Sons of Man
Part One: The Taking of Outpost Twelve
Jaga snarled and wrenched the control stick
of his small fighter as far right as it would go. The ship banked hard,
straining pilot and craft to the upper end of endurance against the crushing
G-forces. The region he avoided erupted in plasma as a pair of Mutant fighters
rocketed out of the sun's glare, filling the air of Thundera with fiery death.
His fighter was a scouting craft; the enemy
crafts were larger and better equipped. They were also heavier; even as they began
to pull out of their dive, he completed his arc and swooped towards them,
cannon roaring. He blasted the canopies of both enemy fighters, vaporizing the
occupants, and sending the superior craft earthward, the victims of a superior
pilot.
Jaga pulled out of his attack dive and
circled back over the battlefield. His heart was hammering in his chest, every
nerve raw. He passed over the wreckage of ten craft. Four were mutant fighters
such as those he'd destroyed. The rest were Beta Team, his wingmen, his
friends, goddammit. They'd been cut to pieces by the surprise attack; several
had died without ever knowing what killed them.
He banked his craft again, orienting westward
towards Outpost Twelve. A minor trading post on the edge of the
So why were the Mutants attacking? This was
not a small raiding band either, such as had been repulsed by the fighters in
the past. If the ground force was as skilled and equipped as the air support,
the outpost was doomed
"Com-net base, this is perimeter patrol
Beta," he said into the microphone. "We have come under fire. Patrol
is destroyed, repeat, patrol is destroyed. I am en route to the outpost,
requesting status. Over?" It was the first words he'd had time to utter,
so furious had been the attack.
"Beta team, this is Com-net," came
the reply. It was a young voice, male, a Panther Clan accent. It was colored
with sick fear, barely controlled. "Do not return to base. The outpost is
overrun. Repeat..." the youth's voice was lost in a blare of static.
Jaga's brain worked furiously. That the
outpost could be taken was already known; it's unimportance was it's greatest
defense. The garrison would fight to the last man to defend the civilians;
obviously, the Mutants had them outnumbered. A call would have been sent to
Tigris, the nearest established city. Even so, help could not be depended on
for hours. Assuming the signal hadn't been jammed.
He debated: if he flew straight on towards
Tigris, he could hook up with the reinforcements. If the alarm had not been
sounded, he could deliver it personally. However, by the time he returned, the
Mutants would already have finished their looting and razing of the outpost,
taking the surviving Thundercats as prisoners to slave their lives away on
Plun-Darr, the Mutant home world.
He decided. Alone, he could not hope to
accomplish much more than getting himself killed; but flying to Tigris, he
could not hope to accomplish anything at all. As the outpost appeared on the
horizon, he began looking for a safe location to put down.
*********
Their names were Meena and Tawn-Ya, two young
females of the Puma clan. They had come to the outpost with their parents from
the succulent farm they operated, fifty kilometers into the desert. The hardy
plants they raised sent their roots hundreds of feet deep, seeking out hidden
sources of water below the arid sands. The plants could then be tapped, the
precious water harvested and sold at the outpost once every few weeks. Then the
family would provision themselves from their earnings, and the cycle began
again.
It was a good life, but hard, and lonely.
Father was well aware his two cubs were both a marriageable age now, and that
the eldest, Meena, had a tender spot for a Tiger youth in the military attaché.
He was a protective parent, but Mother was more doting, and had convinced
Father to spend the night at the outpost, giving the girls some much-needed
social time.
Meena and Tawn-Ya had spent the morning
shopping. Tawn-Ya was not quite so anxious as her sister about dancing that
night, but then, she was not interested in a particular male either. By noon
dresses were selected, makeup chosen, and the young females were on their way
back to the hotel when the attack came.
They were strolling down the market road when
Meena saw an interesting shop down a side street. They turned, and were several
yards down the alley when a deafening roar shook the earth beneath them,
sending them both to the ground. They ran back to the main street to see the
town hall had been reduced to smoking wreckage.
Tawn-Ya looked to the other end of the road
and saw a fast-moving ground vehicle tearing around the corner and charging
down the street. Even as people raced to get clear, the figure manning the
turret above was firing into the crowd, hissing bursts of plasma that vaporized
the water in it's target's cells, blowing the victim's flesh to fried tatters.
A dozen Thundercats went to their graves in this manner as she watched.
Tawn-Ya grabbed her older sister by the
shoulder and yanked her back into the alley before they were sighted. "We
have to get to the hotel," Tawn-Ya said. As she spoke, the earth shook
again. The windows of the nearby buildings burst, showering the girls with
fragments of glass as they fell to their knees, covering their ears against the
roar of the explosions. Stunned, Tawn-Ya realized there was only one place she
knew with enough explosive to produce it: the base.
Meena's eyes were glazed, her face slack.
"Firebrand...," was all she said.
"We have to go!" Tawn-Ya screamed,
grabbing her sister and yanking her to her feet. They ran to the end of the
alley, found the thirty-foot wall that closed it. They each took a corner and
ran up it, their feet striking each adjoining wall in turn to propel them
upward. They crouched atop the wall, balanced on a span mere inches wide, yet
stable with the incredible balance of their kind.
From this vantage they could see the pillars
of flame and black smoke rising from the direction of the base. Tawn-Ya saw the
despair on her sister's face, the steady trickle of tears that flowed from her
eyes. Then a flash of light drew her attention, and she tapped her sister's
knee and pointed.
Two blocks over, the foot battle had begun.
The Thundercat forces wore the light armor they favored in battle, a silvery
metal, suited to disperse the lasers common among infantry, strong enough to
turn a sword or mace in close combat. Their helms were equipped with visors
over the eyes that were polarized to prevent retina burns from stray laser
energy. Unfortunately, the mutants were not employing lasers. The plasma rifles
they carried fired bursts of superheated gases, the stuff the stars were made
of. Flesh and metal vaporized with equal ease, the screams of the wounded and
dying rising into the air with the smell of charred flesh.
The Thundercat forces adjusted tactics,
relying on their innate speed and agility to keep clear of the deadly fire.
Springing to and from cover, they targeted and blasted mutants with lethal
accuracy. But even as Tawn-Ya watched, it was apparent they were losing. The
Thundercats were running out of energy for their weapons, and the pace was
exhausting them. Finally the last defender, a Lion Clan soldier, hesitated a
fraction of a second too long, was struck three times and immolated.
Tawn-Ya gestured for her sister to move off,
to begin working their way to the hotel. They crept on all fours to the end of
the wall, then dropped down to the street below. As they landed, three mutants
stepped out of the doorways and aimed their rifles at them.
********
Jaga waited till dusk to enter the outpost.
Attempting the wall any sooner would be simple suicide. Once inside, he moved
soundless and swift through the alleys, sheltering in doorways and buildings to
escape notice by patrols. Despite his young age, he was a veteran of many
campaigns, and had cleaned up after Mutant occupations before. But he'd never
witnessed one firsthand, and what he saw now filled him with despair and
helpless fury.
In the outpost square, the young males had
been gathered. Each had received an injection of a serum, the formula of which
was known only to the Mutants. It produced irreversible brain damage of a sort
that stripped the victim of all capacity for free thought, leaving them docile
and servile; perfect slaves. These were then herded onto transport crafts and
taken to the flagship, where they would be stored for delivery.
But it was the females that clawed at his
soul. He'd noticed already that most of the invaders were Monkey clan. Being
mammals, rape was an option for them, and one they put to full and obscene use.
There was a pattern to these assaults. The
Thundercat people were a warrior race, raising their daughters as well as their
sons to do battle with their ancient enemies, the Mutants. Therefore, the
Monkians always took a female in a three-to-one ratio, two restraining the
victim while the third raped her. Then positions changed and the next primate
took a turn.
The females reacted in different ways. Some
fought, spitting invectives and curses. Others, particularly the young ones,
seemed to withdraw deep within themselves, lying unresponsive to the assaults.
Some wept, while others offered a faked enthusiasm, trying to prove their worth
to their captors, and perhaps escape the ultimate fate that awaited them.
Whatever manner they responded to the rapes,
the response to the arrival of the mind-stealing needle afterward was always
the same: they begged.
Jaga faded back into an alley. He was not
afraid to die, but he could not throw his life away on a useless gesture. He
moved on, pausing once to wipe the moisture from his green eyes.
********
The door of the room was opened and the two
sisters were shoved harshly inside. Their arms bound behind them, they stumbled
and fell to the floor. Three large forms entered behind them, the last closing
and locking the door. One of them activated the overhead light as Tawn-Ya
rolled over to view thier captors.
The two guards were Monkey Clan, bare-chested
and muscular, clad in the armored kilts that were the only clothing they
habitually wore into battle. Their leader was not Monkian; he was Gorilla Clan.
The same height as his troops, he was probably a hundred pounds heavier, all
rock-solid muscle. His clothing consisted of a simple tan uniform, unadorned
except for a rank insignia. His coal-black eyes were set deep into his somber,
massive black-furred face.
The gaze he turned to the young female
captives was full of a humorless mirth, a cold amusement. He looked at them for
several seconds, as though deciding how to proceed. Behind him, his two
troopers retired to the back wall, their faces leering, chattering to each
other in their hooting native tongue. The room was thick with anticipation of
the games to come.
Tawn-Ya glanced around the room, her fear
like a bitter taste in her mouth. There was a window that could offer escape,
if it could be reached; they were only two stories up. There was the door, but
it was locked. Both avenues were blocked by the Monkians.
"My soldiers," the commander said
into the air without turning to face his men. "Who has led you this day to
your victory over the hated Thundercats?"
"Vertok!" the Monkians cried in
unison.
"And who has secured for you, your
rightful share of the spoils?"
"Vertok!"
"And so, my warriors, to whom does first
choice of the females belong?"
"Vertok!" the Monkians cried, then
broke into a hooting babble.
Vertok reached down and seized Meena by the
arm, yanking her to her feet with no visible effort. He spun her around as he
did, facing her away from him. He tore away the rope that bound her wrists and
pulled her close, one huge black hand cradling her chin between thumb and
forefinger as the other wrapped around her waist, pinning her to him. When he
spoke, his voice was smooth, articulate, sensual.
"Tell me, my little one. Are you
afraid?" he purred. Meena swallowed noisily, her lips working but no sound
coming from them. The ape slid his hand from her stomach to her breast. He
breathed into her ear, his voice a stage whisper.
"Now tell me; are you afraid?" he
said, his voice a stage whisper. Meena still seemed incapable of speech. As
Tawn-Ya watched, the ape's hand closed over Meena's breast and began to
squeeze. Meena's eyes squinted shut, her face a grimace of pain as he increased
the pressure.
"Now tell me," he repeated, a hint
of impatience in his tone. "Are you afraid?"
"Leave her alone!" Tawn-Ya roared.
With one fluid movement, she bent her body almost double, passed the cords at
her wrists over her feet, then rolled upright, hands in front. She moved
towards the ape but was intercepted. The Monkian struck her across the face
with a closed fist. She fell, but even as she did, she swept her foot out,
catching the soldier behind his ankles, dumping him on his back with a load thud.
Hampered by her bound hands, she could not
get to her feet before the trooper did. He took a short step and kicked her in
the stomach. The air rushed out of her like a blown tire. Stunned, she could
not avoid the next kick, which struck her in the side of the head. The world
spun sickeningly, and threatened to vanish altogether. At the end of a long
black tunnel, she saw the mutant draw back his leg for another blow.
"Yes!" Meena yelped. Tawn-Ya and
the Monkian both looked at her, still held by Vertok, his hand clenched upon
her breast. Vertok had never looked away from Meena for an instant.
"Yes. I'm afraid." Tears of pain
and terror rolled down her face, to match those of frustration shed by her
sister as the young woman struggled to remain conscious.
Vertok took his hand from her breast passed
it between himself and Meena. Tawn-Ya could see the back of Meena's short skirt
being manipulated. Meena grimaced, her eyes closed tight, her jaw clenched to
stifle a sob as the ape dragged her undergarment to mid-thigh.
"Tell me now, little she-cat," he
said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are you untouched? Have you kept
yourself," he paused. "Pure?"
Tawn-Ya struggled to get her knees under her,
but she could not find the coordination to do it. She heard her sister whisper,
"No," which brought her head around to look at Meena again.
Firebrand?, she thought. It would have to be.
"And your sister?" Vertok
whispered. "What of her?"
Meena looked at Tawn-Ya, and in the instant where
their eyes met Tawn-Ya understood where this was going, and saw in her sister's
eyes that she also knew.
"Yes," Meena said.
"Really?" the ape said. Tawn-Ya
felt the menace in the room come to a head. She pushed herself to her knees
now, tried to cry, to scream, but could produce no more sound than a croak.
"A pity," Vertok said. Tawn-Ya saw
Meena's body jerk savagely, her eyes and mouth fly open wide. She arched her
back convulsively, one arm flying up, the other reaching around her side, both
scrabbling for her back. The hard, sharp movement came again, lifting Meena
from the floor with the force of it. Tawn-Ya could see blood flowing down the
back of Meena's legs to form an expanding crimson pool on the floor. Her arms
dropped limp to her sides as her strength failed, but at last she found her
voice and now Meena erupted in an ear-shattering scream.
"No!" Tawn-Ya yelled, but even her
cry was drowned out. As her last breath departed her body, Meena's head lolled
back against the ape's shoulder. As she died, Vertok placed his lips next to
her ear.
"My preference," he said, "is
for virgins." He released his hold on her; her body slid loosely to the
floor, revealing the long dagger that had taken her life.
"You bastard!" Tanya shrieked at
the ape. "I'll kill you, I'll kill you! I'll..." her words dissolved
into a scream of pure fury.
Vertok turned his gaze upon her. "Men,
I'm sure you won't object to my taking first round with our little hell-cat
here?"
Behind him, his troopers hooted and jeered.
*********
Jaga kicked the door of the adjoining room
open with a crash. He immediately shot the first Monkian he saw, his hand laser
drilling a pencil-thin hole through the center of it's chest. He spun and
ducked, shooting another guard as the Monkian tried to draw a bead on him. The
dying soldier's blast discharged harmlessly into the ceiling.
He turned toward the ape and caught a flicker
of movement. Feline reflexes saved his life; he jerked to the side as the knife
buried itself in the wall. Off balance, he could not recover before the ape
closed the distance between them and swatted the laser from his hand. He swept
Jaga into his massive arms, pinning the cat's arms to his sides and lifting him
from the floor. Then the ape’s arms began to constrict with incredible force,
crushing the Thundercat.
Jaga struggled desparately as the air was
driven from his lungs, kicking and thrashing, but to no avail. He could hear
the cartilage of his spine and rib cage begin to pop under the inexorable
pressure. Suffocation narrowed his line of sight into a dark tunnel; all that
he could see was the broad flat face of the ape, filled with an almost sexual
pleasure as he killed the helpless Thundercat.
That face was abruptly obscured by a set of
delicate-seeming feminine hands. They flexed, driving their half-inch claws
into the flesh, seeking the eyes. They raked away from each other, gouging deep
furrows in the soft tissue. The primate roared in pain and surprise, dropping
the barely-conscious warrior to the floor, then driving it's elbow hard into
the female's midsection, sending her flying across the room.
Suddenly free, Jaga thrust the pain of his
body out of his mind, and lunged across the floor to his laser pistol. His hand
closed on the weapon and he rolled over to face his foe, only to see the ape
smash through the locked entry door and into the hall outside.
Jaga got to his feet and stepped quickly to
the fallen girls. The elder lay on the floor in a pile, like a doll discarded
by a careless child. There was no life left in her; it was spread in a gaudy
red puddle all around her broken body. The younger was too stunned to protest
as he yanked her to her feet and pulled her towards the window. He paused by
the door from which he had come, pulled the knife from the wall and began to
saw through the rope that bound her wrists.
"My sister...," she said weakly.
"I'm sorry. " he said, focusing his
gaze and attention on the blade. He heard her choked sob but ignored it. The
commotion had begun downstairs; he knew their time was running out.
The rope cut through, and he dragged the girl
to the window, thrusting it open and looking outside. The night air was cool,
the stars bright, Thundera's moon distant and removed from the slaughter it
show down upon. Throughout the town fires raged. The breeze carried the screams
of the mutants' victims to their ears.
Jaga sprang from the window sill first,
landing easily on the street below, the girl touching down beside him a
heartbeat later. She started towards the mouth of the alley, until he grabbed
her arm and pulled her into the open door of the building across the way. He
pushed the door shut and threw the latch. Seconds later they heard the voices
of a Monkian squad coming from the other side. Jaga grabbed the girl's wrist
and led her swiftly to a flight of stairs. As they climbed, they heard the door
below break.
Again they found a window, this time using it
to climb to the roof. From there they raced across the flat rooftops, placing
ever-greater distance between themselves and their pursuers. Near the outpost
wall they stopped, ducking against a low rampart to hide while they regained
their lost wind.
As they huddled there, Jaga asked,
"What's your name?"
"Tawn-Ya," she whispered.
"I am called Jaga,” he said. “Here is
what we're going to do. My fighter is located to the west about two kilometers
outside of town. When we go over the wall, we head for that. We'll fly for
Tigris and bring back reinforcements."
“No,” she said.
Jaga was so suprised that, for a moment, all
he could do was stare at her. "No?" he said finally.
"We should go to ground here," she
said. "Find a secure base and foray out, try to rescue as many others as
we can."
For the first time, Jaga actually took a good
look at the girl he'd rescued. He realized he'd been wrong to think of her as a
girl; she was in fact a young woman, strong, beautiful and well-built. Her jaw
was set, her gaze level, her blue eyes full of determination. She was a warrior
daughter of a warrior people, born onto a world that had never known peace. She
would be a formidable foe and a valuable ally. But she lacked experience, and
he wondered how much of her suggestion reflected her need for revenge on the
ape. He considered carefully before he spoke.
"I appreciate your desire to help, but I
have already scouted the town. There is nothing left to save here."
Tawn-Ya eyes flashed in the dim light of the
moon. "Would you have given up without finding me?" she said tersely.
Jaga sighed inwardly. "I already had. I
was leaving when I heard your sister‘s cry. I came here instead of flying on to
Tigris because I thought I could do some good. I would not be leaving if I
believed I could still make a difference."
Tawn-Ya was silent a moment, then turned
away, her arms crossed, holding herself. "My parents are still out
there."
Jaga said softly, "What would they want
you to do?"
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Survive."
"Then come with me."
She turned to face him. He was tall, thin but
well-muscled, with a handsome face and eyes that seemed sad somehow. He was
only a few years older than she, but his rank insignia was that of wing
commander. He wanted her to trust him. She knew this, and it enraged her.
"Why didn't you save my sister?"
she demanded, her voice full of venom.
He blanched, and she was suddenly ashamed for
saying it, but before she could speak, he turned and began to walk away.
"We have to go," he said quietly.
"Stay if you wish."
After a moment, she followed.
Another ten minutes brought them to the city
wall. They hurdled the last space from a nearby building and crouched atop the
fortification. Below and to the right were a collection of ten mutants, casting
dice over a pile of pillaged goods. To the left were two more, both Jackalmen,
one cleaning a nosediver, another looking out over the desert at the horizon.
Jaga moved down the wall to the pair of
caninoids, dropped down and cut the cleaner's throat before he could cry out.
The other received the blade in his temple as he turned to see why his fellow
had ceased keeping up his end of their conversation.
Twan-Ya landed in the sand beside the vehicle
and sprang onto the saddle. Jaga was about to ask her if she could pilot the
thing when a burst of plasma glazed the desert sand at his feet. He sprang
backwards, evading the next shot to land behind Tawn-Ya. He had barely enough
time to grab hold of her waist as she fired the thrusters, wheeled the vehicle
around and rocketed away into the desert as plasma fire ranged around them on
all sides.
After several minutes, Jaga took one hand
away from Tawn-Ya's waist and turned to look back the way they had come. High
above them and closing fast were five sets of lights, fanned out in an attack
formation. Skycutters, he thought. Light, quick and lethal, especially in the
open. They left the rider exposed, but the undersides were too heavily armored
for his hand laser to be effective. They would be within firing range in
minutes.
He glanced at the scenery, looking for
familiar landmarks, then saw something he recognized. He tapped Tawn-Ya on the
shoulder, stretched his arm into the view of her faceplate and pointed. The
nose diver roared over an embankment and into the stone canyon beyond. Directly
ahead of them were an array of tall stone pillars, crafted by centuries of wind
and airborne sand.
As cannon fire began to burst just behind
them, they reached the shelter of those pillars. Behind them, four skycutters
veered away from the stone obstacles. The fifth pilot, focused too intently on
his target, struck the upper end of one. Pilot and craft careened among the
stones, trailing burning wreckage behind, until bursting into a fireball
against the base of one of the larger pillars.
Tawn-Ya piloted the nosediver with the
reflexes and reaction time that were her birthright, weaving among the pillars
with a speed that made even the experienced combat pilot Jaga nervous. Risking
a look back, he saw the skycutters descending at the mouth of the canyon, and
swore. The enemy commander was persistent, and must have seen what Jaga had
himself on previous fly-overs: that this was a box canyon with no exit.
He tapped Tawn-Ya's throttle hand and made a
lowering gesture. They stopped and dismounted, taking cover beside a nearby
pillar. Jaga hastily explained the situation to Tawn-Ya.
"Can't we climb the canyon wall with the
nosediver?" she asked.
Jaga shook his head. "Too steep, and
even if we did, we'd be back in the same situation. And we can't climb out on
foot for the same reason."
In the moonlit darkness, Tawn-Ya looked
around, taking in her surroundings. "What about a cave?" she asked.
Jaga was looking in the direction of the
mutant landing site. "A cave might offer some cover, yes."
"Then what about that one?" she
said impatiently, pointing. Jaga looked, and saw the dark opening of the cavern
positioned well back under a ledge where it would not be visible from the air.
Even as his heart rose, he heard a low hooting call from the direction of the
enemy.
"Go!" he hissed. Tawn-Ya raced from
their hiding spot to the entrance, Jaga close behind. As he ran the last few feet,
a burst of plasma tore into the stone face of the cliff beside the opening. He
leapt for the entrance as more blasts heated the air around him, landing on his
hands and flipping forward to his feet inside the safety of the cave mouth. It
was only then that he realized he'd dropped his hand laser outside.
He swore violently, then grabbed Tawn-Ya's
arm and pulled her into the cavern. As the darkness went from deep to
suffocating, he produced a glow globe from a pouch on his belt. The egg-sized
ball shed a dim green light, poor in quantity but inexhaustible, revealing a
fork in the passage. They took the right-hand path and followed passage along a
lengthy curve until it suddenly ended in a wall of rock.
Jaga closed his hand around the glow globe,
reducing it's illumination to a wan candle’s worth. They crept back towards the
intersection, then stopped as they heard low voices just ahead. They ducked low
in the corridor and listened.
"...they had to come this way.”
"Take them both alive. The girl is mine,
and I want the soldier to see what becomes of her before they both die."
Tawn-Ya stiffened. In her mind's eye, she
could see her sister again, her lovely sister, impaled and writhing towards
death on the blade of the primate commander's knife, hear again that voice
saying, "My preference is for virgins." It was the same voice.
"Vertok...," she whispered weakly.
Jaga nodded, and together they slipped back to the end of the corridor. Jaga
passed the glow globe to Tawn-Ya, then drew his service knife from it's sheath.
He knelt and produced a smaller throwing knife from an ankle sheath. This he
handed to Tawn-Ya.
"I don't know how to use this," she
said.
"You heard them," Jaga whispered
grimly. "It won't go well for you if they take you alive."
Her face twisted into an angry snarl.
"If I die, it will be reaching for Vertok's throat, not cutting my
own," she hissed.
A smile twitched momentarily on Jaga's lips.
"Very well. Stay to the rear then, at least, and allow me to soften them
up for you.“ Then he crept forward and ducked beside a small outcropping of
rock. Tawn-Ya walked to the end of the tunnel and stood with her back to the
wall, knife held in front of her.
A Monkian stepped into view, his own glow
globe adding to the illumination. He saw Tawn-Ya, smiled broadly, and started
towards her.
Tawn-Ya took an involuntary step back, her
elbow striking the wall behind her with a crumbling sound. She looked over her
shoulder and saw a hole into another cavern.
"Jaga!" she yelled.
The pilot glanced back, and absorbed the
situation instantly. He rose from concealment like a striking panther and drove
his knife into the abdomen of the startled Monkian. Stepping close, he grabbed
the primate under the arms and heaved him backwards into the shadowy figures
beyond.
He had one second, maybe less. He raced to
the end of the corridor at top speed, threw his arms around Tawn-Ya and spun,
driving his shoulder into the wall. Stone shattered, plasma bursts lit the cave
in blinding flashes, and horrible pain raged through Jaga's body like a tidal
wave.
He was aware of falling through darkness.
Then the darkness swept inside him and he knew nothing more.
To be continued...
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