I strapped baby Clone McClain into the custom-built cockpit … and held my breath.
I’m still holding my breath, a decade later.
McClain’s craft shot off into the fray and pounded at the ships all around him in the light-punctuated darkness of space. We knew he saw every living thing as a target—the original had—but we hoped against hard odds he would find our enemy more challenging than us.
After he dispatched a few Earth boys and girls, he switched attention to the whelming alien horde. Could our Great and Terrible Hope win? Could he be satisfied by victory?