moving people.

The prince casually scooped up a golf-club as he marched towards photographer and her sister.

Gary and I both jumped as he swung the club.

One moment the photographer was there and the next she was gone, a splash of red behind where she was standing. It took only one blow. The prince had already turned around and was striding back to the chopper.

I watched Mother leave the sister's form. The girl's back straightened, and she followed the prince, hips sashaying as if she was on a fashion shoot without a backward glance towards her sister's body. The prince pulled himself up into the helicopter again.

"I'm dreadfully sorry about all that!" He shouted over the roar before plonking himself down. There was a spray of blood over his trousers which he hadn't seemed to have noticed.

He opened an e-paper to read.

The Amy joined and strapped in next to me, there were bits of gore and a small piece of white on her red dress.

I thought I was going to be sick.

The gravcopter lifted, and I felt a jolt of familiarity; like I had been in something like this before.

As we lifted higher, we could see the figure of the photographer on the veranda, her head now a red smudge, like someone had pushed their thumb down on a blob of red paint.

Two Mother's Hand went to pick her up, another grabbed the small black object from her dead grip.

Gary had seen it all too. Sweat beaded his forehead and he rubbed his hands back and forth on his trouser legs.

I swallowed heavily and looked about at the blank faces around me.

The prince was looking at me directly. He gave me a cold smile.

"Don't worry 828. He said. The photos will come out fine."