Wayward Galaxy 2
Author: Jason Anspach
Date: 2021-07-13 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction; Science Fiction Fantasy; Fiction; Military Fiction; Space Opera; Military Science Fiction
Description: 'WAYWARD GALAXY 2' is the explosive sequel to the blockbuster first book that had sci-fi listeners calling for more. This next installment featured the gritty combat of Galaxy's Edge combined with the world-building intrigue of the Renegade Star series.
Publisher: Variant Publications

Copyrighted Material

Wayward Galaxy 2 Copyright © 2021 by JN Chaney and Jason Anspach

Book design and layout copyright © 2021 by JN Chaney

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from JN Chaney.

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1st Edition

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Epilogue

Author’s Note

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About The Creators

1

The early morning patrols were something Liana always looked forward to. Every two weeks she and other Osay would go out in search of RUPAC threats. It was a way Amir’s older colonists could help its newest, the Rangers and other soldiers who had arrived aboard the ship that was now central to their new, united camp.

She had left with several experienced Osay hunters before sunrise. And Brody, who could be counted on to prattle on the entire time. But that was all right. It felt… familiar. It felt safe.

The patrols were an escape. A time when she could still pretend that life was normal and the Osay—all of the Osay—were still alive and living in relative peace at the base of the mountains. Scratching out a hard and happy life in the shadow of two derelict ships that long ago brought them to Amir. They would often speak in their language, except for Brody, but he never spoke in anything but Brody—or English as the Boone colonists called it.

Liana could speak English as well as any of the Rangers, but she got a warm sensation of home when the patrols would talk in the old language. They would retell stories that everyone knew by heart, remind one another of embarrassments, tease and quip inside jokes that the Rangers and other personnel they now shared a life with simply could not appreciate because they did not know what it meant to be Osay. They were only now learning what life on Amir was genuinely like.

There was nothing wrong with the soldiers. Liana liked them. So did the people. Some, like Reach, she liked a lot. There would be an inevitable and gradual combining of the colonists of Muir and Longmire with those from Boone in the days that lay ahead.

“Continuing the mission,” as Captain Bosa put it.

That was the future. Liana wouldn’t shrink from it. But neither would she deny her pleasure in times that let her hold onto the past. It sometimes seemed the twice-monthly patrol was the only thing she had that felt like the old ways. A path that she often wished she could turn back around on and follow into the past if only because of one deep, aching heartbreak—the loss of her father during that final defense of Camp Ohio. A loss to her—and the Osay people—that could never be undone.

That’s what it was, really. Being on patrol with the others kept a certain flame alive. It reminded her of hunting in the darkness. Let her forget that when she got back home—he would no longer be there. She missed him.

By the time the patrol reached its designated endpoint, the time for sunrise had come, but the sun itself seemed to have forgotten. Heavy silver and gray clouds, swollen with raindrops waiting to fall, lined the sky and gave the darkness a little more time on Amir. That they had avoided rain to this point was good luck. Better luck came when one of the men, a seasoned hunter named Rohlo, spotted a trio of platier.

The feathered, horse-like animals were a source of meat to the Osay. The joint task force that had arrived on the Boone had also developed a taste for the animals. A debate among the patrol was held about whether to turn around or hunt, following the creatures deeper into the primordial forest.

The colony needed the additional protein the animals provided. It would be some time before proper domesticated livestock could be brought forth from the embryonic stores Dr. Roman kept in one of his many labs.

“Brody,” Liana told the big, armored android standing next to her. “We’re going hunting. Tell the camp.”

“Al-lex-lex-lexa said not to bother her unless it was an emergency. She and dad are working on some top secret s-stuff. I would have helped, but I was busy.”

“Tell someone else then, Brody. I’m just trying to be a responsible civilian foot patrol out here.”

She and the rest of the Osay didn’t exactly answer to the military command structure, just like Captain Bosa and his joint task force didn’t answer to the Osay. But… they needed to work together. Liana felt that open communication would be a conduit to making that go smoothly. The two groups were still in a period of feeling one another out and learning the best way to mix and blend into what would someday be one, seamless community.

“I told them we wouldn’t be back for a while and that there were no signs of any dirty RU-RUPAC commies,” rumbled the great battle android, a hint of sadness in his voice over the latter. Brody, the protector of Liana and her people for generations, looked off into the forest. “Out here, a man can get lost. Out here, a man can find himself.”

“As long as we find those platiers while we’re at it,” said Liana, “I’m fine with whatever other self-discovery you achieve, Brody.”

“I’d like to discover a commie to k-k-kill.”

Liana smiled, shook her head, and motioned for the patrol to continue forward. Having Brody along was a comfort as well.

They moved quietly through Amir’s black and white forests, keeping low and watching through clearings for signs of their prey. Overhead the sky rumbled. It was shaping up to be a day where they might not catch a glimpse of the sun at all. And now they had committed themselves far enough to guarantee that they would be drenched upon returning to base. That would be worth it if they brought down some game. If they came up empty… Well, that wouldn’t be an ideal start to the day.

The patrol pressed on in a hunter’s silence for fifteen minutes, finding fresh scat and other signs that they were on the animals’ trail. And then Brody got restless. Though Liana and the men with her were skilled hunters, a bored battle android was a threat to the entire outing.

Brody had started whispering to the man next to him, Rohlo, the same Osay hunter who first spotted the platiers.

“… and that guy was named John Matrix. B-but then in Predator he was named Dutch. And that guy was a lot like John May-may-matrix. But then in The Running Man he was Ben Richards. And that guy wasn’t super John Matrix because John Matrix wouldn’t have been captured in the hel-helicopter. After that he was Quaid. And that guy was pretty John Matrix except he couldn’t remember that he was a John Matrix.”

“Brody,” Liana transmitted through her implant. “You’re being too loud. You’re going to scare away the game. That isn’t John Matrix.”

“Roger, Citizen, but I can be John Matrix if you need it. Send a few grenades into the brush… that’ll get us s-s-something.”

“No. None of that. And stop talking out loud! It’s like you forgot how to transmit.”

“No. I s-still got it.” But Brody continued to speak audibly. He hitched a thumb at Rohlo. “It’s just that th-this guy here doesn’t have an implant. So how’s he gonna hear me? Did you th-think of that? Of course not. Because you only think of yourself. Not very John Matrix of you.”

“Bro-dee,” said the man, the subject of Brody’s lecture, in what could only charitably be described as barely passing English. “I do not to now the these the moo-vee-is. You can witch them. I can no witch them. I do not have the Bro-dee mind to see at the moo-vee. Beside-is. John Matt-trix sound like he just is being looky no one-is shoot him in a the back and wait for him to turn-is around and shoot-is him first.”

Brody shook his head at Liana and hitched a get-a-look-at-this-guy thumb in the direction of the man. He turned to address Rohlo. “W-well excuse m-m-me for trying to b-b-bring you some culture and share the good news about John Matrix. But since we’re hurting f-feelings, let me tell you that your English s-s-s-sucks. In fact, don’t ever talk to me in English—in Brody—in front of the Rangers or you’ll embar-ass-ass me. Why can’t you speak refined like Liana? She picked it up fine. You sound re-re-retar—”

“Brody!” Liana hissed. “You know you’re not supposed to say that word. Alexa said it was insensitive.”

“They say it all the time in my movies.”

“Alexa said that was a ‘different cultural climate.’ No more using that word, Brody. That’s an order.”

The bot looked down forlornly. “F-fine. Anyway, Rohlo, you suck at speaking Brody.”

“I speak Bro-dee super fine gut. Reach say I is getting better.”

“Leave him alone, Brody,” said Liana. “That’s not much different from how I spoke Brody before Dr. Roman did those upgrades on me.”

“Well he needs to c-cut in line and get an upgrade of his own.”

“Brody, shut up,” Liana scolded. “I didn’t come out all this way just for the platiers to be scared away by you.”

“Sorry.” Brody looked around. “Actually. We should all be quiet. This clearing reminds me of Predator. Do you know the part where Dillon gets his arm chopped off? I’m g-getting strong chop off arm vibes. Patrol team: watch your arms.”

They continued in silence after that. And while none of them had actually seen any of the movies Brody consistently referenced—although he had on several occasions acted them out scene by scene, perfectly mimicking all dialogue and sound effects for the colony’s benefit—a sense of foreboding fell over the men in the party.

Liana could feel it too. She gripped her M4 rifle, the weapon now relegated to the Osay by the Rangers who themselves made better use of the much more powerful rifles that the Muir and Longmire had brought to Amir. Weapons that Brody had so jealously guarded before contact had been made with Reach and the others.

A peal of thunder sounded far away. Much too distant for the flash of lightning that preceded it to be seen. The boom proved a call for the rains to be unleashed. Slowly at first. Soft patters that chilled exposed skin and plinked on leaves, too soft and infrequent to drench anyone.

One of the men grumbled in their native tongue and suggested turning back. They were already adding a great deal of time to their return trip. To walk back would take a long while even without the extra burden of a kill.

“Never have I one time ever gone this far in this the way direction ever,” said Rohlo in his unpolished Brody. Liana imagined he persisted simply to goad Brody. But English had become all the rage upon the Boone’s arrival. The colonists prided themselves in their ability to communicate with the joint task force, and most everyone was speaking as much Brody as they knew how, hungry to learn more.

“Actually,” Brody said, “this is pretty f-f-far out. Man.”

Something moved through the underbrush, causing all heads to turn. The party looked on in a hushed silence, the anticipation of nabbing the platier building. The rainfall increased, the sound of it striking the forest competing with the babbling and rushing of a nearby river.

“Brody,” Liana transmitted, unwilling to break the silence if the game they sought was indeed this close. “Do you see anything? Thermal vision? Anything?”

“Not a thing, l-lady citizen,” the war machine transmitted back, finally maintaining noise discipline. “But this is a lot like the scene in Predator where they thought they were all looking at it. The Predator. Oh. And when Blain and Mac just start shooting up the j-ju-jungle. Very John Matrix. I think we should shoot all the trees.”

“Brody, we’re not going to—”

There was another rustle and flurry of underbrush being disturbed before a shadow erupted from the dark to send one of the Osay hunters crashing onto his back. Just as quickly, it grabbed the man’s feet and dragged him back into the brush by the ankles. The man screamed, his hands groping for a root or branch to somehow slow him down. Whatever had him was strong enough to pull him along like a doll.

“Just like Predator!” Brody shouted as he activated and fired the heavy machine guns mounted beneath his massive arms. “K-kill it!”

The others quickly joined, firing at whatever had pulled their friend into the underbrush. Reacting. Not thinking. Hoping that the man would know to stay down flat. Dreading the thought that he would never rise again. They all heard that final blood curdling scream that gargled off and went silent before Brody began to shoot.

The big android called for a ceasefire. Liana’s heart pounded in her chest as they viewed the carnage before them. Limbs had been shot off of the white trees, which now bled red sap where they had been struck.

“Brody,” she said, fighting through terror to even say the name. Her mouth was dry, and her hands felt numb as they went to her face to touch the old scars. “Did you see… was that—”

“Didn’t see n-nothin’. Get everyone in formation. I am calling Alexa for extraction.”

“Brody… was that…” Liana tried again, the feeling mounting, a tightness in her chest causing her to struggle to draw a breath. Because she knew what it was before she attempted to ask. There was only one thing that it could be.

And when the shadow came back to attempt to rip the life from another of her patrol, knocking him down as the others opened fire and Brody shouted for them to “Get behind me!” and then spewed flames into the brush where the thing had escaped…

When all that happened, Liana had frozen in place. Fear’s icy grip prevented her from doing anything else.

And then, among the shouts of pain and alarm, the voice of her father—a memory, a reminder of what to do when they came—screamed inside her head.

Run, Liana! Run and hide until Brody comes to bring you back!

Liana turned.

Terror stricken, Liana ran.

2

It was early. How early, Jared Reach didn’t want to know. Because he wasn’t going to fall back to sleep. He could tell that already.

Reach stared at the ceiling of his dormitory and let out a sigh. Getting up early? No problem. Feeling the hit of not enough rack-ops time later in the day… yeah, that was going to suck. Thank God for caffeine. Not one to lie in bed and be still, he tossed his covers aside and let the cold early-morning air bring him fully awake.

Dressed, bed made, and gone from his quarters in minutes, he crossed Camp Craiswell to the newly printed command building attached to the comms array. A rust-scented wind carried the smell of a coming summer storm while insects collected around the camp’s floodlights. The air felt warm enough until a breeze brought a chill. The sky promised rain would come any minute, but not before Reach would get inside the facility.

The camp itself was remarkably clean and ordered given the absolute bloodbath of a firefight that had taken place with an advanced strikeforce of RUPAC. In the time since, the soldiers, with help from the larger Osay population, had made quick work of cleaning detritus from the camp and beginning reconstruction efforts. Any raw materials that could be salvaged and repurposed were piled beside the concrete printers while repair crews worked to fix the broken structures.

Buildings weren’t the only things that had been repaired. Most of the combatants and many of the Osay civilians had taken turns in cryopods to help mend their most serious injuries from the battle. Platoon medic Sergeant Watts kept detailed records of everyone’s progress and noted amputees who were eligible for limb regrowth once Alexa and Doctor Roman had that feature operational. Specialist Kinkade was looking forward to getting the fingers back on his left hand, and SAW gunner Private First Class Gormley was cautiously optimistic about the prospect of a new arm.

“Is it gonna be mine, Doc?” he’d asked Roman when learning of the future procedure. “Or are you slapping on some dead RUPAC’s arm? Because dude needs to be jacked if my arms are gonna match. Don’t use one of those skinny-ass bitches that first attacked us when we landed.”

Roman smiled warmly. “It will be grown from your own tissue, young man. You have nothing to fear. We can stimulate muscle growth with time in a cryopod to achieve proper muscular symmetry.”

In the meantime, Alexa fitted Gormley with a robotic prosthetic, which he thought was nothing short of badass. A sentiment Brody had heartily agreed with.

“N-now we’re gettin’ somewhere. E-everyone needs a little Brody in them. Get it? Alexa, get it?”

“The innuendo is not lost on me, Brody. You have spent too much time with the Rangers.”

Alexa managed the lab and the pods with efficiency and compassion. But she did more than just heal bodies; she began healing the minds of those she’d taken over to defeat the enemy. Everyone had the right to be suspicious after that. But between Dr. Roman’s assurances that Alexa was unable to manipulate them at her leisure and the attractive android’s miraculous medical care, Reach sensed that the tension and uncertainty was beginning to dwindle.

Reach made it to the command building dry, downed two glasses of water, and made himself a cup of coffee. Then he walked back through the main hallway and into the conference room.

It was still hours before Captain Bosa’s Monday morning briefing, which meant Reach had more than enough time to review his notes. In the days following the battle, talk in headquarters had turned toward the next steps, which prioritized camp repairs and upgraded fortifications. There were countless details to cover on how to best organize, serve, and protect the Osay civilians now in the camp—a number that was sure to grow as time went on. Plans for further scouting the planet for natural resources, mapping the terrain, and logging flora and fauna were also a permanent fixture on the briefing docket, though the Osay had given their newly arrived colonists a considerable jumpstart in identifying what could sustain you, harm you, or kill you on Amir. It seemed there was a lot more in the harm and kill columns than the sustain. And then there was determining the size of any remaining RUPAC presence on Amir or, as previous comms attempts suggested, on another nearby exoplanet.

A steady backburner item, one that perhaps carried with it the single largest desire for success among the Boone survivors, was the task of reconnecting with Earth—if there was still anyone there to hear them. Knowing what became of the USA and the RUPAC weighed on Reach, especially in light of how much time had passed since he’d left. It was a lot, he knew. Nine hundred and ninety-nine years by Brody’s questionable mathematics. How long had he and the others slept?

Captain Bosa’s communiqué, promising that Amir would strive toward the more perfect union reflected in the principles set forth in the Constitution and Bill of Rights, would take almost two-and-a-half years to reach Earth using the technology the Boone had left the planet with. Reach hoped Dr. Roman had something up his sleeve because waiting five years for a return message was not something he felt he had the patience for. Not that he’d have any choice in the matter.

Reach was sipping his coffee when Alexa’s voice sounded in his head. “Good morning, Reach. I am glad to see that you are awake.”

Reach jumped from the sudden intrusion and contorted his body to avoid spilling any of the hot beverage. The implant had felt natural, physically speaking, since he’d first reawakened from cryo. Communicating without verbalized words was already second nature. Alexa just “dropping in” on his thoughts… he wasn’t used to that yet. Didn’t see how he ever could be. “A little warning next time would be nice, Alexa. Maybe a beep or a boop.”

“My apologies. However, your presence is requested at the indicated waypoint.”

No sooner did Alexa say it than a window within a window appeared in his mind’s eye. The smaller image depicted a satellite view of Camp Craiswell with a glowing dot ten klicks north of the outer defenses—a section with no detail beyond what the Boone had captured while in orbit.

“Random place for a picnic.” He double-checked the time. “It’s a little early, Alexa, and I’m just getting settled in. Can this wait?”

“I’m sorry, but it cannot. An Osay patrol has been attacked.”

“Attacked?” Reach straightened immediately. “By who?”

“By what is the more appropriate question. And that, I am unable to discern. There are two casualties, and a third is missing and presumed dead. It is not Liana.”

The name made Reach’s heart jump. “I didn’t even realize she was up for patrol today.”

“She was.”

“Have Fifth Squad, Alpha team deploy to augment the security element and activate the QRF—”

“The quick reaction force is already preparing to leave. You need to go with them.”

“Roger.” Reach was up and moving out of the building to link up with the Badgers and Rangers. “I’m on my way.”

“Good. I can sense that you are alarmed. Please understand that my sensors do not show any further threats in the area. Should the attackers return, Brody is more than able to defend the patrol. He already drove the threat away once.”

Reach relaxed a bit on hearing that the attack wasn’t ongoing. “Brody’s there?”

“Yes. He was with the patrol when it was attacked. Please understand, I am not requesting your presence for combat assistance. I wish to see you personally.”

“Wait, you’re there, too? When did this happen?”

“Fifteen minutes ago. I ran since the foliage is too thick for a Predator hauler to make landing.”

“Understood. Alexa, what’s the issue here. Is Liana hurt?”

“Not physically. But something is wrong. She has shut off her implant’s communications protocols, and I cannot get through to her in person. She appears to be suffering from acute mental or emotional trauma, and she needs help. She needs you, Reach.”

“Understood,” Reach said, though he wasn’t sure he did. “I’ll coordinate with the QRF and be there soon.” He pinged Lieutenant Sherman. “Sherman, this is Reach.”

“Copy,” Sherman replied. “We’ve got a situation. What is it?”

“If it’s about the Osay patrol that’s been attacked four klicks north of camp, Alexa wants me along for the ride.”

“Better use those legs then, Flash,” Sherman said. “Sergeant Morales just took the QRF out in two Badgers.”

“Copy that.” Reach was already outside of the array building. He began running toward the location, waiting to reach the jungle to turn the speed up. “Any idea what that patrol was doing so far north?”

“They spotted some game and went hunting beyond their designated route,” said Sherman. “No idea what hit them.”

“Alexa didn’t seem to think it was RUPAC stragglers.”

“Agreed,” said Sherman. “Report is it wasn’t even human. My money says someone got careless with the local wildlife.”

“Lion-dogs?”

“That’s my guess.” Saying zaskonek, which is what the Osay called the multi-tongued black jungle beasts, still wasn’t second nature to the Rangers. “You good, Reach? You sound like there’s something else on your mind.”

Crazy how the implants could communicate a person’s tone of voice even though the entire conversation was happening via thought. “Alexa is worried about Liana.”

“She one of the wounded?”

“Negative.”

Sherman paused in silent consideration. “Well, don’t keep the lady waiting. Stay frosty.”

“Roger. I’ll keep you updated. Reach out.”

* * *

Reach had caught up with the Badger and jumped topside to ride the rest of the way to the site of the ambush. The rain was falling heavily by the time they arrived, giving the vehicle’s large tires something to prove themselves against as they carried across rough roads.

Paving efforts had only progressed as far as one klick from the camp, so the Badger went from sailing across a semi-smooth blacktop to kicking up mud in less than a minute. The aggressive wheels made easy work of the slop and kept the team on schedule. But once Sergeant Morales reached a perpendicular westbound left turn into the forest, he judged the terrain too wet and the underbrush too dense to continue mounted. That was fine, they were only a half-klick away from the location and in communication with Brody, who reported that the area was secure.

“The Badger says we’re green here too, Sar’nt,” the vehicle’s driver added. “Nothing unusual on thermal.”

The squad switched on their NVGs—all but Reach. He didn’t need the night vision goggles now that Dr. Roman and Alexa had unlocked his eyes’ “natural potential,” or whatever they called it.

“Good to dismount?” Reach asked the gunner.

“Clear.”

Reach and the rest of the squad dismounted, ready to proceed on foot. With his rifle in the low-ready position, Reach started through the undergrowth, his eyes alert for anything out of the ordinary.

“Reach, First Squad, you are clear to our location,” Alexa said over the squad channel.

“Let’s pick up the pace then.” Reach motioned the rest of the squad to keep up.

While the driver and gunner remained in the Badger, the medic and rest of the squad followed Reach into the woods. Rain streamed off the wide leaves and soaked them in concentrated rivulets that gleamed in the ambient light. Their boots pressed into the damp soil and left imprints that were instantly filled with water. Whatever warmth the team had enjoyed in the Badger was driven out by the chill of soaking wet fatigues, even with ponchos.

Once some of the thicker growth was out of the way, Reach brought the team up to a steady cadence beaten into every soldier through the US Army’s beloved road marches. But as he closed on the waypoint, now some 200 meters out, Reach realized he was setting a pace that punished the unit behind. He’d forgotten that not everyone enjoyed the same measure of upgrades that he did. What felt to him like a swift patrol was practically a run for the others. He slowed his pace in order to maintain proper formation. As long as he was moving with the team, he had an obligation to meet the standard. And yet all Reach could think about was getting to Liana.

As if reading Reach’s thoughts, Sergeant Morales said, “We’ll catch up, Lieutenant. Right behind you.”

Lieutenant. That didn’t seem to be a title they were going to let go of any time soon, another holdover from Alexa’s handiwork.

“Copy that.”

“Move quickly, Reach,” Alexa urged. “Brody and I have a full sensor scan ongoing. There is nothing out here to be concerned about. The site is clear.”

Reach decided to pour on the speed. Breathing no heavier than he would on an evening stroll, he sprinted the remaining distance in seconds and came upon the patrol at the bottom of a small, wooded dell. A stream, swollen from the rain, ran north to south, bordered by patches of exposed rock on the steep sides. He could make out people in the basin, but his examination was cut short when a weaponized arm swung around a tree and a warrior stepped out.

“H-h-halt! Who goes there?” Brody asked.

Rain streamed down the android’s full-mirrored battle helmet and black armor.

“Easy, Brody. It’s just—”

“Just a commie spy tryin’ to get the dr-dr-drop on ol’ B-brody. Who sent you? Was it RUPAC?”

“Brody, it’s me, Reach. Stand down.”

“I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe… All those moments will be lost in time like tears in r-rain. I don’t know n-no Reach. Time to die…”

“Dammit, Brody.” Reach stood his ground and stared the android down.

“Gotcha,” Brody said and then fired a finger-gun at Reach with an audible click that sounded too much like a real weapon being cocked.

Reach let out a breath and looked around the corner. “Quit messing around.”

“I had to be sure.” Servos whined as the bot’s weaponized arm lowered. “Never know who’s lurking in these here p-p-parts, Citizen.”

“Brody, bring him down here,” Alexa said aloud so that her voice would guide Reach even without Brody’s help. The beautiful android, who turned her share of heads at Camp Craiswell and could have easily passed as a model back on Earth, stood over several Osay who knelt beside the wounded. What Brody was to raw firepower and boneheaded belligerence, Alexa was to elegance and intellectual prowess. Funny how two kids can be so different and still come from the same parents—or, in Dr. Roman’s case, parent.

Reach passed Brody to make the descent toward Alexa. As he fast-stepped down the embankment, he saw a man in his early forties resting against a tree. The victim had a bandage wrapped around his head and another around an arm in a makeshift sling. He bled from smaller injuries to his face and shoulder. Likewise, a woman in her twenties was laid out among the leaves with a wooden splint on her left leg and bloodied gauze around her thigh. She also suffered from deep gouges on her arms and an extended cut on the side of her head. But both were awake and seemed alert.

“I’m tagging the two WIAs,” Reach said over comms to First Squad. “Get them out as soon as you arrive.”

“Roger, out,” Morales replied.

Then Reach noticed three remaining Osay at the top of the dell had set up a perimeter with their weapons raised toward the darkness. They seemed stiff, probably still spooked by whatever had attacked them. Two men carried M4s while the third held a gauss rifle—no doubt spoils from an encounter with the RUPAC.

“What’s the patrol doing so far from camp?” Reach asked Alexa.

“They followed what they believed to be a small platier herd into the forest, hoping to kill it and bring it back for food, when they were ambushed. You will recall that game has been scarce as of late.”

“Sure,” Reach said, ignoring the details he didn’t find pertinent. “Ambushed by what, exactly, Alexa? The zaskonek?”

“I am unsure. Some of the wounds are consistent with such an attack. But not all.”

Reach looked around and felt his chest tighten. “Where is Liana?”

Alexa nodded toward an old deciduous tree to the northwest with a massive white base and large limbs.

Reach squinted in confusion when he didn’t see her immediately. Then a rustle above had him looking up, and he spotted her several meters off the ground.

“Why the hell is she up there?”

“She is afraid, Reach. Despite her training and upgrades.”

Liana sat stock still, rifle ready, staring out into the forest. Reach kept his voice low so as not to startle her. “Seems like she’s on guard to me, Alexa. Just like the others down below. You sure?”

“She is watching, yes, but given her vitals… she is very much afraid.”

3

At the base of the tree, Reach looked up to see Liana standing sentinel. She squatted in a crook where a wide limb met the trunk about eleven meters up.

“Liana, it’s me, Jared,” Reach said, hoping his voice sounded reassuring to the clearly terrified woman. “You should come down.”

She didn’t respond. Her eyes skittered back and forth, and she had a death grip on her M4. It was being pointed in the distance. Reach followed the weapon’s barrel but saw nothing.

He tried again. “Liana. Tell me what you saw.”

That didn’t work either.

Alexa walked up behind Reach.

He looked back at her. “Something go haywire with her upgrades?”

“No. The improvements made to your bodies don’t go haywire, Mr. Reach. What Liana is experiencing is a natural phenomenon.”

“How long has she been like this?”

“Since my arrival. She hasn’t responded to me or anyone else. Which is why I sent for you.”

“Well, she doesn’t seem too interested in what I have to say.”

“Perhaps she would benefit from physical interaction.”

Reach raised an eyebrow at her and then pointed up the tree. “As in you think I should climb up and help her down?”

The android nodded.

“Right.” Reach looked up at Liana and then slung his rifle. He employed his new enhancements to leap up to the lowest branch and land easily on it. From there it was a matter of navigating until he was on the limb right below Liana’s.

Leaning against the tree trunk, he tried to sound casual. “Hey, Liana. How’s it going?”

Reach might as well not even have been there for all the reaction she showed. It was like he was invisible.

Alexa pinged Reach’s implant. “I would start by acting concerned.”

His gaze snapped back down to the android. “I am concerned.”

“Then might I suggest that you inform the rest of your body? You seem to struggle connecting emotionally. Would you like for me to assist you in this aspect of your personality?”

“Sure, Alexa,” he said, not hiding the annoyance he felt. He realized he was taking notes on how to be human from an android. If only his ex-wife could see him now; she’d love this.

Reach made the final shift to Liana’s branch. Wide eyed, Liana swung her weapon at him.

On reflex, he pushed the barrel away violently. “Whoa! Easy, Liana. It’s me.”

A look of sudden comprehension fell over her face. A softening that seemed to signify the release of a great weight on her shoulders. “Jared?”

“Yeah. It’s okay. It’s me.”

She let the barrel of her weapon dip down toward the forest floor. “You need to leave. Right now. You’re not safe here. None of us are.”

Reach nodded slowly. Now that he’d broken through the grip that her fear had held over her, his next order of business was to get her back on the ground, then back to camp. “No arguments here.”

“The Bangora.”

Reach stopped. “Bangora? Is that who attacked you?”

She nodded and looked north. “It took Mather-Son. And it harmed the others.”

“Okay. I’m sorry about that. The others are getting patched up by Doc Watts right now. The Bangora… it’s gone. We’re alone here now.”

She shook her head.

Alexa was in Reach’s head over implant. “Brody informed me on arrival that a Bangora is an exceedingly dangerous predator, feared by the Osay. It has been some time since one has been encountered.”

Reach nodded once and replied via implant. “Whatever it is, Liana clearly is scared to death by it.”

“I agree.”

Back to Liana, Reach said, “What do you say, Liana? Let’s both of us go down and head back to camp so we can figure out how to deal with this Bangora.”

He held out a hand against her face, careful not to touch the scars. She was sensitive about that, he knew. “You’re ice cold, Liana. There’s a Badger waiting for us not far from here. Come down with me and we’ll all get warmed up. Cooks will have hot chow ready by the time we return.”

For a moment, Liana seemed intrigued at the prospect. She wanted to leave. But she wouldn’t. “No.” She took Reach’s lingering hand and pulled his face close. “No, Jared. Only Brody can protect us.”

This went deeper than fear, and Reach didn’t like it. This was a full blown PTSD, What About Bob mental thing. “Brody’s down on the ground with the others. Everyone’s safe now, but the longer we stay up here the more chance we risk the Bangora coming back.”

Liana shook her head as though she was frustrated that she wasn’t getting through to Reach. “No one is safe. Not when the Bangora chooses you.”

Reach looked down at Alexa and then back at Liana. “Who says the Bangora chose you?”

“The Bangora have chosen all of us. There’s terror in the darkness.” Liana spoke as if she was reciting a nursery rhyme.

“Reach, this is Morales,” the sergeant said over internal comms.

“Send it,” Reach replied in his mind.

“I’ve found something that you might wanna take a look at.”

“Care to be any more specific?”

Morales paused. “Wish I could, Lieutenant. Best you come see yourself.”

“Copy.” Reach turned to Liana. “I have to go, but I’ll be right back, okay?”

“No, Jared!” She grabbed his arm with both hands and frantically pulled him back. “Don’t leave! You must not expose yourself.”

“I’ll only be gone for a minute, I promise.” It took him a second to pry her hands from him. “I have to go see Sergeant Morales. The Ranger. They’re here, too. We’re all here to protect you.”

“Brody too?”

“Yes. He’s still keeping watch. Why don’t you come down with me?” This second assurance of the big war machine’s presence seemed to help her relax a little, proving once again just how much stock the Osay had placed in their AI defender.

She shook her head. “Be careful and hurry back. Stay close to Brody. Or the Bangora will take you.”

Reach respected Liana’s survival skills; heck, the first time he’d met her, she was trying to warn Sergeant Tran and Fifth Squad about the lion-dogs and didn’t seem one bit afraid for herself. That seemed like ages ago. He’d never witnessed her hide in fear like this.

* * *

While the Rangers maintained a perimeter and Sgt. Watts attended to the wounded, Reach moved with Brody and Alexa toward Sergeant Morales’ position along the stream to the north. The Ranger stood amongst a cluster of trees that had grown out of some boulders.

“Over here, sir.”

Reach approached and asked, “What do you have, Sergeant?”

Morales pointed to a small space between the rocks. As Reach stepped close, he covered his nose and mouth against the coppery smell of fresh blood and rotting flesh. Then he saw it: a pile of shredded meat in the shape of a human. At least, he thought it was a human. The corpse was maimed, and blood smeared the surrounding stones. But the most striking thing of all was what the body was missing—its skin.

“These remains are human,” Alexa said.

“N-n-nasty.” Brody shuddered. “Also. How come it’s naked?”

Reach looked at the big war bot. “That’s not just naked, Brody. The skin is completely removed.”

“N-n-nasty. Humans are gross meatbags.”

“Just found it and then called you,” Morales replied.

“I believe you found our MIA, Sergeant,” Alexa said.

“Lucky me.”

Reach had seen some awful things in his time as a Marine, but nothing quite like this. He made sure his implant got clean, steady images of the macabre scene. The rotten smell didn’t make sense either as this kill couldn’t be more than half an hour old. Satisfied with the data, he pulled away and turned to the Sergeant. “After the casualties are secured, get a body bag and take the remains back to the Badger.”

“I’ll get some boys on it,” Morales said, then he and PFC Portmand headed back to the dell.

“It is curious,” said Alexa, “that only this victim was flayed.”

Reach looked up from the grisly scene to the two androids. “Maybe help arrived sooner than was expected and whatever did this took off. Brody, this how Bangora operate?”

“Can’t say, Citizen. Encounters are rare. Hard to kill. Lots of legend, not a lot of f-f-facts. But… I ain’t killed the bastard yet.”

“That’s saying something from you, Brody.” Reach scanned the surroundings. He spotted a tree with strange markings and pointed it out to the others. “Over there.”

Several strides later, the trio approached a wide tree trunk with deep black gashes gouged in the white bark. Dark red sap seeped from the wounds like blood. Reach held up his hand, trying to gauge the size of the claws capable of making such slashes.

“Bangora?” Reach asked Brody. “They look too big for the zaskonek.”

Brody scoffed. “Pssh. Obviously.”

“Brody,” Alexa began, “have you encountered one of these creatures up close before?”

“Well n-no. Not up close. But everybody knows about Bangora. It’s the very b-b-baddest of beasties, Citizen. It’s a monster. Lots of O-o-say died from Bangora. That boogeyman is real.”

Reach shook his head. “Sounds like a fairytale to scare children. Alexa, anything concrete?”

“While I have no record of any species capable of making such broad marks, I’ve made a quick inquiry of Brody’s memory system.”

“And?”

“It appears that while he has fired on several indexed as Bangora, most over a decade ago, visual recordings show nothing discernable. Sensor data is likewise negligible.”

“Nasty little suckers,” Brody exclaimed. “Professional embarrassment. I’m the only thing that’s supposed to be unkillable on Amir. I almost killed one once. Didn’t waste storage on the fight I was so mad.”

“Storage?”

Alexa explained. “With Brody being on Amir for several hundred years, he has selectively—or not so selectively, depending on how you view his choices—erased data in order to preserve wanted memories.”

“Like movies!” Brody pumped a fist. “Oh yeah. Some of the Rangers brought new ones for me. John Wick is very John Matrix.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Reach murmured, inspecting the gash. The pattern resembled four fingers with a thumb, as if a clawed human hand had made it. A big one.

“I watched that m-movie nine hundred and ninety-nine times last night.”

Reach had adjusted to life with Brody but still felt the need to call him out from time to time. “There aren’t enough hours in a day for that.”

“I watched it four times in five hundred different OS windows.”

Alexa smiled. “And how does that multiply, Brody? Four times five hundred?”

“N-nine hundred and ninety-nine.”

Alexa laughed, and it finally sounded normal. “Sorry, that is not correct.”

“I have a learning dis-a-a-ability. Dad said not to make fun.”

“Guys. Focus.” Reach counted slash marks in the tree bark. “Looks like it climbed straight up.”

Alexa switched to serious. “Agreed. I’m also detecting traces of human DNA in the wood.”

Reach spotted blood, presumably from the slain Osay man. He glanced around at the other trees, looking for additional marks, but saw none. Finding any other tracks on the ground proved impossible because of the rain.

“Okay. So it looks like the thing made the climb without his kill.” Reach looked back the way they had come. He’d been gone longer than he’d meant, and Liana was still in the tree. “Thermal sensors didn’t detect anything by the time you arrived, Alexa. So it must have split pretty quickly after the fight.”

“I kicked its ass!” shouted Brody.

Reach continued without acknowledgement. “So, the Bangora attacks the patrol, flays a man to death, and then retreats into the trees with the spoils of at least one of its victims.”

Alexa gave a fractional nod. “That is an adequate summary, yes.”

But Reach wasn’t satisfied. “Feels like something is off.”

“How so?” Alexa echoed with a raised eyebrow. She appeared completely unbothered by the rain pouring down her face. “I’m not sure I follow, Reach.”

“Just… it’s peculiar behavior for an animal. It made the kill and appears more than strong enough to take the corpse with it. So unless it just eats skin and leaves the meat…” Reach shook his head. “That thing can’t be left to roam freely.” He glanced between the two androids, then he nodded back to the dell where Liana was still treed like a cat. “Let’s get everyone out of here for now. I’m wet enough for one day.”

4

It took several minutes with Brody standing at the base of the tree and periodically calling her name for Reach to finally coax Liana down. She stayed wedged between Reach and the war machine all the way back to the Badger, her eyes shifting nonstop in their survey of the surroundings. They spoke little, listening instead to the heavy rain as it slapped against the leaves above and below.

With the wounded and the body bag hauled off by Brody and Alexa on foot, Sergeant Morales ordered the squad back to Camp Craiswell. They crammed into the vehicles. Liana shivered and pressed herself into Reach. She was as wet as a water rat, but Reach didn’t think it was all due to the cold.

“You all right?” he asked. She nodded, but the action seemed mechanical. At least she had calmed down. “Can you describe the Bangora?” he asked her as the Badger rolled along the uneven ground.

She searched his face. “We call it the demon of the night. And that’s what I saw.”

Reach nodded. “We checked Brody’s memory banks but can’t find a record of anything substantial. Shapes and shadows.”

“You won’t.” Liana swallowed. “It does not reveal itself often. I have not seen one since…” Her trembling hand went to her face.

After a few seconds of silence, Reach prompted, “Since when?”

Liana ignored the question. “It will leave us alone unless people go too far from the camp. Or too far from Brody.”

Reach knew that Brody was right in their midst during this attack, but he thought it better not to mention it lest Liana jump out the door at the realization and climb the nearest tree. “What else can you tell me about it? I’m going to make sure we take this thing out.”

She shook her head, refusing to say more.

Reach frowned but opted not to press the issue further. She didn’t want to talk, and prying more would likely not prove useful.

After the Badger slowed and rolled into camp, Morales popped the crew door and helped Liana down while the others inside returned to their stations.

Lieutenant Sherman was standing in the rain under a poncho as Reach dropped down from the Badger.

“SITREP,” Sherman ordered.

Reach summarized the situation he’d just left behind, making sure not to leave any detail out. For his part, Sherman barely blinked when he described the flayed body. “The only markings we could verify were on the tree. We don’t know where it went after the attack.”

Sherman grunted. “Not much more than we already knew. Apart from the skinning. That’s nice.”

“I haven't talked to the wounded yet. Just Liana.”

“Get on it before they start swapping stories,” Sherman advised. “This Bangora sounds like a Jersey Devil or some other superstitious monster. Won’t be long before they start exaggerating.”

Reach nodded. “Yeah, definitely has an X-Files vibe. Liana mentioned something about it only being a problem for the Osay if they venture too far from Camp Muir. Thing of it is, they weren’t that far from our Camp. Farther than they would usually be from Muir, though.”

“If that’s the case, we’ll need to work that into our patrols. Only send the Badgers out to the point of contact.” Sherman’s watch beeped. He checked it and frowned. “Captain Bosa has accelerated the briefing.”

“How soon?”

“Soon as you’ve got a dry uniform on.” Sherman nodded at Liana, who still looked stunned. “Get her squared away then grab yourself a shower. I’ll see if Alexa can talk to the other Osay survivors. Coffee’s on for those of you who can stand the stuff. See you in twenty.”

* * *

After Reach made sure Liana was situated safely in her quarters, he returned to his own, showered, and put on new clothes. A quick glance out the window showed the rain letting up as the sun warmed the eastern sky. Despite the early morning showers and gloom, it looked like it was going to be a warm day on Amir.

As Reach opened the barracks door, a loud voice greeted him.

“Gooooood morning, Vietnam.” Brody stood at attention on the wet pavement. “You’re looking mighty fine, Citizen.”

“Thanks, Brody. What do you need?”

“Need to f-follow orders.” The big war machine saluted the flag waving at the center of camp. “And my orders are to s-s-stick to you like glue.”

“Whose orders, exactly?”

“Liana’s, of course. She said you need me on that wall.” Brody leaned in with a hand to the side of his imaginary mouth. “She doesn’t trust that you can stop the B-Bangora. But you know who she does trust?” He put a thumb to his chest. “Me. The one and only. The Ayatollah of lock-and-load-uh!”

“Nice. Well, if she told you to pull escort duty, you’re off the hook. I’ve got a meeting with Bosa. I’ll be fine.”

“N-negative, Reach. I’ve got my orders. My orders are to d-do the thing that I was… told… to… do.”

“Follow me?”

“Roger, Citizen!”

Reach squinted at the bot. “You really do have a screw loose, you know that?”

“To fight in this war, you’d better have more than one.”

“You got that right. Lead the way, Brody.”

* * *

Lieutenant Sherman was right: the coffee was on, and it smelled good. So did the warm chow that Captain Bosa had ordered in for those gathered around the conference room table. To either side of Bosa were Sherman and Second Platoon Leader Lieutenant Ali Harmon along with the Platoon Sergeants and Squad Sergeants—the Ranger NCOs would be responsible for getting the information down from there. Every man was to know the mission.

Arriving last was Dr. Roman and Alexa, and then Bosa got down to business, summarizing a report Alexa had provided. “I’d like a visual of the situation. Reach?”

“Of course.” Reach sent everyone’s implants images of the skinless man and the claw marks on the tree, both of which drew several cleared throats and sniffs around the table. When Reach was done, he picked up his coffee and sipped it, unperturbed by the graphic images he’d shared. They’d all seen their horror shows.

“Thank you, Mr. Reach.” Bosa looked around the table. “We’re dealing with a new predatory species.”

“The way I hear everyone talk,” Sherman said, “it’s some kind of solitary animal. Man-eating tiger.” He looked to Alexa. “Have the Osay said anything more about it?”

“They have not,” said the android, looking a good sight too perfect to be part of the otherwise bleary-eyed crew still trying to get their mornings in high gear. “The animal seems part of their mythology, for lack of a better term. Bedtime stories told to children in a corrective discipline effort.”

“The Boogeyman,” supplied Sergeant Nash.

“Except it’s r-real,” added Brody.

Reach volunteered some of what Liana had told him. “Liana made it sound like she’d seen one as a kid and that the beasts only came out if the people ventured too far from Camp Muir in the dark.”

Dr. Roman sat up at this. “If something was culling the Osay, which I’ve long suspected, the Bangora might explain it.”

“Culling the Osay?” Harmon asked.

The doctor nodded. “I believe I’ve mentioned it before. I had no real proof. Just a theory that it was happening. The colony should have expanded far more given its projected age. Alexa and I have been postulating what could account for the stunted development. Disease and apex predators have both been at the top of the list.”

“It would also explain why the Osay haven’t expanded or explored other territories since landing,” Sergeant Soto added.

“Yes, precisely!” replied Dr. Roman, who was growing bright eyed and excited as they went further into the theory. “If these Bangora are as deadly as the evidence shows, then they could explain why the colony has behaved the way it has.”

“The real question is what we’re going to do about it?” Bosa said.

The feeling that Reach was missing something was back now. A thought on the tip of his tongue, but he still couldn’t place it.

“Maybe our recent activities have sparked its curiosity,” Morales offered. “With Camp Muir abandoned and the RUPAC gone, that leaves only us.”

“Plausible.” Bosa tapped a map of the region on his battle board. “This happened ten klicks out. Far, but hardly the first time we’ve been through that area of the forest.”

“I don’t want to get PETA on my ass,” Sergeant Nash said, “but if you ask me, we hunt the thing down and make it extinct.”

“I don’t have an objection to that,” said Reach. “We can get activist groups organized when we’re not all struggling just to stay alive. Something bothers me about this… Bangora.”

Sherman winked at Reach. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into the ghost stories.”

The table laughed.

Reach smiled and shook his head. “No. But I don’t like what I saw today. Beyond the fact that a man died—it’s the way it went down. Thing attacks a patrol, kills one man, comes back to wound two more before Brody fights it off—”

“Hell yeah!” shouted the android.

“But then, it sulks far enough away to skin the poor guy and leaves. I can understand running away and leaving a kill if you fear for your life, but this thing flayed that Osay hunter and then left.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you, my boy,” said Doctor Roman.

Reach nodded. “What kind of animal, if it’s killing to survive, leaves the meal like that? It seems strong enough to haul a corpse away judging by the damage it did to the trees. I don’t know. Could it be killing for sport?”

“That’s quite a leap,” mused Doctor Roman. “You may be correct. However… this is mere speculation.”

“Did you find the skin?” asked Nash. “Seems like that’s enough for one meal.”

“Didn’t find it,” said Reach. “But you could be right. Either way, I think taking it down is our best course of action.”

“Liana’s n-not gonna like that,” Brody said.

Reach shrugged. “She’ll like it a lot more once we kill this Bangora. I’m willing to hunt it down. My enhancements should let me move quickly enough to stay ahead of the thing.”

Captain Bosa held up a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I don’t want us to move out hunting for something we know so little about. Are we sure it’s alone? Are we sure conventional weapons can kill it? The fact that Brody has been unable to score a confirmed kill of this Bangora gives me pause. I want you to put your efforts into research first, Mr. Reach. I’m sure Doctor Roman and Alexa can provide their assistance.”

Doctor Roman cleared his throat. “Well, I am open to doing what I can. But I have other pressing concerns as well. All that to say, you’ll have something less than my full attention, I’m afraid.”

Bosa gave a quick nod. “For the time being then, I want to put a halt to foot patrols beyond two klicks of the perimeter. Only Badgers and haulers are to go any further than the wire until further notice. That includes Osay hunting parties.”

The leaders acknowledged the captain’s orders.

Bosa singled out Reach again. “You’ll have to break that news to the people.”

“Roger that.” Reach felt the task might be easier said than done, but it was his responsibility. The Osay enjoyed the hunt, and the camp enjoyed the game they brought back. Rangers and the other military personnel would understand having to go without. The natives probably weren’t going to like it. But then, if they were all as spooked about the Bangora as Liana, maybe they’d understand.

Bosa stood and turned to a wall-mounted screen behind him. “That leads me to the next order of business: expanding and fortifying Camp Craiswell.” He manipulated the screen to bring up a satellite image of the camp and surrounding forest, overlaid with a nav grid. “Since we brought the Osay in from Camp Muir, we’ve all felt the squeeze. The increased population rightly necessitates expansion. What you see here are the proposed additions, which I would like Lieutenant Harmon to oversee.”

Harmon nodded. “We’ll make it happen, sir.”

“The plans also call for additional armament and security that will require all of our printers to be operational.”

Dr. Roman rose to speak. “Alexa has made significant design modifications to one of my older inventions because…” His eyes went blank and his lips parted for a moment. “Forgive me. Where was I?”

“The new printers,” Alexa reminded him.

“Ah, yes. Alexa’s taken the MM3DAPs damaged in our scuffle with the enemy… I’m sorry, that stands for multi-material 3D atomic printers, ones taken off the Boone, and tweaked them, you might say. They will not only fabricate with greater speed and precision but do so using just about any raw materials available. We’re talking about molecular recomposition here.” He laughed, but no one else seemed to get the joke. “Yes. Right. Well, these will be building components, weapons, armor, munitions, even satellites eventually. Under Alexa’s guidance, there is almost nothing the machines won’t be able to produce. But that is a ways off still.”

“Sounds like it can’t come soon enough,” Harmon added.

“Indeed,” said Roman. “For now, it will be more than sufficient to get the frames of what’s planned developed. Creature comforts can be added at a later date.”

“New toys aside,” Bosa interjected to regain everyone’s attention, “I know we’re still picking through the pieces following the RUPAC assault, but the welfare of our people makes expansion priority one. Even more so in light of this news about a new predator.

“Which means that I need you all on the lookout for internal problems too. Without being able to leave the camp, the people are going to get restless. I need eyes on morale. Stress levels. Managing disputes. It’s the stuff nobody likes, but if we’re not careful, it can do just as much damage as the enemy out there. Roger?”

“Roger,” those seated around the table replied, even Dr. Roman and Alexa.

“R-roger, Citizen!” Brody shouted from his place standing behind Reach.

The captain gave a polite smile and continued. “Good. Mr. Reach, in addition to your research on the Bangora, I still need you to continue to spearhead the integration and assimilation of the Osay into our larger community. It’s easy to forget that the Osay are United States citizens. This means your primary reason for coming on this mission is still in play: interfacing between military and civilian elements.”

“Understood,” Reach replied.

Bosa continued, unveiling plans to train capable members of the Osay population into a proper military force that would allow the Rangers to resume their role as elite shock troopers. As things now stood, they were thin and having to do all the tasks of an entire army by themselves. That couldn’t last forever.

“All right, then,” Bosa concluded. “You have your objectives. Dismissed.”

As everyone stood, Bosa caught Reach’s eye. “A moment?”

Reach nodded and moved two chairs closer to the captain. “How can I help?”

When the others had left, Bosa lowered his voice. “I reviewed Alexa’s footage of the events at the Bangora attack site and couldn’t help notice that Liana was absent from today’s meeting.”

“Sir, she was… Well, she was downright terrified. More than I’ve ever known her to be. Acute paranoia. I’ve seen guys like that in combat. I’m sure you have too.”

Bosa gave a quick nod.

“But whatever that thing was—is, it spooked her. The rest of the Osay with her too, but not as bad.”

“Because she has a history with one then? From when she was little, you said?”

“Yes, Captain. I don’t know to what extent. She isn’t very open to discussing the details at the moment. But whatever happened, it was enough to make her break down pretty good all these years later, and we both know how tough she is.”

Bosa let out a grunt of acknowledgment. “Mmm. Then all the more reason to see what you can get out of her. It’s bad enough not knowing if the RUPAC are still out there somewhere, but if there’s an apex predator hunting us, we need intel ASAP.”

“Copy that, sir. I’ll do my best.”

“I know. That’s why they sent you.”

Reach appreciated the goodwill. And at the same time, having so much blind trust from everyone was unsettling. But if it meant he could help keep the camp safe, then he’d use it to his advantage whenever he could.

5

Following Captain Bosa’s briefing, Lieutenant Sherman and his squad leaders got to work on the Patrol Order for investigating Camp Muir and salvaging what they could from the defunct RUPAC camp. Their meeting didn’t take long. The tasks had been a subject of discussion between the men since about the time the fight for Camp Ohio concluded. They knew they’d need to pick up where they left off by retrieving whatever resources remained at both locations.

Investigating Camp Muir was easy enough. The heavy Predator haulers used in the camp’s evacuation were more than capable of bringing First Platoon back. The Rangers had been in a rush to evacuate the colonists the last time they were there, and while there still might be valuable items left behind, Sherman wasn’t exactly sure what they might be. He had Dr. Roman’s inventory list with him, but if there was anything in the ghost-town like camp, it would more than likely be people. Osay who missed the last flight out—or the enemy.

For that reason, the men of First Platoon hit the camp with violence of action, moving quickly through to resecure all buildings. Prepared for a fight. Sherman monitored aerial images sent by Alexa when Sgt. Tran gave the word that all buildings were secure.

“No sign of RUPAC, LT.”

“Roger that,” Sherman said. “Put Masau someplace where he can watch out for anyone who’s better at hide and seek than we are.”

“Solid copy,” said Tran, who relayed the orders to the sniper.

The ruined camp now secure, Sherman walked with his platoon sergeant through what remained. Along for security was Sgt. Derrick Morales, who had taken over as First Squad Leader upon Harmon’s promotion to Second Lieutenant and transfer to Second Platoon. They passed by battle damaged pods from the Muir and Longmire that the Osay had been living in before the sudden RUPAC attack.

“Sucks how much the colonists had to go through,” Morales observed. “Crash land. Live and die for generations in this spot and then—poof—death from above, and next thing you know, your whole life is uprooted. Gotta be hard for them right now.”

“RUPAC never makes it easy,” Soto said.

Sherman nodded in agreement. He knew Soto didn’t think in these ways, but he appreciated that Morales could. Someone had to be thoughtful.

As the sun neared the western horizon, the three soldiers moved through several graveyards, capturing images and video of the makeshift tombstones. They’d never visited the old Osay burial plots in their previous visits to Camp Muir. In and out and on the go to stay ahead of a still-hidden enemy. But now, as they combed through the Camp and loaded anything that looked salvageable onto the haulers, the men took the time to take things in. Soto studied the improvised aqueducts that carried water from nearby streams closer to camp. He also pointed out the colonists’ waste management practices, which included recycling and composting systems.

“They had things pretty well together when you consider how they started,” Soto said.

“Had a fair amount of time on their hands to reach this point,” said Sherman. “Lots of ingenuity, I’ll give you that, but it didn’t lead to much of an expansion.”

This was something that Sherman’s mind did grow thoughtful about because it directly related to obstacles his boys might face in completing their mission. Were the Muir’s stockpiles of Earth-based seeds lacking in environmental compatibility with Amir? They hadn’t begun extensive farming yet back at Camp Ohio—Craiswell. Sherman was still adjusting to the name change. One thing that was certain was that the Osay relied heavily on hunting and gathering. There were no signs that the camp ever reached the robust agricultural presence that the early mission designers had envisioned.

“You think it was because of the Bangora, like they say?” Sergeant Soto asked as he sifted a handful of soil on the edge of camp. “The lack of expansion, I mean?”

Sherman kicked a mound of pebbles and looked into the forest beyond the town’s perimeter. “Not sure I buy into that. Sounds more like an excuse than a reason to me at this point. But this place is dangerous. The lion-dogs, the LSD bugs… serious resistance to expansion and clearing of fields needed for crops.”

“Even with Brody on hand?” asked Morales.

Sherman shrugged. “Apparently.”

Soto looked up to the heavens. “Not the friendliest rock to land on.”

Sherman nodded and turned to face the heart of the camp. “I think we have what we came for. Let’s get the haulers up so we can return to camp before night falls. I want us focused on getting that RUPAC ship up and running after that.”

“Copy that. I’ll get on it right after we plot our back track to camp,” Soto said, dragging the lieutenant with him, leaving Morales alone with his thoughts—and a PFC, whose eyes stayed fixed on the perimeter.

“How do you do it, sergeant?” Dunn asked.

“Do what?”

“Act like none of this is a big deal. Being lost in space for centuries. Everybody we know is dead. Earth might not even exist—doesn’t exist—not as we knew it, anyway. How do you keep your cool about it all?”

“Wasn’t aware that I was, bud.” Morales sniffed in the air and then met the man’s troubled eyes. “It is a big deal, though.”

“I get so wrapped up thinkin’ about it that sometimes I feel like my head’s gonna explode.”

Morales nodded and leveled a light punch into Dunn’s shoulder. “Listen, as combat leaders we’re responsible for being a firm foundation amid uncertainty. That means that when things go sideways, we’re there to be a fixed point for everyone to orient to, especially when things don’t go according to plan. It’s like when you lose your way on the land nav course and they give you that OSA back to the road to get your bearings.”

“OSA?” Dunn asked.

Morales spit on one of the Badger tires. “Oh Shit Azimuth.” The two men shared a quick laugh before the sergeant continued. “Leadership means we’re the OSA for everyone to get their bearings when they lose hope, faith, or composure. We hold firm so people can come out to the road and see that they weren’t as lost as they thought. You feel me?”

Dunn nodded. “Yes, Sergeant.”

Morales looked out beyond the camp toward the low mountains, their peaks basking in the sunlight. He didn’t want the kid to think that he was without emotions, only that he’d learned how to compartmentalize them. “Truth be told, bro, we’re all still grieving the deaths of our loved ones. I’m no different. I just have to keep my head on straight for when knuckleheaded PFCs come looking for an OSA.”

“Yes, Sar’nt. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

Morales held up a hand that accepted the apology and warded away any further discussion. “S’all good, man. That’s what we do. We watch the guy on our left and right to make sure they’re Big Matt.”

Dunn's eyebrow launched skyward to highlight his confusion. “Big Matt?”

“McConaughey. All right, all right, all right.”

“Oh no. Brody hacked your brain!” Dunn said in mock horror.

“Shut up, man. C’mon. Let’s head back.”

Looking to the graveyard, Morales was reminded that everyone was hurting, even the LT. It was a strange grief—a distant one. The LT had told him that after saying goodbye to his parents and siblings on Earth what seemed to him only a few months prior, he’d shut that part of himself down. Sherman said he’d turned off the part of his brain that knew he’d never see them again. But knowing their deaths weren’t recent events—hell, they were ancient history at this point—it just felt empty. Like they deserved better somehow.

Morales had asked if it was hard for him to walk away. Sherman responded that it wasn’t because some irrational part of his brain said that he might be able to send a message when the Boone arrived because his family had been alive when he left. Of course, they’d never gotten that message. That was when the LT had pointed out the rocks.

A few days before, back at the camp, Morales had noticed a string of stones symmetrically placed on the frame of the LT’s bunk. Sherman had confided that each pebble represented a family member he could think of. Fourteen. A small, simple monument to those now forgotten by everything in the universe, save him. And when Sherman was gone…

Well, it wouldn’t matter then. So, the LT told Morales his task was to get everyone’s headspace right and get back on the ball. It was what they did now that counted most. For those they had long outlived…

Morales let his mind drift to the other end of Sherman’s monument. Had the people of Earth laid out stones for the Rangers of the Boone after they left? Did his abuela or any of the people who had a hand in molding him into the man he was now lay out a thing? A monument? Was there some remnant of him that showed everyone, there was a hole in the family where he had been? He kicked a stone reminiscent of the LT’s secret monument.

Final transmission complete.

* * *

With Camp Muir accounted for, what remained to Sherman and his platoon was the inspection of the RUPAC camp and much of Amir itself. Initial plans called for flights via the heavy haulers. That was before they realized how close they were to achieving full access and use of an advanced ship—a multi-environment aircraft capable of both atmospheric and deep space flight.

The now-named USS Osay was unlike any vessel either of them had seen before. Seized during the battle for Camp Ohio, it was large enough to carry multiple Badgers and several platoons. It boasted automatic and manned point defenses, advanced rapid deployment capabilities, and what seemed to be lightweight aviation armor. In short, this ship was a significant leap from what RUPAC had when Boone left Earth.

The key to getting every remaining item Captain Bosa wanted done as rapidly as possible revolved around whether those with the skills who survived thus far could get the USS Osay into service. Command decided to make the task the top priority.

“All right, Space Force,” Sherman said to the spacers and techs who’d survived the trip aboard the Boone and were best qualified to begin the work, “what’s it gonna take to get this thing shipshape?”

The Osay had endured its fair share of damage at the hands of the Badgers before Sherman had captured it, but nowhere more significant than the topside turrets. At the time, detonating the defensive turrets had saved lives; now, it was a pain in the ass. But with a mixture of First Platoon, Osay laborers, and Space Force techs on the job, ship cleanup and assessment went quickly over the next two days.  Things were moving swiftly enough that Sherman didn’t once consider taking a party over land or by hauler to inspect more of Camp Muir. Another day and the Osay should be able to fly there directly and take anything left behind in its ample cargo bay.

Assuming those familiar with flying the heavy haulers were able to decipher how to fly the former RUPAC craft they now had at their disposal.

The men of First Platoon and the Osay chosen to crew the ship had recently been given implant upgrades, allowing them to read the Cyrillic alphabet. This alone went a long way in allowing the soldiers to familiarize themselves with the consoles, not to mention find the head. But that newly acquired knowledge did not mean they knew how to navigate the ship’s menus or engage the Osay’s advanced navigation and defense systems.

True, there were still RUPAC prisoners who had once served on the ship, but neither Sherman nor Bosa trusted them enough to free them from the brig for anything beyond the labor details around Camp Craiswell. Under normal circumstances, that would mean that Sherman would have to figure out the RUPAC technology on his own, however long it might take.

Fortunately, the Lieutenant had Alexa at his disposal.

The android had been visiting periodically to examine all dysfunctional systems, make repair recommendations, and scour the ship’s data drives for enemy intelligence. Unfortunately, there was little to be gleaned by way of new information. But now she was on hand to go over the final flight instructions to the would-be command crew. She sat in the captain’s chair, giving a demonstration of the command bridge’s hardware and software.

Sherman looked over Alexa’s shoulder while Soto stood on the other side, as did Space Force Warrant Officers Christie Strahler and Sean Ross. These two had been the primary pilots for the heavy haulers and would now expand their flight experience to the Osay.

The two seemed relaxed as Alexa moved through her improvised training course. The Ranger figured that with a brain—or processor or whatever you called it—like hers, not much could elude her comprehension for very long.

Alexa swiped to a new display screen and paused. “Strange.”

Sherman raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Something I was not anticipating. It seems the Osay has an onboard AI.”

“As in, a you?”

Alexa nodded almost reluctantly. “In a manner of speaking. Stand by. This may take a while.”

Her fingers flew across three different touch screens faster than Sherman could keep up, her movements a blur. Whatever she was doing now was not for the human onlookers’ benefit; it was for her.

Sherman nodded to the others. “Go ahead and take a break while she’s checking this out.”

Ross and Strahler nodded and exited, but Soto stuck around. “Plenty of comfy seats in this bridge, LT. I’m good.”

After a few moments, Alexa stopped and stared ahead as if in deep thought.

“Find what you were looking for?” Sherman asked.

Alexa turned to the lieutenant. “I have concluded that the ship does indeed possess a capable flight AI. It is quite limited in its functionality beyond flying the ship.”

“So it’s not a you then.”

“You are referring to my independent cognizant and computational capabilities,” acknowledged Alexa. “So… no. It’s not a me. Or a Brody. This AI is inferior to anything Doctor Roman created. That said, it is well-designed for the task of assisting human pilots in maneuvering and navigating the ship. I believe it will be advantageous to our two Space Force pilots. Would you like me to activate it?”

Sherman glanced at Soto.

The platoon sergeant shrugged and then looked at Alexa. “Is there any cause for concern that the AI might be a pendejo trying to undermine our intentions? This is, after all, an enemy ship we’ve secured.”

“A legitimate concern, Sergeant Soto.” Alexa typed as she spoke. “But as I said, this AI is purposely limited in scope and subservient to human oversight.” She gave a tight, amused smile. “And I’m a little insulted you believe I’d make such a suggestion if there was a significant risk to the mission.”

Soto held up his hands. “Hey… I’m just sayin’. Brody is s’posed to be subservient to human oversight, and he does whatever the hell he wants.”

“It may seem that way,” Alexa replied. “But Brody is a unique entity and far more predictable than he may at first appear.”

“Maybe to you,” grunted Solo, a smile of reminiscence over some of the battle android’s more quirky characteristics seeming to flash before him.

Alexa turned in her chair. “At the end of the day, Brody follows rigid programming meant to serve and protect human interests.”

“Unless you happen to be RUPAC,” Ross added, returning to the room in time to pick up the end of the conversation, a paper cup of black coffee in hand.

Alexa swiveled to face the pilot and nodded. “That is correct. But again, that is also a matter of programming, not free will as you call it.”

Sherman frowned. “Just to double-check Soto’s concerns here: any chance RUPAC has programmed this AI to treat us like Brody treats his enemies? I’d hate to switch the thing on and find that we gave it an avenue to initiate some self-destruct sequence.”

“I would also hate such an outcome, Lieutenant Sherman. However, my review of his system logs shows that he is an independent entity, proprietary to the USS Osay, and programmed to serve the crew regardless of political or national affiliation.”

“He?” Soto asked. “How do you know it’s a he?”

“Well,” Alexa began, “his name is Ivan.”

“As in Ivan the Terrible?” Strahler raised an eyebrow. “RUPAC ship, RUPAC name, I guess.”

Sherman asked, “If we don’t like him, can you shut him down, Alexa?”

“Affirmative. He is at the complete discretion of the command crew.”

“And you think he’d be beneficial to our pilots?”

“Not just pilots,” Alexa replied. “Weapons, interstellar navigation, life support, deployment, resource management. He’s quite capable in those areas.”

“Ivan.” Sherman stroked his chin. “Well, let’s fire him up and introduce ourselves.”

It took seconds for Alexa to bring the AI online. When she did, the holographic bust of a blond, flat-topped Eastern European-looking man appeared over the center flight console.

“Hello, Ivan. I am Alexa.”

The hologram’s head tilted slightly and then nodded, before speaking in what sounded like Russian.

“I’d like for you to speak in English, Ivan.”

With a Russian accent, Ivan said, “Acknowledged.”

“There has been a transfer of command. According to section six dash sixteen, I am beginning familiarization protocols.” Alexa went through the names of all who were gathered on the bridge and introduced the team.

Ivan nodded at each person and repeated their names.

“There will be more. For now, you are tasked with assisting the new crew in any way you can to ensure the completion of their missions,” Alexa added.

“Of course,” Ivan replied. “For the glory of RUPAC.”

Soto raised an eyebrow at Sherman. “You sure about this, LT?”

Sherman gave a hesitant smile and whispered his reply. “I’m sure enough about Alexa to give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“I appreciate that, Lieutenant,” Alexa replied, overhearing the discussion as though it were spoken directly into her ear. “Ivan checks out. He is operating as expected.”

“For the glory of RUPAC,” the ship’s AI said again.

“Seems like he might be a handful.” Strahler stepped in for a closer look. Ivan followed her face as she moved her head side to side. “But I think we’ll make it work.”

“Good,” Sherman said. “Because you two will be spending the most time with him.” He straightened his back. “All right, people. Familiarize yourselves with the rest of the systems. I want wheels up in four hours.”

“Acknowledged,” Ivan said. “For the glory of RUPAC.”

Alexa tilted her head. “We’ll need to work with him on that.”

6

Reach had patrolled the site of the attack multiple times without so much as a hint of the Bangora. Initially, he chalked that up to having Brody along. The war machine was a necessary companion, appeasing both Captain Bosa and Liana’s desire to be sure that Reach was safe—even with his cryo enhancements. But the bot was also something of a talker, and it took until the third patrol for Reach to finally drill into him that if they were going to catch “the Predator,” they needed to be quiet.

They never even saw a trace of the thing, let alone caught it. Each new patrol was starting to feel more likely to be a waste of time than the one previous. Not to mention the impact it was having on Liana. The lack of sightings did nothing to assuage her fears for Reach.

Now, as he spoke with her in the evening—a ritual of sorts for the pair as they better got to know one another, and a time to catch up with what the other was doing—she tried once more to convince him to stay inside the wire and put any thoughts of hunting a Bangora out of his head.

“You don’t have to follow Captain Bosa’s orders,” she said. “You’re a civilian. Brody said so.”

Reach laughed. “Yeah, that’ll go over well. Listen, it’s not about orders. I need to find this thing, and I’m the person best equipped for the job. Alexa’s busy with getting that RUPAC ship up and running, or doing whatever it is that’s kept Doctor Roman so occupied.”

Liana bit her lip and looked up, ready to attempt a new argument. “I know you think I’m being irrational about all of this. But I’m not. Jared, the Bangora can’t be killed. Brody has tried. The best thing you or anyone of us can do is stay in the camp, safe and together, until it leaves.”

“Liana, it’s just an animal. We’ve been over this. A dangerous one, sure, but I can think of a lot of things on Amir like that. Those zaskonek aren’t exactly gentle little lambs.”

“Lambs?”

“Baby sheep.”

Liana nodded. Reach wasn’t sure if she knew the reference. It was tough to say. The implants and treatment Doctor Roman had subjected her to expanded her mind and improved her ability to speak English, but there were a lot of gaps where the Osay way of life remained dominant.

“It’s not just another animal, though, Jared. Zaskonek are nothing compared to this. Even a feral pack of fildeema could not stand against a Bangora.”

“Those little monkey things?” Reach asked, trying to remember the animal from the flora and fauna briefings the Osay had put together for the Rangers. That had been a crucial help after things stabilized somewhat following the RUPAC attempt to take Camp Ohio. The Osay gave them a thorough rundown of what they would commonly encounter.

“Yes. Dangerous in groups. But… the Bangora is… unnatural. It is evil, meant for nothing but killing whoever it chooses.”

Reach let out a sigh. She was being superstitious. He had come across civilian populations in some of the more remote corners of Earth who still believed in giants, monsters, and traveling demons seeking to steal souls—all sorts of malevolent supernatural creatures. He could understand it up to a point. When it’s you against the natural world and everything outside the safe circle of tribe, village, or camp fire can kill you—it isn’t difficult to paint every bad ending as being an act of evil spirits or dark forces. Where Reach and his team might have seen an old tiger making easy meals of stray villagers, the villagers themselves saw an avenging demon seeking to punish them for some corporate wrongdoing.

“Liana,” Reach said as gently and understandingly as his training had taught him to be when dealing with the natives—and for as much as he liked Liana, that’s what she was. “I’ve gone on patrol for this thing over a half dozen times now. You know we haven’t seen a trace of it. So if it was out there and wanted to kill me, it thought better of it. Most likely, it moved on to farther hunting grounds after your team scared it away.”

She shook her head, insistent. “No. You’re talking to me like I’m some ignorant savage. I know how animals behave. It’s not like this. The Bangora is different. All you and Brody are doing by looking for it is provoking it.”

“Trust me, I’d love to have it out with the thing and be done with it. Let it be provoked! The sooner it gets killed, the sooner I can get back down to working on getting the camp organized and a self-governance system set up. Not to mention getting the first round of trainees into Sergeant Dawson’s hands. The work is starting to pile up.”

Reach was expecting Liana to remind him that he had her help when it came to the camp’s organization and integration. She was a crucial component that went between Reach and the Boone colonists and the established Osay elders and leaders. Invaluable, really.

But instead she seized on his complaints as an invitation to stop the search for the Bangora. “You’re right. The work is piling up. So skip the patrols. Tell Captain Bosa there’s no trace of it and stay focused on what’s happening in here. The Bangora won’t attack a Badger on patrol, I’m sure of that much. It only desires flesh.”

Reach smiled, impressed by the woman’s resolve. “Eventually it will fade from memory and life will return to normal. That it?” He could tell by the look on Liana’s face that she didn’t believe that would happen—at least the part about the memory fading. Clearly this was something she’d been carrying a long time. “Liana, level with me. What happened between you and this thing?”

She looked away and rubbed her bare arms, though the evening air was warm. Reach had long since felt himself beginning to sweat on his chest and down his back from standing in the sun.

“The Bangora…” she began after what felt to Reach like a long time of silence between the pair.

“The Bangora… what?”

Gathering up her courage, she spat it all out at once. “The Bangora will only leave when it is satisfied. More people will die. I don’t want it to be you.”

That wasn’t exactly what Reach asked, but it was something. “How do you satisfy a Bangora?” he asked, feeling like he was setting up the punchline to a bad joke.

“Death. We denied it the kill. The one it chose. Now it will kill others and build up a blood guilt on the chosen one’s head until they can hardly bear it.” She faltered. “Jared, I already could hardly bear it.”

She pressed herself into his chest, and Reach found himself rubbing her back and soothing her. “It’s all right. Liana, it’s all right. That thing can’t hurt you in here. You know that.”

She sniffed and straightened, then pushed herself away, as if she were embarrassed by her sudden display of emotion. Reach felt guilty about pressing her. He knew from the way she’d behaved immediately after the attack that there were some psychological scars. Now he felt like he’d gone and reopened old wounds.

“Hey, listen, Liana. I didn’t mean to dredge up any old… troubles.”

He’d nearly blurted out “baggage” and said a prayer of thanks for dodging that bullet. When it came to past relationships, that word never played well. Reach wasn’t sure what to expect from Liana now. They were hovering on the edge of her coming clean, though he had a good idea from the scars on her face what the story was.

Liana cleared her throat. “Make… make sure you get enough rest before you move out tomorrow morning.”

That, he hadn’t expected. “Uh, Roger. I will. Only thing is, we’re going out tonight after dark. Definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Brody and me have struck out every time we’ve gone looking early, like when you were attacked.”

“Struck out?”

“It’s a baseball thing.” When it was obvious that didn’t help clear things up, Reach said, “You know what, never mind. Point is, maybe this thing is more active at night. If we still come up empty after our daylight and after-dark patrols, we’ll adjust from there.”

“You’re tempting it, Reach. Asking for it to choose you.”

“Maybe. But I’ll sleep a lot better knowing that I did my duty to find it. If it gets me, it gets me. But if it gets somebody else because I didn’t bother going after it… that’s what I don’t want to have to live with.”

He didn’t mean the words as an insult, but it was clear what he said stung Liana. Her eyes flashed with a captivating anger, and Reach wondered if he’d think she looked cute in that smoldering sort of look if he didn’t already have a certain affinity for her. Because anyone else flashing him that look he would have described as completely pissed.

The anger softened quickly like the passing of a summer storm, replaced by a still, knowing calm. A look of near sorrowful resignation that made Reach feel uncomfortable in a way that being the object of wrath could not hope to—he’d had his share of that with his ex. This was different. This was the look one gave to the poor bastard who just got voluntold to go get himself killed.

Liana closed the space between them, stood on her toes, and gave him an unexpected but more than welcome kiss on the cheek. “Be careful, Jared. Please, as soon as you’re back safely, come tell me. I don’t care what time it is.”

Reach nodded slowly. “I’ll do that. If anyone’s coming back dead tonight, it’s the Bangora. Thanks for the good luck kiss.”

* * *

Rangers and Osay hunters alike had volunteered to come along with Reach and Brody for the night patrol. Both groups were eager to stalk the Bangora for different reasons. The soldiers wanted the action, and the hunters wanted revenge for their lost comrade.

Reach turned them all down. Not because he was opposed to receiving help but because he thought he and the battle android would better perform the task alone. They moved on foot at speeds that no one but Alexa or Liana could achieve, at least until Dr. Roman cycled more people into the intensive cryo-program that had transformed Reach and later, Liana. Additionally, the long range in patrols Reach and Brody had already undertaken—operations that lasted twelve or fourteen hours—had left them with an intimate knowledge of the terrain. He could navigate that attack site and surrounding region with his eyes closed. Others could not, and that would slow them even further.

Brody agreed with Reach’s decision to keep it just the two of them. “Good c-call. Those patrols never end well.”

“You’re talking from experience.”

“Roger, Citizen. Whenever the B-Bangora shows up and kills someone, it isn’t long before someone gets the idea of going out to find it. Like you.”

“Yeah? Then what happens?”

“They all die.” Brody continued down the road leading from camp. “But don’t worry—you won’t die. I’m h-here. You’re safe, Citizen.”

“Thanks, Brody.”

“That s-sounds sarcastic. If someone doesn’t believe in me, I can’t believe in them.”

“That from one of your 80s movies?”

“Of course.”

“Which one?”

Brody hesitated. “I’d… rather not s-say.”

Reach stared at the war machine for a moment, intrigued. He decided not to press it. There was a lifetime to unravel all the mysteries of his mercurial friend on Amir. “So why did those other hunting parties not make it? You didn’t go along?”

“Exact-act-actly, Citizen! If I’d have gone, that Bangora would be dead—John Matrix style. You know how it goes. Anyway, the first party of hunters all go and get killed and then the next party goes and they all die and, eventually, people decide maybe they ought to stay in the c-camp and help Brody defend it.”

Reach didn’t doubt that was the way of things. Or at least had been. But there had been no shortage of Osay volunteers, which made him wonder how long ago this incident was. He asked Brody, adding, “And don’t tell me 999 years.”

“L-liana was younger.” Suddenly Brody sounded somber, and if possible, introspective. Missing was the usual devil-may-care, bombastic attitude Reach had grown accustomed to. “She just turned eleven—you know, on the outside. If you count how long it had been since she was conceived, then it’s 999 years. B-but you don’t want to use that number because facts don’t matter to you, Reach. So… eleven. She wanted to go out to gather flowers. I went with her. Which was good because the Bangora totally would have killed her. She was so weak.” Brody squeezed his arm. “Little noodle arms. Anyway… she got a birthday present that she still wears.”

Reach nodded.

Brody examined him. “Get it?”

“Yes, Brody. I get it.”

“Her scar.”

“Thank you, Brody. Yes. I can see how that would be something that doesn’t leave you,” Reach said, referring to Liana.

But Brody applied it to himself. “I drove it away and carried that bloody little girl home. She was so brave, didn’t even cry.” The war machine snapped a twig off a branch and threw it into the brush. “Not a day goes by I don’t think about that little girl. Ten years on the beat. Thirty years on the force. Not a day goes by.”

Reach shook his head, and they moved in silence from that point on. He didn’t have to say anything. They both knew when they’d reached the point beyond the wire where the presence of a potential Bangora seemed a reality. It seemed more so at night.

Amir after dark seemed magical, almost enchanted. Not in the happy, fairytale sort of way that suggested pleasant fairies hiding amidst the ground flowers bathing themselves in moonlight rays. It was the darker, older sort of enchantment, a grim sense of danger that made one feel isolated—but not alone. The nighttime forest of Amir felt alive and crowded with things capable of causing harm. Reach couldn’t see anything, and his thermal vision only occasionally showed small creatures scurrying in the bush.

Somehow the camp and the quick reaction force on duty both seemed impossibly far off.

Reach hadn’t felt this way when patrolling with Brody during the daylight hours. This was a phenomenon he hadn’t felt since he’d moved through the darkness with Sergeant Tran and his squad, following Liana to link up with the Osay colonists for the first time. Then, he’d been surrounded by Rangers, which had cut away the feeling of being isolated. Now, even with Brody at his side, he felt stranded. Utterly and completely alone. He wasn’t afraid, but he was aware. The feeling intensified his every action. He stalked carefully and used all his senses in an attempt to detect what else might be waiting for him.

The moonlight pierced the canopy of black-leaved trees, in some places glowing brilliantly on the white bark of Amir’s peculiar forests. Where there was a clearing and the soft, blue glow settled on a copse of broad trunks, the moon glow was amplified to a point that the darkness almost fled entirely. Other times, the light was less kind. It filtered down and cast shadows of the black leaves, which looked like more leaves and branches, all of them shifting with every gust of wind. It was disorienting to the point that Reach had put up his arm on more than one occasion to fend off an imaginary shadow branch or limb that seemed to come for his head.

They found the shallow stream where the flayed corpse of the Osay hunter had been. The trip took longer than Reach remembered. He and Brody followed the water for a kilometer, moving with its current downstream, neither of them speaking. The air was warm, and the breeze pushing over the water’s surface felt crisp and invigorating. It carried a heavy scent of mushrooms—probably another thing on Amir capable of killing a man.

They smelled good, though, and Reach had no plans to eat them. Or at least no plans to be the first to eat them if mushrooms they proved to be. Their scent reminded him of a little drive-in burger stand that piled grilled mushrooms on their bacon-swiss to the point that they squirted out from between the simple sesame buns and covered the fries with swiss cheese and garlic butter. So, yeah, even if these Amir mushrooms were poisonous, the smell was all right. It brought a certain rumble to his stomach and a longing for home to his heart.

The fleeting sense of nostalgia faded as a stench rose on the wind; one of decay, and not the earthy sort that sometimes came with mushrooms. This was the stink of rotting flesh amplified to a level of putrefaction that even Reach’s stomach threatened to turn.

“You smell that?” Reach transmitted to Brody.

“I don’t have a n-nose, genius. But yeah, Citizen, I can pick up the ppm of rotting flesh in the air. Smells nasty.”

“The body we recovered was intact. No one else is reported missing.”

“D-did you count?”

“The entire Osay population? Negative. Did you?”

“I count commie kills, not citizens, Citizen.”

They followed the scent of death to a thick tree, perhaps a kilometer and a half away from the site of their original finding when Liana’s patrol had been ambushed. The tree’s white bark was marred and stained by great, dripping rivulets of blood that flowed down from somewhere near the treetop. Rifle ready and with Brody watching his back, Reach crept toward the base of the tree.

The surroundings showed no signs of activity on any of his optical overlays. Looking up, he could see nestled among the black leaves the skinned body of a human being, hung over a V-shaped pair of branches that resembled a sling leading from the main trunk. From there, the blood of the flayed man raced down, collecting on a rock at the tree’s base and then being washed away in the stream.

Reach scanned the corpse with his thermal overlay and found the same temperature as the tree itself. He switched to infrared and saw nothing beyond the glow of the moonlight contrasting with the deep shadows of the leafy canopy.

“Looks like the Bangora left a meal to eat later,” Reach said. “If we set up, we may be able to ambush when it returns.”

Reach took a step back to do just that and then one of the shadows seemed to fall from the top of the tree. His mind took a split second to comprehend what he was seeing—it appeared that a shadowy, black-leafed branch was crashing down toward him, but there was no crack from a breaking limb or the sound of the leaves rattling in their flight in an attempt to resist gravity’s pull. The shadow glided down quietly and directly above him.

Brody, whose cracked artificial mind still outpaced Reach’s, shouted, “Move!”

Reach dove to his right an instant before something large and heavy slammed onto the place where he’d just stood. After rolling through the shallow stream, splashing and dripping, Reach came up with his weapon, but Brody had already struck the first blow. The war machine fired round after round from the rotating mini-gun mounted to his elbow.

The weapon’s electric whine accompanied the spinning barrel as it spat fire at the Bangora. Reach could see the rounds hitting the shadow—a bipedal mass with no distinguishable features to his eyes—and yet it didn’t fall. Instead it darted toward Reach and leapt over him, swiping with a massive paw that sent the man flying. Had Reach not been wearing his armor, the force of that clubbing blow surely would have broken bones.

He had managed to fire three rounds at the creature as it jumped over him, just before being struck himself. These too seemed not to bother the Bangora.

Brody’s firing ceased to avoid friendly fire. The battle android shifted position and again fired at the fleeing Bangora as it slipped into the forest.

Reach struggled back up, feeling sore but whole. He watched as Brody fired. Nothing on thermal. Nothing on infrared. Nothing in his natural vision, either.

Finally, Brody ceased firing, bringing a sudden amplified silence to Reach’s ears, though the stream continued to babble over its stony bed. In the distance, a small tree groaned and cracked and toppled from the onslaught of the war machine’s assault.

“I g-got him. I know I got him.”

Reach turned back to look at the tree where the attack had initiated. It was shot to hell, its sappy blood mixing with that of the corpse. If there was Bangora blood there as well, it was impossible to differentiate. What was clear was that despite it being hit several times, it had the strength and constitution to make a hurried escape.

“Brody, how is that thing not dead?”

“B-Bangora can’t die. But you can still make him h-h-hurt.”

They looked on into the forest, listening as they moved themselves toward the middle of the stream—a clearing that would prevent the creature from climbing another tree and attempting the same trick twice. After tense moments of silence, Reach finally asked, “What caliber rounds were you using?”

“Nine-millimeter. I can fit more inside my hollow leg that way.” Brody paused as if considering. “You think that’s not enough? I can make this thing fire .50 BMG, but I run out of ammo too fast. No fun when you’re out of freedom slugs and there are still commies to kill.”

Reach shook his head. “I don’t know. I got at least one shot on target with the 6.8, and that didn’t seem to bother it, either.”

“I d-don’t think it’s coming back. Usually, you slap it around like this, it leaves for a while. Looks for an easier k-kill. Let’s track it. Look for signs of blood. If it bleeds, we can kill it.”

“You just said it can’t be killed.”

“Because it doesn’t bleed. But if it did…”

“Right.”

The pair moved in to inspect the area where the creature had just fled more thoroughly. There was no sign of it—no blood trail, tracks, or broken and disturbed vegetation to follow it by. It vanished into the dark, disorienting Amir night.

“This was an ambush,” Reach said. “Damn thing realized we were after it and…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. It began to sound too fantastic in his mind to continue. What did the thing do? Find a human to kill and string it up on a tree, waiting for its pursuers to come and then leap down to kill them, too?

That was exactly what it seemed like, and Reach couldn’t think of another wild animal who did anything like that. The Bangora now appeared to Reach a lot more like what Liana had insisted. It was a dark, thinking killer. Something intent on ending human life and crafty enough to do it.

“Here’s something, Citizen.” Brody stooped and recovered something small and thin between his fingers—black as shadow.

“What the hell…” began Reach.

“I’ve been walkin’ these trails a long time, Texas Ranger. I never seen nothing like it before.”

Neither had Reach. “Bag it and we’ll show it to Doc Roman. Let’s head back to the tree, see if we can find anything else—that’s where it took the brunt of your attacks.”

“H-hell yeah it did.”

They swept the tree base and found more of the black, shadowy flecks. Reach gathered his finds and placed them in a plastic zip bag. Brody dropped his handful of samples into his body cavity, then removed his head and let it fall into the opening.

The war machine noticed the look Reach was giving him. “H-hey. It’s clean. I wash.”

Reach looked up into the tree. “One of us is going to have to bring the body down.”

“Or… we could take turns trying to sh-shoot it down.”

Reach stared at Brody.

“Wh-what? Afraid you’ll lose, Citizen? Because you will.”

Reach shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll do it. Report to camp that we’re bringing another victim in. And tell them that the Bangora is still out here.”

7

Dr. Roman had excitedly shut himself in one of his labs once Reach and Brody had presented him with what they found from their encounter with the Bangora. It wasn’t long before the doctor called for Reach and Captain Bosa.

The pair entered the lab and were met at once with the stench of death.

“I take it that’s the victim Reach found on patrol?” asked Bosa.

“Quite right, Captain,” answered the doctor.

“Any idea who the guy was?” asked Reach.

“I’m afraid not. Dental records from the first ships only include the original colonists. The poor fellow doesn’t match. He could have been RUPAC or the progeny of those who first landed aboard Longmire or Muir. Now, I understand the smell grabs one’s attention, but that’s not why I called for you.”

Roman beckoned for the two men to follow him to a table bristling with microscopes, test tube racks, and material trays. He held up a small piece of what looked to be very dark black plastic—so dark that it seemed to suck light into it. “This is the largest of the fragments Reach and Brody brought with them. It is, I believe, a piece of the Bangora’s hide.”

“How is it so black?” Bosa asked. “Those lights overhead are blinding, and it looks like a dead spot in my vision.”

Roman let out a soft chuckle and waved a finger in the air. “That is the twenty-million-dollar question, isn’t it? Come, come.”

The doctor had another piece under a microscope and invited Bosa to have a look.

Close inspection showed the fragment had a crisscross composition, much like the weave of carbon fiber.

“It looks like black strands of Kevlar,” Bosa noted.

“Precisely!” Dr. Roman exclaimed. “Which would make it?” He looked between Reach and Bosa. “Any takers?”

“Quite strong,” Alexa said, entering the facility and happily answering the question.

“Yes. Quite strong, indeed. This material is highly resistant to impacts, scratching, and tearing.”

“Like body armor?” Reach asked. “Because that would explain why it took such a licking from Brody and kept going. At least partly.”

“Naturally occurring armor plating, yes. Which isn’t unheard of in the animal kingdom, at least as we know it on Earth. Insect chitin is a common example, as is the plating on armadillos. Then there are the members of the order Chelonia, such as turtles, tortoises, and terrapins. And we have arthropods, mollusks, echinoderms—”

“Doctor?” Bosa asked with upturned hands.

“My apologies. I’m no biologist, but sometimes I get a bit carried away with these things. In any event, this material is virtually bulletproof.”

“Bulletproof comes in multiple levels,” Bosa said. “You’re familiar with ballistic armor levels. You designed the body armor my men wear, and you designed Brody. What kind of levels are we talking about?”

“That will take a bit more research. I did not find any traces of blood or tissue, but clearly the impact from 9mm and 6.5mm calibers was sufficient to chip away the hide, as it were. I’m without a large enough sample to run proper tests, and I have no illusions of getting such unless you bring back a whole Bangora.”

“All right, it has armor,” said Bosa. “What’s keeping it invisible to our visuals? Reach tells me thermals showed nothing leading right up to the attack. So unless the thing is some kind of ghost, it’s fooling us somehow.”

“The answer lies in the plating. Please, observe.” Roman led the team to the workbench’s far end where he had a heat lamp switched off. In front of it sat another small piece of the Bangora hide.

Roman gave Captain Bosa a handheld thermal scanner and then switched on the heat lamp. “Take a look, Captain.”

Bosa raised the device to his eye and peered through the lens. The heat lamp blew the grey-scale readout wide open in bright white. But there, in the center, was a small black angular shape. The armor plate. “It blocks heat.”

“Indeed it does, Captain.” Roman took the scanner and passed it around the group. “And it absorbs plenty of visible light, making it difficult if not impossible to see at night.”

“Even in the darkness and surrounded by those black leaves, it was a shadow,” Reach said. “It’s black-black.”

“Correct.” Roman turned back to the heat lamp. “I suspect that between this armor plating and elements of the animal’s physiology, the Bangora can move almost undetected throughout Amir as a true apex species.”

“The natives seem to think there’s only one of the things,” said Reach.

Roman dismissed the idea. “Highly unlikely. It may be solitary and its range may be such that more than one are never seen, but it has to reproduce. Nothing lives forever.”

Bosa spoke up next. “Since we can’t see it with our cams and our thermal sensors, we’ll have to harden the perimeter. I’ll get the teams working on trips, snares, flares, pneumatic powder projectors, paint sprayers… that’s something the Osay recruits waiting for training can assist with, Reach.”

Reach nodded. “They’re eager to get started on something. I’ll work with Liana to make it happen.”

“All fine for defense,” Dr. Roman said with a noticeable measure of excitement in his voice. For an old man, he moved quickly when he was happy about something. “But you need something suited for encountering those beasts away from the camp. It seems the night is when we ought to exercise the most caution. These are clearly evolved for nocturnal activity.”

“They attacked Liana’s patrol in the day,” reminded Reach.

“True,” said Alexa, “but that was during a rainstorm with low levels of light.”

“So you’re advising daylight patrols only, Doc?” Bosa asked. “Because with the potential of more RUPAC, I’m not interested in giving up our night patrols until we can be sure that we’re the only humans left on Amir.”

Roman approached some sort of bulky mechanical scanner on a tripod on the other side of the lab. “Yes, I agree. Now, this is merely a prototype that Alexa and I have been working on. Unrelated to the Bangora problem but thankfully of use. I’d been putting it off until another time. As it turns out”—Roman smiled, wiggled his head back and forth, and then flicked a switch—“the time is now.”

As the machine powered up, Roman rubbed his gloves together and chuckled softly.

Reach couldn’t be sure, but the doctor was starting to act a little less like the billionaire CEO of a tech giant company and more like a wiry-haired mad scientist.

“Come, come. Have a look,” Roman said.

Reach stepped behind the machine and looked at a flatscreen display. In it, he saw a grayscale image of the room comparative to something rendered by thermal optics. But in this version, there were subtle differences. For instance, human body parts seemed strangely segmented, and Reach thought he could make out bones. Then there was the workbench whose top was a different color than the side. Temperature-wise, the whole object should have been uniform. And, finally, a heat lamp, whose radiation didn’t show up at all, save for the bulb and stand.

“What am I looking at here?” Reach said at last.

Roman threw his hands up in the air. “Mass density! Isn’t it marvelous?”

Reach looked back at the screen and studied it more carefully. “You’re saying this is perceiving variations in composition?”

“Indeed! And it can be attenuated to a range of moisture levels as well as material compositions, all using atomic resonance technology.”

“So we can see the unseeable,” Bosa concluded. “As long as it has mass, we can observe it. That can be useful in a variety of settings, Doctor.”

“Precisely, Captain Bosa. Fascinating, isn’t it? Alexa and I should have a more robust design ready for you to field-test by week’s end. But having samples of the Bangora’s plating will go a long way in allowing us to calibrate and optimize the device. From there, we will be able to produce smaller units, employing a narrower spectrometer, one made especially for tracking Bangora. It won’t work for much else, but that is the price of a smaller form factor.”

“I like what I see, Doc,” Bosa said. “How long before we have something we can put on the Badgers?”

“Five to six days. Another three to four days for personal gear.”

“I like the sound of that, too. You’re talking about helmet-mounted equipment?”

Roman nodded. “We’ll turn your NVGs into DTV. Density television!”

“How about me?” Reach asked. “Any chance I can hop back into a cryopod and get some new firmware installed? I’ve gotten used to not needing NODs.”

“Afraid not, my boy. At least, not yet. But I’m working on it!” The doc was getting pretty amped up. Reach didn’t mind, just as long as the tech helped see this new enemy. The downside to all this was the wait time.

“Well, the sooner the better,” Reach concluded. “I’m not sure Brody and I can spot the thing without what you’re cooking. But we’ll keep trying.”

“My preference,” Bosa said, “would be for you to put a halt on the foot patrols and focus on getting those recruits ready for Sgt. Dawson to train up. We’ll let the Badgers handle the patrolling until you’ve got your third eye operating.”

Reach nodded. “Whatever you say, Captain.”

* * *

While Reach and Brody had hunted the Bangora, Lieutenant Sherman monitored the progress of turning the USS Osay into a capable ship from which to launch the soldiers. Ivan proved a force multiplier when it came to getting the USS Osay off the ground. The AI’s ability to communicate in English allowed the bridge crew—primarily Space Force and Osay identified by Alexa as having an aptitude for the task—to say what it wanted and, “For the glory of RUPAC,” Ivan made it so.

Early test flights were without incident. Shipboard comms were linked to Camp Craiswell. The ship had proved its ability to serve as mobile HQ for First Platoon by the time Sherman got the okay to undertake an extensive recon mission of Amir that would begin with the RUPAC camp and include aerial surveillance of the surrounding countryside, given the sizable upgrade in traveling distance afforded the Osay versus the heavy haulers.

While Sherman didn’t expect to encounter any resistance, at least of the human sort, men of his ilk had a habit of staying alive because they prepared to outlive the enemy. He secured two Badgers and had them tied down in the Osay’s generous cargo hold. Meanwhile, First Platoon finished stowing the rest of the unit’s gear, including enough ammunition, MREs, and tactical equipment to sustain a weeks-long assault should the need arise. Again, Sherman didn’t expect to need any of this. But that’s why he was still alive and the enemies of his past engagements weren’t.

By 0900, the USS Osay and her crew were lifting off from Camp Craiswell on the first leg of their journey.

“Waypoint one set and awaiting your command, Lieutenant,” Strahler said as Sherman stepped onto the bridge. Eventually the Osay would be captained by a dedicated officer crew. For now, Sherman had the job. Improvise, adapt, overcome.

“Let’s check it out,” he replied.

Strahler and Ross nodded at one another and turned the Osay to starboard. The ship banked low over the eastern blocks of Camp Craiswell and climbed away from the forest.

The lieutenant nodded to his bridge crew, feeling more like a member of the Federation from Star Trek than a Ranger at that moment. “Okay. Short first flight but an important one. Strahler, what’s our time to the RUPAC camp?”

“Five mikes, sir,” Strahler said as the USS Osay moved steadily above the rolling hills en route to the RUPAC camp.

Sherman passed the ETA on to Soto, who then relayed to each squad leader.

The platoon readied Badgers One and Two for patrol. Even though all scans showed no signs of human life, Sherman knew better than to take chances. Enemy forces could easily be embedded in caves along the camp’s steep chasm walls or surrounding forest. All it would take is one well-placed, well-trained sniper to pick off a few guys, and Sherman wasn’t willing to let that happen.

As Strahler and Ross oriented the USS Osay to land vertically, Badger One and First, Second, and Third Squads readied for deployment along the upper rim that surrounded the enemy position. The RUPAC had set up in a deep ravine fed by an old waterfall. The depression was nearly invisible to the casual observer, as they had learned the first time they’d been here. Satellite imagery had failed to reveal the RUPAC force from space, leaving the position confirmation to ground forces. But now that Sherman and the others knew where to look, it was easier to spot where the old-growth forest covered the basin.

The pilots brought the USS Osay down in a clearing just south of the ravine, allowing the three squads to rush down the forward ramp and disappear into the woods as the Badgers were unchained before following behind. The unit, dubbed Highrise and led by First Squad Leader Sergeant Morales, would scout and set a perimeter along the upper ridge, providing support should the lower basin come under fire from within or without.

With Highrise deployed, the Osay regained altitude and moved to deposit Sergeant Mike Tran, overseeing Fourth and Fifth Squads, into the lower camp via fast rope from a separate bay, after which the Osay set down in a dry riverbed just north of the camp. Once powered down, Sherman and Soto headed out in Badger Two, then drove along the riverbed remains and headed south.

“Highrise, this is Badger Two,” Sherman said over comms. “SITREP.”

“All clear to the south and west,” Morales replied as an in-window video frame appeared in both Soto and Sherman’s minds. They saw what Morales was seeing as he watched First and Second Squads from atop the Badger. “Eastern perimeter check is almost complete. Just some pissed off monkey things and a few birds that think we’re here to raid their nests.”

“I’ll take both over RUPAC,” Sherman replied.

“Especially if they taste good.”

“Roger, out.”

Sherman pinged Sergeant Tran next.

“Camp secure. So far so good,” Tran replied. “Looks like everyone left here in a hurry.”

“Copy. ETA three mikes.”

“Roger, out.”

Sherman and Soto continued to roll along a riverbed filled with round stones until they eventually drove into the camp’s northern perimeter, marked by two metal posts and a handmade sign in Cyrillic that read Camp Crouching Yeti.

Soto chuckled.

“Mean something to you?” Sherman asked.

“Pretty sure that was one of the Russian hackers that was outed back in the Obama Administration. The FBI had a list of thirty-something names.”

“Just a kid when he was President.”

Soto shrugged. “Student of history, LT. Anyway, that was one of them, I believe.”

The Badger’s tires crunched the stones beneath it as it came to a halt. Soto set the weapons systems to sentry mode. All it would take was one word from Sherman or Soto to have the Badger light up any hostiles.

The two men climbed out of the vehicle to join Tran. The sergeant stood just outside the closest thing to a central command structure in the camp: a half-destroyed section of the RUPAC spacecraft’s main crew module. It hadn’t aged well and provided minimal cover. Even so, between the animal hides and floodlights, it seemed the RUPAC soldiers had found a way to keep the mind-altering saraka bugs at bay—at least until they wanted to harvest and purposefully imbibe the neurotoxin to become fearless on the battlefield.

“Lieutenant,” Tran said. “Corporal Masau’s on overwatch. Day and Morse have the perimeter. Free to move about structures.”

“Good work,” Sherman replied. “Let’s get every building scoured for intel.”

“Roger, LT. Unga and Vance are already on it.”

* * *

Twenty minutes passed before anyone spotted something noteworthy. Tran called Sherman into a standalone building that housed the RUPAC’s ammunition stockpiles. When Private First Class Losefa Unga, a giant Tongan, had moved one of the metal racks, he discovered a door with a shoddily retrofitted padlock. Unga pulled a set of bolt cutters from his kit and made short work of the lock.

The door opened into a long corridor that, judging by the angle and lack of sunlight leaking through cracks in the hull, extended underground. Whatever this led to, it was valuable enough to have secured with a lock. That meant it could be boobytrapped. Aside from putting his men in harm’s way, explosions had the unwanted side effects of damaging intel. Sherman wanted neither.

“Hold up,” he said, preventing Tran from moving into the corridor. “Let’s get a full scan before we move in. Someone get the bug and LTS from the Badger.”

Unga returned five minutes later with two Osay men who had been trained to operate the LIDAR, thermal, and sonic imaging systems (LTS) Sherman had called for. This was a way that Reach had made the local populace helpful to the Rangers on mission. Each carried a large Pelican case.

“Okay, here we go, Citizen,” said one of the men in English clean enough for Sherman to know the man had been set up with an implant and basic enhancements—just like his own men had been. The Osay tech opened his LTS unit and removed a piece of hardware worth more than Sherman’s house back on Earth. Hell, it was probably worth three of his houses. The system produced a three-dimensional rendering of any enclosed space up to twenty-five meters in radius, with three meters of penetration depending on material density and composition. If there were explosives, tripwires, plates, or other sensors, the LTS would see them.

The tech secured the scanner to its tripod and positioned it at the mouth of the corridor. Then he turned it on and began walking through the calibration sequence.

Meanwhile, the other Osay tech had opened his case, revealing what looked like an RC vehicle and controller. Built into the case’s lid were two flat screens and video receivers, while the Pelican’s foam-bed held a handheld transmitter, First Person View goggles with spare batteries and antennas, and a small drone the size and shape of a large Murder Hornet.

Unga leaned on an ammo rack and knocked his boots with the bolt cutters he’d used to break the lock. “How come they always get the fun toys?”

“Because they didn’t drop the case during training, Unga,” Corporal Vance said as he entered the ammo depot from behind. “Invent a time machine to reverse that screwup, and maybe you can play with something too.”

“He already plays with himself plenty,” Castillo replied.

“Least I got something to play with,” Unga shot back.

Tran waved a hand. “Pissing matches are for after chow. Focus.”

“She’s ready,” the LTS tech said to Tran, who nodded his approval.

With remote in hand, the LTS technician covered his groin with his other hand. “Brody says this stuff will kill your baby makers.”

Sherman wasn’t sure if it that were true or not, or if a hand would do the trick to make it any less likely, but he smiled as everyone else copied the specialist, himself included.

“Fire in the hole,” the tech said and squeezed the button.

The LTS let out a series of sounds that made Sherman’s ears ring—not out of sheer decibel level as he’d experienced in firefights, but from a range of ultrasonic pitches that made him wince. Likewise, there were some low vibrations that he swore were gonna loosen up MREs still hanging around from his first deployment. The noises lasted a few seconds before stabilizing into a constant hum.

“Shoulda told us to cover our ears instead of our balls,” said Unga.

“Shooting all those guns will make you deaf anyway,” said the Osay tech. “But I’m not planning on shooting blanks, yeah, Citizen?” He checked the readouts and whistled under his breath. “Okay. You shouldn’t need the battle board for viewing according to Alexa’s last updates on this thing. The results should just show up in our heads for anyone who accepts the incoming prompt.”

Sherman was about to ask how long this prompt would take to show up when an icon appeared in his vision. The window floated a few feet in front of him. “I see it.” He let his eyes rest on the word Accept and then took a step back as his vision filled with a 3D image of the tunnel ahead. It was like wearing a set of VR goggles, but as he turned his head, Sherman noticed he could see everyone in the ammo room too, all in real-time, all composed of color shades and dot density.

The lieutenant studied the corridor with interest. Right away, he noticed several cavities along the floor.

“Okay,” Sherman said, pointing out the abnormalities to the others. “Those look like A-P mines to me.”

“Solid copy,” Tran agreed. “Same here. Explosive Ordnance Disposal is with Morales. Want me to call him in?”

“Negative,” Sherman replied. “At least not yet. Let’s see if there’s anything worth investigating first. Bug ready?”

“Roger, LT Citizen,” the other Osay tech announced. The miniature drone hummed in place and then shifted forward into the corridor. “Bug is up and ready.”

He sent the prompt for the others to give the UAV’s visual feed, leaving the goggles in the case as a relic of pre-implant days.

Sherman rode virtual shotgun as the miniature UAV flew down the corridor.

The bug not only had its own onboard cameras and IR sensors but piggybacked the LTS’s data too, leaving Sherman to feel as though he were flying down the tunnel. He reached a hand out to an adjacent ammo rack to steady himself.

The ship’s tunnel descended underground as Sherman had first guessed. The corridor buckled in places but mostly continued down at a slight angle. Doors on either side of the corridor suggested whatever RUPAC had dug out down there was big.

“That RUPAC dude who told us how to get here say anything about this?” asked Unga.

“Not that I ever heard,” said Sherman.

The drone floated past a few smaller rooms, many of which had partially caved in. Sherman was most interested in what lay at the far end since that was what the mines seemed to have been laid to protect.

“Nice and easy,” Castillo said under his breath, continuing his personal self-help mumblings.

After nearly fifty meters, the ship’s tunnel ended in a small room defined by wall-mounted computer stations and terminals. In any other context, this space would have glowed with touch screens and blinking LEDs, operated by a small team of technicians. This was, no doubt, some sort of server room or monitoring station. It was little more than a crypt now, but hopefully one with data drives that could still be plundered.

“Lieutenant Sherman,” Alexa said in his mind.

Even though it had been over a month, Sherman was still sometimes thrown off by neural communication. “We need to work on your entrance.”

“Say again?” Tran asked.

“It’s Alexa,” Sherman said and pointed to his left ear. He made a mental note to better use the whole “think your words” functionality. He’d just answered out loud.

In his mind this time, Sherman said, “Go ahead, Alexa.”

“I see that you have reached the RUPAC camp, and I am observing the LTS and bug feeds. May I be of service to you?”

Sherman wasn’t entirely sure if Alexa meant you in general terms, as if she’d been tracking the USS Osay, or him specifically. But her help could be used in either case. “Affirmative. We’re in a section of the enemy ship that leads to an underground bunker of some sort. Something dug out from the back of the ship. Looks like a monitoring station or server room to me. I’d like to know what you make of it.”

“May I have permission to access your implant and associated systems?”

“Permission granted. Just don’t… you know… take me over.”

“I am banned from that, Lieutenant Sherman. Remember?”

“Just making sure.”

“Stand by.” A few seconds passed before Alexa came back on. “What you are seeing is a curious mix of a subterranean excavation and the original ship.”

“Like, they buried parts of the ship underground?”

“Yes. Specifically, the command corridor servicing IT substations as well as a main relay center at the tunnel’s end.”

“Seems like a bunch of work for no good reason,” Sherman mused.

“And here I thought you were familiar with how things went in the Army.”

Sherman couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fair enough. So someone orders them to dig, and they drop some of these pod sections below ground. Why?”

“My theory would be because they lacked the ability to destroy outright the contents. This is potentially an important discovery. What you are looking at is an area reserved for senior-level staff and engineers with top-level security clearance.”

“That bodes well for finding something useful.”

“Indeed. It is highly probable that anything of value in the RUPAC camp regarding sensitive data—or drawings on the backs of napkins, as Captain Bosa more quaintly suggested—will be here.”

“Thanks, Alexa,” Sherman replied.

“You are most welcome. Best of luck navigating the minefield. As you might guess, that is not standard and was added after the crash. However, the layout suggests that it was set up as a navigable deterrent. Any blasts would be far enough from sensitive pieces of information as not to cause damage—to anyone but the person who activated the mine, I mean.”

“Navigable.” Sherman stressed the word. “So whoever placed them did so in a way to move around them?”

“That is my belief. They knew where to step. And thanks to the LTS, so do you.”

Sherman paused, suddenly wondering if Alexa might be of help there too. “Before you go, mind staying in my head a bit longer?”

“Why, Lieutenant Sherman, I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

In the end, it was Private Unga who volunteered to brave the gauntlet of mines down to the main relay center. He was prone to talk big and backed it up—one of the young soldiers Sherman felt most likely to receive promotion… if he could tone down the swagger a bit. Still, Unga was the type who put his money where his mouth was. That was worth everything.

On Sherman’s order, Alexa was in the rest of the Ranger’s heads. Between their real-time conversations and all the data coming in from the LTS and bug, Alexa assured Unga that she would get him down and back safely. Not that he needed the reassurances; he’d volunteered well before Alexa’s direct involvement had lit up the mines in his eyes, creating great glowing red zones for him to avoid. This was better than expected. Unga felt calm, more so as Alexa guided him audibly as an accompaniment to the visuals she’d supplied.

“Step one meter forward and not a centimeter less,” Alexa said.

“Keep talkin’,” Unga said, taking the big deliberate step over the mine. “I like the sound of your voice, Alexa.”

“Thank you. Two meters more before the next. Do you see it?”

“I see it,” confirmed Unga. The soldier was halfway down the tunnel and doing well.

Sherman watched the procedure pensively when his implant chimed.

“Lieutenant Sherman, this is Highrise,” Sergeant Morales said.

“Send it.”

“We’ve got possible contact inbound, south, and east.”

Possible? Sherman asked himself. He reduced Unga’s view to a small window in his mind and pulled up Morales’s. Even as he made the switch, Sherman heard a ton of background noise. It sounded like a cross between the ocean and a daycare full of screaming babies. “What am I hearing, Sergeant?”

“Well, sir…” Morales was looking up into the trees. “Those monkeys we pissed off? They seem to be rallying above us. Their numbers are growing.”

Sure enough, Sherman saw that the sounds came from a host of small, white, monkey-like creatures with black faces and wide yellow eyes. “Those are fildeema. Are they showing any direct aggression?”

“Negative. Just, uh, thought you should be aware.”

“Roger, out.” Sherman closed the channel and refocused on Unga’s POV.

The private was ten meters from his destination when his foot slipped on a rock protruding from the floor. Unga swore but managed to catch himself on the sidewalls just as he raised his outstretched leg a few centimeters above an explosive plate.

“You okay, Private?” Soto asked.

“Yeah. Just… taking a break.”

Soto acknowledged the nervous smiles around the ammo room. “Take your time, Unga. We’re in no hurry. One step at a time.”

“Roger.” The private took a deep breath and then pulled himself up, careful not to let his boot tap the top of the plate.

Over the next sixty seconds, Alexa successfully guided Unga to the relay room and then overlaid his mind’s HUD with a schematic she had on file. The Cyrillic text changed to English and identified key features.

“Anything in particular I should be looking for?” Unga asked no one in particular.

When the AI remained silent, Sherman said, “How copy, Alexa?”

“Analysis complete. In the words of you Rangers, I would suggest going big or going home,” she replied. “If it is still there, the module’s primary data core will be located at the waypoint I’ve set in your field of view, Private Unga.”

Sherman could see a new vector indicator appear in Unga’s feed, complete with a superimposed line to the target area with a distance measurement that changed even with Unga’s subtle head movements.

“And no mines in here, right?” Unga asked, glancing behind at the onlookers.

“Looks good from here,” Soto replied, checking the sensor feed.

“I concur,” Alexa added. “You can breathe easily.”

“Yeah, sure,” mumbled Unga. He moved on. “This looks like it.”

“That’s it,” said Alexa.

Lieutenant Sherman was pulled away from the discussion by a sudden ping from his implant.

“Lieutenant Sherman, this is Highrise,” Morales said.

“This is Sherman. Send it.”

“We got more of these… monkeys on the ground approaching First and Third Squads, south and east, respectively.”

Sherman switched visual feeds. “Acknowledged. I see them.” Now there were hundreds of the little critters coming to investigate the Badger. Mottled black and white fur, a perfect camouflage for the odd trees that grew on Amir. As Morales looked left and right, Sherman saw that the monkeys also seemed curious about the men on foot.

“Morales, fire a shot,” Sherman said. “See if that disperses them.”

“Roger.”

Sherman heard the report of one of the MCX SPEARS rifles along the rim.

Morales pinged Sherman’s comm again. “Still coming, LT. Don’t think they liked the bang, though. Should I fire again?”

But before Sherman could answer, more shots rang out. Things were going south.

Sherman ground his teeth and addressed his team. “Let’s hurry it up. We’ve got a situation developing.”

8

The fildeema charged Morales’s position atop the Badger as one. The sudden onslaught ticked all the Rules of Engagement boxes and resulted in the Rangers opening fire. Morales dropped into his vehicle to avoid getting overrun by the small creatures. The things screeched and exposed sharp yellow fangs as they clambered up and along the Badger.

“Oh, shit,” Morales shouted as he pulled the hatch down above him. Tiny black hands slipped under the metal and attempted to pry the hatch back open. Morales let out another curse and punched the emergency closure button. The automated system had no trouble sealing the vehicle, and it mangled the attackers in the process. Fildeemas screamed on top of the Badger, some in rage and others in wild pain as at least a dozen small hands and arms dropped onto the floor with digits still twitching.

The top hatch was only one of the entrances to the Badger. Soldiers had attempted to enter the vehicle through its side doors and were now in a fight with the fildeema attempting to follow inside. Dozens fell with each trigger pull as rounds ripped through the teeming swarms that tried to race past Portman and Wilcox on the left side while Beckman and Earley alternated fire from the right door. Grant was already inside and setting up an MG-338.

Morales heard the Badger’s automated targeting system blast away with slow shots, engaging one target at a time with single fire. That wouldn’t cut it. “Casser! Get us moving and set the Badger’s auto-defensives for max spread. Flares to all adjacent fields of fire.” The vehicle lurched forward, crushing the monkeys under massive tires as its heavy guns picked up the tempo.

Morales had no time to admire the damage they were now dealing. He transmitted to Sergeants Snow and Rosa, northwest and east of his current position. Both squads were on foot and would need the Badger if they were to have any hope of escaping the valley.

“Snow, we’re en route to your position. Trying to put some distance between us and those things, but it looks like they’re keeping up. See if you can drop some mortars behind us and thin the little bastards out.”

“Roger,” Snow replied, seemingly unfazed by what was happening. “We have eyes on you. Stay buttoned up inside.”

“Solid copy. Be ready to hop on when we get to your position,” Morales added. “This will be a hot evac.”

“Roger, out.”

“Rosa, we’ll come back for you after that. See if you can top-rope that cliff face to your north.”

“We’ll find a way,” Rosa said.

Weapons fire and spent brass filled the Badger’s interior as First Squad fended off the fildeema point-blank. Though they were moving, the creatures proved swift enough to reach the still-open doors with bursts of speed, causing the men inside to shout for their driver to “Hurry the hell up!”

Portman was screaming bloody murder. “My legs!”

Several of the creatures had gotten a handhold on the Ranger and were now viciously clawing and biting at his lower extremities. He stabbed at the creatures to keep them at bay, but they barely reacted.

“Get inside and close the doors!” Morales shouted, aware that the creatures were making that difficult but knowing it would be the only way to avoid disaster. He leaned down with his rifle and assisted Portman and Wilcox as they fought to keep the monkeys from jumping into the left-hand door, and he caught one of the little bastards full in the face with the hardened knuckles of his Wiley combat gloves. The thing flew out of the door and tumbled wildly across the speeding landscape until it disappeared from view.

Wilcox pulled himself all the way inside while Portman was on his back and trying to kick away several small hands clinging to him. “Get the hell off me!”

Their nails tore through his trouser leg and skin, showering his boot with blood.

Morales slashed at the creatures with his knife, forcing the monkeys to let up. The wounded man rolled into the Badger, then Wilcox slammed and sealed the door.

One door shut. That left the right side, where Beckman held on to the inside of the door’s edges for dear life, doing all he could to keep his legs from touching the ground and causing him to go tumbling out of the speeding Badger. The man let out a bellow. Countless monkeys had him by both feet while Earley fired three-round bursts over Beckman’s back.

“Changing,” Earley yelled.

Morales and Wilcox opened fire, sweeping available targets as they kept the opening clear. At the same time, the injured Portman reached across the floor and grabbed Beckman under the armpits to haul the Ranger inside. Once Earley massed fire with Morales and Wilcox, the fildeema fell back long enough to let Portman pull Beckman the rest of the way in.

“My legs!” Beckman screamed. “They ate my legs!”

While he still had legs, he was missing his right foot, and his left boot was almost completely gnawed off.

“Sons of bitches ate my legs!”

“You’re gonna be okay,” Morales said, trying to calm the man down. “Breathe, Beckman. Come on.” He waved Earley over. “Stop the bleeding.”

Beckman looked as though he’d lost a good deal of blood and was in the process of losing more. Earley gave Beckman a length of webbing to bite down on and then applied one of his four RATS Gen 3 tourniquets to the right leg. With the bleeding reduced, Earley pulled out a Celox applicator and injected the coagulant directly into the wound. Beckman squirmed, but Earley was still able to dress the wound quickly.

While this was happening, Wilcox removed the injured man’s individual first aid kit from his armor and pulled out the auto-injector morphine pen. He jammed it against Beckman’s thigh and watched to make sure all of the drug went in. As soon as Beckman started to relax, Wilcox pulled a Sharpie’s cap off with his teeth and wrote the time and dose on the injured man’s pant leg, then he followed with the time and date of the tourniquet’s application on his forehead.

Wilcox turned to Portman on the other side of the Badger. “You want some of yours?”

“I’m good.” Portman winced when the Badger hit a bump. “Gotta keep clear.”

At the same moment, mortar rounds began detonating behind the Badger. The explosions sent shockwaves against the vehicle’s rear, accompanied by dozens of soft thuds. At first, Morales thought it was dirt clods. But when he checked the external cams, he saw they were the fildeema being flung in pieces against the vehicle.

With Beckman stabilized, it was time to supplement the Badger’s computer-controlled defenses with some good old-fashioned human support.

“Earley, take the other MG,” Morales said. “Wilcox, you’re on the forty.”

“With pleasure,” Wilcox replied.

Both men stowed their rifles and climbed into their respective gun emplacements.

Meanwhile, Morales re-situated himself in the turret and grabbed the fire-controls. The Badger’s .50 cal machine guns fired sporadically now that the Badger’s speed and the mortars had put some distance between the vehicle and the swarm.

Morales took the weapon off sentry mode and assumed control, then zeroed in on a roiling mass of monkeys at the Badger’s five o’clock. He squeezed both butterfly triggers and felt the cannons vibrate the hull as they sent streams of lead at the aggressive species. Rounds detonated bodies in bright flashes of blood and fur. Any body parts not vaporized spun into the forest.

At the same time, Wilcox’s MK 19 forty-millimeter grenades started throwing up plumes of gremlin guts. The weapon’s steady kuh-thunk, kuh-thunk sound was followed by complimentary eruptions further back.

Earley was busy keeping the creatures off the flanks, toggling between fire modes on the left- and right-side MGs. The Badger’s weapons systems architecture allowed him instantaneous access to either weapon by switching views in his mind, a feature that he used to great effect. The monkeys were forced to fall back as Earley drilled incoming pockets.

Morales had just chewed through another swath when Snow’s mortar team landed three more rounds on target. Eruptions of dirt sent puréed fildeema streaking into the treetops. The violent force even knocked dozens more creatures from the branches.

“Thirty seconds,” Casser announced over comms.

“Roger. Eyes on,” Snow replied.

Morales surveyed the enemy presence to ensure that Snow and Second Squad would have enough time to get aboard. The fildeema had slowed, but they hadn’t given up. “We need more margin. Concentrate fire, six o’clock.”

“Little bastards aren’t letting up,” Wilcox grunted.

“Neither are we. Casser, pick up the pace.”

“Already got it floored, Sar’nt! It’s this damn terrain.”

As Casser pushed the Badger faster through the underbrush, Morales, Wilcox, and Earley concentrated fire to the rear.

“I see you, Snowman,” Casser announced.

No sooner had the driver spoken than Morales saw an in-picture window pop up in his mind’s eye. It was from Casser’s POV, and there were small POI reticles fixed on Snow and his team.

As the Badger decelerated, Morales barked orders to his squad. “Guns up, left side. Sacrifice all other fields of fire. Portman, if you can shoot straight, cover the hatch.”

“Roger,” Portman replied.

As soon as the Badger stopped, the left-side door opened. Morales could hear the fildeema screams echoing through the valley. The sound sent a chill up his spine. How many of the little bastards were out there? He had to wonder how those RUPAC scrubs survived something like this so close to their back door. Maybe it was just another example of how little everyone really knew about this planet, including the colonists. Damn.

Portman’s MCX fire drew Morales’s attention down to the side door. But only for a second. As soon as the first man from Snow’s squad appeared in the doorway, Morales was back on the fifty and firing into the monkeys amassing to the west and south.

“Come on! Come on!” Portman yelled as Private First Class George Hain ran toward the door, cradling his mortar tube.

“Gotta protect Bessy,” Hain yelled as he jumped inside. “Saved your asses once already.”

Portman grabbed the man’s armor and helped haul him in. “You crazy son of a bitch.”

“Right?” Hain cleared the door and pivoted with Bessy to allow the others to run the rail. “Daddy’s got you.”

As soon as the soldiers were in, Morales told Casser to floor it. The Badger bucked as all six no-flat wheels ground against the forest floor and propelled the war machine forward. Morales relinquished his position on the second fifty cal and reached out to Third Squad.

“Rosa, this is Morales. SITREP.”

“No contact. We’ve got two ropes on. Squad’s halfway down.”

“That’s what I like to—”

As soon as Morales heard weapons fire from Rosa’s implant, he brought up the Sergeant’s feed. Rosa had one hand on the rope running through his climbing harness’s D-link carabiner and the other firing his weapon over his head. A new swarm of fildeema were coming over the edge of the forest and down into the valley, some even sliding down the ropes.

9

“Easy, Unga,” Soto called down to the PFC as he carried the data drive up through the tunnel.

The sounds of heavy gunfire in the distance had everybody on edge, including Unga. When he’d volunteered to head down the corridor earlier, he figured it would be a cakewalk. After all, he’d grown up around IEDs in Tonga. RUPAC had boobytrapped the south-pacific islands to future-proof them against becoming US-allied footholds. He’d seen several go off as a kid, and he’d lost two uncles to them by the time he was ten. That’s when his family moved stateside to be with his mother’s grandparents in Virginia. But all Unga wanted was to get back to the south pacific and Australia to fight the RUPAC, so he enlisted on his eighteenth birthday.

Point of the matter was, explosions didn’t scare Unga.

Failure did.

Unga knew that he carried something important in his hands. He wouldn’t be a part of the team who sorted through the data, nor would he be one of the leaders who made the call about the intel they found. But right here at this moment, he had a part to play. And even though his family was long since gone, he did this for them; he fought the RUPAC in their honor—hundreds of years later on a distant planet, but still in their honor.

“Mr. Unga, please proceed forward two meters and then step over the next floor panel,” Alexa said.

“I see it.”

“Pay particular attention to the far edge as it seems to have been unseated. Any sudden movements may cause it to settle and set off the mine below.”

Unga saw the raised edge that Alexa had pointed out. He stepped further than needed, just to be extra sure.

“You’re almost home,” Soto added now that Unga was less than six meters from the ammo room. “Nice and steady.”

* * *

Sergeant Clay Rosa had experienced his share of adrenaline kicks in his career. The conflicts in Berlin and Paris had seen to that. But having a horde of razor-toothed alien monkeys climb down your own lines while you’re still fifteen meters off the deck? Hell. This was definitely not mentioned in the recruiting brochure.

“Pick it up,” Rosa yelled to those below as the fildeema continued to slide toward him. He tried a quick bound, but the creatures held on. Still, their progress halted, so that was something. He looked to the man on his right. “Let’s cross the streams, shave these bastards off.”

Rosa leapt over the man, causing their ropes to scissor and sending fildeema falling to the deck where they were quickly dispatched by those already on the ground. More of the creatures scampered down the rock face, but not as fast as the ones using the human made vine.

Seeing that his men were almost to the bottom, Rosa pushed off from the wall and let the line slide faster through his gloved hand. He slowed himself enough to fire at two of the creatures who were outpacing him and then zipped down as the carcasses sailed past him to hit the ground with miniature thuds. More were already on the way to take the fallen’s places on the line.

Rosa glanced to his right and saw PFC Cohen shooting a group of monkeys bounding down some rock steps. Cohen made the rapid descent look easier than it was—the Ranger was damn poetry in motion as he fired while pushing off the wall.

Suddenly, Rosa felt his stomach drop as his line went limp. He glanced up and saw two monkeys that had chewed through the rope. Rosa executed a PLF—parachute landing fall. The ground came up in a blur, and he hit hard. Even with a helmet and plate carrier, Rosa felt like he had been hit by a Mack truck. But he was alive enough to see Corporal Tulli yelling at him.

“Come on, Sergeant!”

Rosa blinked against the pain but found his strength and took Tulli’s hand. A glance up the wall provided additional motivation as more monkeys streamed down the face.

Back on his feet, Rosa charged through the underbrush and joined his weapons squad behind a fallen tree. They laid down suppressing fire, but as the enemy continued to mass at the cliff base, the men were forced to fall back further. Each man took turns peeling off the line and withdrawing, only to take up a new position to cover the next trooper to do so.

“Moving!” shouted Tulli.

“Got you covered!” Rosa fired

“Position set!” Tulli took up firing.

Now it was Rosa’s turn. “Moving!”

“Got you covered!” said Tulli as he sent more covering fire.

“Frag out,” Cohen yelled. It was a call that would be repeated a dozen times as Third Squad withdrew by fire, using the explosive advantage to make their escape. Grenades detonated and showered the adjacent trees with broken fildeema corpses. The enemy screeched as they darted away from the blasts. Holes in their line were quickly filled in by more of the creatures plunging down the cliff.

“Morales, this is Rosa.”

“Send it, Rosa.”

“We’re in the valley and have heavy contact on our six. Request evac or a fire mission on our POS.”

“Copy. Stand by.”

* * *

“Sherman, this is Highrise,” came Sergeant Morales’s voice over comms.

Sherman moved beyond Unga and Soto, who were examining the data core. “SITREP.”

“First and Second are in Badger One, northbound. ETA three mikes. Two wounded. Third platoon to your east, requesting support.” Morales sent a visual of a virtual map to Sherman’s brain. “You’re closer, LT, but we can turn around if needed.”

“Negative. Do not turn back. Proceed to the Osay. We’ll pick up Third.”

“Roger. Highrise out.”

Sherman closed out the channel and then ordered Fourth and Fifth Squads to fall in on Badger Two. While the RUPAC camp hadn’t seen any of the creatures in the vicinity, the lieutenant guessed it wouldn’t be long before the scruffy little man-eaters would sweep their way through the valley to reach them. He needed to update the pilots. “Osay, this is Sherman.”

“We read you, Lieutenant,” Strahler replied. “Go ahead.”

“Keep the bus warm. Badger One is closing on your position with two wounded. Badger Two will be a few mikes behind.”

“Copy that, sir. Osay standing by.”

* * *

Sergeant Rosa’s Weapons Squad had done well at keeping the vicious masses at bay, but they were running low on grenades, and legs were feeling the weight the shit-ton of ammo required to keep their two MGs up. It was past time to put the weapons to use, but so far a clearly defensible position was lacking. They’d need that in order to hold up long enough for help to arrive.

He was still waiting to hear back from Sergeant Morales, encouraging the team to keep hauling ass when he spotted it.

“Head for those rocks.” Rosa pointed to a mound of boulders atop a small rise in the forest floor. “I want both guns pointing south. We make our stand here.”

The unit acknowledged and scrambled up the hill. Tulli and Moorehouse set up the first machine gun atop a wide boulder while Tarant and Cohen worked on the second MG. They spread the bipod, opened the ammo pouches, and slapped the first belt of rounds into the feed tray.

Rosa changed mags and found a spot wedged between two rocks. He had good cover, plenty of height, and ample visibility of both flanks. Then he noticed flashes of white fur appear between the tree trunks.

“Here they come,” Rosa yelled. “Fifty meters. Prep your remaining frags and call out targets by priority. Gunners, target the gaps created by the boom. Make that spot a monkey no-go-zone. Shooters, target the fuzzies when they change course. That should give us a tick for them to try and figure out where to go next.”

The men acknowledged, aimed, and took careful shots at range.

Soon the fildeema gathered en masse, roiling close enough for Rosa to call for the remaining frags. The grenades soared deep into the enemy pack and detonated from left to right in quick succession. The animals screeched as the ordnance wiped out scores of them, but more filled the ranks.

“Light ’em up,” Rosa called out. That was all there was left to do.

The boulder cluster dispensed a combined 1,400 rounds-per-minute between the two MG 338s operated by Moorehouse and Cohen, while Rosa, Tulli, and Tarant fired three-round bursts from their MCX-SPEARs. With such a target-rich environment, they could have switched to full-auto and not missed a shot. But Rosa needed his men to stay up on ammo. The 338s would do their thing, and the rifles would do theirs. Even still, they were going through magazines quickly.

“Changing,” Tarant called out. After slamming home a fresh magazine, he noticed Moorehouse’s 338 getting low. He prepped another belt and then brought his rifle back up.

Rosa and Third Squad laid waste to wave after wave of the creatures. He moved his rifles to do damage where the MGs were missing shots. He calculated sidearm longevity because the rifles were all in danger of running dry, and with the way the enemy was charging, that would be too soon.

“Rosa, this is Sherman,” the lieutenant said over comms.

That was unexpected.

“Go ahead, L—Shit!” Rosa fired at a monkey that landed from out of nowhere not a meter in front of him. A 6.5 round liquified the animal’s gut, but a second dropped in nearly the same spot and charged. Rosa blew its head off and ducked as the body rolled over his shoulder.

“They’re overhead,” Rosa yelled to his squad.

The rifles swung up while the machine guns stayed locked on the ground forces.

“LT. We’re low on ammo,” Rosa said finally. “Could use some support.”

“We have your position locked. One mike out,” Sherman replied. “Approaching from the east. Prepare to shift fire on my go. How copy, over?”

Rosa clenched his jaw. “Roger. Out.” He didn’t think they had one mike. But he wasn’t about to let these animals swarm the Badger, and with it, the last chance they had of getting out of the kill box they found themselves in.

So he found his next targets leaping between branches and squeezed his trigger to the sound of an empty click.

“Son of a bitch.” He corrected the stoppage and continued to run the razor.

* * *

“We’re at top speed?” Sherman called up to Soto.

Soto relayed the question to his driver, but Badger Two was already going as fast as it could considering the uneven terrain, dense underbrush, and over-capacity crew compartment.

“Sorry, LT. Any faster and… Hold on.” The driver swerved to avoid a fallen tree and then got back on course. “And we’re likely to roll.”

Soto grunted. “We need to be there yesterday.”

“Copy that, Sergeant.”

Sherman cursed and then called out to the gunners. “I want a display of force that makes those damn monkeys piss themselves to next Sunday, that clear?”

The men acknowledged that it was.

“If you can see it, drop it by a three count.”

More acknowledgments came back.

“Good. Sergeant Tran, your squad exits left. Cover Rosa. Everyone else, guns right.”

“You heard the man,” Tran yelled to Fifth Squad as they formed up on the left-hand door. “Prep frags.”

Soto looked ahead and saw a sea of black and white furry bodies churning along the valley floor, and more swinging through the treetops high above the rim. “Third Squad, approach direction east from your POS. Shift fire and be ready to move to Badger. Ten seconds.”

The Badger’s weapons went online. The forty-mil grenade launcher was the first to send rounds deep into the enemy pack while the MGs went wide open on those targets in front.

The driver slid the Badger to a stop in front of Third Squad’s position to the left.

Tran tapped the man at the front of the stack and began the soundless push out the door. They peeled off to the Badger’s front and back ends and tossed frags. The grenades sent monkey bodies and dirt clods hurtling through the air. The team’s weapons came up and fired overhead. The second man out, Tran shouted for Rosa and his squad to descend.

Sergeant Soto moved to the door to watch Third Squad come around the boulders. Their faces were the mixed masks of anger and relief as they spotted the Badger and Soto waving them toward the open door. Soto counted Moorehouse and Cohen with their 338s. Their ammo bags were gone, as were all their grenades. Tarant came next, and then Tulli with Rosa hanging on his shoulder. The Sergeant’s right arm had been torn open, yet the man still held onto his weapon’s grip, ready to endure the pain and fire if needed. Rosa’s face was also badly gouged, mostly on the right side.

“Medic,” Soto yelled.

Sgt. Watts acknowledged and asked for everyone to make room along one of the crew benches.

Cohen and Moorehouse fell against the Badger’s hull but waited for Tulli to come down and get their sergeant secured first.

“Nice to see you, Rosa.” Soto helped the sergeant in and pointed him back to Watts. If Rosa said anything in reply, Soto didn’t hear it over the din of weapons fire.

The rest of Third Squad piled in, followed quickly by Tran’s squad.

Soto pulled the door and let the driver know they were secure.

The Badger lunged forward, banked around the boulder formation, and then accelerated north for the Osay. It plowed through a small group of fildeema that had attempted to cut the vehicle off, crushing bodies under massive wheels and throwing the little creatures up against the windshield to tumble down the sides and roll to a permanent stop.

“That felt good!” shouted the driver.

“Highrise, this is Sherman,” the lieutenant said over the general comm channel. “ETA to the ship?”

“Pulling up now, LT.”

“Roger, Highrise. Third Squad is in our care.”

“Good to hear,” Morales said, the relief in his voice clear.

“We’ll be there shortly. Sherman out.”

There was a pause inside the Badger before one of Rosa’s men asked Tran, “You guys find anything?”

Tran gave a shrug and then looked to Sherman. The Lieutenant knew what the questioner was really asking. Was it worth it? Did we gain some ground? Because that’s what Sherman would have been asking if he were in the young man’s position.

Sherman glanced at the data drive stowed in the webbing and answered for Tran. “Affirmative. We definitely found something.”

10

Reach was going over a new training regimen meant to increase the Osay’s battle readiness and prepare them for possible future integration with the Rangers when he got the hail.

“Go ahead, Alexa,” Reach replied.

“Captain Bosa has requested your immediate presence at the airfield.”

Reach furrowed his brow. “Any reason he hasn’t contacted me himself?”

“He is busy speaking with Lieutenant Sherman and preparing a medical response with Dr. Roman and some of the Osay.”

Reach sat up straight. “RUPAC?”

“Negative. The Task Force encountered fildeema—a swarming monkey-like species while at the RUPAC camp.”

“I thought they were harmless?”

“Also negative. They are dangerous in large numbers. Liana registered surprise to learn of their presence at the camp. The location is apparently a great distance beyond their usual boundaries.”

Reach set down his tablet. “Amir is just full of surprises, isn’t it?”

“It would appear so, yes.”

“Tell the captain I’m on my way.”

* * *

The Osay was flaring for landing by the time Reach got to the airfield. He shielded his eyes with one hand and found Liana standing between Brody and Alexa.

“You’re just in time, Jared,” Liana yelled over the sounds of the engines. Her hair whipped in the wind, as did Alexa’s, though the android’s seemed less natural.

Reach nodded, scanning for his boss.

Captain Bosa was farther forward, accompanied by eight colonists and three gurneys.

The Osay was still ten meters off the ground when the nose ramp started deploying. The hydraulics whined, and Reach caught sight of the Rangers’ helmets. By the time the bird landed, the men were already carrying the wounded down the ramp on stretchers.

Bosa motioned the gurneys forward to intercept the stretchers and make a quick transfer. Meanwhile, the captain approached Sherman and then spotted Reach.

“I need you here,” he ordered.

Reach nodded and jogged ahead.

“…we got out just in time,” Sherman was saying as Reach approached. Then he handed Bosa a black cube-like object the size of a football.

“This it?” Bosa asked.

“Roger, sir.”

Bosa nodded and then immediately handed it to Reach. “I need you and Alexa processing this ASAP. Dr. Roman will take the lead as soon as he’s done with the wounded.”

Reach suddenly wondered if the captain was severely overestimating Reach’s competency with computers. “Sir, I’m not sure if—”

“Alexa will do the heavy lifting, but I need you looking at it from a military standpoint.”

Reach gave a crisp nod. “Will do, Captain.”

“Good. Call me when you have something.”

“Roger.”

Reach was about to turn away when he caught sight of the wounded Rangers. PFC Portman’s right foot looked maimed and PFC Beckman looked even worse. Then there was Sergeant Rosa, whose right arm and half the right side of his face had been torn to shreds.

Captain Bosa spoke with Sherman. “You and Soto have enough to be busy with. I’ll let you know if Alexa’s summary could use some context. Get some rest.”

“Roger, Captain.”

Reach watched the colonists push the gurneys toward the infirmary and couldn’t help feeling that Amir was turning against them somehow. Or at least the wildlife was. He only hoped this was the end of it.

* * *

The analysis of the data Lieutenant Sherman recovered took Alexa all of two minutes to review. Reach had barely finished taking a cursory look at the device when Alexa announced, “Interesting. We are done here.”

Reach raised an eyebrow at her. “Already? What did you find?”

“First, that the name of the ship in question was Groznyy Ying. It also appears that, while dated, additional data may yet hold strategic value.”

“With regard to what?”

“Further possible RUPAC presence on Amir.”

Reach had to fight to keep from sighing. “More RUPAC on planet. Where?”

“It does not provide exact coordinates. However, it seems that scouts from the fallen ship verified the existence of a science outpost in the area of operation.”

“Given where that ship crashed, that would include home sweet home.”

“It would. I think we should speak with Mr. Gao.”

“The prisoner?” asked Reach.

Alexa nodded. “He was part of this ship and has been a promising example of how former RUPAC can be assimilated into the Amir colony.”

Xiaping Gao had been taken captive and had survived the RUPAC assault during the second battle for Camp Ohio, even refusing to join his RUPAC allies when they were freed from their holding cells as RUPAC overtook the camp. The decision saved his life; when Alexa assumed full control in defense of the camp, Gao remained safely inside his cell.

While he wasn’t entirely trusted yet, he also wasn’t kept under lock and key. Instead, he was fitted with a tracking device and told Brody would hunt him down if he tried anything stupid. Gao, whose fear of the “demon Brody” had not softened, nervously agreed. He became a courteous if somewhat reclusive member of the camp.

Alexa had no difficulty finding him, and soon she and Reach found the man working contentedly at one of the community gardens. He was covered in sweat with big swipes of mud where dirty hands had wiped his brow, but he looked happy. As the other Osay worked nearby, chatting quietly while they weeded and prepared rows for another planting, Gao saw Reach and Alexa. He stook up and rested his arms on his hoe, watching them, somehow knowing that they’d come to see him.

Reach hailed Gao, speaking Mandarin. The other man smiled.

“It’s nice to hear something I understand,” Gao said. “I’m struggling to pick up English.”

“That will go easier once we designate you as a safe choice for implant upgrades,” Alexa said.

Gao nodded. “I take it that’s not why you’re here.”

Reach shook his head. “Sorry to say, no. We have some more questions about your time on planet with RUPAC.”

Gao dropped his head and then lifted it back up. He swept his arms out to the neat rows of soil and the young, tender plants he’d helped spring forth from it. “I prefer farming. That’s what I was before they forced me into service, you know. A farmer. I wouldn’t have left it if I had a choice. Most of us… didn’t.”

“Well,” said Reach, “that’s something we all hope to make a thing of the past once this colony is established. You’re included in that, Gao.”

Gao nodded and sagely said, “But not just yet.”

“Not just yet,” echoed Reach. “We went back to your ship and uncovered a drive with some intel.”

Gao shook his head. “I was never allowed back there.”

“We recovered the intel already. It mentioned something about a research station on planet. What do you know about that?”

Gao went pale.

“You know of it then?” prodded Alexa.

The man swallowed and gave a short, reluctant nod. “That was where I first encountered the demon. Brody.”

“You saw Brody at the facility?”

Gao nodded. “He attacked us on the way. Tore a man apart. He attacked again when we came upon the bunker itself. After that, the lieutenant ordered a withdrawal. Going inside was out of the question. We returned to camp, gave a report, and went back into cryo. When I awoke, we had a new target—the Osay village. The demon was there, too.”

Reach and Alexa shared a look.

“I think we might have more than one demon on our hands, Gao,” Reach said.

Alexa projected a flat, colorized map from her eyes, which burned brightly from the effort, casting it at Gao’s feet. “Please forgive the faintness of this display. I’m no competition for a sun. This map shows our camp, your crash site, the Osay village, and the surrounding terrain. Do you remember where your patrol went?”

Gao studied the map for a moment and then squatted. He stuck his finger into the dirt the map was projected on top of. “There.”

Alexa blinked, and the projection disappeared. Her eyes were restored to normal. “This certainly puts the presence of the Bangora in a new light.”

Reach stared at the spot of sun-warmed soil where Gao’s finger had left a hole. Even without the map still being actively projected, he knew the place. Not ten kilometers north from where he’d encountered the Bangora in the stream.

“You’ve got that right, Alexa.”

Gao squinted under the glare of the sun. “Something is wrong.”

“Yeah,” agreed Reach, “but I think we know how to fix it. How do you feel about taking another patrol to that facility you found? This time with a demon of your own on your side?”

11

Reach waited until Dr. Roman had an operating prototype of his mass density scanner. The doctor had promised a working prototype in four days. It took five. That was unusual. In Reach’s experience dealing with the man, he tended to deliver ahead of schedule, or at the very least on time. This was the first time he could think of when Roman was late. Similarly, when Roman did deliver, it was usually something more than was asked for. Again, this time was different. Reach was outfitted with a single, helmet-mounted device, delivered by Alexa. Roman wasn’t even on hand to show off his latest creation—one he seemed excited about when Reach had last talked with the man.

“As you can see,” Alexa said, demonstrating the device by flipping it into the “on” position, using Reach’s helmet as her test model, “it works exactly like older generation night vision. It activates when down and goes to standby while up. You will have eight hours of continuous use while down and a week of standby power between charges. More than enough for your purposes.”

Reach put the helmet on and observed the room. Everything was a shade of gray, shifting to black depending on the object’s density. Each object was individually outlined with a thin, white drop shadow. Reach found that he could pick out individual objects that had sort of blended together with his normal vision. Dr. Roman kept an assortment of random parts on his desk. It looked like a hodgepodge of chips, screws, and other stray items to the naked eye, but now each one was clearly outlined and set apart by density.

“This is good,” Reach commented. “Sign me up to get this downloaded directly to my brain.”

“That might be a while,” said Alexa. “Doctor Roman’s workload is considerable at the moment.”

Reach nodded. “Honestly, seemed like he was a little out of character just by not being here.”

“Dr. Roman, in addition to not being as young as he once was, is also on the verge of a significant breakthrough that will have a profound impact on the colony should our theories prove correct.”

Reach waited for Alexa to elaborate. She merely watched him. “Well,” he said. “That much I can understand. Still, he seems a little slow. His health okay?”

“As good as can be expected. I assure you, his leaving the demonstration to me is solely due to his other work. That he paused to finish this density scanner at all should be interpreted as him caring about you a great deal, Reach. I don’t believe he would have paused his work for anyone else.”

“Tell him thanks,” Reach said.

“I will do that. You have my apologies again for my inability to physically go on this patrol with you.”

“Roger that. It’s recon, and we have a good team. Maybe Roman’ll let you sneak away for the actual assault if we find the facility.”

“Perhaps. Good luck, Reach.”

“I’ll take it.”

Reach had always bought into the mantra of all skill, no luck. As in, it’s your skillset that will carry you through life. Hoping for luck didn’t cut it. But there was no doubt that luck played a role in life or death—you could train endlessly, but a bad break is a bad break. His encounter with the Bangora felt like a lucky one. Had the thing swiped at his head instead of connecting with his torso, who knows what would have happened. Better to take whatever luck Alexa had to give.

Early the next morning, Reach brought Gao to a waiting Badger and got the former RUPAC soldier inside before Brody arrived and climbed atop. Gao looked up at the roof and swore in his native tongue, nervous beads of sweat trickling past the band of his boonie hat and mingling with the grease he’d applied to his face for the mission.

“Hey,” Reach said as the Rangers in the vehicle looked on impassively, “don’t worry. He’s with us and you’re with us.”

Gao nodded and sat in silence as the vehicle set off. They traveled six kilometers before stopping. Reach led Gao out of the Badger and waited for the Ranger sniper Masau to emerge. He comprised the fourth member of the recon team, identified by Sherman as one of his best scouts. Reach was happy to have him along.

The foursome pushed toward the stream as the Badger slowly turned and made its way back to Camp Craiswell. The forest was nowhere near as foreboding or unnavigable as it had seemed the last time Reach was in the area. They formed into a wedge, with Gao on the opposite wing to Brody—as far apart as possible while keeping formation. Clearly whatever encounter the man had with the war machine left a lasting impression. Having seen what the battle android was capable of, Reach considered Gao’s wariness well-placed. Brody was not the sort of enemy anyone would want.

“Water ahead,” Masau reported with the first hints of the stream’s movement reaching his ears. “This is where you saw the thing last time, right?”

“Affirmative,” said Reach. “Liana’s patrol was hit a klick or two west. We’re in the yard.”

“I hope we see the Bangora,” said Brody. “R-recon patrol. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. No need for the ammo to last. Fifty cal. Oh yeah.”

That would pack a considerably stronger punch than what they had with them last time. So would Masau’s rifle and its anti-materiel rounds. The mission, of course, was not to bag the Bangora, but all the members of the team were alert in the event the creature showed itself during the daylight hours. Gao, who was unarmed, had stayed alert, knowing that sounding an early warning was his best hope should things go pear-shaped. It would be a while yet before he’d earned enough trust to be given a weapon, but he was on his way.

They reached the stream, which flowed crystal clear over a bed of multicolored, round stones—mostly gray, brown, and rust-red. The air was fresh and clean; gone was the nighttime fungal scent of mushrooms or the much-less pleasant stench of rot. Brody and Masau formed a security watch as Reach moved to the water’s edge with Gao.

Reach lowered the density scanner and viewed the stream, rocks, trees, and everything in its peculiar gray-to-black outline. The Bangora should be the darkest thing of all, but Reach saw nothing in the treetops or in the brush beyond—and the scanner was able to “see” a lot farther than conventional optics, penetrating leaves and other low mass objects to reveal what lay behind. Satisfied that the Bangora was not in the area, he turned to Gao.

“This is where we encountered the Bangora,” Reach explained in perfect Mandarin as he pointed to the tree some five hundred meters downstream. “You said the facility was north of here. Where should we cross?”

The question was important—the vegetation was much thicker on the opposite side. Better to move laterally along the creek on this side of it than adjust course through the dense underbrush and climbing vines that attempted to choke out the white-barked trees.

Gao eyed Brody’s mammoth back for a moment and then shifted his gaze to the surrounding terrain. “It is difficult for me to say. I was here some time ago—perhaps years. They never let us know how long it was between cryo-sleeps. It is familiar, but nothing stands out to me. I am sorry.”

“C-commies are never any help,” grumbled Brody.

“Former commie,” corrected Reach.

Brody scoffed. “Once a R-red, always a Red.”

“Don’t be so sure. Some of the hardest fighters against RUPAC were the ones who still remembered what it was like living under the brutalities of communism.”

“Yeah, while the rest of the world forgot and got all friendly,” spat Masau. “Turns out, commies gonna commie and now here we are.”

Reach turned his attention back to Gao. “Understanding that time has passed, it hasn’t been long—from your perspective, I mean. The memory is still fresh?”

Goa shook his head. “I remember the mission. It just looks… different. Perhaps this is a different stretch of the river than where we came in.”

“You’re still confident the location was north of the stream itself?”

“Yes. I am sure of that.”

Reach relayed the conversation.

“Might as well cross here, then,” said Masau. “See if it clears up deeper in because it looks thick as hell as far up and down the river as I can see.”

The team terminated its brief respite and crossed the stream, the cool water lapping as high as their calves. The opposite bank was covered with thick, creeping vines that produced flat, star-shaped leaves of deep purple. These seemed to wind around the white tree trunks but never crawled up it. They were punctuated by round, half-meter tall black bushes with two- centimeter-long thorns. There were no plants like that where the team had come from, as though the water’s edge had acted as a barricade, preventing it from spreading any farther than its banks.

Slowed somewhat by the terrain, Reach traveled with the density goggles on, feeling that this would be a prime place for the swift Bangora to attack them, if it did such things in broad daylight. There was no attack, however, and soon they reached a clearing comprised of smooth, round stones with wispy stocks of tan grass rising between them.

“Dry riverbed,” said Masau. “Looks like the stream we crossed used to be a whole lot wider.”

“I remember this,” said Gao. “We are not far.” He pointed to a rise that seemed to level off at the top, three hundred meters northwest of their position. “We stayed here, and the lieutenant went up there and said he saw the facility.”

“You didn’t a-actually see it?” asked Brody.

Gao blanched. “You attacked us before we could.”

The battle android shook his head. “I’ve never b-been here in my life. And if I attacked you, how come you’re still alive, Gao? Ever think of that, commie?”

“Cut the noise.” Reach put a hand on Gao’s shoulder. “I keep telling you, it wasn’t Brody.”

Gao seemed unconvinced.

“Let’s see what we see,” urged Masau.

They moved in an inverted wedge toward the Bridge, with Brody and Reach arriving at the top just ahead of the others. Beyond was a pasture of green grasses that seemed like it had been grazed short by something. Game paths bisected the expanse, leading back toward the stream. The flat and clear area went for five hundred meters before thinning out at the face of a rocky, sheer ridge studded with large boulders that long ago fell from the top.

“What’re we-we-we lookin’ at here?” asked Brody. “Cuz it ain’t no mad scientist castle. Fr-Frankensteen.”

“That’s not how research facilities work, Brody.”

The intel they’d recovered from the RUPAC ship specified that the facility was a bunker, so he wasn’t expecting to see a stand-alone building somewhere behind a perimeter fence. Even with that knowledge, he couldn’t help but feel like they’d come up empty. There was no immediate sign that this was anything beyond more raw, wild terrain.

He waited for Gao to reach the top with Masau before he asked, “This is the spot?”

“Yes, I think so. You must remember, I was only part of the scouting team. I’m going by the word of our leader—who would lie to avoid mission failure.”

“You think he lied?” asked Reach.

“I think that after the demon”—Gao paused to clarify—“the Bangora attacked, we were all ready to take his word for it and get back to Groznyy Ying.”

“Great,” said Brody. “D-dry hole. Never trust a commie. He probably wanted to march us all the way out here so we’d use up all our strength and be easier to subdue.”

“There are three of us, man,” Masau said.

“Mentally sub-subdue. A fatigued and weak mind will accept all k-kinds of stupid. Like communism.” Brody looked down menacingly at Gao. “Was that your plan, comrade? You wanna try and convince me about the glory of the party?”

“Enough, Brody,” said Reach.

“Roger, Citizen. But don’t go soft on the pinkos.”

Masau began to examine the base of the plateau through his scope. “Got something here.”

A moment later an image of what Masau saw popped into Reach’s mind. It was a rectangular slit carved into one of the boulders. Very small, but shaded in a way that suggested there was an open space behind it. The closest approximation Reach could come up with was a concrete pillbox bunker.

“Looks man-made,” said Reach. “Something worth looking further into, at least.”

“Anyone watchin’ that field is gonna see us comin’ toward them,” said Masau.

Reach nodded. “Got a decision to make. We found something but not necessarily what we came to find. If we move now, we’re exposed. Wait ’til night and the Bangora might be on the hunt again.”

Masau examined the sky from his place on his stomach. “No storms comin’ today. Clear skies. High visibility. I’m fine waiting until nightfall.”

“Me, too,” said Brody. “You three can move toward the objective, and I’ll remain on overwatch. Bangora can’t touch this. H-hammertime.”

Reach took in their suggestions. “I can cover a lot of ground. I’m thinking the three of you stay hidden here, and I’ll try and find another route—see if I can pull off the end-around.”

Masau nodded. “We wait either way. Let’s do it.”

“All right,” Reach said, slowly crawling back, keeping his profile small and difficult to spot as he receded down the ridge. “Goin’ for a jog. Be back soon.”

12

Reach doubled back to the riverbank and used his speed to quickly manage the tangles of vines, leaping and sprinting and then rushing through the stream itself. He traveled downstream five kilometers in eight minutes and then headed back to assess his surroundings. The thick underbrush and white trees gave way to a different sort of tree species that consisted of two stands of tall evergreens, unlike any he’d seen on Amir before. A well-worn trail weaved through the little grove.

“Found a trail,” he transmitted to Masau. “Five clicks east of your POS. Following north to see if it terminates behind the ridgeline, over.”

“Roger that,” the sniper answered. There was a pause and then Masau added, “Brody wants you to know that he’s still got it.”

“Roger, out.”

Reach moved cautiously along the path, sacrificing a little speed but still moving faster than what would have been considered a quick pace before his enhancements. He moved with the density scanning goggles down. The path seemed wide enough for the Bangora, and he wondered whether the creature had used it. So far there had been no sight of it and no hints of an ambush, though the smell of a fetid corpse was the only sign he knew to look for at the moment. Far from that stench, the air was sweet with the smell of the forest carpet of fallen needles baking in the heat.

The trail snaked through the dense underbrush before opening up and moving parallel to a meadow similar to the one that separated the observation team from the ridge. Reach carefully stepped off the trail, eyeing the nearby trees warily for both the Bangora and any signs that the plant itself might be dangerous. He couldn’t recall the Osay mentioning this particular species, but then this was the first time he’d seen it as well. It was probably outside of their usual range of hunting. Reach wondered just how small a footprint the Osay had on the planet.

Looking up with his density scanners, he saw a pair of fildeema chittering with one another—far fewer than the swarms that could endanger humans. With no indication that a Bangora was waiting to pounce on him, he moved through the trees up to the edge of the meadow, where he obscured himself with a wide trunk as he peaked around to survey the land.

He was looking at the same meadow the observation team now watched and could see the rolling slope of the ridge before it rose into the cliff face.

“All right,” Reach reported. “I’ve got a good sight picture on the objective. Ten mikes to reach the top of the ridge and then I’ll see about climbing down to take a look up close. Out.”

Reach sprinted across the sloping field, which gradually switched back twice and then rose up at a steep angle, the highest point of the ridge in question. The terrain was flat, a hard pan of compacted soil and rock whose impenetrable firmness kept the meadow from covering it with its shag.

“I see you,” reported Masau. “Continue west another 200 meters and you’ll be right above the Objective.”

Reach followed the directions, having nowhere else to go. It was only thirty meters broad up top before a sharp dropoff to the opposite side. He reached two hundred meters exactly and paused to scan the expanse between himself and the recon team. “Area looks clear between us. No signs of any LPOPs. Climbing down.”

“Acknowledged,” said Masau. “Watch that climb. Cliffside looks like a bunch of boulders being held together by sand from here.”

“Solid copy. Out.”

Masau’s description wasn’t far from the truth. The climb didn’t look difficult so much as dangerous. There seemed to be nothing but large, bulging boulders that had been waiting for ages to finally tumble down and join those who’d crashed to the bottom before them. The entire ridge seemed to have been built by some colossus who stacked boulders and packed them in with mud and sand eons ago, and now the rain and wind had slowly exposed those rocky bones and sent them falling.

No, climbing wouldn’t be tough. Finding a foothold that wouldn’t give out might be, though.

Reach switched to his thermal density scanners again and looked down. The big rocks below were uniformly dark, their light gray outlines showing where erosion had carved little pockets like small caves, all of them in shadow. He had hoped that the scanner might give him some clue about which footings would be surest, but if there was a tell, Reach wasn’t seeing it.

He began to pick his way down slowly, lowering himself from the top of one boulder to the next and fighting against the sensation that the moment he let his weight fully rest on one of the large stones, they would give way and take him on a rolling ride to the bottom.

“Still have eyes on you,” Masau said. “Rock to your left is dropping some sediment. Avoid it. There you go. Nice and smooth. Don’t rush it, billygoat.”

Reach was midway down when he lowered himself onto a boulder and saw what looked to be a deep cave. He switched to thermal imaging and saw a faint plume of warm air rising upward. “Think I may have found some kind of ventilation shaft. Warm air coming up on thermal, over.”

“Roger. I’ve got eyes on your back. Should be able to follow you if you go in. Advise.”

“Gonna stay put and do a visual sweep first.”

Reach peered into the space. Where the thermals rose was dark enough that he couldn’t make out anything distinct, even with his enhanced night vision. All that was before him was a deep shadow. He pulled down the density goggles and was rewarded with a much clearer picture. There, in the center of the dark shadow, was the massive outline of what looked to be another boulder, darker and blacker than anything he’d yet seen through Dr. Roman’s device. Perhaps it was simply an extremely high-density mineral deposit. Reach may have gone along with that theory if it wasn’t for the fact that Alexa had told him the device was optimized to identify the Bangora’s peculiar armor.

“Think I may have just found where the Bangora sleeps,” Reach transmitted.

“Roger. Advise you pull back until we can get up close and support.”

That was sound advice, pulling away from what was likely 2000 pounds of trouble in a 10 pound bag. But it was still right now and may not be once the rest of the team moved up, assuming that maneuver was even safe. Reach hadn’t finished a full inspection of the area and couldn't call it secure by any stretch.

“Hold position,” Reach said. “Don’t break cover until I know for sure that’s what we’re dealing with. Stand by.”

Right now he was only looking at something very big and very dark through the density goggles. Unaided, his normal vision showed shadows, as did night vision. Thermal vision still only showed a stream of warm air rising up in puffs. He strained his ears, listening for a snore or the sound of exhalation, something that might indicate he was dealing with organic life.

Nothing.

Reach carefully switched on his helmet mounted flashlight to get a sense of what he was dealing with, switching to a red LED filter to avoid any blinding. At once, things became clear as shades of dark gray stone and something impossibly black formed a recognizable image in Reach’s mind. He didn’t need the Bangora to turn its head and shift its massive bulk toward the light to know that’s what he was dealing with.

But that’s what the creature did, setting mean, coal-black eyes on Reach in the instant before it leapt at him with the intensity of a heavily coiled spring let loose. Reach managed to shoot twice, hitting its upper chest both times, impossible to miss so close, before the Bangora struck him with two massive fists to his abdomen.

And then Reach was falling off the cliffside, and the Bangora was attempting to ride him all the way down.

13

Masau heard the shots a split second before he watched Reach fly backward off the rock he’d just begun to investigate. Plummeting down after him was the thing that pushed him over the edge, a hulking black shadow that now followed Reach down to the ground.

Gao let out a shout of alarm and then quieted himself.

Reach hit the ground back-first. His armor and conditioning handled the shock well enough that he was able to quickly roll out of the way before the massive Bangora could slam down on top of him.

Brody mumbled, “Liana’s gonna be angry-gree-gree.” The bot sprang up and began to sprint the distance between their overwatch position and the melee. “Engaging!”

As the war machine moved across the gap, Masau looked through his scope for an opportunity to engage. The creature, which appeared to be little more than a black cutout superimposed on reality, lifted two massive arms over his head like an enraged gorilla. It attempted to bring them down onto Reach, but the former Marine was still too quick. He rolled out of the way, and the sound of the creature’s fist striking the ground was audible even at Masau’s distance.

With Reach clear, the sniper found an opportunity to take a shot. “Firing,” he transmitted and then squeezed his trigger to send the .50 caliber anti-materiel round screaming toward the target.

The shot struck the Bangora where its heart would be if it shared the human or gorilla-like physiology that its shape brought to mind. Of course, Masau had never seen a gorilla anywhere near this big. The impact of the blast caused the Bangora to turn in a half-spin, but only its upper torso; the creature’s legs stayed planted on the ground. Black matter sprayed up into the open air as though the bullet had ripped apart the shadow.

“More of that, Texas Ranger!” shouted Brody, who had nearly closed in on the Bangora.

Masau wasn’t sure more of the same would do anything. The creature was back on Reach, giving a deep-throated roar that sounded more like a cross between a lion and one of the Dodge Chargers the PFCs would pull into the parking lot at 22 percent interest. It didn’t sound simian at all. Still, not shooting wouldn’t do a damn thing. Masau lined up his next shot, his finger hovering in anticipation over the trigger until he was forced to pull it away as Reach suddenly appeared in his crosshairs. The Bangora had closed in on him too swiftly for a follow-on shot.

The creature swatted Reach with an open palm, sending him flying five meters before he hit the ground and rolled like a rag doll. While that sucked for Reach, it provided an opportunity for the sniper. Masau shot again, hitting the Bangora just below its right shoulder. More of the shadowy darkness sprayed up in the air, and Masau wondered if this was blood or pieces of its hide. Incredibly, the second shot was no more fatal than the first.

It did, however, get the Bangora’s attention.

With Reach struggling to his knees five meters from the monster, Masau watched as the creature halted and scanned his location. Its eyes seemed to rest on his hide, and then the beast let out another roar and began loping on all fours, fists striking the ground with intensity, toward Masau and Gao.

The sudden change of course had the Bangora racing past Brody, who had just begun to bring up his own weaponry after getting a sight picture without Reach in it. The battle android opened fire. With an air of cunning intelligence about it, the Bangora made a great leap to the side as though it anticipated the attack. Brody tracked it, only to have the creature spring forward and crash down on top of the war machine. The force of the impact was enough to knock him flat on his back, but the android used the momentum to kick the Bangora off of him in a single, rolling motion. The Bangora seemed to cooperate, allowing itself to be propelled behind Brody, where it landed on all fours and continued to streak toward Masau.

“Oh shit,” mumbled the sniper before taking a final shot. The thing moved every bit as fast as Reach and was covering ground in almost no time. Masau landed his shot in the creature’s chest, center mass, and hardly staggered it. Then the range was too small and there was nothing left to do but switch to his secondary weapon and engage the fearsome monster, which was already hurling itself in a last, great jump to reach the hide.

Masau yelled for Gao to “Get clear!” and began to empty his sidearm’s magazine of its 9 mm rounds, aiming for the head and backing up as the creature continued toward him. He may as well have been firing BBs for all it bothered the monster. The Bangora clobbered Masau just below the shoulder, sending his final shot wide. The force of the great blow sent the sniper reeling. He spun around and landed on his stomach, knowing at once that his arm was broken and his life was in danger of being violently extinguished, and soon. Despite a deep pain that forced an involuntary groan, he kept fighting, crawling with one good arm in an attempt to achieve some separation. Then he could shoot again. Or reload. He didn’t know which as the attack had temporarily robbed him of all his senses. He only knew that he needed some space to reset and renew his defense.

He looked over his shoulder to see how close death had followed and saw Gao buying him time.

The former RUPAC soldier could have run. Masau had told him to run. Instead, the man threw his slim shoulder into the side of the hulking Bangora in an attempt to slow its progress. He may as well have punched a mountain. Gao’s momentum did nothing but gather the Bangora’s attention. It turned to face the interloper, letting out a roar that seemed to shake the ground and echo across the meadow. It swiped at Gao, raking its fingers from just beneath the neck down to his stomach and causing an eruption of blood to spring forth from the man as he fell backward.

Here, in the daylight, Masau could make out the savage beast’s features. At least somewhat; it was so dark that it seemed to absorb the light around it. That made seeing details difficult, but not impossible. It had a primordial, ancient face that belonged to some dark and wicked offshoot between man and ape. Its five fingers had sharp points, with no indication of where the digit ended and claw began. It approached Masau, who raised his pistol, intent on shooting the creature as many times as ammunition or what remained of his life allowed.

The Bangora approached Masau slowly now, its teeth as dark as its armored body, only the glint of saliva causing them to stand out. It uncurled a long, drooling prehensile tongue that was pointed at the end like a sword and hung from its maw as low as its chest. The sniper could see a calculating intelligence in the beast. It wanted the kill but not yet. The Bangora looked over its shoulder to see that Brody and Reach were now speeding toward its position, moving every bit as swiftly as it had to reach the hide.

With Masau down, Brody fired, sending a flurry of harsh snaps and cracks overhead. The Bangora understood the danger of the war machine’s heavy weapon system and bounded erratically, dodging fire but always moving to engage the big android. It was struck perhaps once in the leg and then leapt again. This time Brody grabbed its arms and held his ground, his feet producing yard-long divots in the ground as the force of that meeting pushed him backward. The two Titans were matched in strength, but the Bangora possessed a ferocity and energy that allowed it to remain the aggressor. Brody’s hands were wrapped around the monster’s wrists, preventing it from departing. The Bangora jumped straight up and thrust both feet at Brody’s face, knocking his head off. His helmet on the ground, Brody’s body didn’t relent from its grip, though the Bangora roared and raged over its being handled in such a way.

“I got ’im where I want ’im!” Brody’s severed head shouted. “F-finish him, Reach!”

Reach was already making to do just that, but not with the MCX. He sped past the melee and up the small embankment, passing Gao and moving to Masau, who was struggling to regain some combat effectiveness as he changed his magazine with one hand.

The sniper was about to wave Reach off and tell him he was good when he realized the man didn’t want to perform a wellness check—he wanted his rifle.

Without so much as slowing his stride, Reach grabbed the heavy sniper rifle, looped back to where Brody and the Bangora pushed the limits of their strength, and fired, sending a bullet into the back of the Bangora’s head. The shot passed straight through and likely would have blown Brody’s head off had the monster not done so already.

The Bangora continue to struggle against its android grappling partner as black blood poured out in pulsating spurts from the exit wound in the front of its face. Reach had seen .223 rounds do more damage to a skull than the sniper rifle had managed to do to the Bangora at close range. Fearsome and strong, the Bangora was unable to carry on in its rage. Its struggle slowly waned until its life was sufficiently sapped, then it slackened in Brody’s grip and fell onto melon-sized knees as its head dropped.

The struggle played out right in front of Brody’s helmet, which lay on its side near Reach’s feet. His body let go of one thickly muscled Bangora arm and then sent a flurry of additional rounds into it. “Yup. H-he’s dead tired.”

Reach rushed toward Masau as Brody moved to pick up his helmet to reattach his head.

The sniper was sitting upright, holding his broken arm close to his body. “I’m good. Check on Gao.”

Reach nodded and moved to the former RUPAC soldier’s bloody body. He already knew that the man had received more severe injuries than Masau, but Reach had passed him by, writing him off as dead. Now he kneeled down to check the man’s vitals and be sure.

Brody’s shadow loomed over them both. “Called in our little escapade. Predator haulers inbound.” He looked down at Gao and placed balled fists on his hips. “W-well… looks like our little RUPAC friend finally became a good commie.”

Reach shot an annoyed look up at the war machine. “He’s not dead yet.”

“K-kind of splitting hairs, aren’t we? Look at the guy. Won’t be long now, and then he’ll be off frolicking in the commie afterlife, where they have everything but food.”

“Can it, Brody,” said Masau. “Only reason I’m not jacked up like that is because dude went toe-to-toe before that thing could get to me.”

Brody looked from the Bangora to the sniper, and then back to Gao. “That’s pretty badass. Reach, I think you misjudged Gao. S-save him.”

“Working on it,” Reach grunted. “Gonna need that hauler to get here soon, though.”

The man needed better medical care than he could provide in the field, even with all the training that had been downloaded into his brain while in cryo. At this point, he could only stabilize and hope Gao survived the flight.

Brody straightened. “Is someone transmitting?”

A moment later, an unknown voice with a slight German accent was in Reach’s virtual ear, communicating through an open channel with his implant.

“This is Dr. Johann Gruber. I am with a group that you would identify as RUPAC. I would like to discuss terms of my surrender with you. They are brief and, I think, agreeable. I will emerge from the ridge you had been inspecting. You will find that I am unarmed and alone. I will carry with me an aid bag that may assist in treating your injuries. If this is agreeable, please acknowledge this transmission and vouchsafe that I will not be opened fire upon.”

Reach looked in confusion to Brody and Masau. “You guys hearing this?”

“I hear it,” confirmed the sniper.

Brody looked back at the ridge and then to Reach. “F-first, I still got it. Second, never trust a man with the last name Gruber. N-nakatomi Plaza. 1988. Never forget.”

“Dr. Gruber,” Reach transmitted, “your message is received and your request is acknowledged. My name is Jared Reach with the United States colony on Amir. I accept your surrender. Please proceed to the middle of the meadow and keep your hands on the top of your head the entire time.”

“And the medical supplies?”

“Leave them at the base of the ridge.”

“Such is agreeable to me. I am coming out now.”

Reach watched as a tall, slender man with gray hair and black slacks beneath a white lab coat emerged from the rock. He didn’t phase through it, but he may as well have—the sheer face of the ridge seemed to fall into itself, revealing an open door some fifty meters to the left of the pillbox opening they had set out to first investigate. “I see you, Dr. Gruber. Please continue forward.”

“Excellent. I am moving now. And might I add, that was exceptionally well done with the Bangora.”

14

Reach’s arrival at camp was unlike any he’d experienced before. Osay militia and Lt. Harmon’s soldiers were keeping a crowd of civilians back from the landing area as the Predator hauler carrying Reach, the wounded Masau and Gao, Brody, Dr. Gruber… and the Bangora was coming in for a landing. Reach had a fairly solid idea of what on that list was garnering so much attention.

“W-word must have gotten out that I killed the Bangora,” said Brody, leaning out to wave at the crowds. “It’s true! I did it! I’m your hero! One bad mamma-jamma.”

Gruber, who had remained tight-lipped through the ride and sat flex-cuffed across from Reach, eyed the war machine curiously but said nothing until the craft was on the ground and the doors were open. The Osay being held back let out a collective cheer as Reach stepped outside the hauler.

“It would seem,” Gruber said, “you are receiving a hero’s welcome.”

“That’s for m-me,” said Brody. “Even though technically I didn’t pull the trigger. So, according to Osay tradition… I’m sure they’ll understand and credit me. Now shut up.”

“Actually, I’d rather keep him talking,” transmitted Reach. “This guy might have a lot of answers that Alexa still hasn’t figured out. At the very least, I’m hoping he’ll get us some context.”

“R-roger, Citizen,” Brody transmitted back. Then he said out loud to the captive, “So, Hans, let’s actually talk about… things. You go first.”

“Johann,” the man corrected and then went silent.

“W-want me to smack him around?” transmitted Brody.

Reach sighed. “Negative. Maybe once we link up with Bosa he’ll be more communicative. All else fails, we’ve got Sherman and the boys checking the facility out. Maybe they’ll find something that can motivate Gruber to explain.”

Masau passed Reach and stuffed something into the man’s hand. “You know the drill. I would have done it, but a bird can’t flap with only one wing.”

“Is this really necessary?” Reach asked, holding up the scout’s shemagh. “This is not how we build trust.”

“If the boss and the little boss see that guy stroll into the camp with an uncovered scalp, they’ll give you just enough time to lament your poor life choices before covering your grave.”

Reach nodded to the sniper, understanding that his experience in the Marine Corps had been far different than that of the Rangers. While his job had been one of building trust among the communities the Corps operated in, the Rangers had been the Bangoras of the war. Stalk, assess, report. Repeat or murder as needed. To them, the only trustworthy thing in their orbit was each other.

Approaching the doctor, Reach said, “I’m very sorry to have to ask this of you, sir, but I must insist on a blindfold for the time being.”

Gruber tipped his glasses as a sign of approval. “No apologies necessary, Mr. Reach. In fact, if the roles were reversed, I am sure the RUPAC would have insisted on much more. That I am not being bound or carried is very trusting of you. May I take off my glasses first?”

“I’d rather that you keep them on, please.”

“As you wish, Mr. Reach. It is prudent to keep the layout of your accommodations hidden to outsiders until you know which side of your trust they are on,” Gruber agreed.

Brody took the doctor by the arm and guided him on a roundabout course through the camp at Reach’s request. Reach watched Masau long enough to see a medic recover him before catching up to the doctor. Of course, Brody was in the middle of a movie-line soaked tirade aimed at someone named Hans.

“... a-a-and that’s why you won’t have any advantage h-h-here, sir. Oh, no, no, no! Nothing we say is g-g-gonna end up in Time Magazine. And if you say, ‘chieß dem Fenster’, we won’t l-l-look at you like Karl did. Nope! We speak your lingo! We know it’s going d-d-down!”

Reach patted Brody on the shoulder. “I think he gets the picture, Brody.”

“N-n-not with that rag on h-h-his head, he doesn’t!”

Gruber was rechecked and scanned and then brought to the command center to meet with Bosa and Reach. Alexa opted to perform emergency surgery on Gao but mentioned that Dr. Roman may be along. He hadn’t arrived, though.

The three sat at the conference table, a pitcher of water and an empty glass in front of the prisoner and a pair of armed guards posted inside the door. With his blindfold removed, Gruber poured himself a glass and then seemed to revel in the pregnant silence.

“Comfortable?” Bosa asked.

“Oh, yes. Quite comfortable,” answered Gruber. “I’m sure you have questions. I’d like you to understand that all I have at my disposal is answers. And because this is my only commodity, I intend to supply them sparingly and to my advantage.”

“And what advantage are you seeking?”

Gruber held open his hands. “Life. I wish to remain alive, Captain. Something that was hardly guaranteed by remaining at the facility. I do intend to cooperate to that end.”

Reach hadn’t gotten a look inside the facility in question, but he knew others were in the process.

“You’ll receive a report before long, I imagine,” said Gruber. He paused to consider. “That may sound like a threat. It’s not. There is no danger awaiting your men inside. In fact, you will discover that there is very little of anything of value inside.” He gave a wan, humorless smile. “You will want to hear that from your officers, of course. But I am telling you the truth.”

“Our records indicate,” Reach began, “that your facility was a research station. What were you researching?”

“The native wildlife on Amir. Specifically what the Osay call the fildeema.”

“How long have you been on planet?”

“I have been here thirty years. The research station preceded me by five years. We were meant to be rotated out every five years. Obviously… things changed.”

Bosa asked, “You’re familiar then with the Osay?”

“Yes. Not in person, mind you. Only from our observations. We took great efforts to avoid being detected. Our directive required as much and then… the Bangora made leaving the facility altogether impossible. Though, my colleagues tried when food became scarce. Your men will find the bones of my friends near that creature’s nest, I have no doubt.”

“Do you know who we are?” asked Reach.

“Aside from Americans, I take you to mean. I have my suspicions. The United States sent three colony ships to Amir. The Longmire and Muir were intercepted by certain RUPAC forces. You clearly are not from there. You lack their accent and their style of dress after so many years. So, you are from the Boone.”

Bosa bluntly asked a question Reach had been dying to know himself. “What year is it?”

Gruber smiled. “I’ll hold on to that piece of information, thank you.”

Reach couldn’t tell if the man simply liked holding power over his captors or if he really believed that all he had that would stave off being executed or thrown to rot in a dungeon was what he knew. He wasn’t being smug or condescending, but he certainly was cautious.

“We’ve had some trouble with packs of fildeema,” Reach said.

“Yes, I imagine you have.”

“Was that your doing? You said you were working on the species.”

Gruber nodded in consideration. “Our purpose with the fildeema was not to weaponize them.”

Reach felt frustrated with the evasive nature of the man’s answers. It was as though he were cross-examining the other side’s witness who just happened to be a master at answering without answering.

“What was your purpose?”

“Best slated for another time.” Gruber looked over to Bosa. “Have you heard from your team? I’m afraid until you have, what I intend to say will not carry sufficient weight.”

Bosa looked impassively at the man. “You’re confident we won’t find anything of value.”

Gruber smiled and jabbed his finger in the air before him. “Correct! And, even with the AIs at your disposal, which certain RUPAC no doubt strongly desire, you will not recover anything. Unless it’s through me. I have surrendered to you. I request that I be treated well. No common prison. A simple hab unit with a guard posted will suffice.”

“You’re in no position to make demands,” said Bosa.

“Quite the contrary. I was already in prison before Mr. Reach eliminated my captor. I knew it would be only a matter of time before the facility was breached, and my diet of recycled food and water did little more than keep me alive. Simply speaking to other human beings is an improvement to my quality of life. But, if you want my full cooperation and my knowledge of Amir, I would like to be treated as a guest and not as a prisoner.”

He leaned back in his chair. “The choice, I understand, is yours. Perhaps it would be best for you to discuss this tonight, and we can talk further in the morning. You may put me where you’d like me, even behind bars. I won’t hold it against you. We are still getting to know one another.” Gruber held his hands together and looked over his shoulder at the guard. “Shall we go?”

The guard made no reply but waited for Captain Bosa to stand. “Please take him to his ‘quarters’, Private. Reach, we’ll have a full debrief with the team tomorrow,” Bosa said. “Dr. Gruber… we’ll speak sometime next week.”

* * *

That night the Camp was filled with activities. The overhead generator lights were augmented by bonfires set ablaze by the Osay in celebration of the unthinkable, the impossible… the destruction of the Bangora.

Colonists long established mingled with the newcomers from the Boone as Reach and Brody were brought up onto a makeshift stage by the Elders of the Osay. They spoke briefly in their own language, and Reach was able to translate enough of it to know two things. First, that they regarded the slaying of the beast as a promise of good fortune for their future together as one united people, and second that they esteemed Reach as the one solely responsible for doing the deed despite his demurring to the work of Brody, Masau, and Gao.

When it was his turn to address the crowd, which had all let out shudders from looking at the beast’s corpse before it finally went to Roman’s lab for observation, Reach tried one final time to share the credit where it was due.

“This happened because we worked together. It was an Osay patrol who found where the Bangora lived and who fought to survive its attacks in order to tell the rest of us. It was a former RUPAC soldier, still fighting for his life in a cryopod, who shared with us his experiences and didn’t abandon his fellow colonists in the face of danger. It was a Ranger, Ian Masau, who first drew blood and saved my life in doing it, and it was Brody who wrestled with the Bangora until I could shoot it and put it down for good.” Reach looked out at the audience, who seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation of his finishing—just waiting to explode in applause. He’d done all right with public speaking in school but never held an audience so completely captivated as the Osay were now. “We did this together. And when you think of the Bangora, I want you to remember that. Together we can stand up to RUPAC, to Amir… to anything. This colony will grow great. I’m proud to belong to it, and I’m thankful for this honor you’ve shown us.”

The Osay let loose with cheers and applause that settled in on a chant of, “Reach! Reach! Reach!”

So much for sharing the spotlight. He was getting all the credit. And while Masau and Gao were recovering and wouldn’t care one way or the other at the moment, Brody was a different story.

The battle android stepped up next to Reach, leaned in front of him, and loudly announced, “I should get at least half c-credit for killing that thing. Let’s hear it for Brody!”

But they continued in their chantings for Reach. The war machine tried once more by offering up a counter-chant of “B-brody! Brody! Brody!” but even that wouldn’t take. Finally, he shrugged his broad shoulders and shouted, “Let’s g-get this party started!” before playing hits by Journey.

Reach again shook the Elders’ hands and received pats on the back before coming down the steps of the stage. Liana strode up to greet him, a drink in either hand and a glowing smile on her face. She had seemed in awe that Reach had actually killed the Bangora when they first spoke earlier in the day. After that she had wanted to be alone. When she left, she seemed contemplative. Now she seemed happy, and Reach was glad for it.

“You’re becoming quite popular.” She held out a drink. “Here.”

Reach took it. “What’s this?”

“Penu-lopu. Made from the penu fruit that grows near our old camp. Try it.”

Reach took a sniff. It smelled strong, which was promising. He could use a drink after today. He held his cup up. “To slaying monsters.”

Liana smiled. “To slaying monsters.”

They both drank. It went down smooth, a sweet drink that avoided being cloying and seemed to warm his lungs and stomach. He’d finished the cup in one motion, though he hadn’t meant to.

“Ooh, you like it,” Liana said. “Want more?”

“One more,” Reach said, vowing to himself that it would be the limit. This stuff went down way too easy.

Two cups in, Liana had Reach dancing to the steady stream of songs from the 1970s and 80s that Brody demanded Alexa play once she made an appearance. “B-because it’s what you were m-made for.”

She obliged and the party continued. Reach tried to focus on the moment but couldn’t stop thinking about this amiable but tight-lipped Dr. Gruber and what might come out of the next day’s meetings. Liana picked up on it and demanded that he focus on his dancing.

“For a genetically modified super human, you have no rhythm.”

Reach laughed and then did his best, aided by the penu-lopu. The dancing was disrupted by a group of Osay who wanted to thank Liana for her help in mediating some dispute. She graciously excused herself from Reach, who felt relief at not having to dance any longer, and started up a conversation with the Osay.

Reach stood for the bare minimum of politeness and then left, patting Liana on the back to let her know he was going to go speak with Sgt. Tran, who had been standing nearby with two men from his squad, Day and Unga, waiting for a chance to talk.

“Been a while,” Reach said, shaking the men’s hands.

“That it has,” Tran agreed. “Wanted to thank you for taking care of Masau.”

Reach nodded. “He took care of me out there. That thing would have flattened me if he hadn’t shot it. Twice.”

Unga smiled. “My boy don’t miss.”

“You guys get any word on his prognosis?” Reach asked.

Tran nodded. “Alexa says he’ll be active duty after a night in cryo.”

Day shook his head. “Man. Get hit like that and you gotta go back to work next day. Never would have happened if he was gettin’ treated back at Madigan.”

“Yeah, well, Madigan didn’t exactly have the kind of Star Wars future stuff we got,” said Unga. “Plus, my boy’s got that healing factor like Wolverine. He’ll be a’ight.”

Tran took a drink of his penu-lopu and nodded behind Reach. “Your girl’s waiting for you.”

Reach turned around and saw that Liana had finished talking. He motioned that he’d just be another minute and returned to the Rangers. “She’s not my girl.”

“You willin’ to say that loud enough for her to hear?” Tran asked.

Reach chuckled. “Guess not.”

Unga let out a belly laugh. “You best not. You can tell she wants what you got. Cut her loose and there’ll be a line a mile long outside her door.”

“You miss it?” Tran asked, taking another drink.

“Miss what?” said Reach.

“Home. Fighting. Whatever.”

“I dunno,” Reach said, suspecting that the drink, music, and revelry were working together in the sergeant to make him more talkative than usual. “Left home in the first place thinkin’ I wouldn’t miss it. Wouldn’t trade what I’ve got here for what I had back there.”

“Good woman’ll do that,” Tran said before taking another sip.

“How you like that stuff?” asked Reach.

“Too sweet.”

“How ’bout you guys?” Reach asked. “You miss it?”

Unga attempted to answer for the trio. “We’re good, man. Beasts outside. Babes inside. What’s not to like?”

Brody announced an Osay favorite and began to play Duran Duran. The partygoers moved and swayed as though they were in a 1980s nightclub. Reach suspected that the android’s peculiar culturing had influenced the Osay and almost laughed at the thought of Brody teaching them Footloose dance moves.

“Guess Brody taught ’em how to dance,” observed Day.

Tran nodded. Reach had never seen him so much as smile at a joke.

“It’s weird,” Tran said, studying the floor intently—distantly. “We’re in the future and everything around us feels like we went the other way. My gramps loved this song.”

Reach gave a half-smile at the remark. Tran stayed stone-faced. He watched the Osay dance with his soldiers, looking for men he’d need to check in on. Men he’d tell to have their fun and make sure they were up and ready when the day started. Kiss the girls and make ’em cry. Finally he clapped Reach on the shoulder. “See you around.”

Tran left Reach with Unga and Day, the latter of whom looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“Sergeant Tran, uh, he does that.”

Reach nodded.

Unga’s eyes were fixed on an Osay woman who moved to the music, hands in her hair and eyes smoldering on the strapping Ranger. “’Scuse me.”

Reach stepped aside to allow the big man to move on the hunt, just like the song blared out. Hungry like the wolf. He turned to Day and gave a short wave. “Can’t keep Liana waiting.”

“Sure,” said Day. “I’ll just… be here. If you need me. Drinking. Alone.”

Reach found Liana on the floor and watched her, smiling as she finished dancing with the end of the song. But the smile felt hollow, and in the pits of his stomach he couldn’t help but feeling that a good time like tonight would be a rarity.

15

The following morning’s briefing officially confirmed what Gruber had asserted the day before. The facility Reach and his team had discovered was free of any intel. It was tidy but little more than some unused and stripped labs, a water recycler, and some RUPAC ration cartons. There weren’t many of those left, and it shed light on why Gruber may have chosen to surrender when the opportunity came. Left to his own devices, there would be nothing remaining to the man but attempting to live off of Amir.

“What sort of communications array did they have?” asked a tired Dr. Roman. Not just tired—sickly. “That’s the question that most interests me.”

“Didn’t see one, Doc,” answered Sherman. “Best way I can describe the place is that Gruber’s girlfriend moved out and took most of the furniture.”

“Ah, I see.” Roman sounded something more than tired now. He sounded disappointed.

“Something on your mind, Doctor?” asked Bosa.

“There’s always something on my mind, Captain. But this particular news can wait until after the meeting. I’ll need to show you in person.”

“That won’t be much longer,” Bosa said. “Reach, given your newfound popularity with the Osay people and your Bangora assignment being over, I’d like for you to work with the colonists to get some candidates working toward becoming soldiers. We don’t know how many more RUPAC are on planet at this point, but let’s assume we’re not alone.”

All heads nodded.

“To that end, we’ll be increasing patrols and authorizing the Osay to resume their patrols and hunts as well.”

Alexa raised her hand. “I’d like to investigate the facility directly, if I may.”

“No objections here,” said Bosa.

“I object,” Roman said wearily. He looked at Alexa, and Reach thought he saw some disappointment in the man’s eyes. “We are close to a number of breakthroughs, not to mention needing to do more than a cursory examination of the Bangora. You know that, Alexa.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor.”

Bosa cleared his throat. “Mr. Reach, I know it’s been a busy twenty-four hours. What can you tell us about the Osay’s settling in?”

Reach had been preoccupied with finding the Bangora, that was true. Had it not been for Liana keeping him abreast of the happenings among her people, he’d have to defer to a future meeting. Instead he reported the situation as he knew it. “Things are a little volatile in the districts, at least until we can sufficiently expand the camp. The Elders should have a request on your desk today for permission for their people to camp outside the wire now that the Bangora is taken care of.”

Bosa raised an eyebrow. “They’re not concerned about the fildeema attacks?”

“No, sir. Isolated incident is what I’m hearing. They’re less concerned about fildeema than about the tensions rising since the camp went on lockdown. There’ve been some hot tempers among the Osay, and Liana has had to play peacemaker more than once. The Elders are doing what they can to keep tempers cool as well.”

Bosa nodded. “Have they decided who their next chief elder will be?”

“Not yet. There’s a minimum period of mourning for Osay Craiswell that hasn’t finished yet, then the Elders will put an individual up before the adults to ratify. No idea who they’re considering, but most likely it’ll be one of the existing elders like Rubenking.”

“Keep us posted. Lieutenant Harmon, status on the Osay training?”

“Sgt. Dawson has them drilling as well as can be expected, given the circumstances. We’ll be getting them qualified on rifles this week. We also need to make good on that little promise we made about hand-to-hand combat.”

Smirks came across every face but Dr. Roman’s, who still seemed fatigued and whose thoughts appeared elsewhere.

Brody had promised the Osay trainees that he would teach them all his own brand of elite martial arts. The Rangers had taught the soldiers self defense, and now they were eager for the battle android’s finishing course.

Bosa played it straight. “Reach, I want you overseeing that aspect of training now that you’re back. Try and make sure no one gets killed.”

The room chuckled and then Bosa rose and rapped his knuckles on his desk. “You all have your duty assignments for the week. Let’s get to it. Dr. Roman, who do you want to participate in your briefing?”

Roman stood wearily. “I think everyone would benefit from hearing it. Despite my demeanor, it really is groundbreaking. Actually, I can’t believe we’re at this point.”

Bosa and the others rose. “Lead the way then, Doctor.”

As the room cleared, Reach moved to Roman. “Hey, Doc. You feelin’ all right?”

“Is it that obvious?” Roman asked. Before Reach could answer, he added, “Old age and long nights. Multiple, successive long nights without sleep aren’t a kindly mix. But we should see some fruit soon.”

“Sounds promising.”

“Oh, it is. I’m feeling better already just thinking about it, my boy.”

Dr. Roman led the team through an airlock into a secure section of his lab. He seemed to have a new spring in his step, one that grew as they passed the large computers, probes, diagnostic equipment, and tools that surrounded a free-standing apparatus that took up most of the room’s center. Roman stood next to it proudly, patting it with a liver-spotted hand.

“You are now looking at perhaps my greatest creation yet.” Roman paused, then glanced at Alexa. “After you, of course. And Brody, too.”

“Naturally,” she said with a gracious tone.

Roman nodded and continued. “I call it a quantum entanglement communications system, or QEC for short.”

“This is… something more advanced than the implants you’ve designed?” Bosa asked.

“Of course!” the doctor exclaimed. “This… oh, this. This is something I have always dreamed of building.”

Reach smiled, feeling a measure of relief over Roman’s improved mood. He wasn’t exactly beaming, but neither did he look like he had the flu any longer. “This is for communicating with Earth, isn’t it?”

Roman winked. “It is the very thing.”

“So,” Lieutenant Harmon began, “you found a faster way to send and receive messages? That it?”

“Faster? Ha! There’s an understatement if I ever heard one, Lieutenant.”

The good doctor looked at the group as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. Only Alexa nodded her head knowingly.

“You’re going to have to explain it for us, Doc,” Bosa said. “Quantum entanglement permits…?”

Roman beamed. “Why, instantaneous communication, of course!”

“Instantaneous?”

“Yes!”

“As in, right now.”

“Yes! Well… not right at this moment. But soon. It’s not finished yet. But when it is, yes. Hypothetically speaking. It should work.”

“So,” Harmon said in a hushed tone, “communicate with Earth in real time? Is that even possible?”

“Of course, Lieutenant. String theory. The quantum entanglement of particles, whether separated by one millimeter or one light-year, means that what is done to one is simultaneously done to the other, regardless of distance. I’m oversimplifying, of course. But it is what Einstein referred to as ‘spooky action at a distance.’”

“And you have confidence it will work?” Bosa asked. “Because I’m hearing a lot of caveats. Hypothetical. Should.”

Dr. Roman smiled almost impishly. “Well, this has never actually been done before.”

“Dr. Roman, I’m concerned that with all we are experiencing right now—”

“Please, Captain Bosa. Hear me out.”

The granite-jawed officer paused and studied the doctor’s face before looking to Reach, who nodded. Bosa folded his arms and gave Roman a curt nod. “All right, Doctor. I’m listening.”

“Scientists long before my time successfully demonstrated quantum entanglement. Mind you, none of it was usable—that is, in ways that might tangibly benefit society. But I’d like to think that’s where people like me come in—taking theoretical science into the realm of practical application.

“When I was first invited to participate in the mission to Amir, I introduced a design for this very device.” Roman again patted the QEC. “While resources were allocated to a new R&D department, progress was halted when… Well, we all remember the war. Needless to say, efforts turned to getting the Longmire, Boone, and Muir away from Earth and RUPAC sabotage as quickly as possible.”

Reach’s mind suddenly picked up where Roman was going with this. “You think command continued development on this sort of comms equipment after the fact.”

Dr. Roman nodded. “If Earth still exists, which I think we must all believe it does to some measure, perhaps even to a fault, and if United States Space Command is still operational, then I place the likelihood of them developing and even improving upon my research over the next however many hundred years at”—he tried snapping his fingers through his gloves, which resulted in a less than satisfactory sound—“what did we say again, Alexa?”

“Eighty-four point seven two six percent, Dr. Roman. The likelihood of building an operational QEC according to your original designs goes up exponentially with each subsequent century.”

“You see? That’s a very high probability.”

“I think I have this straight,” Bosa replied. “You are building this comms setup because you suspect USSC has developed the same if not a better machine back home and will be able to hear any message we send.”

“Yes, Captain. That is the working hypothesis.”

Bosa pointed at the monstrosity. “How can you create all the way out here with just yourself what a whole department of government scientists might be able to accomplish in a hundred years or more back on Earth?”

Roman laughed. “That’s easy, Captain. And, I would have thought, obvious. Because it’s not just me.” He nodded at Alexa and chuckled. “We both know the years haven’t been kind to me, and I’m not under any illusions as to the condition of my health. I’m working with Alexa, and she can accomplish more than a hundred scientists in a hundred years could ever dream.”

“Which is why the RUPAC wanted her so badly,” Reach added.

“Indeed, Mr. Reach.”

“How long before you know if it works?” Bosa asked.

Roman chuckled again, but this time it sounded more unsure. “Well, there’s the rub. For old Archimedes here to work—”

“That’s its name?” Bosa asked.

“Named after the famed Greek mathematician, physicist, engineer—I rather thought it fit.”

Bosa nodded. “No objections. I was just clarifying.”

“Ah. Very good. So, for Archimedes to work, there is one component that we cannot build from scratch. And, as fate so often has it, it is the one item upon which everything else depends.”

Roman seemed to muse over his analogy, forcing Reach to prompt him. “Uh, Doc. What’s the missing component?”

The question snapped Roman back to reality. “An entangled particle.”

Those gathered looked around at each other for a moment.

“Pardon my asking,” Lieutenant Harmon said, “but where do we get one of those? Because I’m guessing supply is out.”

“They will need to be acquired from Earth,” informed Alexa.

Bosa let out a long sigh as though he’d been duped. Reach felt that all of this was fairly useless unless Roman was next going to explain a way for them to return home. But Alexa and Roman looked as though there was nothing odd about the statement.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Roman said as he shuffled toward a workbench beside the QEC. “That old Roman has gone batty. Well, Alexa is incapable of such, and as you can see, she’s not asking me to lie down. That’s because the entangled particle we need isn’t nearly as far away as it may seem. It actually came with us. In the comms array.”

“As in, plug it into our comms array?” Bosa asked, hitching a thumb back toward the portion of camp it towered over. “What’s the catch? Will that run a risk of making it permanently unusable?”

“It’s not as simple as plugging a missing cable into a jack,” the doctor replied. “But you are correct concerning the risk. While Alexa and I believe we have a working model with Archimedes, maintaining quantum entanglement is an extremely sensitive venture.”

Alexa picked up for the doctor. “When it destabilizes—and it will destabilize—then the particle is destroyed. More precisely, the component it’s seated on is destroyed.”

Roman gave a weak smile. “Which would mean the loss of the comms array’s main transmission bus.”

Bosa sighed. “So you’re saying that in order for us to attempt this QEC connection with Earth, we have to sacrifice our array’s communication capability permanently? No matter what?”

Dr. Roman nodded. Even Alexa gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Well that’s not optimal,” Reach said and folded his arms.

“No,” Roman agreed. “It’s not. And should we travel down that path, we’ll need to think carefully about whether it’s worth the effort. However, there may be an alternative that does not jeopardize Camp Craiswell’s long-term communications capabilities.”

“What do you mean?” Bosa asked.

“Alexa and I have reason to believe that there is another communications bus we can use.” Roman took a deep breath. “I’ll do my best to summarize. In order for any of our subspace communications systems to work, each ship required proprietary components manufactured in the same R&D facilities. While real-time quantum entanglement transmission was, again, a distant dream at the time, particle entanglement was still the foundation for subspace communications, and each starship had interchangeable parts. That’s why when your engineers repaired the Camp Ohio’s broken comms array by using the Boone’s still operational transmission bus, you were able to restore the camp’s comms abilities with Earth—hypothetically speaking, anyway.”

Before Bosa could reply, Reach interjected, “The Muir.” He looked from Alexa to Bosa and back to Dr. Roman. “The Muir has one more of your entangled transmission buses. That or the Longmire.”

“That’s correct. At least in regard to the Muir. The Longmire is missing entirely its comms array—it may be anywhere on planet or in orbit… we just don’t know.”

“Were you able to verify the device on the Muir?” Bosa asked.

“That trip was a bit of a whirlwind. My inspection was prior to this device being tangible. I hope it does. The vessel’s sections suffered extensive damage.”

“The main command and communications modules were pretty much destroyed,” Reach said in agreement. “And the Rangers have inspected the site twice now, so I’m not sure what there is left to find. Most electronics systems we found were toast. You saw it up close, Doc.”

Dr. Roman had been nodding the whole time Reach was speaking. “But you see, Jared, we don’t need a functioning bus. We only need the particle in the component. It just has to be intact. Archimedes will take care of the rest and then we’ll have our brief window to communicate.”

“Dr. Roman,” Bosa said. “Not to get ahead of ourselves here, but how much time do you think we would have to speak with Earth, assuming someone is there to talk with us?”

“A poignant question. And the answer is not the one any of us wishes to hear.”

“How bad is it?” Bosa asked.

“Sixty seconds. Ninety at best. But in that time there are other possibilities that may benefit us.” Roman tapped his chin as though deciding how best to explain. “I’d like to encourage you not to think of this as real-time communication, as in an old-fashioned phone call or comms connection. Quantum entanglement is, at its core, data transmission.”

“A file,” Alexa further clarified.

Reach considered. “It’s been a long time. We’d be assuming the file type is something we could open and read.”

“The truly tragic flaw of all forms of language,” Dr. Roman agreed. “That said, I must believe that if scientists on Earth knew they’d lost touch with us, they would endeavor to keep hope alive and, therefore, maintain at least some semblance of transmission protocols that we could interpret.”

“I dunno. I never wondered whether or not any missing Pilgrims were going to send me a message in a bottle,” Harmon said.

“Well,” said Roman, “I trust our descendants could recognize such a transmission. I once gave SPACECOM detailed protocols for emergency data packets. Though what trash bin they ended up in is anyone’s guess.”

Bosa nodded and gave his decision. “All right, people. This is something worth acting on, but we don’t need to rush it. Let’s finish up the Osay’s basic training and then we’ll conduct our first joint-force operation to revisit the Muir.”

16

In the time since Reach had returned to Camp Craiswell as an Osay folk hero, he’d given himself to catching up with the administrative and practical side of how the original Amir colonists were cohabitating on base. Liana had worked with the Elders to divide the people into four districts, each centered around one of the massive barracks that had been printed and augmented by smaller buildings that allowed the sectors to function like small towns.

The form of government that had emerged from the wreck of the Muir and Longmire was roughly tribal. A council of Elders would appoint an individual to serve as a single leader, and that person would then be ratified by the colony as a whole. How much of that was ceremonial and how much of it was democratic, Reach didn’t know. But he was aware that Liana’s late father had been a wise, gracious, and beloved leader. Though individuals were free to go their own way, the Osay had been unwaveringly loyal, following their leader even when he asked them to uproot and leave all they knew to knit together a new life with those from the Boone.

Liana was the obvious choice as her father’s successor, and she seemed to be stepping into that role already, resolving disputes and working with Reach and the others to foster better understanding between her people and the Rangers and their support staff. But as of yet there hadn’t been any official acknowledgement of who was running the show. The people were still adjusting. Still in survival mode.

Eventually they would have to move forward.

Reach also knew that Captain Bosa wanted to grow the camp’s military ranks. New Craiswell needed to raise up competent warriors, many of which Reach had already spotted the potential in. They were the ones who leaned into the fight during the Second Battle of Camp Ohio. Men who had been made familiar with rifles in protecting their old camp. Those who picked up arms without needing to be asked. They were willing to fight to the death for their people—to kill to protect those they loved.

It would take more than will, though. The people needed to be fit for duty. The Rangers had been training the Osay with that goal in mind and doing an amazing job at it. From his vantage point atop the comms array balcony, Liana at his side, Reach watched as the recruits stood at attention while Sgt. Dawson and his confederates prepared to lead them on an early morning run.

“They are doing well,” Liana said to Reach as she handed him a cup of coffee. “It is good to see.”

Reach gave her a nod of thanks and took the mug. “Let’s see how well they do when Brody gets to teach his little course later today.”

“I’m sure they’ll do fine. We’re used to Brody, remember?” Liana looked down at the men and women who had so far kept up with their instructor’s standards. “They need this after all that happened. Need to feel like they still belong to something bigger than themselves.”

Reach looked over at Liana. “And how do you feel?”

She smiled. “Today? Good.”

Since the killing of the Bangora, Reach could tell that a weight had been lifted from the woman’s shoulders. She had gone back to the more playful, carefree person he’d first met. Gone was the overbearing concern for his safety and wellbeing.

“These Osay soldiers,” she said, nodding at the assembled recruits, “they will become Rangers, yes?”

Reach cleared his throat. “Some of them, maybe. If they can meet standards. For now, just making them soldiers should be enough.”

“But… eventually.”

“That’ll be up to Captain Bosa, but yes, eventually I can see the first tabbed Osay joining the other Rangers.”

Liana smiled wide at this. “It’s a good plan. They will like it.”

Reach chuckled. “They might not like it so much once Ranger School actually starts.”

Liana shrugged and then studied Reach’s face.

“What’s that look?” he asked.

“You’re the right person to lead us.”

Reach raised an eyebrow. “Me? All I did was kill a Bangora. It seems more like they look to you for that sort of thing, Liana.”

She shook her head. “Only because the loss of my father is so fresh and I remind them of him. Jared, I believe the council will want to make you the new Osay.”

Reach lowered his brow and stared at her. “You heard something?”

“It is still in discussion. So, you mustn’t say anything until after they have conferred the honor on you. But I wanted you to know. To be ready. You are not Osay, Jared. And yet, they see you as such.”

“Liana.” He took her by the arm and turned her toward him. “That’s… not what I’m built for. I want to see this colony succeed as badly as anyone, but my role is filling the gaps between the shooters and the locals. If I become fully one or the other… it’s just not the best way. You are the way forward, and if not you then someone you already know who has the gifts and abilities to lead the civilian populace. But if I get a vote, I say it’s you.”

She looked down and blushed and then met Reach’s gaze again. “I can’t change the minds of the council about you, Jared. If your answer is no, it is no. But be aware that this might be an obstacle for both sides to overcome.”

“Right,” said Reach, setting his coffee down. “One day at a time. I’m gonna run with the recruits. You wanna come along? Dawson said it’s a seven-miler.”

Liana darted to the stairway leading to the bottom of the array station. She paused and looked back at him, a mischievous grin on her face. “If you don’t mind getting beat by a girl…”

“Oh, I’m not gonna lose,” he said and then took off after her as she squealed and hurried down the steps ahead of him.

17

Fresh off a run and a brief visit to the chow hall for a hot breakfast cooked and served by Osay volunteers, Reach watched from the sidelines of a training field situated near the edge of the camp—the site of a future additional barracks that for now was just a cleared lot, perfect for the training the 165 recruits were in store for. In the middle of the field was Brody, who was skipping in place and rolling his neck like Rocky Balboa before a bout, surrounded by stuffed dummies set up for his course.

“Recruits!” bellowed their Drill Instructor, Sgt. Dawson, a solid, muscular Ranger who looked bulletproof even while not wearing body armor. “Your friends and neighbors have gathered to watch Brody provide his hand-to-hand combat training. They will also watch you perform what you have already learned. You will not embarrass yourselves. You will not embarrass me. You will not embarrass your fellow colonists. You will do what you have been trained to do, and you will do it well. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant!” the recruits answered with a shout.

Sgt. Dawson stepped aside and motioned for Brody to address the class.

“How f-far did you run these boys, Drill Sergeant?” Brody asked.

“Seven miles.”

The android nodded. “Should be nice and limber. It’s Brody Time.”

Reach was joined by Liana and Alexa.

“You look nervous,” Liana said.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure that Brody is… teaching material.”

“But Brody is the best at fighting.”

Reach tried to smile. He may be that, but his personality didn’t exactly lend itself to the sort of disciplined, patient application of knowledge that the other Rangers were capable of.

“Okay, citizens, let’s t-turn you into an elite fighting force.” Brody searched the crowd for Alexa and then spotted her. “Alexa! Play Hearts on Fire by John Cafferty. We need some t-training music.”

Reach looked to Alexa. “What?”

The android smiled at the request and began piping the music over a small PA system Brody had set up.

“Th-that’s the stuff. There we go. Now. Follow me.” Brody led his recruits across the training field.

“What gives?” Reach asked Alexa. “Since when did you become Brody’s personal DJ?”

“Since he found out from Dr. Roman the reason for my being named as I was.”

“So now Brody treats you like—”

“Alexa. The little corporate mascot people allowed to live in their homes and spy on them, as Dr. Roman phrases it. Yes.”

“And you put up with it?”

“Doctor Roman feels it will strengthen our sibling bond. Brody has been somewhat jealous of me. I do not mind his requests if they result in increased harmony for the sake of our mission. Also, I find Brody’s tastes in music fascinating. They are as narrow as his cinema preferences.”

“All 80s, all the time?”

“There are also some late seventies and early nineties references,” said Alexa.

Reach shrugged and focused again on Brody.

“This first m-move is something that will save your life in unarmed combat. It is known as the Van Damme S-split Punch.”

The battle android walked up to one of several stuffed dummies in a RUPAC uniform installed near his position. Brody dropped into a split on the ground and threw an uppercut into the dummy’s groin so forcefully that the figure launched ten meters into the air.

Brody jumped up, flexed his arms, and caught the dummy by the neck. He finished it off with a punch to the face and drove the body straight into the ground.

“I’ve still got it,” Brody announced. “Ohhh yeah.”

Reach’s brow furrowed.

“I think I see what you mean,” said Liana.

“I tried talking to him ahead of time,” explained Reach. “Brody knows legitimate fighting techniques. This is nonsense that almost no one on the field could perform. Hell, I’m not sure even I could get myself down into the splits like that unless Dr. Roman limbered me up.”

“You are quite limber should you wish to try,” said Alexa.

“I can do the splits,” added Liana.

“The n-next most important hand-to-h-h-hand combat move is the Chuck Norris Roundhouse Kick,” continued Brody. He stepped to a second dummy and swept his massive leg in a wide arc. His foot’s instep sent the dummy cartwheeling twenty meters off the field. It slammed into the side of a barracks building with a loud thud.

The crowd of Osay spectators went wild, seeming to have everything they could wish for in the training demonstration.

“You will w-work on those two moves. And when you have m-mastered them, you will be ready to learn Bruce Lee’s One Inch Punch followed by the Straight Blast. Observe, citizens.”

Brody placed a fist one inch from a dummy’s chest, held his arm motionless for a few beats, and then jerked his torso. The impact caused the figure to break from its stand and sail backward.

Then Brody turned on a line of dummies, raised his fists, and drilled the first figure’s chest with circular punches. The impacts alternated in a blur of motion—so fast that stuffing flew out of the chest. Brody walked the dummy backward until it collided with another figure, and another, and another. Finally, the android finished all four off with a right elbow that sent them flying across the road and into an adjacent building.

“Th-thank you,” Brody said as he took several bows to a round of clapping. He began to cup his hand to his ear like Hulk Hogan in the middle of a wrestling ring, urging them for more volume. “That all you g-g-got? Louder!”

Cheers rang out and lasted as long as Brody egged it on. The war machine finally waved his hands at the crowd in false modesty. Reach could see Sgt. Dawson scowling. This had been something of a concession—the Osay revered Brody and couldn’t imagine being trained to serve as soldiers without him being involved. What they were getting was entertaining but hardly practical.

Reach sighed and called Brody over via the implant.

Brody stiffened for a moment and held up a finger in front of the recruits. “Hang on! Gotta go talk with the b-big man. Jump squats!”

The recruits began to perform the exercise as Brody ran over. “How can I be of assistance, Citizen?”

Reach smiled. “It might be better to drill them on some more basic hand-to-hand combat. The kind of things Sgt. Dawson taught them. I know those skills are already in your programming.”

Brody pulled his head back, aghast. “You would have me tr-tr-train them on less effective skills? To lie down in c-c-combat and suffer the wrath of their enemies? These m-moves are unstop-op-able.”

“I didn’t see you give the Bangora a roundhouse.”

“He jammed m-me inside. I would have…”

“Look, Brody, you know what the Rangers say—”

“I love the Rangers.”

“Right. Crawl, walk, run. You learn to crawl, then you learn to walk, then you run right through it. Right now, you’re trying to get these guys running and they’re not ready for it. These are human beings, not enhanced like Liana or myself, not as conditioned as the Rangers. Regimented training works for a reason.”

“Ah.” Brody made a sound like someone clicking in the corner of their mouth, then pointed a finger at him. “Chk-chk. Right you are, Citizen Reach.” Then Brody turned to Liana. “I can see why you have the hots for this one, Liana. He is q-q-quite the catch. Like me, but l-less perfect.”

Liana blushed. “Brody. I said no such thing.”

He snapped into a salute and said, “Don’t worry, Reach. I’ll take care of everything.”

To avoid any further back and forth, Reach returned the salute.

Brody withdrew the salute and then jogged back to his instructor’s position on the field, pointing at a candidate who had ceased performing jump squats. “You little scum-b-b-bag! I’ve got your n-name! I’ve got your ass!”

“There are many in this group who are already well-trained warriors,” Liana commented. “Brody taught them to shoot. Taught them tactics. We lived a dangerous life before you came.”

Reach stared after Brody as the war machine gave a Gunny Hartman-inspired ass chewing to an Osay candidate. “I know that. It’s just, there’s a big difference between how the Army runs things and how the Osay have run things. Bootcamp exists to make sure everyone’s on the same page.”

“And keeps people from getting hurt?” Liana guessed.

“Exactly.” Reach worked his jaw. “Correct bad habits and give them good ones. And that includes Brody.”

The war machine addressed the crowd. “O-okay. I was just kidding. I wasn’t really going to make everyone do all that cool stuff even though it would have been rad as hell. M-maybe someday these pukes will be strong enough to learn and become part of my special recon team. Brody’s B-Boys. For now, we’ll show you what they’ve learned from Sgt. Harmon.”

Brody motioned for an Osay recruit to join him up front. “Y-you defend, I’ll attack. Remember your training. Your Drill Instructor is watching.”

Reach watched as Brody squared up with an Osay warrior, ready to grapple in a basic fighting stance, and then promptly punched the man in the nose, causing a sudden flow of blood to gush from his nostrils. Since the man’s head was still attached, Brody must have been able to pull his punch in time.

“O-oh!” Brody shouted. “I’m s-sorry, kid! Thought you were trained on how to duck!”

“Well,” Reach said after a moment. “It’s just for a day, at least.”

* * *

That evening Reach was back on his retreat atop the comms array balcony watching as the Recruits finished the day’s training, content to wait with them for the flag ceremony. The lines were crisp and properly spaced. Dawson had really done wonders with the raw material he’d been supplied with.

“Reach,” Alexa said behind him on the balcony.

Reach turned around from the sunset glow to face the android. “Hey. What can I do for you?”

“Liana is on her way, she said to tell you.”

“You didn’t need to come all the way over here to tell me that in person.”

Alexa smiled and shook her head. “Yes, you are correct. Before she arrives, I want to have a word with you.”

“Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“You have heard that the Osay elders wish to make you their new leader.”

He acknowledged that with a brief nod.

“Soon the twin new moons will be overhead. A prerequisite for such announcements.”

The android paused as Colors began to play. Reach faced the flag and crossed his heart, feeling not for the first time the oddity of not saluting since he was a civilian. Alexa likewise crossed whatever piece of hardware existed where a heart would usually be.

The observance over, Reach put both hands on the balcony railing and spoke softly. “I’m not going to accept.”

“I was aware.”

He looked over. “Liana told you?”

“No. She did not. I have observed you, Reach.”

“As in, invaded my privacy? I thought Dr. Roman made rules about that sort of thing.”

“He has. Extensively. And I am not in violation of those safeguards.”

“So how exactly have you been observing me?”

“Nothing beyond the scope of any human’s capabilities. Even my heightened third-party, non-invasive observations can provide important data.”

Reach considered that. “Fair enough.”

“Would it make you feel better if I informed you every time I looked at or listened to you?”

“Definitely not.”

“Very well.” A moment passed before she returned to the topic of conversation. “I advise you to accept the elder council’s decision.”

Reach took his hands off the railing. “Came to make me change my mind?”

“Not make. But I do hope to persuade you.”

“Why?” He studied her face, which of course gave away nothing. “It defeats the whole purpose of my serving in a civil affairs role between the colonists and the military. You get offers like this from time to time, I can’t tell you the number of virgin daughters that were offered to me as wives when I was in Afghanistan. You tactfully decline and continue on mission. And the reality is, the guy making the offer doesn’t want you to accept anyway. He’s doing it because he feels he has to. It’s most likely the same here.”

Alexa tilted her head at Reach before speaking. “I disagree. Giving people what they want in the direction of where they need to go is a highly intelligent and productive mode of progression. You killed the Bangora, Reach. I think the gravity of such a feat may be lost on you. You’ve entered George Washington territory.”

“I don’t follow.”

“There is ample evidence to support the notion that George Washington would have been appointed President even if he had not won in a democratic election. So strong was the nation’s praise of him that he decided to concede a third term rather than sacrifice democracy on the altar of personality.”

“Yeah. My grandparents made me watch Hamilton plenty of times.”

Alexa smiled. “Washington was a strong leader.”

Reach shrugged to acknowledge the point.

“My assertion is that Washington was able to lead the people in a better direction precisely because he was president. Without that, he may have indeed won their affections, and they would have followed him. But they also would have sabotaged the fledgling government without him showing that a leader could operate within its bounds.”

“I’m not running for President, Alexa.”

“No. But on this planet and in what remains of United States territory, this may be the closest thing.”

Reach gripped the railing again and looked at the recruits who were returning to their families. Wives and children. Parents. Siblings. He wondered what they thought of all this. Then he wondered what it must be like growing up on a planet like Amir. And what about the Rangers—some of them not much older than the Osay children? Many were young men closer to their sixteenth birthday than their thirtieth. It was no longer as simple as twenty years and retirement. There was a regular joke about how the delay aboard the Boone meant that all of them had technically fulfilled their enlistment terms. Forty and ten was the agreement. The trip and then ten more years and they would be out. Free to make a life on Amir or see about heading back to Earth if all went well. Now the future was entirely focused on Amir.

Life would go on—was going on—and that meant that it needed organizing. Without oversight from people who’d gone before them, history was bound to repeat its past mistakes.

“Reach?” Alexa asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“You have been quiet for some time. Are you all right?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just thinking about what you said.” He leaned onto the railing and continued to watch the activity below. “The Osay need someone to help point them in the right direction and then get the hell out of their way. You’re right about that.”

Alexa gave the slightest bow but maintained eye contact. “A wise thought from a humble leader.”

Reach rolled his eyes and was about to protest when Liana’s voice came from inside the doorway that led to the balcony.

Alexa smiled a greeting. “Hello, Liana. I was just leaving.”

Before she departed, the android looked out over the balcony at the last traces of the Osay recruits, leaving for their respective homes because of a lack of a dedicated barracks—for now. “They will graduate soon. Best not to keep their future waiting. Or yours.”

“Right.” Reach leaned against the balcony, eager to spend his free time this evening with Liana.

When Alexa had gone, Liana asked, “What was that about?”

“Alexa wants me to accept the Osay’s request to serve as their new leader. You didn’t put her up to that, did you?”

“Not me. I tell anyone who will listen how worthless you are.”

Reach laughed. “Except at killing Bangora, right?”

“Well, Mister It-Was-A-Team-Effort, Brody says…”

“Okay, okay. So what’ll it be tonight? Gaze at the stars? Hear more about Earth? Maybe prepare more of apfel?” Reach had been wanting another taste of the amazing meal she’d prepared for him that first night at the Osay Camp almost since the moment he’d taken his last bite.

“Sorry. That’s reserved for another time. It’s not just a meal.”

“Kind of a welcome to my place kind of thing?”

Liana blushed momentarily and a corner of her mouth twitched. “Something like that.”

Reach smiled. “Tell me about it.”

18

The first graduating class of Dawson’s Osay soldiers stood in formation proudly before a gallery that included Liana, Reach, Captain Bosa, Alexa, and a throng of Osay citizens and leaders—even Doctor Roman. Only Brody was absent, having chosen to undertake his scheduled patrol. “I prefer c-clappin’ commies over clappin’ hands.”

The Osay soldiers understood. They were eager to do the same, should the opportunity arise. In honor of her father, Liana was asked to give a speech congratulating these first graduates and commemorating the occasion. The soldiers forming Amir’s First Infantry Division, First Battalion, First Regiment, listened attentively as Liana concluded her remarks with their call to service for their country.

“For generations we have fought to defend ourselves. From the RUPAC raids to the cruel beasts that share our world with us. But as our people, as the Osay have come together with our brothers who came from the Boone, we have not just fought in defense of our lives… we have won victories against our enemies!”

The Osay crowd cheered while Reach and those in command, along with the elders, clapped politely.

“The cost was high, the sacrifice great, but together, we defeated the RUPAC, driving them from our home.”

Liana squared herself, facing the gallery of Osay before her. The graduating soldiers stood at ease in perfect formation in the center of it all, while Sgt. Dawson looked on like a proud papa. Reach leaned forward, caught in the moment and wanting to hear what would come next.

“Our future is unknown, but it has never once been free of danger. We will face that danger, whatever it may be, head on.” Liana looked directly at the graduates. “And you, Osay of the first Amir Company—you will be there and you will have the honor of fighting for all of us.”

The audience roared in approval. The ceremony concluded, and all four towns were soon filled with revelry—a reaction Reach hadn’t expected but was more than happy to join. He danced and clapped with the others, feeling the jostling shakes and slaps on the back of people who were glad at his presence.

The only thing he didn’t do was take one of the many cups of penu-lopu that were offered to him. That first night’s experience had been plenty. The Rangers and new Osay soldiers were ordered to refrain as well, much to their chagrin.

Reach gave a half-smile as the new soldiers danced through the camp’s streets. Old men wiped away tears and harangued the soldiers to remember those who had died defending the colony against RUPAC before this day had come.

* * *

“We’ve got ourselves a decent force,” Reach told Captain Bosa. “Time to pull the trigger on getting Dr. Roman that entangled particle he wanted?”

The captain had invited Reach to a private discussion on the state of the colony. In addition to the graduation of the Osay soldiers, there were a number of items that would be making an impact on things. The Elder council was set to hold its selection of a new chief elder, and Roman had everything but the particle he needed to activate his ambitious communication device.

“Truth be told,” Bosa said, “that’s something that could have been accomplished with Brody and a small team.”

Reach nodded. “Why the delay?”

“Lieutenant Sherman felt the operation would provide an opportunity to better field-test the RUPAC craft left behind. The command crew has grown confident in their ability to use it as a military insertion craft. If we’re doing that, it’s also a good opportunity to get the Osay used to a joint force mission.”

“Your Rangers have been wearing a lot of hats since we landed on Amir.”

“No one’s complaining. But you’re right.”

“Alexa mentioned you have the Predators flying regular patterns over the camp for surveillance.”

Bosa nodded. “In addition to some advanced Recon.”

“No sign of RUPAC?”

“Other than our friend Dr. Gruber, none.”

Reach rubbed the back of his head in thought. “He still not talking?”

“I’m beginning to doubt he has anything useful to say.”

“Makes sense. Men like Gao at least are up front with how little they know. Eager to get it out there and try assimilating. You think Gruber’s just angling for some VIP treatment to help him get situated or do you think he’s got another objective?”

“That I wish I knew. Obviously someone sent in those soldiers in an attempt to take Alexa and Brody. But the facility you found Gruber in wasn’t military. I’d like to know where our attackers came from.”

Reach frowned. They had flown as many flight patterns as they could to survey the surrounding area with no indication of any further RUPAC presence. But then, even with the images they’d captured from orbit, they’d missed the RUPAC’s landing site. Amir was more than a patch of land where everyone just happened to hang out in one centralized location. It wasn’t something from Star Wars. There were four large continents and multiple island chains. It would take a lifetime of exploration to truly know what the planet had to offer. Roman and Alexa had plans to launch a satellite, but they had lots of other plans, too. More plans, it seemed, than results.

Or maybe the reclusive Roman was just slowing down too much and what little they got from his labors was all there would be to get.

“You want me to go along for the recovery mission?” Reach asked.

“That your way of volunteering, Reach?”

“Sure.”

“I think we’ll be all right. With your newfound celebrity for killing that Bangora, I’d prefer as few disruptions to the command chain as possible given the Osay’s greenness. Having Brody along will be enough.” Bosa folded his arms. “Now let me ask you something.”

“Send it.”

“Are you planning on accepting the Osay appointing you as their new chief, should that happen?”

Reach let out a puff of breath. “Negative.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I’m not as sure as I was. Alexa thinks it’s a good idea. Liana thinks it’s a good idea… and I don’t know what I think. Not really. Beyond that it will make my needing to work with your team and the locals more difficult. One of those ‘whose side are you really on’ situations.”

Bosa gave a fractional nod. “That’s probably going to happen either way. Politics is messy.”

“Roger that,” Reach said, his eyes unfocusing, taking in Bosa’s office as a whole as he sat across from the man. “Let’s hope the same isn’t true of your trip back to the old Osay camp.”

“They’ll be ready. But you need to be ready for that nomination.”

“You sound like you have an opinion on whether I should accept.”

“I do.”

“And?”

“It’s mine to keep. Just think things through. You have some time before the actual event.”

Reach nodded and thought, that’s all I have been doing.

19

It was overkill for a simple recovery mission, especially to a location that Sherman and his men had visited and controlled with a single platoon. But then the purpose of waiting until now to recover Dr. Roman’s entangled particle wasn’t to make things more streamlined. It was to see how some of their new soldiers would perform and how the command crew’s increasing proficiency flying the USS Osay might be gameplanned into future operations. Sherman wouldn’t go so far as to call this a training exercise, but it was about as close as one got while still having an objective to achieve.

Flanked by an Osay officer, Sherman turned to nod at Captain Bosa and then headed for the USS Osay’s ramp. He was halfway up when he gave the loadmaster the go-ahead to close it. Then he stepped around four Badgers strapped to the deck and headed for the crew benches in the aft.

His Rangers and their Osay infantry counterparts had just finished strapping themselves in for takeoff.

“Everyone comfy?” Sherman looked at his squad leaders.

“All secure and ready,” Sergeant Morales replied.

Sherman considered just how much his original unit had diminished in size since leaving Earth. Casualties suffered at the hands of RUPAC and the wildlife had been costly. The addition of these Osay infantry, really a small militia, was more than needed.

The lieutenant looked for Brody, whose absence was conspicuous given how loud the machine was. He was supposed to accompany the platoon on mission, and for a moment Sherman worried that he’d missed the flight. “Hey. Where’s the tin can?”

“On the bridge,” Morales said. “With Soto. Said he wanted to meet ‘RUPAC’s s-sorry attempt at a me.’”

Sherman gave a curt nod. “Ivan.”

“That’s the one, sir.”

Sherman climbed the stairs to the second story balcony and headed for the bridge. Even as he neared the open door, he could hear an alarmed Brody carrying on.

“How can you t-t-trust him? Look at him!”

“Look at him how?” Sherman asked, entering the bridge and assuming command of the conversation.

“Ivan D-drago. Sp-pitting image. Bad news. Killed Apollo. Unforgivable.”

“Alexa and Dr. Roman checked him out. He’s fine,” said Sherman.

“You don’t un-un-understand… He’s not a human,” Brody said. “He is like a piece of iron.”

Sherman eyed the annoyed robot pointedly. “Ironic, coming from you.”

Brody gave a long look at the placid image of Ivan, who said nothing in reply. “F-fine. First Gruber and now this. Don’t expect me to throw in the towel when—”

“Stand down, Brody.” Sherman hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Head to the hangar and wait there. Short flight but we want to nail the landing. That includes inserting you on time.”

“Roger, Citizen. But remember, he w-will try to break you.” The war machine stormed out.

Sherman let out a sigh. “We’re all set,” he told the pilots.

“Roger that.” Ross brought up a flight control screen as Sherman buckled himself in. “Ivan, take us up.”

The ship began to lift under the direction of the AI.

“Assuming manual control,” said Strahler, the other pilot.

They eased the USS Osay out of Camp Craiswell. The motion reminded Sherman of a massive Chinook hovering over the Panamanian jungle during the second war there. Only that bird didn’t have AIs with personality disorders on board.

While the USS Osay made the short hop to Camp Muir, Sherman pulled his battle board from his trouser pocket and reviewed the transmission bus’s location inside the Muir’s comms module. Last known location was more like it. Murphy and all his various laws had taught Sherman long ago that things rarely went as planned—as the last op at the RUPAC site illustrated.

The plan he and Sergeant Soto had outlined during the mission brief and practiced during the walk through and sand tables called for Brody and two squads of Rangers to move on foot toward the command module with additional squads comprised of Osay and their more experienced counterparts strategically set to secure the location and watch the perimeter. Quick in and out. Five mikes, ten max. The most complicated part of the operation should be getting everyone off the ship.

Sherman stuffed his battle board back in his pocket and closed his eyes. He’d hardly slept, and now his body decided it was time to catch up.

“Lieutenant. We’re three mikes out,” Strahler’s voice said from inside the darkness. “Don’t mean to wake you but—”

Dammit. “Thanks.” He sniffed, ran a hand over his face, and then unbuckled.

Sherman left the bridge, moved down the stairs, and joined the men at the stern. “How we looking, Sergeant?” he asked Tran.

“All green here. Easy in, easy out.”

“Copy.”

“I’m f-fine, too,” offered Brody. He slapped his arms and flexed. “Whap! Fry half a city with this puppy.”

“One mike,” Strahler announced over implant.

The loadmaster held up one finger and repeated the time to deployment, which everyone repeated. He activated the aft cargo ramp, and the hold filled with the humid scents of the Amir morning. Sherman checked the altimeter on the sidewall; even at 500 meters, the air was warm. It was gonna be another hot day.

Holding up his fingers in a C, the loadmaster called out the time. “Thirty seconds.”

Everyone repeated it.

The ship had descended to 100 meters swiftly. Yet Sherman hadn’t felt the flutters that generally accompanied such a quick drop—probably a combination of the ship’s capabilities and the pilots’ handiwork. That was good. This kind of job benefited from steady hands and feet on the controls.

He looked over at Brody, who was hopping and skipping in place like a boxer ready to start a fight, rolling his neck and shoulders.

Sherman saw the ramp hover barely above the ground as Ivan held the large bird in position. The LED turned green.

“You’re up, Brody,” said Sherman. “Do it like we practiced.”

The battle android took a step back and said, “Express elevator to h-hell, going down!” He jumped off the deck and moved to control the landing zone.

The remaining squads followed, Ranger and Osay alike moving where and when they were expected. The Badgers, manned by Osay, rolled off the ship, their guns sweeping as the craft that delivered them took on altitude.

Sherman nodded to Soto as he watched his men recede from his place in the cargo bay where he would observe remotely. “Time to see what’s at the end of the rainbow.”

Still adjusting to the disorientation caused by viewing multiple soldiers’ POVs in his mind’s eye, Sherman took a seat along the crew bench and buckled himself in. He’d witnessed at least two soldiers suffer head wounds from falling over during these mental, picture-in-picture observations and receive a lucky bastard badge—not the way anyone wants to say they earned a Purple Heart on deployment.

The first Osay squad had set up interlocking fields of fire with 360-degree security centered on the comms entrance. A Ranger advisor adjusted his grenadiers and looked for any problem areas that were not on the scans he was given before the mission. Morales and his squad raced toward the building’s main entrance.

Brody moved ahead of everyone and stood in the midst of what remained of the Osay camp. He threw out both arms. “W-what happened? Where are they? Where’s RUPAC?”

“Camp still looks empty,” called out Morales. “Sorry, Brody.”

“Th-this sucks.”

The Muir’s comms module had taken quite a beating between its atmospheric entry, crash landing, RUPAC skirmishes, and a few hundred years of weathering. The platoon had already searched this same building on their last stint here and found nothing of interest, just bays of crapped out equipment. That said, Roman and Alexa seemed confident in their belief that the transmission bus was still where it was supposed to be.

Sherman switched to Morales’s feed. The dawn light faded as the sergeant stepped into the module’s shadows. But the implant’s software adjusted the image to match what Morales was seeing—or was that actually what his optic nerves were picking up? Sherman still didn’t have a handle on how all this new tech worked, but he liked having it.

Morales slapped Brody on the shoulder. “Help with security.”

The android nodded as the Rangers filed through the entryway, down a hall, and into a lab of some kind. The sunlight shone through bullet holes in the walls and ceiling as well as large holes that seemed to have rusted out. Several animal hides that the Osay hadn’t bothered to gather before their hasty retreat covered some of the largest gaps, but most were left wide open to the elements.

At last, Morales pushed through a final corridor and into the target area. This compartment of the comms module should have been the darkest of all. However, a large section of the right-hand wall was missing. In its place, an animal hide had been drawn tight, but light seeped through the gaps where the lines had stretched.

“Unit six, bay twenty-seven,” Morales mumbled to himself as a reminder. They had gone over parameters prior to the mission until the entire team could recite it on cue. His head swung left, and he counted bays one and two, then three and four in the center, and then…

“LT. We’ve got a problem,” Morales said. He was looking at the hide that covered the right-hand wall. “I do not see units five or six. The entire section is gone. Looks like it has been for a while.”

“I thought Doc Roman said these would be there,” Soto said for Sherman’s ears only.

Sherman frowned. He too had assumed that Roman had actually seen the comm module in question. He’d gone inspecting seemingly all of the camp when they first discovered it. Maybe Morales was wrong and it had only recently broken away. “Stand by, out.”

Sherman popped off the feeds from the ground and pulled up Alexa’s name on the comms roster. “Soto, keep an eye on things. I’m making a call.”

“Copy,” Soto said.

“Hello, Lieutenant Sherman,” Alexa replied. Her head and shoulders appeared in Sherman’s mind like a high-resolution video image. She was clearly using some sort of webcam from inside doc’s laboratory.

“We’ve run into a snag,” Sherman said. “The bay you and Roman specified—”

“Hello, Lieutenant Sherman. I’m here too.” Dr. Roman’s wrinkled, smiling face stepped into frame beside Alexa. “How can we be of service to you?”

Sherman frowned at all the niceties. Everyone could use a crash course in comms discipline. The brain-radios were having an effect on the way things were being communicated. “Bays five and six are gone. Looks like it was taken out years ago. Unable to tell. Please advise, over.”

Alexa and Dr. Roman looked at each other, surprised by the news.

“How unusual,” Dr. Roman said. “It should be there.”

“Don’t know what to tell you, Doc. It’s not. I’ve got men scouting the area. Please advise if you’ve got some clue we should follow.”

“You said you’re looking around the ship now?”

Sherman nodded. “Affirmative.”

“Good. I would continue that route. In the meantime, may Alexa have access to the footage of whoever saw the missing components?” That was a courtesy. Alexa was authorized to view footage and had been since the mission was underway.

“Sergeant Morales,” Sherman replied.

A second later, Alexa said to Sherman and Dr. Roman, “I have the specified video data.”

Roman nodded. “Lieutenant, I understand you are pressed for time. I must make some calculations with Alexa. We’ll get back to you as soon as we can. That said, I also want you working with the most accurate information possible.”

“Just get it done for me, Doc. Sooner the better.”

“Ah. Yes. Right away.”

“Sherman out.”

* * *

“Anything?” Soto asked for the second time in two minutes.

Sherman shook his head. He couldn’t blame the sergeant; he wanted answers too. Every second the squads spent on the ground was one that might attract the creatures in the wilds beyond the desolate camp—and who knew what kind of nasty things were occupying the small mountains that hemmed them in. The men had pushed out as far as they dared before the distance between the men grew too great for adequate coverage, while Morales scouted in ever-widening search patterns.

“We’re starting to cover the same ground,” Morales reported in.

“Roger,” replied Sherman. “Keep your eyes peeled. Waiting on some intel from Roman that might help things.”

“Roger, out.”

“Brody,” Sherman said, “are you seeing anything? Picking anything up with your sensor arrays?”

“I ain’t f-f-found shit,” the android replied. Then he cheerily added, “But I’ll keep l-looking! Longer we’re in country, sooner we f-find something to kill. Hold up. I’m detecting heat signatures in the out-ly-ly-lying forest. Deploying tactical nu-nu-clear device.”

“Do not do any such thing, Brody,” ordered Sherman. “Where do you see it?”

The android sent a directional ping into Sherman’s mind, and Sherman passed it on to the rest of his team. “Sergeant Tran, get me eyes on that.”

“On it. Masau. You see anything?”

Masau had benefited from Roman and Alexa’s crash course of stasis healing. In the cryopod and with whatever medicine they’d unlocked, a broken arm was something that could be dealt with in spans of days instead of weeks. “Yeah. Some sorta critters. Can’t make out exactly what. Got some foliage between us.” There was a pause. “Hold up. Looks like something heavy was dragged through that way.”

Sherman felt his heart quicken. “I see it. First, the wildlife—do they appear to be forming up in any way?”

“Negative,” answered the sniper. “If I had to guess, I think the local wildlife’s just curious, sir. I can take at least a few out right now through the bush. Just say the word.”

“I can kill them, t-t-too.”

“Stand by, both of you,” Sherman said. “Anything from the density scanners?”

Tran had been given a pair of the specialized goggles, as had the rest of the squad leaders. “Negative.”

Sherman felt himself relax a little. Granted, the Bangora was supposedly a solitary creature and Reach had killed it. Sherman had seen the brute’s carcass up close. Still, it paid to be cautious, and that scanner should identify men just as clearly as Bangora when peering through foliage. “Copy that. Keep me posted.”

Soto frowned from his place next to the lieutenant. “You ask me, them pendejos are watching.”

“The animals?”

Soto shrugged. “Not a lot of critters just hang out and enjoy the show. Takes a certain kind of curiosity or intelligence. They’re watching us, LT.”

“Well, we’ve got eyes on them too.”

At that moment, Alexa’s voice and a video frame popped into Sherman’s head. “Lieutenant Sherman. Is this a good time?”

“If you’ve got something that will help find what we’re looking for, then yes.”

“I am not sure that it is. Dr. Roman is sure he saw the transmission bus intact on his initial visit.”

Sherman frowned, unconvinced that the old man hadn’t just imagined he did. “I don’t know what to say. It’s not here now. We spotted something heavy that was dragged away to the northeast of our position. Perhaps the unit acted up between his last seeing it and the Osay abandoning camp, and they moved it away?”

“It is worth investigating.”

“Solid copy. Stand by.” Sherman turned to Soto. “It’s not at Muir. Recall the squads. Have everyone form up. We’re going to follow that trail Masau saw.”

Soto nodded, and Sherman finished up with Alexa. “I’ll let you know what we find. Sherman out.”

Scouts moved on foot, tracking the gash left in the soil. It was old, but not ancient. The ground had smoothed and evened out from rains and other pressure, but vegetation hadn’t fully grown over the wound. Clearly it happened prior to the site being under observation, but how long before was anyone’s guess.

Sherman moved inside one of the Badgers. They’d been lucky so far. No contact of any sort and the scattered fildeema that had watched them earlier had left the moment the men began moving out. Rather than put his mind at ease, the lack of hostiles gave him a sense of impending trouble. His anxiety rose, and with it a feeling that the hammer was waiting to drop.

“You okay, sir?” Soto asked.

Sherman shook the thoughts from his mind. “Never better, Sergeant.”

“Right. Another day in paradise.”

Sherman saw Brody return from beyond.

“Where do you w-w-want Lightning and Thunder?” Brody flexed his biceps one at a time. “Axe and Smash. Doctor and D-d-doom.”

“Scouts send you back because they found something?” Sherman asked, knowing they’d have reported it if that were the case. More likely, they felt Brody was too much of a distraction.

“Roger that, Texas Ranger. Sent me to look for fildeema. I’ll find the woodland creatures, and I w-will eliminate them. Total extinct-tinc-tincion. Wait’ll they get a load of me.”

“Just move with the main element, Brody. We’re here to find the comm module, not a fight.”

“Pshhhhh. That’s n-n-no fun. Whose parade are you trying to piss on? Mine? Because I march rain or shine, baby.”

20

It was Masau who reported that he’d found the end of the tracks in a densely jungled area along a valley northeast of the camp, but there was no sign of the communication bus itself. Sherman arrived at the location along with the rest of the element and ordered the soldiers to fan out in search formation. “We’re gonna be damn sure this thing isn’t here before we head back.”

The unit spent the next forty minutes sweeping the valley, looking for the target.

“Lieutenant, I’m picking up thermal signatures due west of your location,” Strahler said from aboard the ship, where she was flying a pattern overhead.

“I see it too,” Sherman said. The Badger’s sensors had pinged him several times as they detected new life-forms. “Animals in the forest.”

“Copy. That’s what it looks like to me too, sir. Nothing like what we saw at the RUPAC site.”

“I appreciate the redundancy. Continue monitoring.”

“Roger, out.”

As soon as the pilot was off, Soto called over on a private channel.

“Lieutenant?” Soto cleared his throat—something Sherman didn’t know you could do in your mind’s inner voice. “What if they were watching us back at the Muir and then led us over here?”

“Are we talking about RUPAC or the fildeema?” Sherman asked.

“The fildeema. Just got a bad feeling.”

“Those things didn’t appear out of thin air last time. They massed and attacked after we shot at them. So far we’re not seeing anywhere near those numbers. Let’s stay focused on the search grid and keep the Badgers close enough to pull the boys out if trouble comes.”

“Solid copy.” Soto sounded unconvinced.

The platoon found nothing in its initial search block. Thermal scanners on the Badgers picked up minimal increases in animal presence—but that was to be expected as they ventured further into what so many creatures likely called home. Some signatures got startled and left, while others showed up to see what was going on. The only thing that really concerned Sherman was Soto’s superstitious gut-check.

As Badger One rolled through the underbrush, its audio sensors picked up shrieks, clicks, chirps, and squawks from all sorts of wildlife in the forest. Nothing showed aggression to the men on foot or appeared on the density scanners.

“I got something,” Private First Class Hain said. He’d barely finished his sentence when an indicator pinged from his location on the topo map in Sherman’s head.

Sergeant Tran was first on the scene. “Looks like the edge of a metal plate buried in the ground. Nice work, Hain. You don’t have to dig.”

Sherman called up Tran’s POV. Sure enough, there was a meter-long metal rim protruding a few centimeters from the ground. Its edge looked in decent condition—if this truly was what they were looking for and not some other cast-off piece of hull from the landings. It was probably kept clean by rain and runoff. In any event, it wasn’t something that belonged in these woods.

“Set a perimeter,” Sherman ordered. “I want a dig on that location. Yesterday. Brody, that includes you. Anyone not getting their hands dirty is scouting the vicinity for additional wreckage.”

As the men dropped their gear and produced their entrenching tools, Brody sauntered up. “What do we g-g-got here? Looks buried deep. You boys are gonna be busy-izzy.”

“You ain’t gonna help, Brody?” asked Unga. “Pretty sure I heard LT say you had to pitch in.”

“Digging’s woman’s w-work. That’s why y-you guys are on it. I’m all man, baby. One hundred percent beefsteak. Grass fed. Out to stud.”

Unga tossed a scoopful of dirt at Brody’s feet. “Well, if you’re not gonna dig, get the hell out of the way, huh?”

“Pssh. You call that digging? How much did you haul outta there? A cubic centimeter? S-s-step aside. I’ll show you how to dig.” The war machine wiggled his fingers, shooing Unga and the others away.

With the Rangers clear and watching, Brody cracked his fingers—or would have had there been any beneath the armored gauntlets—and said, “Trick to this k-kind of work is to be quick. Gotta move fast because if Ch-charlie catches you nappin’, you don’t wake up.”

“Charlie, huh?” said Unga, clearly amused.

Brody started to dig—fast.

It was clear the big android was going to outpace the flesh and blood standing by with their E-tools. When he began digging around Hain’s find, his hands moved in a blur until nearly half of the metallic object was excavated. “And that’s h-h-how you dig, Yeetmeisters!”

Unga nodded at the partially exposed object. “Great job. You wanna finish pullin’ that out for us, Brody?”

Brody looked back at the object. “S-sorry. Free trial has ended. I’m g-gonna watch the trees for Charlie.” The android grew deadly serious. “They’re out there. They’re w-watching.”

“Figures,” huffed Unga. He went back to work.

Sherman and Soto had brought the Badgers around to face deeper into the western woods. The lieutenant figured that if an attack was going to come, it would come from that direction.

Sherman’s mind’s eye flicked through each of the vehicles’ and drones’ sensors and monitoring systems, checking visual, thermal, motion, and density scans. But no matter how many screens he went through, the animal activity didn’t seem out of the norm.

“How you looking over there, Badger Two?” Sherman asked.

“Aside from needing to take a piss?” the driver replied. “Pretty good, LT.”

Sherman was about to echo the man’s sentiments when Soto spoke up again. “I still got this weird feeling, LT.”

“If the platoon had a dollar for every one of your bad feelings, they’d never have to leave the strip club. You know that, Sergeant Soto?”

“Sorry, LT. It’s a blessing and a curse, I know.”

“Gut feelings shouldn’t be ignored, just don’t want you getting jittery. Alert me to the ones that—”

“Make my balls tingle?”

Sherman smiled, partly at the comment and partly at the communication speed afforded them by the implants. “Something like that. Sherman out.”

The lieutenant was almost immediately greeted by a new comm ping.

“Hey, LT?” Morales said. “Can you relay an order to Brody over here?”

“What is it?” Sherman asked. He brought up Morales’s POV. Men from First and Second Squads were making quick work of a wide hole, revealing a large piece of sheet metal with the red letters M and U on one side. He was surprised at the speed they’d already managed in uncovering it.

“Lieutenant.” Strahler interrupted Sherman’s observation. “We’re detecting thermal activity inbound on your location.”

Sherman checked his Badger’s sensors. Nothing seemed to have changed. “Roger. We’re aware of them.”

“I don’t think we’re seeing the same thing, Lieutenant.”

“Send it my way.” At the same time, Sherman glanced back at Morales’s POV. “Possible movement, Morales. Get your boys ready.”

He quickly did so and returned to his reason for calling. “Roger, sir. We’re watching.”

Sherman bounced over to accept the Osay’s incoming sensor feed from Strahler. Large swaths of heat energy were moving in from the west. He checked his Badger’s sensors again. Nothing yet. The Osay obviously was seeing farther out than he could.

“Hurry the dig up,” Sherman ordered. “Osay sensors are showing a whole lot of something heading our way. Probably more of those fildeema.”

“I’m startin’ to pick ’em up, too, LT,” Soto said.

Sherman licked his lips. “I’d say you have about a minute left.”

By now all squads were on alert. Brody stood atop a fallen tree. “T-there’s something out there waiting for us, and it ain’t no man. They’re all g-gonna d-d-die.”

Sherman gave a final order. “Morales, retrieve that transmission bus ASAP and bring it directly to Badger One.”

All at once, Sherman’s implant notifications started pinging like the pitter-patter of rain growing into a storm. It was identifying targets.

“Whatever is coming is almost on you,” Strahler said.

“We see ’em. Fildeema.” Sherman activated the Badger’s weapons systems and engaged auto-tracking. “All Squads, weapons hot.”

“All right,” Brody yelled. “It’s ’bout d-damn time someone gave me something to shoot. Get some!”

Sherman watched as the sensor displays failed to keep up with the new heat signatures mounting to the west. It all seemed one giant blob. Even more unsettling, the wild creatures weren’t making a sound. It was as if they were hunting in stealth, hoping to fall upon the platoon and catch them unawares.

“L-l-light ’em up, citizens,” Brody yelled. The mini-gun on his left arm erupted in a torrent of liquid light. The stream chewed through the upper branches and shredded the first round of fildeema, filling the air with leaves, white hair, and red mist.

The Badgers’ guns barked a beat later, sending multiple lines of fire into ground and treetop targets. The MGs raked the flanks while the MK 19 lobbed grenades into the fildeema pockets further back. The weapons drilled the front lines twenty meters ahead, sweeping left to right. The munitions punched straight through the furry bodies and shot up the forest floor with sprays of dirt and leaves.

Third Squad’s 338s sent out its own stream of fire. As more targets took to the trees to avoid the slaughter on the ground, rifles began to pick the animals off from among the branches. Some leaped out of the trees in wild attempts to charge the soldiers, while others simply tumbled to their deaths.

“Contact left,” Sergeant Tran called out as a fresh wave moved on his location.

Sherman pivoted his weapons to assist. The MGs opened fire and shredded the upper trunks so quickly that several trees collapsed. Their falling limbs forced some of the soldiers back to take cover behind Badger One.

“Take that, you d-damned d-dirty little apes,” Brody hollered. “Always h-hated you guys. Serves you right.” He fired a small rocket at a new batch headed for the dig site. When the missile exploded, it sent a dozen bodies cartwheeling through the air. “Someone’s g-g-gonna feel that one in the morning.” A new rocket rotated up onto his wrist. “G-get ready for takeoff.” He shot at a second batch of the creatures that tried to replace the first. The ground shook under the explosion. “I st-still got it.”

“How we looking, Morales?” Sherman asked.

“Two-thirds done—five mikes!”

“That’s too long,” Sherman replied. “We need options.”

“Brody can dig it out in no time,” Morales said.

“Negative. Need him in the fight.”

“What about pulling it out?” Tran said between shots. “Use the Badger’s tow cable.”

“That could work,” Morales replied. “Ground is loose enough, I think. Stand by.”

Sherman watched Morales from Badger One’s mounted camera as the sergeant dispatched a fildeema that had managed to drop down from above without catching fire. The main horde was still another half-minute away, but that didn’t lessen the ferocity of the early arrivals. Little bastards would kill everyone on their own if they could.

Morales picked off another fildeema in the treetops. “Any chance one of you can come to us? I stop engaging and I’m lunch.”

“I’ll back in,” said Sherman.

“Negative, LT,” Soto interjected. “You’ve got a better field of fire. Send Badger Two.”

“Get it done. Squads Three and Five, shift right.”

Tran acknowledged and directed Fifth Squad’s field of fire. With no long-range singular targets to engage, Corporal Masau was up with the team and getting dirty with the rest of the platoon, firing a steady rhythm of lead that downed multiple targets with each shot. PFC Unga and Morse covered Masau’s flanks, while Corporal Day picked up the scraps.

At the same time, an Osay squad moved to fill a new opening on the right flank. Soldiers headed for cover behind trees, boulders, and fallen logs, firing as they moved. The enemy was closing fast despite their best efforts.

Badger Two backed around to the dig site. But just because the vehicle had relocated didn’t mean it was out of the fight—not by a long shot. Its machine guns tore through the swarming ranks with blistering speed. Several trees took the brunt of the munitions that ripped through the fildeema and fell onto the deadly little creatures, crushing large swaths of the bastards as those in the treetops leapt away, leaving their fate to gravity.

Even for all the effective fire that the force unleashed, Sherman had the sense that this battle of attrition would eventually favor the enemy, just as it had at the RUPAC site. There was no countermove against overwhelming numbers. You could fight the ocean as much as you wanted, but eventually it swallowed everything. They needed more firepower or they needed to get clear.

“Alexa,” Sherman transmitted. “We could use some CAS. Coordinate with Osay, over.”

“I have the Predator haulers en route,” confirmed the AI. “We’ll see what we can do, but the forest canopy will make it difficult.”

“Roger. Sherman out.” Every little bit counted. “How we looking, Morales?”

“Thirty seconds.”

Sherman called to Strahler. “Gonna need you to close the gap. Hot evac, over.”

“Headed your way, Lieutenant. Coordinating CAS with Alexa, over.”

“Roger, out.”

The squads kept the fildeema at bay long enough for Morales to finish attaching Badger Two’s tow straps. “We’re good to go,” Morales said at last. “Pull her out!”

“All squads,” Sherman said. “Be advised, we are repositioning to TRP-1 in your HUD—BREAK—all Task Force Elements cover down on victors and secure TRP-1 for extract—Badger One, out.”

Sherman got acknowledgements from squads in number order and then started backing up his Badger. At the same time, Badger Two eased forward while Morales and his team monitored the excavation. The piece of hull started shuddering out of the hole, and within a few seconds, it flopped on the ground like a whale bursting through the surface of the ocean.

“I have visual on the rack, I think,” Morales said.

“Need positive ID, Sergeant!”

“Understood.” A beat later, Morales said, “Alexa, can you confirm the asset?”

“I can, Sergeant Morales. You have acquired the needed transmission bus. Well done.”

Sherman cut off any more of the exchange. “Move, people! Bird inbound.”

“Get to da ch-choppa!” Brody yelled.

The platoon picked up the pace and headed east. Most of the squads remained on foot, target denial tape on top of their helmets keeping them from taking a hit from the Badgers’ automated guns. Brody stayed in the middle, dispensing ammo and one-liners with a fluidity worthy of its own movie.

“Hey! Where’d you go?” he yelled at three fildeema who’d been vaporized by his mini-gun. “I thought you wanted to play.” The bot pivoted and sent a rocket into a group chasing after the piece of hull. “Knock, knock.”

One of the creatures managed to leap from a tree and land on Brody’s head.

“Hold s-still,” Brody said as he tried to snag it. The fildeema’s sharp little claws started to pull on the helmet, but the bot finally grabbed it by the skull and held it up. “Going to hell? Let me give you a head start.” He crushed the fildeema’s head between his hands and then shook off the gore.

“More inbound from the north and south,” the Osay reported.

“They know we’re falling back,” Soto said. “These things are smart.”

It was a hunch, but Sherman figured it was a good one. Superstitious or not, Soto had called it. The damn things had been watching them. They’d waited until they were occupied and then tried to sneak in to do some serious hurt. That had to show some intelligence, particularly when taking into account the numbers involved.

Sherman glanced at the topo map, which showed the USS Osay moving west to land just past the tree line.

“Prepare for fire mission on my mark,” Morales said, assuming the role of a Combat Controller. It would be nice to have Air Force special forces on Amir, but wish in one hand…

His voice was followed by warning indicators on Sherman’s map to the north, south, and west of the platoon’s position. “Mark.”

A beat later, Sherman heard the newly repaired ship-to-ship gauss cannons fire. The advanced rail guns shot some sort of explosive RUPAC round that Alexa had already analyzed and was busy reproducing.

At least three trees in the distance pitched off their roots as a giant fireball erupted in the forest. Little balls of flaming fur hurtled out of sight.

Alexa’s air support swooped overhead, and two more blasts struck to the north and the south. The Rangers were prepared this time and kept their balance amid the earthshaking booms. Arms went up as dozens of flaming fildeema parts pelted them and the Badgers, littering the forest floor.

“Woulda been nice to have that in our first scrap,” Soto said.

“Would have gotten us all killed,” Sherman countered. The terrain and lack of distance between the men and fildeema in the first encounter made close air support an impossibility. “Thanks for the assist, Osay,” he said to Strahler.

“Happy to help,” she replied with no attempt made to conceal her joy at devastating the enemy.

“As am I,” added Alexa. “Predators will remain on station until unit recovery. Alexa out.”

“Roger, and thanks, Alexa. Break. Osay, we have eyes on you,” Sherman added, noting the ship touching down about 600 meters to the east just beyond the tree line.

“Roger.” The Osay gave its grid coordinates and degrees relative to Sherman’s position as it set down.

As the joint force continued its withdrawal east, Sherman noticed a renewed push from the enemy. He wasn’t alone in his observations. The squad leaders called out new contact on all three sides. Sherman quickly figured out why. The Osay’s forward cannons, while effective, had the secondary effect of driving any enemies cut off from the main forces directly east and into his lines. The fildeema, rather than be terrified by the offensive firepower just unleashed on them, came with the fires of hell.

“All squads, mount up,” Sherman ordered. He toggled the weapons systems to standby to let everyone climb in and on. There wasn’t enough room for them all, so Morales, Wilcox, and Earley jumped onto the comm hub still being towed and braced themselves against the attached rack unit.

Even Brody decided to hitch a ride on the piece of metal sliding through the forest, standing directly above the twin thirties with legs spread wide and shouting, “I am the n-night rider!” as they sped toward exfiltration.

Fildeema charged the hull piece, seeing it as the sole angle of attack.

Brody was the first to fire, sweeping his arms back and forth while spraying automatic weapons fire into the charging creatures until he depleted his ammunition. The war machine then leapt from atop his Badger and landed in the midst of the Rangers, his mechanical legs quickly stabilizing as he “surfed” the comms bus and switched to a weapon more suited for close-up fighting. A sharp pilot flame came alive at his wrist and then gouts of flames scorched toward the fildeema struggling to recover ground lost after he’d unloaded on them a moment before. Within seconds, a long trail of fire followed in Badger Two’s wake.

Seeing the damage Brody was dishing out made Sherman wish he’d had the bot back at the RUPAC camp. He had him now, though, and despite the eccentric personality, the lieutenant was glad for it.

The fildeema scattered to avoid the furnace-like heat poured on them. Some increased their speed, though several more fell back, exhausted. Those fildeema with the stamina to attempt to reach the flanks were picked off by the Badgers’ weapons systems. Through it all, the APCs launched grenades in the mass of the now-chattering beasts, creating gaps that took longer and longer to be filled as the things began to run out of the energy—or will—to continue.

The Badgers shot out of the woods and into a clearing. Wheels flattened and bent the tall grass, and the metal hull plowed the land, leaving a dark gouge to mark its presence. But the enemy had not fully given up pursuit. They were possessed with a suicidal madness that caused Sherman to wonder how they hadn’t already destroyed all prey in the vicinity.

The Osay denied the fildeema any hope of further blood. The ship’s belly turrets opened fire and sent multiple streams of automatic 12.7x108mm ammunition into the enemy. The roar was spectacular, clearly heard even from inside the Badger.

Sherman slowed just enough to let Badger Two pull ahead and drive up the ramp with Brody and the three Rangers in tow. He waited as the loadmaster secured it and the other vehicles, then he pushed the accelerator back down and made his way up the ramp behind them.

With his Badger stopped, Sherman checked his rear cam just in time to see the ramp leave the grass as the ship lifted to hover while his own vehicle was secured. Fildeema leapt for the ramp’s edge. Some managed to get their tiny hands on it. But these had been riddled by the converging fire and soon dropped to join the dead and injured creatures that lay helplessly below.

The ramp closed as the ship took on altitude.

Sherman rested his head against his seat. “Sergeant Soto. ACE report,” he said, wanting to know the status of the platoon’s ammo, casualties, and equipment.

“On it,” Soto said and then went to the squad leaders.

“Morales,” Sherman said. “Tell me you still have it.”

Brody answered instead. “I s-still got it!”

“We’re all good, LT,” Morales reported.

Sherman breathed a sigh of relief and mumbled, “I hate those things.”

* * *

Reach found Lieutenant Sherman peeling off his body armor. Sweat and grime were plastered to his face. The effort to get the entangled particle hadn’t been a cakewalk by any stretch. That made the news Reach had come to deliver that much worse.

“Hey, sorry to bug you,” Reach said.

Sherman looked up, and a droplet of sweat dripped off the end of his nose and splashed between his feet. “What’s up, Reach? Something too important just to hit me up on the implant, I take it.”

“Yeah. Alexa and Roman examined the package you delivered.” Reach paused. “Afraid it’s not gonna work.”

Sherman stared at Reach for a moment. “As in, we grabbed the wrong piece of hardware and have to go back?”

“Negative. You got the right piece. Just the particle thing they needed couldn’t be salvaged.”

Sherman looked down and nodded.

Reach could sense that the man wanted to be left alone now. “All right. Imma let you finish up. Just figured the news would get out pretty quickly and thought you might like to tell your guys directly after what they went through to snatch it.”

Sherman blinked impassively. “Where does this leave us on the whole instantaneous communication with Earth?”

“Not gonna happen unless we want to permanently fry our own comms array to get the particle.”

Sherman grunted. “Thanks for letting me know, Reach.”

Reach nodded and left, pounding the overhead door jamb as he walked through as a final farewell. Lieutenant Sherman sat hunched over the bench where he’d been changing. He picked up his gloves from their place next to him and in a sudden burst of anger threw them against the far wall.

21

“Are you ready?” Liana asked Reach as they stood outside the Washington barracks.

Reach wondered whether the elders picked this particular structure for their selection of a new Osay leader on purpose. The name was fitting.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Liana gave a singular, encouraging nod. “They’ll understand your rejection as long as you explain it to them the way you did me.” Liana adjusted his uniform’s collar and then brushed her hands over his shoulders. “You look more than acceptable.”

“Thanks.” Reach drew in a breath, then hesitated. “Liana, I’m going to accept.”

Liana’s eyes went wide as she registered the surprise. “You are?” She paused as if considering something.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing bad; that’s wonderful news. Really. It’s just… my father.”

Reach gave a sympathetic frown and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I’m not feeling… not any more than usual. It’s just—he knew this would happen. He said so.”

Reach didn’t reply as Liana didn’t seem to be done with her thought. She looked like she was remembering the man he’d known as Osay Craiswell and considering the words to continue.

“He told me after he met you that you would be the one to lead our people forward into their destiny.” Liana looked up at Reach and wiped away the tears that welled in her eyes. She laughed as though she felt she was being silly. “He believed in you, Jared. And I believe in you too.”

“Thank you. I feel the same way about you, Liana.” He stepped back and pulled the door open. “After you.”

* * *

When Reach thought of the Osay elders council, he pictured what he’d seen during that first meeting with Osay Craiswell at Camp Muir: a small circular room filled with a handful of advisors who helped rule the people and some armed men to stand guard. The setup inside the barracks was far more formal. The rows of bunk beds had been pushed back to clear a large space at the end of the hall. A half-circle of twenty-four chairs faced an audience of over one hundred, all middle-aged adults and older.

Captain Bosa, Lieutenant Harmon, and Second Platoon Sergeant Nash all gave him crisp head nods from their seats at the back. Reach found himself wondering if what he was about to do lined up with Bosa’s feelings. He didn’t need the captain’s approval, but it would go a long way in preserving the colony’s wellbeing. Brody and Alexa stood beside the Rangers, as well as Dr. Roman, who sat warily in a chair.

As Liana led the way down the central aisle toward the gathered assembly, Reach felt the whole room shift and look toward him. The soft murmurs that existed when he’d first stepped through the door dissipated until all he could hear were the sounds of his and Liana’s footsteps.

They reached the semi-circle of elderly Osay. Liana spoke some words in their native tongue, then left Reach’s side to take the lone empty seat among the viewers.

“We see you, Jared Reach of the USA Walker Texas Rangers,” said a man in the middle with snow white hair and deep grooves lining his features.

Reach didn’t have the heart or the poor manners to correct him on either the Chuck Norris misassociation Brody had spread nor Reach’s lack of tab, scroll, or any other association that would allow himself to be called one of the Rangers.

The wizened elder waited patiently for something. Reach suddenly realized he lacked the playbook for this moment and would have to wing it. Then Liana’s voice was in his head.

“Say that you see the elders,” she said via implant.

“Now you tell me,” he transmitted back. And then to the elders, he said, “And I see you, Elders of the Osay.”

The old man smiled and gave a fractional nod.

“Do you know why you are here?” said an older woman to the man’s left. Her wrinkled features and hunched posture must have put her somewhere in her eighties, Reach thought. Her eyes were still bright and piercing.

“To witness the choosing of a new Osay leader.”

The old woman smiled at this, apparently pleased with the response. The others nodded too, and low whispers circulated among the larger body.

“That you are,” said the first man. “I am Elder McDonnell, Chief Among the Waiting.”

Reach remembered the man from the first meeting but had never gotten his name. “It’s an honor, Elder McDonnell.”

The man made a waving motion and stood. The others followed and then the audience broke their silence to sing a song that Reach was intimately familiar with despite the incorrect lyrics.

The entire assembly stood as the choir sang: “Osay ken do see…”

It was The Star-Spangled Banner—at least a form of it. The colonists had the melody right, and they sang it proudly. Reach chanced a look back at Bosa and his fellow officers and all had raised, interested eyebrows. The men stood at attention and remained silent. When the anthem concluded and everyone sat back down, a dozen children filed in from the barracks’ back door. They took turns speaking parts of a long story that the adults in the audience knew as well, silently mouthing words that Reach felt they must have spoken when they were children.

“Do you understand it?” Liana asked him.

“I get the gist, yeah.”

“It’s the story of how we came to be. How we survived.”

As Reach stood there watching the children, he couldn’t help but feel a tug of emotion. This wasn’t just a bunch of survivors from the Muir and Longmire. This was a new culture. They’d already created customs, stories, and mythologies. Everybody looked like him and almost talked like him. They weren’t that far removed from anyone he might meet on the street in any US city, and yet, at the same time, they were entirely different. This was, for all intents and purposes, a new tribe of humanity.

The elder in the middle, McDonnell, motioned to one of his fellows when the children had filed back out, their story told.

“I am Elder Rubenking,” said the sage who’d been given the prompt. “I am Searcher of Lights.”

Reach bowed his head in greeting.

Rubenking gave a slight nod and continued. “As one who, like our forefathers, has come from stars, you have been recommended to the elder counsel as worthy to take up a mighty position. With the passing of Osay Craiswell, it falls upon us to honor his last wish.”

Here it comes, Reach thought to himself when the man paused.

“The wish of the council is to unite our two colonies. Old and new.”

Rubenking waited, and Reach felt like he was being given a cue. “That is my wish as well.”

“Good. You are to then marry into the Osay people. Osay Liana Craiswell will be your bride.”

Reach froze. His brain raced to make sense of what he was just told. Even with all the stuff Alexa had done to his head, Reach couldn’t help feeling that something had shorted out in his brain. But he’d heard Rubenking clearly—hadn’t he?

From the back, Brody began to clap—the only one. “Woo! Y-yeah!”

Eventually the android stopped and the rest of the gallery looked on in silent attention. Reach glanced to Liana, who shrugged and transmitted, “I… I had no idea, Reach. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Reach gave her a nod and turned back to the council. “Forgive me, Elder. You are saying that Liana is the new Osay? And you want to arrange a marriage between me and her?”

“Not is our wants that matters to here,” Rubenking replied. “Is wishes of the late Osay Craiswell. A final law which we are bound.”

By that point Liana had walked to Reach’s side. “Great Council of Elders, I believe there has been some misunderstanding. I am not to be named Osay. My father made it clear that—”

Elder McDonnell raised a hand. “Liana. Your father did told you many of things. Things that you needed to hear. But he also told us many things. Trust of you to lead future Osay forward. To join as one with Osay Rangers and learn the ways of our U-S-Osay ancestors. Also for you to Diversify Union to Reach, a final bond of great strength.” The Elder drew in a breath, winded from his short speech. “Osay Craiswell trusted no one more to be new Osay than you. Together you both would lead us into a bright future. As he believed, so we do believe.”

Liana looked from the elders to Reach and back. Her face was a mix of shock and confusion. Reach wondered how exactly he’d gotten himself into another situation where he was being offered a native bride by the local populace. Clearly, the appointment for Osay had been made long before Craiswell died. Someone who he had infinite trust in and who knew the ways of the people. And who, because of her age, would have a long lifespan to preside over the growing line of offspring.

Liana.

As soon as she showed signs of leadership, of being able to help defend her people, and of learning, Craiswell had probably told the council what he wanted. Alexa had even recounted how the very old had known of her since childhood, when she was in cryo in her mother’s womb, and the youngest saw her as something of a living fable. And how better to finish off that fairy tale than for her to marry the warrior who killed the Bangora.

This was going to be complicated.

“Are you okay?” he asked Liana via implant. “This has to be a shock.”

She shook her head as if to clear it. “I honestly can’t say just now.”

As the pair communicated through implant, a murmur of uncertainty rippled through the crowd. Brody stood up. “I think they’re g-getting cold f-f-feet. Alexa, play One More Night by Phil Collins.”

“This is not the time, Brody,” the android returned.

Reach continued, ignoring the outburst. “Liana, I need your help here. Any new insights you can give on this sort of thing...”

“I wish I could say. I’ve never been aware of any practice like this among our people. I’m at a loss, Reach.”

“Okay,” Reach transmitted. He turned back to the elders, who waited expectantly in their seats. “I am honored that Osay Craiswell would grant me so great a privilege as to take the hand of his daughter in marriage. Liana is an exceptional leader and human being. However, I cannot accept this generous offer.”

There was a slight murmur in the audience, which was quickly hushed down.

“Our cultures are similar and yet different. What will come with the blending of the Osay and those of us who came from the Boone will be new. There will be changes required for both sides as we strive together to form a more perfect union. And we will have a union, the same that allowed us to defeat RUPAC and the Bangora. We do not need a marriage to forge these bonds. They are already in place by the blood spilled and sacrifice given by Ranger and Osay alike, and I and my fellow colonists are willing to die to continue upholding that bond.”

Something, perhaps regret, flashed in the eyes of Elder McDonnell. “You have stated. You may sit. What remains is for Liana alone it would seem.”

Reach nodded and moved to the back. He found an empty chair while Liana stepped toward the council and had a private discussion with them. From the titters and shaking heads, they weren’t happy about the way the night had gone so far.

“Liana Craiswell,” Elder McDonnell said in a surprisingly loud voice. “Do you pledge to a life of service to the Osay, always to seeking their best interests above your own?”

“I do.”

“And do you commit to seeking of the council for wisdom and direction, even knowing the final decision lies with you?”

“I do,” she repeated.

“And, when the time comes, will you to give away your power when a new Osay is to replace you?”

“I will.”

McDonnell nodded solemnly and looked to his left and right. This next part he spoke in Osay, but Reach was able to follow. “And will you, the Osay Clans, recognize Liana of Craiswell as your new Osay?”

“We will,” said the audience.

McDonnell smiled at Liana and spoke in Brody once again. “As it has been pledged, so it is what it is. We see you, Osay Liana Craiswell.”

“And I see you, elders, leaders, and kinsfolk of the Osay,” Liana replied.

The choir began to sing again, and the room erupted into applause, accented by shouts and whistles.

“Reach,” Alexa said in a loud voice through the implant. “Something is wrong.”

“You’re telling me,” he transmitted back. But when he turned to see Alexa where she stood in the back of the audience, the android was whispering to Captain Bosa while she continued her conversation with Reach.

“This meeting is going to be interrupted. Other colonists are coming.”

Reach wondered if that meant some of the Osay weren’t going along with the decision to place Liana at the head of the tribe. He didn’t have much time to give the matter any deeper thought as the barracks doors burst open.

A man started shouting emphatically. But not in protest. The audience fell quiet long enough to hear him scream, “Bangora! The Bangora has risen and struck!”

22

Reach hurried out of the barracks and into the night air. Some of the assembly had beaten him outside, and still more followed. The colonists were gathered in the main field and looking at the top of the massive comms array. Shouts rippled through the crowd, drawing Reach’s attention. He raised a hand against the floodlights’ glare and tried to find whatever the people seemed so terrified of. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he spotted something on one of the array’s tall spires.

At first, Reach thought back to one of the many Halloween pranks he’d seen in his rural hometown as a child. A group of college students, it had been rumored, made an annual tradition of impaling pumpkins on all the building’s lightning rods in the town square—the most prominent being the steeple of First Presbyterian Church. Reach remembered shining flashlights up at the skewered gourds and making a game of counting them.

But this was no pumpkin.

Responding to his unspoken will, his eyes zoomed in on the object. There, impaled on the metal rod of Comms Antenna Number Four, was a human head, its skin peeled away.

“Get everyone inside,” Captain Bosa told Liana. “Harmon, get the men up and watching. Doctor Roman—I want to know why our defense systems didn’t pick up any motion. This looks like the work of a Bangora, and nothing that large should be able to move undetected inside the camp. Alexa?”

“Right behind you, Captain Bosa,” the android replied.

“Tell me what our systems are reading.”

“Our sensors are showing no signs of activity. But neither do they log an intrusion. It is disconcerting.”

“To say the least.” Bosa paused to watch the colonists depart the field, then returned to the barracks under the watch of the Osay militia. It was orderly. Well done.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Harmon said over comms, “Badger Five is picking up a heat signature due north. Looks human but it’s slight. Two hundred meters from the edge of the perimeter clearing.”

“Acknowledged. Move on target.”

“Roger that.”

“P-permission to knock some heads together, Captain?” Brody asked. “I feel the need. The need f-for speed.”

“Denied,” Bosa replied, slightly agitated by the robot’s aloofness. “I want you on sentry mode right here inside the camp. Keep the Osay safe. Something moves that doesn’t fit the description of one of ours, you take it out.”

“Captain,” the battle android growled. “Nobody puts Brody in the corner.”

“That’s an order, Brody.”

“Roger, Citizen. J-just checking!”

“Sergeant Nash,” Bosa said, turning around. “I want that head off my spire. Have a security detail climb up to remove it.”

“On it.”

Liana joined the assemblage. She looked up at the severed, skinless head and then turned away, shivering. “The Bangora… it came back to life.”

“No,” said Reach. “That’s not possible. The Bangora we killed is still in Roman’s lab. This is something else.”

What that something was, Reach couldn’t say. Certainly the flayed skin made it seem like they were dealing with the Bangora. But this could easily be a psyop meant to disturb the Osay. Either way, the implications weren’t good. Neither was Liana’s handling of the crisis.

“It came back. It wants the one it chose.”

“Doc,” Reach said to Roman, “back me up here. The Bangora is dead.”

“Quite dead,” confirmed Roman. “I was examining its tissue samples only three hours ago. Its carcass is still in a state of deep freeze.”

Bosa surveyed the field, with Dr. Roman in his shadow. “We have no reason to believe there can’t be more than one Bangora. If that’s what it is, we’ll need to figure out a way to kill it.”

“I’ll t-tell you how to kill it,” Brody offered. “No Retreat, No Sur-r-render. This is a Bloodsport. And I’m a Cyborg Kickboxer with a Lion Heart. The Bangora are g-gonna feel the Double Impact of m-my Death Warrant when this Universal Soldier leaves them with Nowhere to Run. They might be a H-h-hard Target, but Sudden Death is imminent.”

“Thank you, Brody. I get the picture.” Bosa looked from the head above the array back to the northern wall. “I hope someone put coffee on. It’s gonna be a long night.”

* * *

Staff Sergeant Stewart commanded the security team inside Badger Five with PFC Julian Marks in the driver’s seat. The Badger rolled toward the thermal sighting, weapon systems on manual control while sensors continued to gather raw data about the surrounding environment.

Stewart had a hunch that the Bangora, if that’s what they were dealing with, was long gone. There were plenty of people inside the wire to kill if that’s what it was after. More unsettling was the way the animal put a head on a spike. That wasn’t normal, and it gave Stewart the creeps. Stewart was a tough as nails fighter. He didn’t get the creeps. And yet, the more he thought about it…

“Fifty meters,” Marks said as he decelerated the Badger.

The Badger lurched to a halt eight meters from the last identified position of the thermal anomaly, nothing visible in the glow of their night vision.

“Weapons systems on auto,” Stewart ordered.

“Weapons systems, automatic tracking engaged.”

Badger Six, carrying additional Osay soldiers, rolled a minute behind the lead vehicle. The thermal reading was fading fast by the time the team dismounted and formed a line to search the area. It wasn’t long before they discovered the source of the heat, a putrid mound of meat that their noses could have easily located without help from thermal imaging.

“Got a body,” one of the Osay declared.

The patrol waited, looking out for the cause of the discovery. Stewart reached the site carrying a body bag. An Osay private followed him.

“I think it’s human,” the man said as he kneeled beside the body. “Or was. The smell… it’s part of our stories.”

Stewart looked down at the gruesome find, trying to make out what end he was looking at. “Missing a head. That’s our poor bastard.”

“Roger,” one of the other Osay, a man named Broward, answered. “Skinned.”

“Bag it,” Stewart ordered the men.

“Roger,” Broward said and then set to work while the rest of the team pulled security.

The Badgers roared back to life behind them.

“Yo!” Broward said in a whispered shout. He patted his Osay buddy on the shoulder as the other man unzipped the black body bag. “Look, look, look!”

Something moved in the distance. Broward crept toward it, rifle at the ready, moving several meters away from the body.

“Back in the line,” Stewart hissed.

Broward continued to stalk. “Something’s out there…”

“I’ll get him,” said the other Osay before taking off after the other man.

“No, don’t—”

“Shit! It’s running!” Broward had his weapon up.

Both of them fired on the incoming shadow. Something roared amidst the shots, and then a sleek, impossibly black body overtook Broward. Muzzle flashes played off skin, eyes, teeth, and hair. Stewart couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing in all the chaos.

A man screamed.

More weapons fired.

“Wedge out!” Steward yelled, wanting to deploy the Badger’s weapons systems on the threat. “Bring up the APC!”

The Badgers roared into the opening afforded them and began to fire off-center, walking in shots as their guns boomed and the soldiers fell back to the Badgers to regroup. Spouts of dirt shot into the air as the cannons centered on what little visuals they could find. Just a shadow.

Stewart saw the shadow dart away, leaving the two stray Osay soldiers on the ground. “Cease fire. Cease fire!”

Inside the Badger, Marks flicked a switch and took the cannon offline. “I think we hit it, Staff Sar’nt.”

But Stewart didn’t care. The shadow was gone, and so were two of his men, he guessed. The Osay soldiers had all been given implants. Now, their HUDs were no longer available to him. He couldn’t bring their POVs into his mind’s eye. He ordered the team back into the Badgers and repositioned them near the bodies.

He ordered those soldiers still on foot to get back inside the Badgers and then entered the passenger seat of Badger 5 himself.

“Identify threat, Badger 5,” Lieutenant Harmon called.

“LT, we’ve got enemy contact.” Stewart calmly explained. “Presume Bangora.” He pushed himself up in the passenger seat of the Badger and looked down at the corpses. “Two KIA, over.”

“Sending QRF to your location,” Harmon said. “Remain in vehicle. Out.”

* * *

“How exactly did this happen, Dr. Roman?” Captain Bosa asked through his respirator. He had already received the report of how two Osay left the line and lost their lives. Now he, along with Lieutenant Harmon, Reach, Liana, Dr. Roman, and Alexa, stood over three tables in the main lab with the remains of two Osay soldiers killed and the decapitated body and severed head of an unidentified third man.

“You mean the skin,” Roman murmured.

Bosa nodded. While the unidentified man was flayed completely, the two soldiers appeared to have ghastly burn marks where the skin seemed to be sloughing away. The muscles in one of their shoulders were clearly visible, the skin pooling on the table beneath like a gelatinous goo.

“This is why I required everyone to wear the respirators and personal protection suits,” Roman said. “The Bangora—if we are agreed that is what attacked these poor souls—has a sort of venomous saliva that parts the flesh from the body fairly quickly, making skin removal an easy task. I shudder to think how quickly such a creature might lick an entire epidermis away.”

Left unstated was the terrible smell. That was the other reason the onlookers needed the breathing equipment. Liana had gagged several times just walking into the lab before she got her suit on. Reach had tried to tell her she didn’t need to be there, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She was taking her role as the new Osay seriously, even in the face of greatest fear.

“We’ve killed one Bangora,” Bosa said. “So we know we can kill this one as well. The question is, how many of these damn things are there?”

“There are a good deal more questions than that,” Roman said. “With the QEC on hold, I put more time into studying the specimen, which, Liana, I can entirely confirm is still dead. I was going to share this at our next briefing, but now seems a good time. I don’t believe we’re dealing with a naturally occuring predator. Its venom, lethality—everything—it’s all too much. Too perfect. I began to dig into its DNA and found evidence that this creature has been built and refined in a laboratory. I believe we’re dealing with a biological weapon.”

Reach took in a breath. It felt as though all the air had left the room. “Two aggressive attacks by those fildeema creatures, something far exceeding them just being a nuisance like the Osay characterized them, and now this as well. It’s like someone ran out of bullets and started using critters to engage, and I think we all know who that someone might be.”

Bosa let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been putting it off, hoping that time locked up might make him more willing to play by our terms, but I think we need to have a heart-to-heart with Dr. Gruber. Put all our cards on the table.”

Reach nodded. “I’ll go get him.”

23

“I can only assume,” said Gruber, a slight smile on his face as he gently drummed his fingers on the table before him and looked from Reach to Bosa to Dr. Roman and Alexa, “that you have had a change of heart. Because I can assure you, I have not.”

He leaned back in his seat, satisfied.

“We have some questions we’d like answered,” said Bosa. “And we are willing to provide you with better accommodations and freedom to move about the camp in return. With one additional condition.”

“And what is this condition?”

Alexa stepped forward. “You are equipped with a neural implant, are you not?”

Gruber nodded. “I am.”

“I would like to be provided a link to your implant. Then you may have free range of the camp as you have requested.”

“Allowing me to be easily tracked down should I sneak off and do something wrong.”

“That is also correct.”

Bosa wrapped his knuckles on the table. “Frankly, Dr. Gruber, I’m not interested in having you as a perpetual prisoner. Another mouth to feed. If you truly desire to be a functioning part of this camp, it begins with your helping us here now. If after answering our questions your desire is to leave the camp, you will be free to do so. Although given recent events I would strongly advise against that.”

Gruber nodded slowly. “Both situations involve me telling you what you want to hear, I see.”

“Not what we want to hear,” clarified Reach. “What you know. In truth or rumor or speculation—I don’t care as long as you differentiate one from the other.”

“In that case, I agree.” Gruber rubbed his hands together and put his elbows on the table as he leaned across it. “What do you wish to talk about? Wait. I’m being rude. I am Dr. Johan Gruber. I have met Captain Bosa and Mr. Reach, but I have not yet met the two of you.”

“I am Alexa. This is Dr. Roman.”

“A pleasure to meet you both.”

“Likewise.”

Dr. Roman, who had been sitting in a chair in the corner breathing heavily from the walk from his lab to the interrogation room, gave a winded, breathy, “a pleasure.”

“I am not a medical doctor,” said Gruber, whose tone and bearing was now that of a man at center stage, a man who, once clear on the situation, was now intent on running the show. “However, I believe I know when a man is not well. Are you quite all right, Dr. Roman?”

Roman straightened himself as best he could. His breathing remained heavy, and the pallor of his skin did suggest illness. “I am fine, yes. Just the effects of wearing the respirator for so long. My lungs aren’t what they used to be.”

Gruber arched an eyebrow, an invitation to explain the need for a respirator to begin with.

“There’s been an attack,” said Reach. “Every indication suggests a second Bangora.”

“Let’s begin there,” said Bosa. “The native Osay were under the impression that there was only one of the creatures. As I recall, you gave the same impression when we first spoke.”

“No, I don’t believe I made such a suggestion,” he said, his light German accent making each word sound more precise and serious to Reach’s ear. “I understood there to be one Bangora living on my front porch. The monster who devoured my desperate colleagues and surely would’ve devoured me had Mr. Reach, a knight in shining armor, not come to rescue me from the tower of stone in which I was imprisoned.”

“How many are there?” Bosa asked sternly.

“You must understand that what I am about to tell you is speculation. Conjecture. I want to be very careful to play by the rules that Mr. Reach has established. Bangora, if you have not already discovered, are a genetically modified creation, the original stock having originated on another world.” Gruber leaned back in his chair. “Does this news of other colonies beyond Amir surprise you?”

“After everything we’ve been through,” Reach said, “I’m not sure there’s anything left that could surprise me.”

A slight smile curled the corner of Gruber’s mouth. “No, I suppose not.”

“What was the purpose of the Bangora?” asked Dr. Roman, who despite still sounding slightly out of breath now seemed animated, his inquisitive mind quickening his body.

“To destroy the American colony established on Amir and allow it to fall under the control of RUPAC.” Gruber crossed his legs.

Bosa shook his head. “Your friends.”

Gruber gave a humorless smile. “No. Not my friends, Captain. For the sake of brevity, I had hoped that you would believe me when I told you that not all of RUPAC are ‘good buddies.’”

He looked around the room.

“There was a war on Earth. That you already know. When you left aboard the Boone, RUPAC was not a united front. Not in the way we made ourselves out to be. Yes, we were unified against the United States and what remained of Europe and South America, but this was of necessity. There was no turning back after Australia.

“And, you see, the ‘roo’ in RUPAC was less than thrilled by what happened there. And in return, the ‘pac’ did not trust the ‘roo.’ And those of us, like myself, who were gobbled up in the rampant Imperialism that preceded the full scale war, we didn’t like any of those involved. But, when bombs are dropping and bullets are snapping about one’s head, it matters less who likes who. The question becomes, who is shooting at me, and who is shooting away from me.

“I notice you keep saying ‘we’ in regard to RUPAC, Dr. Gruber,” observed Alexa.

“A force of habit. We all said ‘we’ because failing to do so raised suspicions, and suspicions led to raids, which led to never being seen alive again.” Gruber mused on some event in his past and then continued. “The war. If RUPAC did anything right before Australia, it was infiltrating the west as it was busy tearing itself apart. Access to all the places once solidly protected in western citadels was breached. Databases, employees, academia, government… you name it. For the first time the power to tinker with America the way it for so long tinkered with the rest of the world was in RUPAC’s hands. The tables turned.

“Your leaders were so sure there would not be a war. So sure. Ask those of us who’d been sacrificed in the name of peace if war was inevitable. We would have told you. When it did come, three experimental ships were hurried. Boone, Longmire, and Muir. Do you know that RUPAC knew the names of these ships before even your President? So deep and complete was its embedding in the foundation of your agencies.”

Reach wasn’t sure how much of this he could believe or how much he should believe. Certainly before the war started, America and the West were hardly the supremely dominant powers they once were. And to the populace and all but the most alarming of fringe politicians, war was unthinkable. Something that couldn’t happen despite the nation having been in continual warfare since the early 2000s. Reach himself had fought in proxy battles all across the globe.

But a big war. A hot war that raged across the globe, everyone was sure that lesson had been learned.

And yes, RUPAC had interfered with the Boone and nearly destroyed it. They had infiltrated a carefully guarded and monitored roster and placed an agent in its midst with a mission of sabotage that had continued even after they all miraculously survived the man’s first attempts at murder. There was something plausible to what Gruber was saying, but Reach wasn’t ready to move it into the accepted truth column of the equation just yet. He also wasn’t sure how relevant it was, though he found the connection to his past riveting.

“I’m sure you have a point to make, Dr. Gruber,” he said, “and I’d like you to get to it.”

“Yes of course. It has been a long time since I have spoken to anyone, so forgive me for my rambling. I will endeavor to be more to the point.

“And the point is this: the war ebbed and flowed, and then the factions inside RUPAC itself began to think about what would happen once the war was won, because they were winning. But these thoughts took shape before total victory. In short, RUPAC lost the war.

“Not in an instant, though. The fighting was terrible, and the death toll enormous. Seeing the end, RUPAC did not hide in bunkers, not all of them at least. They sent their own colonists to populate the galaxy. But not to Amir, jewel that it is.

“You see, forty years is a long time for something to go wrong. Less ideal habitations could be reached in twenty years. Such as where I was sent at first. The planet was named Anna, which is less romantic than it may seem. The target colonies were named one after the other according to the Cyrillic phonetic alphabet.”

“You can provide stellar locations, estimated population, and technological ability?” asked Bosa.

“I can, but it won’t matter. They’re all dead now, I think. We were supposed to be an embodiment of the real RUPAC. But the tribalism that existed on Earth did not magically go away among the stars. The colonies fought and subdivided, sometimes finding their own world and establishing an even smaller colony of like-minded individuals. Nothing in our reach was like Amir.

“And what did we know about Amir? That despite RUPAC arriving in time to engage Longmire and Muir, the Americans shot down our most advanced colony ship with ease. And then continued to eliminate every raiding party we sent thereafter. Also with ease.”

“So why not just send bigger raiding parties?” asked Reach.

“You must understand. This was not Earth. There was not an endless supply of soldiers to send. Each man or woman sent on such a mission was a loss to the colony who sent them. One less worker. The colonies dutifully provided the required volunteers to a demanding politburo, and then those volunteers would go be killed without fail.

“We eventually determined the reason for such military dominance by your colonists was due to a rather remarkable artificial intelligence capable of fighting like nothing we had seen before. The war would’ve been over quickly had the West manufactured these on Earth.”

“There wasn’t time,” muttered Roman.

Gruber arched an eyebrow. “A story I would like to hear someday, Dr. Roman.”

“What happened after that?” Bosa asked. “It’s clear to us that RUPAC didn’t give up its designs.”

“Of course not. Amir was too great a prize. Until it wasn’t. And this is how it wasn’t. Scientists—not me, others—decided that a suitable course of action would be to introduce a predatory species specializing in hunting and killing human beings.”

“The Bangora,” Reach concluded, a chill working its way up his spine.

“Precisely the Bangora. They were delivered together with an occupation force. Every precaution had been taken to keep the predators under control. They were sterilized in order to keep their numbers fixed because there was a legitimate concern that they would become the dominant species if left completely unchecked and rule Amir.” Dr. Gruber began to laugh as though remembering an old joke. He looked up at the flint-faced Captain Bosa and asked, “And then, do you know what happened?”

“Enlighten us,” Bosa said.

“The ship carrying the Bangora was unable to contain the Bangora. Frankenstein was destroyed by his own monster.” Gruber let the thought hang heavy in the air. “And so, the crew slaughtered, the ship’s computer followed its flight path to Amir, but its orbit deteriorated and it crashed. The Bangora survived. I know this because I was terrorized by one for the last twenty years. I know this further because another research facility not affiliated with my particular tribe of RUPAC was likewise terrorized by the creatures and unable to kill it.”

“How long ago was this?” Bosa asked.

Gruber shrugged. “The story was told to me when I first arrived on this world as a young researcher, hopeful to remove myself from the warfare all around me. At first I thought it was my colleagues attempting to frighten me against exploring the virgin planet I found myself on. A bit of teasing the newcomer.”

“That is not an answer to the question Captain Bosa asked,” Alexa said.

“You are correct. I do not know how long ago this was. And, before one settled in right outside the facility, I had given the Bangora little thought. My task was to modify the fildeema to allow for remote observation.”

“Not weaponization?” asked Bosa.

“Correct. One rarely thinks of all the things that can observe them in their natural environment. Humanity has a penchant for finding the artificial, but tell me, when was the last time you shot a bird out of a tree and dissected it to see if it had a neural implant connected to its eyes, recording everything it saw and heard. An implant that would not transmit back because such transmission can be detected, but was trained to return to its research station and be examined in the safety of shielded walls in exchange for yummy treats?” Gruber smiled at his description. “This is what we accomplished with the fildeema; although, given their lifespan, I doubt any of our fildeema are still alive.”

Gruber straightened himself and smoothed down his shirt. “I do not know how long the Bangora have been on Amir, exactly. I do know that their presence is such a problem that Amir is likely considered a lost cause.

“I do not know how many Bangora survived that crash or if they mutated to allow for reproduction, in which case, none of us will survive. But I can tell you that one Bangora is capable of terrorizing a fortified research station. Two could easily destroy a platoon of men caught off guard. More than that… well, resources are scarce this far from Earth. How much munitions, fuel, and manpower are you willing to lose to move to a new world, even if it is Amir?”

Everyone stared at the doctor. He gave another bemused smile. “Welcome to the planet. Let’s all see how long we can survive.”

* * *

Reach and the others assembled outside the interrogation room as Dr. Gruber drank a cup of penu-lopu. Alexa watched the enigmatic scientist drink through the glass square in the door. “I hope such refreshments will encourage Dr. Gruber to think of himself as being treated as one of our colony.”

“If what he’s saying is true,” Roman said, “there’s really no other choice but for us all to work together. If this planet is teeming with Bangora, what’s the use of killing other humans and thereby accelerating our extinction on Amir?”

“They don’t always give you a choice, Doc,” said Reach. “And anyway, I’m not convinced the Bangora are acting simply as predators with a taste for humans.”

“You’re talking about the head on a spike,” concluded Bosa.

Roman tugged at his beard thoughtfully. He had been the last to leave the room, whether because he didn’t want to rouse himself out of his chair or because he wished to talk with Gruber further was anyone’s guess. “My study of the Bangora you killed has been limited to the genetic level. Its hide fascinates me, and I’ve been working on something… Alexa and I are very near completing a prototype to show you. But now I need to perform a full autopsy. Something I had been putting off until there was more time.” He muttered under his breath, “Not enough time.”

“Dr. Gruber mentioned another research facility,” said Alexa. “Perhaps this facility was able to bring the Bangora under their control and have weaponized it, and the fildeema, against us?”

“Why not attack us outright if that’s the case?” asked Reach.

“Wouldn’t last long,” said Bosa. “Hit and fade is the best way to do damage against a superior force like ours. Especially if the number of weaponized animals, in keeping with Alexa’s theory, is limited.”

“Think Gruber has an idea where those researchers might be?” Reach asked.

“Perhaps the question ought to be, can we trust Dr. Gruber to tell us if he did,” added Alexa. “Although, his heart rate does not indicate to me that he is lying.”

Reach nodded. “The guy says he’s been trapped in his research facility for two decades. I can’t imagine he knows much about the happenings on Amir since he arrived. Certainly not what we’ve been through. Captain, I’d like to lay out what we’ve experienced and see what comes of it.”

Bosa gave a curt nod. “I trust your judgment, Reach.”

The group moved back inside just as Dr. Gruber set his empty cup down on the table with a resounding and hollow clunk and satisfied sigh. “That was very good. I enjoyed it, thank you.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” said Reach. “What you’ve told us has been fascinating. I think we could all spend all day asking you about what happened since we left our home. If you decide to join our colony, I can envision many late nights with a free cup of penu-lopu in your hands courtesy of your fellow colonists who want to hear what you know.”

Gruber raised his empty cup and saluted the prospect.

“What I’d like to talk about now is Amir’s more recent history. How much do you know about what’s taken place since our ship, the Boone, arrived?”

Gruber gave a soft smile. “I confess I am behind when it comes to current events. Being under house arrest for so long has that effect. Six months after my initial relief never showed up on the planet, we lost all contact with our own home colony.”

“And you never attempted to communicate with this other RUPAC facility you mentioned?” asked Bosa.

“They would have wanted me dead every bit as much as the Bangora. We are not on friendly terms, their people and mine.”

“Let me get you up to speed.” Reach went on to tell Gruber about what he and his fellow colonists experienced upon arriving at Amir. The scientist seemed particularly intrigued by the armed assault by RUPAC soldiers and then again at the subsequent capture of their ship by Lieutenant Sherman and First Platoon.

“Could I see the ship?”

“That can be arranged,” said Bosa.

“Actually, I can show it to you now,” said Alexa. She dimmed the lights in the room and then projected a replica of a three dimensional holograph of the USS Osay.

“My god,” Gruber said. “You are the AI.”

“I am.”

“I had… no idea. This is remarkable.”

“Dr. Roman is a man like no other,” the android said. “He created me.”

“Fascinating. Dr. Roman, I pray we can talk professionally. Work such as this is beyond the scope of my studies, but I know enough to be impressed.”

“Of course,” Roman said and then looked to Bosa. “But I believe Captain Bosa would like to continue with your current line of thinking.”

“Do you recognize the ship?” Bosa asked.

“Oh yes,” Gruber confirmed. “I know the bastards. These are what we would all consider… the bad guys.”

“They weren’t friendly,” said Reach. “This is what you mean when you say not all RUPAC is RUPAC, correct?”

“Correct. A monolithic RUPAC is not an accurate representation of reality. These”—he nodded at the display—“believe otherwise. Or rather, they believe that with enough force, fear, and executions, RUPAC will be united in purpose again.”

Gruber leaned forward and placed both palms flat on the table. “This happened recently, yes?”

“Six months ago,” confirmed Bosa.

“You have not asked me, but I will tell you what I believe happened. The research facility that I spoke of belongs to these types. I know the rumor was that they were working to rein in the Bangora and also to further weaponize other wildlife. That was just shop talk, you understand. The only thing certain was that we were not to allow our presence to be known by them.”

“Sounds like your theory was correct,” Reach said to Alexa. The android nodded and appeared… relieved? It was an odd expression.

“Tell me,” Gruber began, “have you examined any of the fildeema you destroyed in your encounters?”

All eyes went to Roman.

“I have some specimens stored in cryo, waiting for their turn at having my attention.” Roman let out a heavy sigh. “So much to do. So much.”

Alexa placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve done many miraculous things in your lifetime, Doctor. Please do not be preoccupied with that you have yet to achieve.”

Something about the way Alexa phrased that made Reach feel as though there really was something wrong with Dr. Roman—something that went beyond needing a few successive nights of good sleep.

“If it is a matter of time rather than resources,” said Gruber, “then allow me to further prove my willingness to be a trusted member of this community by doing the autopsy on the fildeema directly. I am quite familiar with the physiology and will be able to do it in a matter of… say, 30 minutes.”

Bosa considered for a moment. “Let’s get that done if there are no objections from Dr. Roman.”

“By all means,” Roman said.

Gruber smiled. “It’s nice to feel useful again.”

* * *

An hour later Gruber had finished his autopsy, assisted by Alexa. The android led him to Bosa’s office, where he was conferring with Reach.

“What did you find, Dr. Gruber?” Bosa asked.

Gruber delivered a small plastic bag, some even smaller, bloodstained item zipped inside. “This. It is a neural implant, and it was inside the fildeema.”

“It would have been difficult to discover without knowing what to look for,” Alexa added. “It is quite small.”

Bosa held the bag up into the light to better see.

Reach stared as well. “Thin as a sheet of paper.”

“Thinner, actually,” Gruber said. “Captain Bosa, do you want to know what I believe has happened?”

Bosa nodded. “Let’s hear it.”

“I believe that the research facility in question was augmented by a military presence at some point and time. I believe they continued to work to weaponize the Bangora or to neutralize it and allow for additional RUPAC colonists to arrive on planet once it was safe to do so. But, as Mr. Reach informed me, the arrival of so many US Army Rangers out of the past provided a significant wrinkle.”

“We had RUPAC here to meet us, if you’ll recall,” said Bosa. “Though hardly of the same caliber as the second group that attacked.”

“Precisely. The encounter with the ragtag remnants of another group sent to Amir had the poor fortune of running into you. But they also provided a way of harassing you and your Osay allies while hiding themselves. They would have, of course, inspected the abandoned colony site and I’m sure monitored your comms array—theirs is a very similar model.”

Bosa and Reach shared a look.

“How similar?” Reach asked.

Gruber shrugged. “The RUPAC version of the same thing. Simply a matter of where its components were manufactured.”

“I’m hearing a lot of reasons to pay that camp a visit,” Bosa said. “Assuming you have a location.”

“A rumor of the location.”

“Same continent?”

“Your own big backyard, as it were.”

“We’ll need some time to consider this,” Bosa said.

“Of course,” answered Gruber. “You are a military man, and here, all of a sudden, I—a RUPAC scientist—turn myself in to you and have knowledge that sounds just as much like the settings of an ambush as it does a valuable piece of intel. But allow me to say this. You may not know where they are, but they certainly know where you are. The advanced RUPAC force you encountered—surely it was them. They took significant losses. You took their only way off planet that doesn’t involve calling for an additional, and extremely expensive, colony ship to come and retrieve them. Something that they would be just as likely punished for unless things have changed.

“Assume, like me, that they have not changed. What is left for those whom your magnificent android has failed to kill? They can report their failure and be executed because of it, or they can seek to unseat you as the dominant power on Amir.”

“Trying hasn’t gone well for them so far,” said Reach.

“Clearly not,” agreed Gruber. “But they will continue to try. Sometimes death at the hand of your enemies is preferable to death at the hands of your friends, if you take my meaning.”

24

The USS Osay flared its massive landing jets, gliding on a bed of wave force generated from its stabilizing engines designed to take its bulk and set it down gently. That is as long as the pilots knew what they were doing and Ivan cooperated. The RUPAC AI had done what was asked of him so far. Alexa called him a controlled AI. As loyal to its current crew as it had been to the previous.

His declaration of landing “For the glory of RUPAC” seemed to challenge that. The crew hadn’t been able to correct the AI of that particular habit.

Torrents of gasses vented along the frame as Reach, Sherman, and Harmon strode down the cargo ramp. Bosa was waiting for them at the bottom, an expectant look that was two parts hope, one part worry etched into his face. “I take it things went well?”

“We have a ton of data to sift through, sir,” Sherman said. “But I think we have what we need in order to get what we need, if you catch my meaning, sir.”

Bosa turned to lead the men back to the room that had been doubling as the briefing center. “I think I’ll figure it out. In the meantime, put out a call to the squad leaders. Let’s get them into the mix so we can hash out what needs doing.”

Within twenty minutes, the briefing room was full from the various Ranger squad leaders angling for free space in the tight confines of the ad hoc command center. An Osay trooper moved from the entryway, allowing Doctor Gruber to enter the cramped quarters. Side conversations were cut abruptly at the man’s presence, which did nothing to deter him from saying hello. “Well, isn’t this cozy. What is the old military expression? Make your buddy smile? Oh, hello. Hello. How do you do?”

The Rangers resumed their banter as Bosa offered the man a chair. “Sit by me, Doctor.”

“That is most kind of you, Captain. I hope I may return the favor by being useful to your mission planning,” Gruber said with a minor hint of excitement.

Bosa stood, prompting the ancillary noise in the room to die away. “Gentlemen, and lady.”

Alexa chimed in from one of the many data slates in the room. “Thank you for the courtesy, Captain. However, as my gender is a matter of design versus biology, I wouldn’t take offense to be included in the latter.”

An uncomfortable laughter orbited the room. Bosa hopped onto the duty of silencing it and putting things back on track. “Respect is a two way street.” The captain tilted his head slightly, catching Gruber’s attention for a moment before returning to the briefing.

“Alexa, where is Doctor Roman?”

“Dr. Roman sends his apologies,” answered the android. “He woke up feeling ill after a long night and, rather than have both of us miss the meeting, encouraged me to go alone. You will be encouraged to know that we have made a working prototype of a next generation class of armor based on the Bangora’s hide. One I think will be quite useful.”

“Alexa, what’s going on with Doc?” Reach asked. “It’s obvious he’s not doing well.”

“While I do not dispute your assessment, I am not in a position to speak candidly about Dr. Roman’s health or any other private matters.”

“You under some kind of secret orders not to talk?” asked Sergeant Nash.

The android shook her head. “Nothing so draconian. It is a long established practice in the field of medicine not to share a patient’s medical details without their express consent. Dr. Roman has insisted that I not. I am therefore bound to permit him his privacy unless speaking to a colleague to garner an additional medical opinion for the good of his health. This room contains no such colleagues, respectfully.”

Captain Bosa shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Alexa, Dr. Roman’s health is important to this entire colony. If something is wrong with him—something serious—we need to discuss it. Perhaps not now, but given the doctor’s role, this goes beyond a simple matter of personal privacy.”

“Y-yeah, Alexa,” said Brody. “What’s going on with Dad? I asked him to hit me some grounders, and he said he was too tired. If he’s g-g-got terminal h-herpes or something, I need to know.”

“That is not a real… our father is not suffering from terminal herpes, Brody.”

“W-well now we know. Looks like that Hippocratic oath of yours isn’t as sacred as you were letting on.” Brody looked around the room. “We can figure out what’s wrong with my dad by process of elimination. Alexa, is it AIDS?”

Dr. Gruber arched an eyebrow and leaned toward Captain Bosa. “Rather eclectic meeting style, Captain. One I would not expect from the vaunted US Army Rangers.”

“It takes some getting used to when Brody is present,” Bosa admitted. “Everyone in this room has served this colony well. And we’re eager to now do the same given what you know.” The Captain cleared his throat. “That’s enough about Dr. Roman. Alexa, can you put up the aerial scans brought back by the crew of the Osay?”

A monitor set on the wall came to life, showing a break in the forest with tiny specks marring the landscape. After a moment, the view magnified several times until the room had a clear view of a compound with a large central building surrounded by prefab units.

Bosa indicated Gruber sitting next to him. “Our efforts to make contact with Earth have taken a significant leap forward with information graciously brought forward by Doctor Gruber. A second entangled particle is part of the communications array at the base you can see on the screen. The good doctor has also insinuated that this particular camp is part of what was once a large RUPAC presence on the planet.”

“The worst kind of RUPAC,” Gruber offered. “There are no redeeming qualities in that camp.”

“Be that as it may,” Bosa continued, “based on the study of fildeema remains recovered from the operation to scout the Muir and Alexa corroborating the doctor’s best guesses, this particular camp is responsible for attempting to weaponize the wildlife on Amir.”

Sergeant Soto raised his hand, “As in, these are the monkey tamers that sent that horde after us at the Muir?”

“That is correct,” Bosa confirmed.

Gruber made a sound like an old time propeller airplane starting up. “‘Sent’ might be a bit strong of a word, Sergeant First Class. Did I get that rank right? Oh good. Yes, well, it’s more like they incited them. They did not send them.”

Whispered side chatter sprang up at the news. Soto stifled it with a shrill whistle. “All right. At ease all of that.” The platoon sergeant waited for the hush to move through the room before continuing. “Sir, if we know that this place is a major cause of our problems, why don’t we roll a heavy dose of solution down there and be done with it? We get the particle, a potential outpost to expand our operations...”

“Once we clean out the smell,” Staff Sergeant Stewart said.

Soto pointed to him, putting him on notice that while funny, his joke was poorly timed. Stewart raised his hands in surrender, giving the floor back to the platoon sergeant. “As I was saying before one of our own monkeys started flinging poop from his cage, once we have what we need from them, why don’t we just turn them into an afterthought.”

Bosa nodded at the question. “First and foremost, Doctor Gruber says that prior to our arrival, the RUPAC in the area were consolidating their forces, scooping up smaller outposts to move everything under one umbrella. Second, we don’t know what’s there. We could be looking at a company plus with their finger on a nuke, or worse.”

“What’s worse than a nuke?” Sherman asked.

“How about undetectable Bangora and atomic agitated murder monkeys?” Reach asked.

Uneasy laughter went through the room, a sign that the deaths and injuries from both the Bangora and the fildeema hadn’t been relegated to the front pocket where the Rangers kept their dark humor. It was still the stuff of back pocket jokes, especially in the presence of the Old Man.

Bosa knocked on the nearby table, recovering the room’s composure. “The big thing to remember is the particle is a critical piece of the operation. While we want to take a crack at this building, which most likely houses a lab, the particle is priority one. I want action plans back in this room and ready to go in a couple hours. Best case will minimize our exposure to combat. We’ve lost too much already.”

At that, the room stood, waiting for the captain to grant them leave to plan a shakedown. Bosa flashing a quick thumb back at the door was all they needed to attack the task at hand.

* * *

“Come in,” Bosa said.

Staff Sergeant Stewart entered the briefing room and looked at everyone on the command staff staring at him. “This a bad time, Captain?”

“Not at all, Sergeant Stewart,” Bosa answered. “Lieutenant Harmon says you have the golden ticket to acquire what we need.”

“I don’t know about all that, sir, but I think we have something nailed down.” When the sergeant moved past his CO, Alexa laid down his battle board and wirelessly connected it to the monitor on the wall so that everyone could see. “All right. Here we have the main building with the antenna array on this side. This is the most likely place they have the particle, on the opposite side of this wall. If you follow it down, you can see the wall ends in a stone ramp. This is most likely a vehicle bay. It probably doubles as a sleeping area for times of hostile animal attacks or group massage night.”

Alexa gave Stewart a surprised look. “Did you find evidence of such an activity? Because that would deviate significantly from what we know of typical RUPAC behavior.”

Stewart looked to Bosa, who was trying not to laugh at the android. “Um, no. I, ah, didn’t find any evidence of a massage night. It’s just, ah, you know, a long held theory of mine.”

“I would be most interested in seeing your research to formulate such a theory, Staff Sergeant Stewart,” Alexa said with a half-smile and a note of interest in her voice.

“So would I,” Lieutenant Harmon added, barely able to contain himself.

Stewart cleared his throat. “I think it best if we focus on the mission. Anyway, I say we roll up onto the objective and establish observation points here, here, and here.” Several locations pinged on the board, giving the command staff an idea that the recon team would have an excellent vantage point to watch the comings and goings of the camp.

“Forty-eight hour stakeout to gauge what they’re up to and how they go about it. Once we have a baseline for how they move and shake, we take our attached Osay platoon and create an outer cordon, in the event we need a good deal of firepower to give us a bit of tactical advantage if we need it on the way out.” Stewart nodded and winked at Alexa, who repeated the expression back to him. When Stewart’s eyebrows tried to crawl onto his forehead in surprise of her mimicry, the entire room finally burst into laughter, unable to hold it back any longer.

“Did I not get the facial expression right, Staff Sergeant Stewart?”

“You did great, Alexa. And please, call me Stew.”

“You going to park this car in the garage, Stew, or ask her out on a date?” First Sergeant Nash asked.

Alexa tilted her head quizzically. “Is ‘park the car’ a euphemism for...”

Stew was quick to finish the statement for her before Alexa did it in a manner that turned another Ranger’s face beet red. “It means he wants me to get to the point. In any case, while the Osay are in a cordon, protecting us from getting taken by surprise and providing avenues of escape, we enter the compound unobserved and make way to the door beside the overhead, right here.”

Sherman stood across the room with his arms crossed. “And how do you know there’s a door there, Sergeant?”

“Standard for the building design, sir. Ramp would indicate an overhead door to accommodate the width and height of a vehicle. On days where you don’t want the outside, inside, you have a personnel entrance beside it so Amir stuff doesn’t blow into the bay.”

“Cool. Carry on,” Sherman said.

“Thank you, sir. I have a guy in my squad who is real good at getting into places. We put him on that door. Pick it and stick it. Once we know it’s clear, we enter the vehicle bay. Time on target would be just before EMNT to take advantage of sleep schedule and limited personnel.”

“I am learning all sorts of wonderful Ranger vernacular today,” Alexa interrupted. “Sergeant Stewart, pick it and stick it?”

“Sorry. We slide an observation wire under the door to see what the conditions are behind it. Once we know personnel, security measures, and most plausible routes of intrusion, we have Private Lawler pick the lock, gaining us access to the building.”

Several groans wafted around the room.

“Lawler?” Reach asked. “The guy with the...”

“Look, sir. He’s a shitty human being but an amazing soldier. He’ll do his job.”

Bosa took in the concerned look from Reach but dismissed it. “Continue, Staff Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir. We breach and maintain stealth throughout the facility until we come about the commo room. Make entry and swap out the damaged particle we took from the Muir into their comm station, while rigging the power supply to fail. Make it look like a fault deadlined the system. We take the good particle and beat feet. Oh, and before you ask, Alexa, that means to run very fast.”

“I knew that one.”

Nash interjected. “Will the sneaky six be carrying out the new particle via the feet you were just talking about?”

“No, Top. We have a delivery method for that which would include members of First Platoon. The way I see it, they’ve been hogging the spotlight this whole trip, going out on every mission, while me and mine have been playing patty-cake with base defense and working with the Osay. Why not have them along for another one?”

It was Sherman’s turn to try launching his eyebrows. “Team effort there, Big Sarge. We all had our parts to play.”

“Roger that, sir, and I’m not complaining. But now, we are critical on Rangers because we possess crucial skills that make us the top predators on this mud ball and we’ve suffered some losses. We shouldn’t lose anymore. I’ve been working with the members of Cobra Platoon since Dawson gave them the north south. We’ve molded them into a highly effective light infantry force, and while they’re not Rangers, quite a few of them could be with a little more training. That means we only have to send out a squad of R-types while ensuring we have a platoon sized element should we need the firepower. Do you have such an element trained to work beside highly competent raiders proficient in smash and grab, sir?”

The room snickered in unison.

“I would still need to go as I am the mission leader aboard the USS Osay,” Sherman said flatly.

“Oh, of course, sir. In fact, I was also going to see if you’d bring along Tran and Morales,” Stew responded. Calling out his men piqued Sherman’s interest, prompting the sergeant to continue. “Sir, those two are straight up pipe hitters, and if we bring them along as QRF riding bitch until it’s time to touch it off, they’re going to be so heated they’ll melt through anything in their way. Besides, the exfil method for the particle is by drone. My guy Kelly will float it out so you’ll need to catch it.”

Alexa called out to Reach over the neural link. “Jared, is this man speaking English? I know that he is, but it seems like he has his own bastardized version.”

Reach continued the trend of holding in his mirth. “Ranger-ese.”

Stewart stood away from the battle board, looking expectantly at the CO. Bosa nodded slowly. “Set it up. Sergeant Stewart, sand table it and get the Osay on point. You have twenty-four hours.”

The devil-may-care sergeant cocked a crooked smile. “On it, sir. Thank you, sir.” He strode from the room like he’d just won the big game before he even set foot on the field.

Reach tapped Sherman on the shoulder. “When he walked in here, you all acted like this was the last person you wanted to see.”

Harmon raised his hand to get Reach’s attention. “Robbie is top flight. He’s from the Ranger Reconnaissance Company back on Earth. Did you hear about that thing at the Australian embassy at the end of the war?”

Reach’s face flushed all the color into his feet. “Oh my God. That was him?”

Bosa interrupted Reach’s impromptu fact gathering mission. “His unit, yes. You didn’t wonder why we kept holding back Second Platoon and sending out First?”

“I figured it was just Sherman being a dick.”

Everyone chuckled at the joke except Bosa. “I didn’t send them out because there are a few guys mixed in there that are straight killers forged during the nastiest part of the PAC wars. Those guys aren’t first strike. Those are the ‘break glass in case of emergency’ types you save for when it really looks like it’s circling the drain. Guys like Robbie have earned their spot ten times over.”

“More than,” Nash said. “He’d be a first sergeant by now if he didn’t like stalkin’ so much. That guy loves to creep and reap. And though I really don’t want to say it, Second Platoon got the majority of the cubs from that last batch of guys coming in. They seen a lot of training and not a lot of raining. You keep someone like Rob with them so that his version of soldiering gets infused.”

Sherman nodded. “Killer begets killer.”

“Or so the story goes,” Bosa said. “Gents, and ma’am, let’s get to work and get this set so we can make a long distance call on someone else’s dime.”

* * *

As the Rangers worked on their sand tables and mission planning, Reach observed the two Osay platoons tapped to accompany the Rangers on the mission. Both had chosen names recommended by Brody: Cobra and Wolverines. The Osay soldiers were engaged in rifle practice at the firing range and showing a skillful mastery of their weapons. Sgt. Dawson had a gift when it came to turning recruits into soldiers.

He watched as a soldier named Marlin sent rounds straight to the center of his target. Reach enhanced his vision and shook his head. Marlin must have been one of the more experienced hunters. His shot grouping could be covered by a silver dollar. Alexa pinged him over comms. When Reach turned to step away, he was surprised to see the android two meters behind him.

“That was fast,” he said over the random staccato of rifle fire.

“May I have a word?”

“Sure.” Reach told the designated range safety officer that he had to step away.

The officer nodded and continued his vigil.

“What’s up?” Reach asked Alexa as he followed her away from the range. “What requires a face-to-face in the land of instantaneous brain talk?”

She gave a slight nod. “I am not sure I have it figured out entirely. But I nevertheless feel the need to speak with you.”

“Not knowing what to say never stops most humans from talking anyway.”

“Quite so.”

He squinted at her and was about to prompt her when she continued.

“Despite being wrong about who the Elders intended to select for leadership, my calculations—my gut feelings, if you will—still predict you having a significant role to play in the life of this community.”

Reach appreciated what he thought was a truly genuine compliment, even if it was a bit on the nose. He spread his arms and made a show of looking around. “I’m their point of contact with the Rangers. I’m sure you’re right that I’ll be involved in that regard.”

“I do not mean to downplay any of your present achievements, Reach. However, even with all you have done, my quantum matrix proposes that you will indeed offer this community much more with your life.”

“Don’t tell me you think I should have accepted the marriage proposal.”

“I do think that, but I understand that such a union is not as simple as I make it out to be due to human emotion and need to maintain the illusion of sovereignty. But I believe that this may be an inappropriate opinion to share. My apologies.”

“Hey, it’s fine. And, I do like Liana. It’s just a little soon and not how I pictured getting married the second time.”

Alexa scrutinized Reach and seemed to have something more to say before deftly shaking her head. “I need to apologize for being wrong as well. I encouraged you to make a decision based on my observational data, and I found myself in the margin of error. I will not allow that to happen again.”

“Alexa, it happens to us all. We all make mistakes.”

“I do not intend to make another one. Good day, Reach. And again, I am sorry.”

* * *

Burns and Baldino were on opposite sides of the boarding ramp, watching the Osay platoon stride into the cargo bay. After folding down the netted seating against the walls of the space, they locked their packs underneath while rifles were magnetically locked against the walls with the barrels pointing down.

“Lass man, gintz,” the Osay platoon sergeant said in his pidgin language.

Burns hit the close button, passing word to the bridge through his neural link that the bay was secure.

“Three minutes to takeoff. Pass it down,” Sherman responded.

Holding up his hand, he signaled to Staff Sergeant Stewart that they had three minutes before the bird took to the air. Stewart whistled to get everyone’s attention and signed to the other squad leaders by pounding his chest, followed by patting the air. The newly minted staff sergeants went into action, checking weapon locks and seeing that gear was secure, and that soldiers were where they were supposed to be.

The two pit bulls of the Ranger squad, Burns and Baldino, crossed the space to sit beside their Squad Leader.

“What’s the word, Boss?” Baldino asked.

“Can you give me a guy for catcher?”

“Take Crowder. He loves picking up rear security. Why not have one of the Osay do it?”

“We have two scouts for the front and two for rear sec. I just want to make sure there’s one of us back there as well to see they don’t get lost,” Stewart said.

The heavy frame of the USS Osay shifted under them, vibrating until it found its stabilizers. A moment later, and the ship was rocketing toward a high flight path to avoid any unwarranted attention. Sherman’s icon appeared in Stewart’s neural-linked HUD. “Five minute flight time. Putting you ten kilometers from the target site.”

“Roger, out,” Stewart replied. “You guys find that every time you use the mind meld thingy it gets easier, like what did we do without it?”

Burns rubbed the stubble on his shaved head. “Ain’t never going to get used to that thing. Someday the RUPAC are going to find a way to hack our brains or hack Alexa, who’ll hack our brains, and then how cool will it be?”

Baldino tossed a light punch into Burns’s arm. “Depends on what she orders me to do.”

“Man, don’t let Lawler hear you say stuff like that. He’s already creepy enough without you feeding that nonsense into his skull,” Burns said.

Stewart snapped twice to get their attention. “All right, kids. Enough jaw jacking. Three mikes before we’re dirt side doing what we do. Get ’em up and moving.”

Burns rapidly dropped out of the harness, startling several Osay soldiers that someone so thick could be agile and quick. He crossed to his team, who needed no prompting as to what jumping up like that meant. They were on the move, and it was happening right now.

While Baldino did the same to his men, Stewart found the Osay LT, Vander. “Hey there, sir. What’s the read on your men?”

The quiet and reserved man wasn’t one for rah rah speeches or the barking of sergeants. “Primed and ready, sergeant. They’ll do their job.”

“And you, sir. Are you ready?”

“To take orders from you because your Rangers were designated as the patrol leaders, or ready for the stalk, as I’ve heard you call it?” Vander asked.

Stewart liked the man. He didn’t try and fit in. He just wanted a chance to earn his place. “Either.”

“You’ve done a good job training us up. I’m ready for both.”

Stewart clasped the man’s wrist and gave it a firm shake as they patted each other on the shoulder. He turned to his team leaders, throwing the mental warning of two minutes into the link. Burns waved his hand in the air, then he clasped his wrist over his head. Following suit, the Osay platoon held onto the rigging for support. Baldino and his team secured thick ropes to the support rigging at the back of the craft. When the last click sounded through the bay, Burns hit the release, opening the cargo ramp from the back. Cold wind, like a hurricane inside the ship, flashed around, buffeting their uniforms into flapping, catching some of them off guard and off balance.

Stewart lifted his hand, holding his index finger high for everyone to see. The platoon followed suit, mimicking the action. The cold rush of air was replaced by the warm air off the engines going from thrust to VTOL as the ship descended. The musty smell of the forest after a rain filled the cabin, its sounds washed out over the roar of the stabilizers bringing the USS Osay from descent to hover. Burns made a ‘C’ with his hand, indicating thirty seconds until the slide, which the Osay platoon also mimicked. Baldino kicked the ropes outside of the deck while Burns motioned for the Rangers to step up. With toes on the ramp’s seam, a light near the ramp went from red to green. The first Rangers were on and off the non-friction conducting ropes in a matter of seconds. They reached the ground and moved quickly away from the improvised fireman’s pole, finding bits of the terrain to secure as a foothold for security. With the Rangers establishing positions on the ground, the Osay platoon exited the ship in the same manner. While not as slick or smooth as the Ranger team, the Osay got the job done, arranging themselves in a patrol file ready to move.

Stewart moved past Lieutenant Vander, who gave him a thumbs-up and a knife hand to the front. “Lead the way, Ranger.”

Smiling at the request before sealing into his visored helmet, Stewart responded with, “All the way, Sir.”

The Osay flight crew withdrew the ropes, and the ship made for high altitude to monitor the task force, call sign Prowler, as it wove its way into the jungles like a long segmented snake about to get its primal on.

25

Marlin studied the tracks in the mud, careful not to disturb the message they sent to a trained eye. His father had taught him to stalk platier across the terrain they were known to graze through as well as scour the trees for the zaskonek that also hunted them. There was no good that came from a hunting trip if you ended up the main course for something else.

Cameron, his Osay companion, said, “Too bad these Rangers won’t let us hunt a bit while we’re here. Looks like the game is plen-tee-ful!”

“Shush,” Marlin hissed as he continued to study the ground. He was in his element and would have been angry at the noise even if it were only a hunt and not an expedition with the Rangers. The stalk was everything to the hunters that brought back enough game to feed the Osay in the times before the Rangers. The feeling of tracking prey over impossible terrain littered with fierce predators was amazing. Getting said kill back to the Osay to feed hungry families was almost as good, though it required more muscle and endurance than skill.

He had hunted these grounds before and had never seen anything unnatural. No “F-O-Bs” or “outposts” that the Rangers suspected were in the vicinity. Food was always plentiful here, and platiers were easy to kill provided you kept quiet and moved slowly, a task always more difficult with Cameron along.

Marlin’s wife had insisted he take his cousin on more than one hunting trip, which nearly always ended in the game getting away because the young man couldn’t keep his yap shut. But whenever Cameron and his kin would visit, the wives would get to talking and the family would soon be making plans for an extended stay. Which meant Marlin would end up as a chaperon to entertain his “cousin.” Entertainment was really code for extreme ranging to track an animal in hopes of bolstering the Osay camp’s food supply. Cameron wasn’t built for ranging, so trekking past the safety zones Brody had set up for them into the deep woods was akin to torture. And yet the man took it all in stride, which annoyed Marlin to no end.

Now the pair were part of the newly formed Osay militia. Marlin was a proud NCO. He was less proud when his platoon sergeant discovered he and Cameron were “related.” That it was only through marriage wasn’t a distinction. Marlin and his cousin were sent off and linked up with the Rangers, which probably meant the feisty Osay NCO had grown tired of Cameron’s incessant yapping. This all felt very much like the wives had been talking.

“You think shushing me is really going to help?” Cameron whispered in their native tongue. “Listen to all this sloshing as we walk. We’re practically announcing ourselves.” He gestured to the prints in the mud.

“The main element is further that way. Silence is key. We sneak up on the camp and hold in place once we find it. Then we report to the point man, who relays what we say to the commander.”

“Marlin, have you listened to yourself lately? You talk like them. The Boone Rangers. What would Brody say?”

Marlin moved a branch. The muck and mire all about him were a comfort. He loved it. The landscape was singing a story to him, and it was at once beautiful and terrifying. “I don’t care what Brody thinks. But I do care what you think.”

Cameron looked around, as if to see if there was anyone else Marlin could be talking to. “You do?”

A hand clamped over Cameron’s mouth, silencing the scream hovering there as a seat belt grab across his chest pinned his arm from accessing the weapon he wore on a strap. Air like the hiss of a punctured tire passed by his ear, a second shush from the bush, seemingly coming to life.

“You talk too much. I’m going to let go. Say nothing. Nod if you understand.”

Cameron did as instructed, watching in grim fascination as the bush gave way to a concealed Ranger, moving past him. The soldier knelt next to his cousin, the two sitting in that awkward crouch the clumsy would-be hunter just couldn’t find comfortable.

Marlin moved the bush and pointed to something in the mud Cameron couldn’t see. The Ranger nodded, patted Marlin on the back, and disappeared into the brush again.

Cameron watched the vegetation as if expecting more men to appear like magic from its leaves. “What just...”

The words were robbed from his mouth when Marlin jumped up and slapped his hand over Cameron’s mouth as he pinned him to a tree. It was the second time in their lives that he’d treated his cousin so roughly, the first a hunting trip after Cameron’s wife had their first baby. That had been because of zaskonek in the area. Continuing to talk, about anything, would have widowed his wife.

This time was something else, though perhaps no less dangerous. The senior hunter dragged Cameron by the collar and showed him the mud again. Cameron squinted. There were animal tracks, that much he could see, but no predators. Just small game. Then Marlin used a stick and traced a bent oval around a few spots by the tracks. Cameron shrugged until he saw it. The ovals all had the same pattern. While to someone not paying attention the ground would look like random variations of the muck, with the ovals outlining those areas, there were definite patterns, like the mud was repeating exactly the same ‘dirt’ pattern over and over again.

“Shoes made to look like dirt?” Cameron whispered.

Marlin nodded, giving him the same pat the ranger had bestowed only a moment ago.

* * *

Private Lawler resumed his position as the point man observing the actions of the Osay scouts. It was time to update the squad boss now that he was back in position. They’d called a halt to the stalk because the two scouts, no more than a couple of hunters really, had found something. While they weren’t Rangers, Lawler liked the one named Marlin. That guy was scarred up, serious, and had a funny gallows humor that could have earned the man a spot in any of the platoons prior to moving to this toothy mud ball of a planet.

The other one, the one who he’d had to physically shut up… that guy needed some work.

Lawler activated the neural link implanted in his skull. “Lawler to Burns.”

“You don’t have to use radio etiquette when it’s in our head, Lawler. Just keep it short. What do you got?”

The private huffed at the question. “Well, I’m probably a few hundred years off my enlistment, and with that in mind, somehow I still got Article-15’d.”

Burns laughing into the neural link seemed strange to Lawler. The briefing showed the algorithm the link ran on would do its best to mimic human speech but mind laughing just seemed wrong somehow.

“You know what I mean, goofball.”

“Roger that, Sar’nt. Marlin found something. Recurring patterns in the terrain ahead suggest moccasin style footwear with ‘natural’ pattern soles consistent with Spetsnaz footwear seen during the PAC campaigns.”

“Oh yeah, those mud soles. Nice catch, kid. Did you get a read on numbers, distance, and direction?” Burns asked.

“If I get it right, do I get my PFC back?”

The image of Burns that floated in the HUD, provided by the neural link, showed the square-jawed, narrow-eyed man in his state of perpetual growl. This might not have been the right time to ask about this.

“That depends,” Burns started. “You gonna stop mind linking that pic from the nudie mag to your chain of command when they’re trying to do stuff?”

“Nobody ever wants to make ‘hurry up and wait’ more fun,” Lawler lamented. “Based on variations to depth and offset of the tracks, I would have to say there were at least five, probably more.”

“Offset?” Burns asked. “You mean they were moving in file?”

“Yes, Sar’nt.”

“All right. I’ll pass it to Stew. And Lawler, next time use the other part of the whole radio discipline thing when using the link. Short and to the point. Save the convos for another time.”

“Roger that, Sar’nt,” Lawler said, cutting the link and grateful for the HUD image to disappear so Burns wasn’t staring straight into his eyeball. He swore that man was using the mind meld thing to see into his thoughts. Of course, if that were true, the whole nudie mag thing might not have happened.

Lawler flashed a message to Burns. “OSAY MOVING. OSCAR MIKE.”

* * *

Staff Sergeant Stewart walked beside one of the Osay sergeants making sure the man’s control over his section of the platoon was solid. Dawson had done a good job of turning the men and women of the Osay into an infantry unit. When he thought about it, this ad-hoc militia was more of a multi-role engagement force than a straight infantry unit, but at the moment, they’d take what they could get.

Burns’s HUD image popped into a waiting posture in his vision. Dragging the image over with his mind put the man’s face in the upper left corner of his view, just inside his peripheral vision. “Sup, cuz?”

“Hey, Lawler linked up with the Osay scouts. Tracks consistent with RUPAC footwear moving in file. Suggest Spetsnaz.”

“Roger. We being peeped?”

“Enhanced optics suggest no. Not sure if U-FOR has optics to defeat tech.”

Stewart turned away from the Osay sergeant and tapped the platoon lieutenant on the shoulder. The man regarded him with a smile, which faded when Stewart held up a fist, then finally spread his fingers. The Osay LT repeated the gesture, prompting the two columns of his platoon to find concealment among the dense foliage and take a knee.

“Stew to all Prowler elements, be advised, possible RUPAC unit in the area. Cue up advanced optics and surveillance countermeasures.” Switching to a private direct message, Stewart directed another of his team leaders. “Vito, have Kelly push a buzzer.”

There was no reply to the message in his hud, only the sound amplification mod in his helmet keying on what sounded like an angry bumble bee. The helmet tracked across the terrain and amplified an image of a miniscule, helicopter-shaped drone taking flight. The HUD switched to the machine’s view in a picture-in-picture display as though anyone linking into the device was along for the ride. The micro spy machine flitted through trees and branches, scaring the living hell out of an arboreal lizard whose bird shaped beak cracked the bark so it could slither inside and away from the annoying insect. After completing an orbit in a one hundred meter radius, the Buzzer shot straight into the air for an elevated view of the terrain. While not able to see completely through the canopy of the thick forest, the drone’s onboard detection systems analyzed patterns of terrain, identifying markers that signified animalistic and weather based changes to the environment versus man-made intrusions through the dense underbrush. It effected three ticking rotations before diving back through the canopy into the waiting hands of one of the Rangers behind the concealment of the forest.

Vito’s HUD marker popped back into Stewart’s view. “Negative on Unidentified Force detection. Clear to proceed?”

The operation’s order had prepped everyone for the potential of RUPAC contact, but the suggestion that there may be special forces elements attached to this ramped up the danger level. If it had just been his squad, Stew wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at the thought. But with an Osay platoon tagging along to serve as the outer cordon to a possible perimeter sweep and clear, he wasn’t sure if the green troops would be able to handle the types of asymmetrical battlefield tactics a special forces unit would demand of them.

Stewart duckwalked to the Osay platoon leader. “We have possible enemy in the area. Nothing changes. We move quiet. Pass it down.”

Lieutenant Vander nodded to the ranger. He crawled beside a man hidden between a tree and a boulder who had made good use of the terrain. The two exchanged a whispered conversation before going over the implants. A quick nod from the eager LT was all the info Stewart needed to proceed.

“All Prowler elements, Oscar Mike.”

The Ranger teams moved through the terrain, bracketing the Osay force in front and back. The double column it produced was long, but traveling in single file would hide their numbers to any roving patrols. It was only a matter of time before they made contact with something. Stewart only hoped that it would be later rather than sooner.

“Stew, Osay scouts report trails. Mostly game trails, but they have more of those strange footprints in the mud.”

“Sneak and peek, brother B. Feed on my sig,” Stewart said to Burns.

“Roger, out,” Burns said as his icon winked out.

HUD feeds popped into Stewart’s display, giving him a first person view of everything Bravo Team observed. He took a momentary break from viewing the stalk to watch Vander giving directions to his squad leaders to hide the platoon. Security halts among units who haven’t worked together for very long were always a tricky proposition to get right. There was always someone who couldn’t drop his gear the right way, find a comfortable position to set in, or keep enough distance from a buddy so they couldn’t talk to pass the time. Getting it right was the hallmark of a command team that knew the training path to a disciplined fighting force. Keeping the undisciplined in line was a full time job for squad and team leaders alike.

Satisfied that the platoon would stay put, Stewart returned to the feeds. The Ranger team slithered through the foliage and dense grasses like anacondas with barely any displacement of their surroundings. Spreading across the crest in a ridgeline, the team came upon a camp of several pre-fab buildings surrounding a central, single-story building made of light-colored stone. A broadcast tower was set against a fence on the western side of the camp. The chain-link fence with woven concertina wire and a similarly adorned top ringed the compound.

“Someone must have been bored,” Lawler said into the comm.

Stew smiled. He liked that kid. He was a little rowdy, but his skills as a scout and stalker were off the charts. Too bad he was the reason uniform rank had gone from sewn to velcro. “Hey, Lawler. It’s Stew. Can you sneak around and give me a view of the rear?”

“Um, mine or the facility’s?”

“Boy, it’s gonna be your ass if you don’t get to steppin’,” Burns warned.

“It’s always my ass. On the move, Sergeants, plural.” The snarky operator maneuvered into the thick grasses that appeared lush compared to the stuff they were hiding in. After finding an old tree stump to hide in, Lawler removed his glove to feel the grass. “Stew, this stuff is a lot younger than the thicket we’ve been moving through to get to the ridge. I think this was all cut back and then allowed to grow back in. Why would they let the security perimeter grow back in?”

SSG Stewart’s eyes narrowed as visions of the RUPAC and their tactics in other campaigns came to mind. Even separated by a century or more, these guys were using the nasty old tricks that earned them a reputation for being the nastiest lazy killers on the planet. “Law, go slow. Typical RUPAC trick to hide tripwires and the like.”

Lawler pulled what looked like a subdued teacher’s pointer from his kit. He extended it and tapped the ground in front of him until he came to a slight bounce several meters from his original position. “Win that man a prize. Got a tripwire here, Stew. Clip it or tag it.”

“Tag. Don’t know if a clip will set it off or ring some sort of dinner bell to bring all the kids to the table.”

“Roger that. Moving.” Lawler resumed the role of anaconda by maneuvering around the camp, seeking cover over concealment in the event that the forces at the facility had more than just simple cameras for security.

Taking in the goings on, Lieutenant Vander sent a text message to Stewart. “Why not just launch drones? Why risk sending a man that has a higher risk of detection?”

Stewart took his view from the feeds to look at the LT holding his battle board. Their effectiveness would increase dramatically when Alexa enhanced the Osay fighters like she’d done with the Rangers. For now, implants were about the only edge they had over a natural born human. Still, Vander had shown himself to be a capable leader to the Osay long before the Rangers had arrived. Smart, cunning, and eager to lead, the man had demonstrated he had the potential to be an officer for the newly commissioned Osay force. He and his platoon had excelled during training. Stewart agreed with the Old Man and Reach that bringing the Osay platoon along as a force multiplier and security element was in everyone’s best interest. While they weren’t Rangers, this particular crew was eager to learn, and they needed the experience. Not from Amir, but in working with Earth-born forces that would take them from simple fighters to trained units capable of so much more.

“In case of passive air detection systems and anti-drone warning indicators. Better to keep the recon to the ground. Also, area is trapped. Drones might not have seen it,” Stewart replied to the message.

Returning his attention to the feeds, Lawler circled around the back of the compound, with PVT Fenton taking the opposite arc until they faced each other. Tense moments passed as the two Rangers navigated the landscape littered with natural and constructed barriers strewn with traps.

Lawler traced one of the wires to a broadcast fob hidden in the moss of a tree. Whether triggering an alarm or a warning signal, the result was the same. The camp would know someone was there and lead the Rangers to have a bad day.

Fenton’s incoming pic highlighted in Stewart’s HUD. “Got four trips on my side with at least one leading to some sort of displaced earth. Probably a mine. Also tagging several displacements on the approach away from the camp. My guess is a minefield that stretches along that back side. You want me to gauge the trip, Stew?”

Stewart thought about it for a moment. Vehicle mines were often magnetic. A hard tack and the mine would detonate. Pressure plate mines were hard to spot but easy to dig up as long as there wasn’t an anti-tamper trigger to deal with. The hardest of the mines would field motion detection. While they typically wouldn’t be used in jungles, a motion tracker could signal a guard at a station to see what tripped the sensor. Bad guys got the boom. A path through the mines would have to be worked out in whatever infiltration plan they drew up.

“Roger that. Pull back to the ridge.” Stewart changed to the all communications net. “All Prowler elements, move to RP-November. How copy? Over.”

The unit responded first by Rangers and then Osay, trickling down their affirmation of the order until the last of the patrol moved out. The ranger squad took a wide, loping route away from the back of the camp so as to tag mines and other hazards on their way out. The Osay, who were positioned some distance away from the Ranger observation point, took a hard track away from the myriad trails leading back to the camp. Stewart was impressed as they silently pushed their way through the underbrush, en route to the rally point a few kilometers away from the target. It was nightfall when they made the cave.

Osay patrols were in place to greet the Rangers on their way into the improvised staging area. Each man from his squad walked by Stewart to slap his hand on their way by. Lawler was the final man in the stalk, taking a winding path to the rally point as the rear security.

“How was the walk back?” Stewart asked Lawler, grateful to be using his real voice versus the projected conversations of the neural links.

“I was impressed. Osay troopers were noise and light disciplined and even used a challenge word to let me through. I was using the thermals on my gear to watch them, Sar’nt, but damn if that guy Marlin didn’t get the drop on me. That is one creepy dude.”

“Just be glad he’s on our side,” Stewart said, pushing the Ranger by him. “Forget something there, PVT Lawler?”

“Sorry, Sar’nt. Last man,” the private said, pulling off his helmet to clip it to his belt.

Burns grabbed Lawler by the crease in his armor’s pauldron and shoved him into the gaggle of Rangers setting up in the cave. “Nice one, cuz!”

Stewart didn’t wait to see if the hulking team leader would go feral on Private Bad Manners for the breach in protocol. He brought Lieutenant Vander and his platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Class Casey, to a boulder to set up the battle board.

SPC Kelly walked back into the cave and stopped at the impromptu desk. “Hey, Sar’nt. Dish is up and we have a hard link. You’re good to broadcast back to the big house.”

“Thanks, Kel. Go get some food and try to squeeze some shut-eye out of the next few minutes.”

“Why Sar’nt Stewart, I’m positively aflutter. How ever will I get back into the life of a Ranger if I’m afforded such lavish conditions?” Kelly said, gesturing to the cave.

Stewart thumbed toward the rest of his squad. “Keep it moving, ya little socialite. No more tweet-space or insta-book for you to influence.”

“Philistine!” Kelly said, winking at the squad leader.

Stewart turned back into the concerned stares of Vander and Casey. “We’re a tight group. Probably like a lot of the Osay. They respect me, even if it seems like they don’t. All good.”

The hestant smiles and nods shared all around told Stewart that even after working and training the indigeounous people, they still had a lot to learn about each other’s social cues. At least their military bearing was coming around so they could work together.

Sergeant Baldino walked to the group and tapped his boss against the forearm plate. “Got the Osay and our boys spun into a work-rest plan for tonight. Osay First Squad is up with Specialist Kelly on first rotation. He’s going to make sure the comms stay tight until one of the other tech monkeys pulls the duty. You about to contact the batcave?”

Stewart chuckled when Vander and Casey scrunched their faces at the odd references coming from Baldino. “Yeah. Why, you looking to join?”

“I’d like to do some learning,” Baldino replied.

“You’re supposed to absorb my greatness through osmosis.”

“Stew, I can’t even spell that.”

“With these new brain implants, you don’t have to,” Stewart said, snapping his fingers. He pinged the comm antenna that Kelly had set up and waited for the connection to his implant. The battle board on the makeshift table lit up, displaying the face of Lieutenant Harmon.

“Nice of you to check in,” Harmon said with a dry wit.

“Look who's talking, LT. You don’t call, you don’t write.”

“That Vito Baldino? Man, they let anyone in here.” When the laughter died down, the LT continued. “I got Sherman with me on the boat and the Old Man is hot linked to the call. What’s the damage?”

Stewart tapped the micro-com built into the wrist on his armor. There was a flutter on the screen, which was replaced by a 3-D representation of the camp and all observed fortifications. “We think the target is here in this stone building. It’s the only one not made of duct tape and wishful thinking, so it probably houses all the sensitive equipment. Fortifications look light but formidable. We also have the matter of this.”

Stewart tapped the board, prompting an image to float into the call. Somewhere away from the camera showing Harmon’s face, Sherman leveled a low whistle.

“Those are the crazy combat moccasins the Spetsnaz used to wear. One of my RIs talked about those. Almost got dusted during one of the SOWPAC campaigns because they never saw the tracks,” Sherman said off camera.

A HUD image of Bosa floated across the screen, also entering the vision of anyone neuro-linked into the call. “You get a sense this is a special forces outpost, Sergeant Stewart?”

“No, sir. The litter discipline is all wrong for those guys. My crew observed minor trash and ration litter caught in the wire fencing. If this was Spetsnaz, they wouldn’t be this careless to just toss stuff on the ground.”

“Understood,” Bosa answered. “SITREP on the site.”

“We have zero presence on whatever force is calling this home. According to what we could see from our hides, we have tracks made as early as yesterday by boots and a wheeled vehicle. This building here”—Stewart indicated near the fence line entrance—“was pounded into scrap by something, which could account for the lack of personnel at what Gruber said was a manned station, but I get the feeling they were out on a beer run.”

The two Osay leaders tilted their heads at this. Baldino swooped in to rescue their understanding. “The local force exited the compound to either acquire supplies from a cache or drop site, or they possibly went out hunting-scavenging as we saw nothing in the outer prefabs to indicate they can hold large amounts of food or water. We use the term beer run to indicate they needed to restock the fridge.” Baldino stared into the blank expressions before continuing. “They ran out of platier meat and penu-lopu.”

The last reference lodged firmly into their understanding. With that mystery solved, Baldino gestured to Stewart.

“I advise we do a twenty-four hour recon of the site to gauge returning personnel and set up trap cameras, the non-broadcast type, so that we can assess activity before we go anger up,” Stewart said, motioning to the Osay leadership like he was shooting so they would understand the reference.

“Understood,” Bosa said. “Do you have the gear you need?”

“Yes, sir. We had Alexa make some stuff before the stalk. We don’t know what kind of tech they have, and a non-broadcast trap cam would allow us to monitor live with a wire or leave and come back to recover the drive.”

Outside the video feed, Reach chimed in. “That is a good idea, Sergeant. While Gruber said they’re RUPAC, is there any evidence that they’re hostile?”

“Magic eight ball says unclear, sir,” Baldino said.

Harmon leaned into the video cam. “Well then, you know what to do. Shake that thing until we get an answer we can work with.”

26

Cameron crawled under the broken tree stump that hung over a cut in the hill. Stringy vines from surrounding fauna strangled the roots of the dying plant, forming a natural curtain in the dented terrain. Donning his own poncho, Cameron shimmied into the tight confines of the space and slid next to his cousin. “Casey sent me to relieve you.”

“Not moving.”

Cameron was confused. “What do you mean you’re not moving?”

“Busy.”

“Is it possible for you to talk in more than a couple of words at a time?”

“Yep.”

The not-so-grand hunter, who’d been sort of drafted by his wife into the makeshift Osay militia, stared at Marlin, waiting for more than the grunts he was receiving. Marlin was a man of focus. Even Cameron saw that, but he could be ridiculously curt when he was concentrating on something. It happened all the time when they went out hunting together. Marlin would prefer the silence of the forest, his ears twitching to the slightest sound like he was some predator who caught the misstep of prey breaking a twig through the thicket. When Cameron would ask his cousin what he was listening to, he was invariably shushed and told, “You’re interrupting the song.”

He’d found out from Marlin’s wife, by way of his own wife, that Marlin believed the forest would sing its secrets to him, or anyone for that matter, if they chose to listen. He’d asked Marlin to teach him to listen for it multiple times. The answer was always, “Listening requires that you stop talking.”

Talking was Cameron’s thing. He was a great storyteller. Everyone told him so. The only thing was, he lacked the experience of someone like Marlin to truly have anything truly memorable for a story of his own. All the best storytellers for the Osay were people who were doers. They would tell of their adventures or the stories of interesting people they knew. People like his friend Schaefer were popular because they knew jokes. Everyone loved to hear those. Cameron only had the stories from his father, who’d gone out during the drought to find food and water. His dad had encountered RUPAC and the Bangora, and he’d had all manner of adventures, which Cameron could recount as though he’d experienced them himself. The people wanted new stories, though, and that meant going out and doing something.

His wife was the one who’d suggested joining the militia. Upon volunteering, the android, Alexa, had given him a test that landed him in the Cobra platoon. The group was named after Marion Cobretti, a character faithfully recounted to the people by Brody. Their motto followed his signature line.

“You’re the disease. I’m the cure!”

When the call came down to officially start training, Cameron’s wife had pushed him out the door with a kiss and a request. “Come back as a more polished version of the man I fell in love with. Oh, and a uniform. Definitely come back wearing one of those.”

All of these thoughts drifted through in the span of an instant until Cameron came back to himself. He nudged his cousin. “Show me what you’re doing so I can help.”

Marlin moved part of the branches and vines blending with his poncho to keep him hidden, exposing a small device with a screen mounted into it. A wire led from the device into the monocular viewfinder he was holding. He passed the viewer to his cousin and took hold of the device it was attached to. “Spot targets and I’ll mark them. They’ve been busy this morning.”

Cameron brought the monocle to his eye and was rewarded with a very close-up view of the camp. The men in the blue and gray jumpsuits were outside again, working around the sheds near the main building. One in particular was being loaded with crates from the armored vehicle they’d rode in with two days before. For forty-eight hours, the Rangers and Osay of Cobra Platoon took turns pulling patrols and surveilling the situation at the camp. They’d fabricated infil and exfiltration plans, mapped out the terrain for a square kilometer, and mapped the outpost on both paper and in 3-D schematics for their battle boards.

Marlin tapped the screen, highlighting target personnel and the crates they were moving. “Cam, pull left ten degrees.”

“That’s the sliding thing on the bottom, right?”

“You know it. Any activity on that side of the vehicle?” Marlin asked.

“No. But when I moved, something further back there, like near their base... something wasn’t right.”

It was Marlin’s turn to look confused. He took back the viewer and focused on the grassy section of terrain that the RUPAC had trapped. That was when he saw it. A slight distortion of the environment, as though he were looking at things through a rain soaked window. Seeing the Bangora corpse being brought into Camp Ohio-Craiswell had been mind-numbing because the beast’s hide drank in the light. This seemed more like the image he was seeing had blurry spots on the lens. He was about to turn the device to clean it when part of the fuzzy terrain turned on itself, exposing what looked like two glowing eyes. Marlin furiously tapped his data board, making mental notes of things he was seeing. “The forest finally sang to you, cousin.”

Cameron’s face warmed from pride. He’d gotten many encouraging words from Marlin over the years, but this was his first compliment. Hinging on the many lessons of Sergeant Dawson and their new platoon sergeant, Casey, Cameron mentally filed the feeling so he could relay the affair to his wife later. Now, it was time to be a doer. “What do we do now?”

“Lower your head fully under the poncho and wait. We don’t want to give ourselves away in case they have Ranger vision.”

* * *

Staff Sergeant Stewart studied the image in ultra high definition through his implant. He looked to Lieutenant Vander and then to the two scouts standing before him at parade rest. “You can stand easy, my friends. Did you check the lens?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Marlin said.

Sgt. Vito Baldino cocked his head. “Look at the way the light bends around the grass. If we enhance this section, you can almost make out the shape of someone melting or somethin’.”

Cameron raised his hand.

“Yes, PFC Cameron?” Lieutenant Vander asked.

Cameron pointed at the battle board the people without implants were looking at. “Sir, can you advance two frames? Yes, sir. There. If you look at the tree, there’s another melting man.”

Sgt. Baldino pointed at Cameron for his description, nodding his approval.

The PFC smiled, trying to hide his feeling of accomplishment for doing a good job today. Marlin was smiling too. A barely imperceptible nod from the senior scout affirmed Cameron’s accomplishment while giving him a jumping on point to continue. “If you look down to where his feet should be, you can see the invisible part is caught on something. There are his boots.”

Burns was across the room with his arms folded, studying the entire affair in high definition through his own implant. “I’ll be damned. Right there. I bet these are the cats with the crazy slippers.”

“The Spetsnaz,” Stewart finished. “Great work, you two.”

Marlin nudged his cousin. “Looks like you’re more of a looker than a listener,” he whispered.

Sergeant First Class Casey patted both men on the shoulder. “Great job, both a’yah. Go be grubbin’ and nestin’ before the ac-shi-oon gets the boomin’.”

Needing no translation for the Osay pidgin language, the two men nodded and left the cave.

“You there, sir?” Stewart asked.

A chime sounded over the battle board, bringing Bosa’s voice from the implants into the rest of the chamber. “We are. This is most troubling, seeing as we don’t have an ID on this unit and they don’t seem to be entering the camp.”

“Sherman here. Did the trap cams yield any results, Stew?”

“We have Kelly uploading them now, sir. Should have ’em in a tick.”

Burns traced a line in the air, which formed highlighted dots around the image in certain points on both the heads up displays in their implants and on the battle boards. “Sir, this is the overlay of the traps, and this is the path that group is taking. They’re avoiding the trips and mines like they knew they were there, but they didn’t think to avoid the trap cameras. So they either knew they were there and didn’t think our tech could catch them, or they had no clue.”

“What is the difference?” Lieutenant Vander asked.

As Cobra platoon’s direct adviser, Stewart was in charge of getting them field ready and rock steady. All the officers present on the call would let the man handle the assets he was assigned to develop. “Well, sir, it actually means a lot from a reconnaissance point of view. If they knew the cameras were there and didn’t think we could see them, then they must have been in their own hides when we initially surveyed the site and set everything up. That also means they know where we are right now.”

Casey glanced nervously around the room and spoke in Brody. “No shadow peep bettah snick oop on meh! I gut and cut demz!”

“Damn right we will, bro,” Vito said, tapping his combat knife against the Osay sergeant’s own blade that he was displaying like he was a samurai of old. The two nodded to each other before sheathing their weapons.

Stewart smiled at this. It was his hope that this long range patrol would not only train out some of the bad habits his younger crew had picked up in running the camp defense while First Platoon had all the fun, but also bring the squad and their sister unit in the Osay closer together. Returning his gaze to the LT, Stew continued. “If they had no clue we set up catch cams, then it means we got here before them and our location should be safe. That also means that our mission might still be set to proceed.”

“Stew, any idea if these things can avoid our detection?” Bosa asked.

“One moment, sir,” the staff sergeant responded. He was looking off into space while everyone stared at him. “Got it. Uploading trap cams from Kelly now.”

The images from the cams over the last few days filled the cave as floating holographic movie screens appeared in their vision or on battle boards for those not equipped with implants like the Rangers. The scouts had been in place for forty-eight hours, recording everything they could about the movements of the base personnel. For two days, the Rangers of First Squad, Second Platoon sat beside their Osay counterparts of Cobra Platoon in a rotating reconnaissance of the RUPAC compound.

The target, labeled Objective Live Wire, was somewhere in that camp, and the crew of Task Force Prowler were going to come away with it one way or another. Captain Bosa’s preferred method was to do a hot swap. They would sneak in and remove the containment unit for the intact particle and replace it with the burned unit from the Muir. Then they would start a fire, making it look like an equipment failure, to keep the locals from discerning they’d been jacked.

The first twenty-four hours bore quite a bit of useful info as the camp’s occupants came back riding in a modified six wheeled vehicle reminiscent of the Badgers. While not appearing as heavily armored, the vehicle sported its own complement of weapons and a host of battle damage. Ragged claw marks across its dorsal plating, near what looked like a dual barreled machine gun, spoke of hostile encounters with some of Amir’s more aggravated tenants.

Structures around the camp had similar marks to the scars across the armored vehicle, leaving the Rangers to wonder if the camp had their own dust up with the Bangora and what they’d done about it. Regardless of the myriad damage to the outer fabricated structures, the stone building was unmarred. Something had kept its smooth stone surface from being hacked up by weather or creatures. The camp crew sauntered around the base, potentially checking if anything had changed during their absence. They wore grey and blue jumpsuits with combat boots. A flag patch adorned the left shoulder, beside a strap affixing a sling pack to their backs. Each man lazily carried a rifle reminiscent of the RUPAC standard long arm. One of the men, slightly older and scruffier than the others, rubbed his balding head while barking orders and pointing at things around the camp. The others hopped about, moving this piece of scrap or that section of wall until the older man seemed satisfied.

After a short period of yelling, the scruffy boss pointed back toward the APC. The crew pulled out several platier carcasses and carried them over to one of the corrugated metal shacks that ringed the main structure. A woman exited the stone structure, gesturing to her ear. Unlike the others, she was in a black jumpsuit adorned with light armor plates.

Scruffy pulled something from his shirt and placed it in his own ear. During the exchange, Alexa broke into the call, determined to lend her insight. “I was monitoring the upload, gentlemen, and I noticed your distortion, here.”

A circle formed around a part of the terrain, highlighting a single distortion settling into the grass. Once it remained still, it was harder to focus on. Small movements from the melting man in the image made it easier to see him, but a person who didn’t know what to look for would have missed him completely. The video wound back to the point where the ghost entered the scene. A three dimensional construct of a man in armor similar to the upgraded gear worn by the Rangers sat on his haunches for a few minutes and then deftly walked out of view of the trap cam, easily avoiding all the RUPAC’s anti-personnel measures.

“He is a reconnaissance element,” Alexa added over the comm.

“This is Sherman again, Alexa. Please explain.”

“He enters frame just after the woman in black comes from the stone structure. He sits directly in front of both her and the man who appears to be in charge. After remaining in place for several minutes, he avoids all the RUPAC countermeasures and walks away. My best guess is that he recorded their interaction and captured their faces on video or still images.”

“Dude,” Baldino said. “Can they do that? I mean, he didn’t even hit the record button or nothing.”

“Any of you in your current armor configuration has the ability to record straight to our server for review in AAR format or in real time,” Alexa answered.

The video feeds and snapshots whirred by and stopped at an early morning shot on the reverse side of the compound. Several figures glided to one of the trees just outside of the cut back perimeter. The feed changed to a set of luminescent eyes glaring into the trap cam. The ghost never made contact with the camera, but it’s head moved from side to side around it, as if to determine what it was. The camera had been made to look like a natural extension of the tree, and it momentarily hushed all the back chatter and comments on both sides of the conference comm watching the video. Behind the eyes were several more distortions. They lingered for a moment and stalked into the forest out of sight.

“That was nearly twelve hours ago, and they do not appear in any other of the feeds,” Alexa offered. “If I had to make an educated guess, you are dealing with a well-trained six-man reconnaissance team in state-of-the-art armor wearing holo-mimetic camouflage ponchos. They appear irregularly, observe, and then disappear again. As they are observing the encampment, I do not believe they are affiliated with the target operatives. Lieutenant Sherman, could you please launch a drone from the Osay? I would like to state conclusively that they have left the target area so that Task Force Prowler may begin Operation Firefox.”

“Firefox. Did Brody name the operation again?” Stewart asked.

“Sorry,” Alexa said. “He desperately wanted to help.”

Burns looked off into the distance, as though he were running a mental checklist. “Not familiar with that one.”

“Eastwood movie from back in the day,” Baldino offered. “Former Vietnam fighter pilot gets tasked to break into Russia to steal the MiG-31, a plane capable of high altitude flight at crazy speed. Everybody on my block was into Eastwood. I mean, he wasn’t a guinea or nothin’, but he was a man’s man, ya know what I mean?”

“Back to the operation, gentlemen,” Bosa said. “Alexa, fly sorties over the area using drone recon. Can we detect these guys now that we know what to look for?”

“Uploading detection algorithms for the distortion into the drone software as an update. I can push it to your armor as well but implant updates for this will have to be ITT.”

Blank stares abounded throughout the cave as Stewart beat everyone to the question. “Alexa, ITT?”

“Sorry. Brody insisted I should use more acronyms as he insists Rangers are descended from Chuck Norris and he used them all the time in his training films. ITT is short for ‘in the tube.’ I will have to put you in the cryo-chambers for the upgrades.”

Good natured laughing echoed through the comm broadcast, spreading throughout the cave. As the laughter died down, Stewart said, “Captain Bosa, sir, we’re going to sand table this as soon as Alexa gives us the all clear. We still bouncing this according to the OpORD?”

“Nothing changes. We need that particle,” Bosa replied. “SSG Stewart, back brief me.”

“Roger that, sir. Task Force Prowler will stalk and chalk the objective infil and exfil points and task our Cobra Element to secure an outer cordon to the operations area. At EMNT, the Ranger assault team will enter the compound and seek to disable sensors to gain access to Objective Live Wire. While maintaining stealth on target, we will switch out the functional particle for the damaged one we have from the Muir. On exfil, we will initiate an electrical fire to hide evidence of our presence. V-call is Christmas, and all Prowler teams will make way to Waypoint December for extraction. A small recon element will remain in place to set long distance observation points to further surveil the target area for reactions to our presence.”

“Solid. Make it happen, Staff Sergeant. Good hunting, and good luck.”

* * *

“Approaching fence line,” Lawler called into the comm. It still felt strange that all he had to do was think into the neural-link to communicate with his team. “Status on the fence?”

“This is Kelly. I’m on the ridge above you. I have zero emissions from the fence and no energy signature supplying it with power. From my POS I can see what looks like one of those pop-up sprinkler heads with a series of whiskers attached, stuck in the ground to your left. Probably a rattle sensor. Something bigger than a squirrel moves the fence and folks on the inside get all the bells and whistles.”

“They must have a big squirrel problem on Amir?”

“Nice one, Law,” Burns said. “You might want to concentrate more on the fence and less on the jokes. One more ding on your record and they’re going to demote you to head Brody polisher.”

“Fence is cut and clear. Moving to Checkpoint Two,” Lawler said, not heeding the levels of snark heading his way.

Sergeant Burns flowed in behind him with Specialist Keever and PFC Fenton in tow. They glided through the back side of the compound like wolves unchecked in a chicken coop. An exterior door beside an overhead version sat at the back of the facility. The four man team split off in two directions. Burns and Fenton ducked under a shanty building on the left, while Lawler and Keever took the right. “Bravo is Checkpoint Two. Status on the dog?”

Kelly worked a battle board through his implanted interface. “I have control of cameras four and seven. There is no power signature to the door. It has a standard knob but no key hole. If it locks, it does it from their side. Most likely a deadbolt. Since there’s no power, you won’t have to negotiate a mag-lock.”

“Roger, out,” came the response from Burns. The massive Ranger skulked from under the building, prompting the other Prowlers in his team to follow suit. They spilled across the landscape like ink from a broken pen, syrupy silhouettes oozing to their target. They stacked outside the door, with Lawler in the lead.

He pulled a flat piece of plastic out of a pouch on his armor. As he was running the device over the door near the jam, an indicator popped into his HUD, showing the location of the security bolt. Lawler exchanged the flat piece for a block and pressed it to the door. The block rattled with a low hum after being affixed with a wire from his armor. The Ranger pulled along the surface until the door responded with a metallic click. His hand held to his comrades, the Ranger counted down from three.

“One-Bravo, this is Cobra One-Sierra-Alpha.” The call came over the radio from the Osay platoon, freezing Burns and the team in place.

“Go for Bravo.”

“I have Mother RUPAC on exterior front door,” Marlin called into the net with the identity tag for the woman in the black jumpsuit.

“What’s she doing?” Burns asked.

“Her face is puffing.”

Kelly broke into the neuro-link. “This is Kelly. I got her. She’s smoking. Go now.”

Burns turned to see Lawler’s hand holding his index finger up, the countdown frozen in place by the eagle-eyed scout. He dropped his hand and pointed to the door, which he opened a fraction of an inch. Burns slid forward to his knees, threading a wire into the crack. Images from the fiber optic flooded the implants, showing the Rangers the layout of the space past the door.

“I have an open bay, slate flooring. There’s a door at one, at ten meters, and another at eleven, at ten meters. Negative contact on Broski,” Burns called into the net, using the pejorative for RUPAC forces identified as targets. Burns sliced the air with his hand. The Rangers flowed around him until they formed a file and absorbed him into the second position. Reaching the door at one o’clock, Keever moved to the opening side of the portal to aim his rifle. Burns slid the cable under the ample space between the jamb. “I have a hall with a door midline to the wall adjacent to the exterior antennae array.”

“Moving,” Keever said over the neuro-link. During the OpORD, Stewart suggested Bravo Team would only communicate by link once inside so as to not risk any sort of signal detection if the RUPAC had access to gear that would allow it.

The Rangers slithered into the hall and approached the door to the right. Without warning, Burns grabbed the drag handle on the back of Lawler’s armor and pulled him down to the floor.

“What gives?” Lawler asked.

Burns pointed up to the wall on the opposite side of the target door. A meter or so in, the wall gave way to an observation window allowing an unobstructed view of a lab illuminated by red light. Inside was a single technician, also in the black jumpsuit style of Mother RUPAC. The man was gaunt, looking like he had forgone a meal or six in favor of studying the displays that dotted the room he found himself in. The back of the room contained four gel-filled, cylindrical containers like one might find in a medical lab. The liquid color was difficult to gauge due to the red lighting. The cylinder furthest from the technician contained a white interior light shining up through the gel, exposing a fildeema hovering in its murky suspension fluid. The creature had a hose pasted to a cannula in its nostrils and a small breathing plug stuffed into its mouth. Set on the work table was a drone roughly the size of a dog. The robot had an extendable neck, four legs, and tendrils that came from housings on its back.

The technician shook his head, making tsk tsk noises as he worked. “Posmotri, chto oni s toboy sdelali.”

The words ticked off at the bottom of the Ranger HUDs, showing that the technician was lamenting the state of the bot. He tossed an armored plate on a nearby table after stripping it from the machine. After bringing up a schematic for it on a monitor that swiveled out from the wall, the tech went to work replacing the scarred up piece of steel. It looked as though something tried to chew on it and almost succeeded.

“How do we get by Skinny Ivan?” Lawler asked.

“How do you know he’s not Crazy Ivan?” Fenton countered.

Lawler countered the counter. “C’mon. At the very least, he’s Lucid Ivan.”

Burns put an immediate stop to the fooling around. “You guys are gonna be crazy dead Ivans if you don’t negotiate this obstacle.”

Specialist Keever piped up in the neural link. “Capture, control, or kill?”

27

“Dem is being in der for da longist,” Osay Sergeant Casey said.

Lieutenant Vander, whose ability to speak Brody was considerably better, explained. “Our job is to hold position in the event enemy forces react to the Rangers. Then we can engage.” This was the fourth time he communicated the same message to his impatient platoon sergeant.

“It’s hard to wait while other men are doing things that need doing,” Staff Sergeant Stewart agreed. “But we should be where they need us if they call. Keep your men wired and ready. If we’re lucky, they won’t need us and we can spend all that pent up adrenaline on the run to the extraction point.”

The LT pointed to Stewart. “I’m sure the men will love that.”

“Don fergodda wiminz, too,” Casey reminded the group. “How come you don got nuna doze in yer Rangers?”

Stewart shrugged. “Our particular unit doesn’t have women, but a few have made it into the Regiment over the last few years. Although, who knows if there is even a Regiment left back home.”

Casey’s face pressed into a grim smile. “Dis home now, yeah?”

Stewart patted the man on the back and took his arm by the wrist. It was a warrior’s handshake between men who’d fought to survive together over the past few months. “It certainly is, brother. It certainly is.”

“Despite my platoon sergeant hopping between both feet like he has to use the woodline, they have been in there a bit. Are you worried?” Vander asked.

Stewart shook his head. “If I know my crew, everything was going according to plan until Lawler saw something shiny.”

The Lieutenant put his hand to the earbud for his comm gear. He listened for a moment before addressing Stewart. “Sergeant, we have more RUPAC moving through the trails.”

“More of those ghost things?”

“No, these are dressed like the ones in the camp.”

Stewart nodded grimly. “At least now we know why they went on a big hunt the other day. They were expecting company.”

* * *

“Wow, good thing he’s so focused on his mechanical girlfriend,” Lawler said of the technician that had halted their movement. “If he even turned his head a little, we would have been in for it.”

“Whatchu got, Keev?” Burns asked.

Specialist Keever motioned toward the door they’d just entered through. “Everyone move back into the reception bay.” He waited for them to disappear from the hall before moving to the lab door. Bear-walking on his hands and toes, he passed silently beneath the glass partition in the wall. When the audio receptors stopped picking up noise from his friends situating themselves, he knocked on the door.

Hurrying back from his position at the door, he crawled the way he came, proceeding several feet past the glass partition before sprinting down the hall. The door to the motor bay opened at his advance, ensuring he could exit the hallway without slowing down. Fenton shut the door as quickly and quietly as possible. Burns rolled in behind him and inserted the fiber wire to watch the hallway.

The technician, Lucid Ivan, exited the lab and looked down the hall to see who had knocked with a level of annoyed confusion. He looked left and then right, then stood in the hallway to give his head a good scratch. He shut the portal to his lab behind him and turned to stare at the door leading to the motor bay, then he went toward the door that housed the comm bus and, hopefully, the intact particle. He looked inside the room and then returned to his lab door.

The purpose of the knock was to sow doubt in the man. They needed to move past him and didn’t want him investigating any noises he heard. By alerting him now and having him find nothing, he was much less likely to take a second look should he hear another noise.

“Damn, he’s calling it in,” Burns said.

Fenton sat with his back to the team leader, facing the doors leading from the outside. “What’s he saying?”

Burns huffed. “Give it a sec. Translator app on the gear isn’t so great at super future Russian, yet.”

Fenton rolled onto his belly and dropped the MG-6.8 onto its bipod. “I thought they spoke Mandarin.”

“Only some of them,” Lawler countered.

“Translation said he called someone named Katya,” Burns said. “I bet that’s Mother RUPAC.”

Before long the woman was on scene and looking at a vent in the ceiling just outside the lab door.

“Now she’s playing on some sort of tablet or something,” reported Burns.

The Ranger watched through the wire optic as the woman finished tapping on the screen. A light pulse flared from the grate above her. She reached beside the door to produce a long metal rod, then she inserted it into the venting grate. A quick twist caused it to swing open, and a fried rat splattered onto the floor. Katya picked up the smoldering rodent in one hand, gesturing wildly about her head with the other.

“How many girls you know would handle a dead rat like that?” Lawler asked.

“Not many,” Burns said. “Man, this woman does not like to be bothered. Sounds like she might be in charge. Translator has her pegged as the head researcher, some high muckety muck in their—whatever this is.”

The Rangers held their gargoyle poses, keeping themselves still and taking in all available intel from the pair arguing in the empty hall. Katya tossed the rodent at Ivan’s feet, still irate. Moments passed before the tech had sufficiently apologized to Katya for disturbing her. She straightened his sleeve, righting the flag symbol on his shoulder, before nodding to him. She strode off through the lab and disappeared into the crimson light spilling from the window.

“She’s gone, and he’s going back to fixing up his mechanical girlfriend,” Burns announced.

“I knew that dude was too creepy to leave that poor bot alone,” said Lawler.

Without taking his eyes off the rear door, Keever said, “Takes one to know one.”

Burns nudged Lawler. “Now’s our chance to move past Ivan. Let’s get this done.”

The team returned to the hall, sliding under the observation windows to avoid detection by Lucid Ivan. Fenton remained in the bay with his suppressed machine gun aimed at the overhead door. Once everyone was in place, Burns slid the fiber cam just past the lip of the window. “When he turns, you go.”

“How do we know we’re not walking into a room full of RUPAC?” Lawler asked.

Burns made a circular motion with his hand. “Lucid Ivan looked around the comms room as if to see if someone was in it. Meaning he didn’t expect anyone to be. He also didn’t stop to talk to anyone. You wouldn’t act like that if there was somebody in the room.”

“I’m just glad that RUPAC Rodney didn’t die in vain,” Lawler said.

“Rodney?” Keever asked.

“The rat. I’ll go pick up his shit.” Lawler crawled away to where the grate fell, collecting some of the rat droppings that had fallen along with the corpse. “Something to add to the evidence.”

On a signal from Burns, Keever and Lawler entered the room. After shutting the door behind them, they were greeted with several workstations and a massive transmission server. Various papers mixed with pieces of partially eaten food dotted the room along with spent water bottles and the occasional cigarette butt. Keever attacked the front of the server casing with a powered screwdriver.

“That explains the rats,” Lawler mumbled.

“Stupid RUPAC. Everything is in metric,” Keever said.

Lawler groaned. “Um... Didn’t we bring metric driver bits?”

“We did. I just like bitching about it. Still, this is a pain in my fourth point of contact. Most of this base station is power supply. But everything routes through this baby.” Keever pointed to a black box similar to the unusable one he carried from the Muir.

“Can’t you just pull it, Keev? You look strong.”

“No, I can’t just pull it. We have the special doohickies that Alexa made me memorize how to insert and take apart so the containment rig stays intact. No rig—aka, the box—no particle. Mission fails.”

“Gotcha,” Lawler said as he spread rat droppings near the panel opening. The irksome Ranger took out a multi-tool and began stripping wires with the attached pliers and serrated knife to make them look as though they were chewed on. “I wonder if Alexa would let me play with her doohickey.”

“Dude, no. That would turn her into a sex doll. She’s an artificial life-form with a super intellect. Have some respect.”

Lawler wagged his finger at his teammate. “Right. So get her fake flowers instead of real ones to, like, what, prime the pump?”

Even with his helmet on, Keever figured the raunchy Ranger could see the dumbfounded expression on his face. “If some Broski dude doesn’t put a bullet in your ass, I might.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time my friends have shot me. Won’t be the last.”

Keever placed the containment cube housing the entangled particle into his pack and removed the damaged one. He began the work of replacing everything as they’d found it, while Lawler configured one of the wire harnesses he’d stripped. The two worked in tandem until the system was completely assembled.

Keever activated his neuro-link and sent a message to his team leader. “Christmas in the bag. Set to go.”

Tense moments ticked by as the duo crouched by the door. Keever looked back to his wingman. “Alexa is kinda hot, though.”

“See? I’m not the only pervert. We should...”

“Don’t even finish that statement, thought, or whatever it is that was about to pour out of your drip pan. The answer would be no.”

Lawler scoffed. “You’re such a weekend warrior.”

Burns cut through the fetid musings with a one word text message that filled the HUD projecting from their implants. “Exit.”

The duo crawled to the far wall, under the glass of the lab, as Burns shut the door. They moved until they cleared the observation window, then began a brisk walk to the exit. Sliding out of the next portal, they absorbed Fenton, who was clipping his bipod legs back into their carry configuration. The group glided to the door beside the loading entrance, waiting for Burns to test the air outside with his fiber wire. Sixty seconds was time enough to convince the Ranger they had a clear shot to their exit strategy.

No hand motions needed signing to send the four man team out the door. A preloaded package of tactical action messages flooded the team on Burns’s order.

MOVE

The Rangers filed out the door and rolled their feet so as to keep their rifles as stable shooting platforms without the bob and sway of a person’s normal gait.

SPLIT

The team broke apart into buddy teams. One group went forty-five degrees left, the other moved forty-five right. They slithered under the buildings to let the shade and the murky darkness of the forest act as natural concealment for them as the first hints of dawn played over the landscape.

HOLD

The team froze in place, giving Burns the time to call everything in.

* * *

“This is Burns, we are at Checkpoint Christmas.”

“Burns, this is Stew. We have an incoming RUPAC element of company minus coming out of the forest along Route Gant. Proceed to Checkpoint Three and link up with Prowler Element for Exfil.”

“Roger that, boss. We rollin’.”

Staff Sergeant Stewart turned to his counterpart. “Lieutenant Vander. Execute Exfil-Plan 4.”

“Roger that. Split platoon into squads and move over land to Rally Point December. Assess landing zone. If primary is compromised, go to LZ New Year for extraction.”

Stewart couldn’t keep the grin off his face before he hid it beneath his helmet. Dawson needed to get a bonus for all the work he did putting this group together. Now, it would really be something if any of them were still getting paid. “Good back brief, LT. Let’s roll it out.”

Stewart dodged two Cobra platoon NCOs throttling through the woodline. The makeshift combat outpost was rapidly being dismantled by the Osay as if they’d been born to it. Squads were forming, slinging into their rucks, and moving as though they were weightless. No talking. No lagging. This is what Bosa had wanted to see out of a stood up Osay force. Some of this militia could even be groomed for Ranger training.

“Sergeant Stewart, this is Bosa.”

“Send it, sir,” Stewart responded through the link.

“We’re watching your actions on the ground. You’re un-assing pretty quick. I take it you see that force advancing on your position?”

“Roger that, sir. Company minus augmented by heavier versions of the LAR-V at the camp.”

“Stew, it’s Harmon.” The LT’s image popped into the HUD beside Bosa. “We’re tracking three medium assault vehicles. Most likely armored troop carriers. They have PAX walking beside them in the open. Terrain is a bit tight due to the tree cover, so taking the trail with ground guides is probably the safest way they keep from getting stuck.”

“Roger that, sir. Cobra Platoon is working on cracking the main trail so they have to back up and divert to one of the alternates. That should give us time to enact our exfil.”

“Staff Sergeant Stewart, this is Alexa. I am also tracking that special operations unit at five kilometers and moving quickly toward your position.”

Stewart stopped. Out of everything she could have said, this bothered him the most because they had no information about who or what was actually under the ponchos. “Were they just circling, or did something happen to tip them off?”

“It would appear that when the military force arrived in the valley, the unknown force we are tagging as Ghost Show turned from their trajectory and began making way to you at a high rate of speed.”

“Great. Thanks, Alexa.”

“You are welcome, Staff Sergeant.”

Stewart pinged Vito and added him to the call. “How long till you are squad secure and en route to December?”

Vito’s avatar popped into the growing selection of feeds in his HUD. “Two mikes.”

“Change of mission, Baldino. I’m sending a rec-request.”

“Now?” the astonished NCO asked.

“Gonna need you to go shopping. Make it happen, Sergeant.”

Vito’s avatar winked out of the HUD. Looking up from the ground so he could concentrate on the conversation, Stewart saw Cameron sprinting toward him, with Sergeant First Class Casey struggling to keep up.

“Sergeant Stewart! We need your help. It’s Marlin!”

* * *

Marlin was thrust to his knees by the ghost in the shifting camouflage. A tap to something on its wrist turned the translucent shroud into a standard poncho. Pulling it away from his body, the body armor underneath reminded the Osay scout of an upgraded version of the kit worn by the Rangers, except it had markings reminiscent of those in the camp. The man studied Marlin’s uniform, looking over the cobra patch on the left shoulder. Marlin’s simple green fatigues had no other markings. Another ghost trooper handed the inspector Marlin’s weapon, a long barreled variant of the MK-18 the typical Osay fighter carried. The man’s helmet, a barren faceplate with two yellow backlit slits for eyes, came away, revealing someone in the later part of his youth with greying temples and skin long kissed by the sun.

Several questions were asked of him in a language he didn’t understand until the man switched to speech very similar to that spoken by Bosa’s men.

“Can you tell me who you are?” The tilt of Marlin’s head at the question stopped the man from his inspection. “So, English is it? Are you one of the ones from the ancient wrecked ship, or are you something new? Because this looks like something new.”

The inspector rubbed the fabric of Marlin’s shirt through his fingers. He released it and held the scout’s rifle up for inspection. All around them, the wraithlike outlines of his soldiers stood in disciplined stances, watching outward into the forest for any other threat that might come their way.

Marlin considered remaining silent, but his curiosity was piqued. “You’re not the same unit as the ones from the camp.”

“Very observant of you. My men saw you tackling two RUPAC advanced scouts from the approaching convoy so your friend could get away. That was either brave or stupid. It’s a good thing we came along when we did to assist you. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“We work in pairs for long range patrols. We’ve had to be cautious lately due to Bangora attacks. Game is scarce. We were ranging for food,” Marlin said.

A woman materialized out of the forest and walked up to the Interrogator as she exited her poncho and helmet. She flicked something on her wrist and studied the display as it ran through a sequence Marlin didn’t understand. She spoke with the man for several minutes before he returned to their conversation.

“Your radio is quite sophisticated,” Interrogator said, holding up the broadcast unit. “We could find no one on any net associated with this device. So either you have a plan in place to change to new channels when one is captured, or this is the only radio you have with you. Which is it?”

Marlin played the part of the animal caught in the trap. “Only one left. We use it to call into camp when we get close enough. We had more, but every year more fail.”

Interrogator smiled. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

“You know about my people. I’m hoping that you’re just a man protecting his people. If I tell you the truth and neither offers harm to the other, maybe we can go our separate ways.”

The woman spoke again before the Interrogator resumed his questions. “One of my scouts says he can only find two sets of tracks,” he said, “but he thinks it was many people walking in line. Can you tell me if he’s right?”

“Four of us. We walk in line to minimize our scent through the forest. Plus we stay together because of the Bangora.” Marlin described the beast when Interrogator inclined his head at the second use of the word.

“Ah. Is that what you call it? Well, we’re going to take you back to our camp to ask you more questions. We’d like to learn as much as we can about you and your people. You be honest with me. I will be honest with you. Once I have what I need, you will be free to go.”

Marlin leaned into the man, restrained by one of the ghosts still wrapped in holo-mimetic camouflage. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

* * *

“How long have they had Marlin?” Lawler asked.

“Twenty minutes. Maybe a half hour,” Keever answered.

The two Rangers were moving along a game trail after covering the last in a series of holes in the ground. With the fresh cache site tagged and covered, the two were loping through the forest through terrain only a man with a Ranger’s scroll over his shoulder would negotiate with confidence.

“Burns, this is Keev. Coming to you.”

“Roger, out,” Burns said. He flashed a thumbs-up to his squad boss to give him the news. “Stew, we have Routes Gant, Aubrey, and Buckholz set to go.”

Stewart fist-bumped his team leader. “Good deal. Everyone prepped?”

Baldino motioned as if he were ringing a bell. “Like mama just rang the dinner bell and the kids are fightin’ over who’s gonna get first crack at the bread and gravy. Stew, Marlin’s a good dude. They think the world o’ that guy. If you don’t let them off the leash, they might just go feral and do it themselves.”

“Don’t even think that. We focus them through their training. That’s how we get our guy back. We get him back, or we don’t go home. Kelly flew the drone with the package, and the airship caught it. Now we’re free to do what we’re trained to do.”

“Stew, what did the Old Man say?” Vito asked.

“One thing. Echo.”

Vander furrowed his brow at the Ranger squad leader. “What does that mean?”

Stewart bowed his head. When he spoke, his voice was soft at first, building in menace as the words tumbled from a place he’d almost forgotten. “When we used to use crappy radios, we’d use a special alphabet to help us tell letters apart when we couldn’t hear well. Echo is the letter E. And in the Ranger’s Creed, E starts off one of our core beliefs. Energetically will I meet the enemies of my country. I shall defeat them on the field of battle for I am better trained and will fight with all my might. Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country. Cameron says those bastards snuck up on them and beat them down. Marlin fought them so his cousin could get away and tell us what happened. Both men showed valor and conviction, and we don’t leave precious things like that in the hands of the enemy. Besides, if this is the unit responsible for all this nature going hostile on us, they’re due for an ass-whoopin’.”

Stewart walked uncomfortably close to both Vander and Casey to continue his rant. “This is what my guys train for. If the Osay Cobras want to hang back and support us by fire, we’re cool with it. But if you want to stop surviving at the mercy of the RUPAC, the Bangora, and every other stupid terror Amir is going to throw at you, and carve your name into this rock, I want you in this fight with us. All those things before were either just men or animals. Let’s go down there and show them what real terror is.”

The only answer Stewart needed was Casey’s knife coming free from its sheath with the broadest smile the man had ever worn.

* * *

The RUPAC soldier stood on the ridge, looking out from the camp. Orders had been given to watch over the forest in the event the others on Amir decided to make an appearance. He put the cigarette to his lips and dragged in the sweet unfiltered smoke. Looking to his right, he didn’t see Corporal Andronov, who should have been standing next to the stack of boulders. He took a step toward the missing NCO, hoping to get a better vantage to make sure he was still there.

As he parted his lips to exhale the smoke, a hand stifled his mouth before a knife plunged deep into his neck at a forty-five degree angle. The blade dove through his flesh, separating the bronchial tubes leading from his lungs and severing the major blood vessels in the side of the neck. The man acting like a vampire python pulled back on the soldier's head and punched forward with the knife, ripping it free from the man’s body and cutting his vocal chords and his throat in one fluid movement. The Ranger that emerged from behind the falling corpse vanished into the woodline as more Rangers appeared, gutting two more soldiers who turned just in time to watch their comrades die.

“Moving to checkpoint 4,” Baldino called over the radio.

“Cobra 1 in position,” called the Cobra First Squad leader over the comm.

“Cobra 2 in position.”

The squads reported in kind until everyone was set.

“All Prowler elements, this is Prowler Actual. Execute. Execute. Execute.”

First squad opened fire on the men milling about the courtyard of the RUPAC facility. The dozen or so workers were cut down by two talking 240-B machine guns working in concert to spread death and mayhem against the camp. Confusion set in to those that survived the initial assault. They attempted to retreat to the main building, only to be harvested by targeted fire from the rifleman. One bullet, one breath, one shot, one death. Life for me and mine. The words were drummed into the training of every Osay recruit, who put it into violent practice against the enemy encampment.

The armored vehicles hummed to life, signifying that the mobile gun platforms were eager to get into the fight. Remote fired dorsal turrets spun to life, launching a salvo of heavy death against the ridgeline.

First squad faded into the trees, leaving the sounds of wounded and dying to accompany the orders of mech sergeants yelling for their men to stage a pursuit. A squad of RUPAC soldiers, jocked up in their armor with rifles in hand, attempted to load into waiting vehicles when a barrage of concentrated fire came from the camp’s flank. The enemy troops were cut down as they frantically tried to board. Cobra Platoon’s Third Squad sent well-aimed rifle shots and forty millimeter grenades from launchers underslung to their rifles. Fragmentation rounds eviscerated most of the squad as they tried to crawl their way into the safety of the medium armored vehicles. Several grenades detonated close to the downed ramps, wounding the tank commander in one of the vehicles.

“Third squad, withdraw to position two. Second squad, lay down indirect to target number four,” Vander said over the comms.

A concentrated barrage of grenades launched from M320 grenade launchers spat an explosive deluge over the west side of the camp, obliterating the corrugated buildings and sending the broken bodies of RUPAC workers and season platier meat over the camp.

A squad of men with heavy shields holding their rifles against porting on the weapon side exited the stone structure from the back. Guarded by the layers of alloy protection, more of the mech infantry troopers trying to get to their troop carriers clung to the special defense. Rounds from Osay shooters pinged off the armor to little effect beyond causing track marks along the bullet’s trajectory. A full squad mounted into the first vehicle as it roared to life.

The metal monster rolled out of the camp, taking down one of the support struts for the fence as it barreled toward the ridge. A mortar launcher sent a flurry of shells over the hill, exploding to spray dirt and broken trees in all directions. The remote-fired chain guns on the top of the vehicle coughed a typhoon of 12.7mm rounds into the spot where the initial salvo had been fired from. Gouts of dislodged earth erupted in all directions as the six wheeled vehicle turned flank to the ridge. When the firing stopped, the forest was quiet save for the turbine hum of the vehicle’s engine.

A second wave of infantry carrying shields staffed another of the APCs, the thing roaring to life as it moved to cover the other side of the camp. Whirring noises from the remote combat systems, a chain gun on the first vehicle, and a main gun barrel on the second, were the only sounds wafting through the forest as the echo of return fire from the initial assault faded away.

An Osay fighter with a squad automatic weapon dosed the first tank with three five-to-nine round bursts before rolling off the ridge to run in a zig-zag pattern away from the camp. From the opposite side of the trail, a second machine gunner repeated the process and rolled off from the engagement. A RUPAC shield-team soldier sent a wave of burst fire toward the second gunner, clipping the fighter in the side. Dropping well below the terrain deterred the shieldman from raining any more gunfire in that direction.

The vehicle under siege revved its engine and pursued the pair of annoying little gnats. It had traveled roughly two hundred meters along the trail when the heavy sound of metal slapping on metal clanged through the forest. RUPAC magnetic mines relocated by Sergeant Baldino and his crew detonated under the chassis, blowing out two of the wheels and sending the vehicle bouncing until it lay diagonally across the trail. Emergency escape lugs blew off the back door so the crew could escape the vehicle without risking lowering the ramp.

Sergeant Casey ran over the top of the hill and sunk his knife into the first man trying to clumsily escape the ravaged vehicle. He pushed the soldier back inside, and the soldier started spurting blood onto his fellows like a hose. The powerful gush of red was enough to distract the infantry detachment in the vehicle from the anti-personnel mine Casey had stabbed into the man’s stomach. Casey didn’t bother worrying about the deadly 125 millimeter main gun on the other vehicle as most soldiers were reluctant to shoot toward their allies if they thought they’d hit their buddies. The wiley NCO continued running in a straight line until he was over the ridge.

The undamaged APC popped a hatch on the top, exposing a soldier desperately trying to mount a machine gun into a pintle in order to engage the Osay platoon sergeant. Before he got the chance, Casey dove over the opposite ridgeline and yanked on a thin metal cord. The mine detonated inside the ravaged vehicle. Triggering secondary explosions in the mobile platform, the vehicle transformed into a funeral pyre for all inside. A final terrific explosion transformed the truck body into a twisted form of fire and scrap.

The gunner looked on in horror as the vehicle burned, the shape of his murdered comrades immolating in the blaze. He charged the weapon, letting training and discipline set in to lock it into the mount and charge it with ammo. With the first round waiting to be sent through the barrel, he barely heard the heavy thunk slam against the metal behind him. He turned in time to feel heavy jaws close around his torso, slamming him back and forth against the cupola. Bones broke and blood sprayed as the zaskonek, one of the lion-dogs of Amir, ripped him free of his armor and chewed into what was left of his torso. It roared its dominance over the killing ground and dove into the body of the APC to continue its lesson in close quarters combat with the rest of the crew.

Drawn here by the Osay and following the big male lion-dog that roared on top of the truck, four more of the ferocious pack sped through the camp. Shields were of no avail as the sleek predators slid under them, grabbing the shins of the defenders to pull them off their feet and under the corrugated buildings to murder for their meal. Two of the zaskonek went for an intact platier carcass. They fought over it until one of the shield men shot it. He was able to put rounds on target to kill the first one. The second bounded off the stone wall of the main building, landed on the man’s back, and chewed through his neck until his head came off. The creature followed its display of ferocity by plunging its head into the neck to eat out the chewy bits of lung and heart, which sent the remaining forces in a panic. They fled for the confines of the stone building to get away from the predators.

“Cobra Two and Three, this is Cobra Actual. Proceed to position three. Execute.”

The two squads set up an L-shaped formation to each other, eliciting warning growls from the zaskonek. The hissing rattle of the creatures as a precursor to charging did nothing to scare the Osay as the machine gunners carrying MK-46 squad automatic weapons sent alternating bursts into an oncoming beast. The animal charged, only to be torn apart by the high cycle 5.56. The remaining lion-dogs stuck around long enough to grab a carcass or two before retreating into the forest.

The advancing squads moved through the camp in reverse wedge formation, then broke into teams to secure the various parts of the camp. Two fire teams angled on the remaining vehicle, getting a superior position on the last downed ramp. As they approached the vehicle, a resounding boom sounded as the door of the broken shed to the front of the compound fell flat against the earth to reveal a robotic terror. The machine that rolled out of the wrecked building was a hulking upright weapons platform supported on a wide tread-driven base. A massive sensor suite with a glowing red “eye” traversed the battlefield, taking in all of the details for target acquisition. Two outboard chain guns and a secondary launcher system were mounted on opposing weapon struts to either side of what would have been its torso.

A booming voice radiated across the camp from its onboard speakers. “Sdatsya nemedlenno!”

As the Osay scrambled to get out of the way, a long tube that resembled a rocket launcher unfolded over its shoulder from its back. “Umirotvoryayushchaya tolpa!”

A static hum radiated from the tube. There were no beams, projectiles, or the explosive report of launcher systems as the weapon spun to full power. Anywhere the weapon pointed, the Osay fell in droves. Screams of anguish and pleading to make it stop filled the courtyard as the massive robot scoured any Osay in sight with the projector.

From behind one of the rear sheds near the stone building’s vehicle bay entrance, Staff Sergeant Stewart called for help through the neural-link. “Harmon, this is Stew. We need immediate air support against augmented RUPAC forces on target. We’re about to breach and recover, but Cobra is engaging multiple infantry squads enhanced by armor and combat robot assets. How copy, over!”

There was a static crackle in the neura-link, followed by a thunder crack. Stewart searched the settings menu to see if his link had been damaged.

“M-M-Murdock...” A thick peal of thunder flared in the audio again. “I’m c-c-coming to get you!”

28

Sherman was glad for the neuro-links as air thundered into the cargo bay from the deployed ramp. The tree cover rushed beneath them with Reach standing in the way of Brody, who faced the expanse and swung his arms back and forth, ready to leap off and insert himself quickly and directly into the action.

Reach threw out his arm, as though he could hold the war machine back. “No. You can’t do that. As fast as we’re going and with the RUPAC able to launch something at us from one of those APCs, this is a bad plan. You could burn in so hard it’d correct that stutter!”

“D-dad says it’s just a learning disability.”

Sherman quickly backed Reach up. “Brody. Wait to deploy with the rest of the team. You and Reach on point. Tran and Morales working to support the Ranger team on the ground. They need you two to deadline that RUPAC-i-tron before it tears up any more of the Osay. And to do that, you might want to be in top shape and not all dented from a fall.”

Brody looked to the terrain evaporating beneath the open ramp. “S-s-squish, dead. Disassemble, dead. Disassemble, dead! Citizen! W-what are we waiting for? We need to get down there and keep the Osay from squish, disassembling it without me!”

Reach had actually seen that movie. Brody’s take on the line was considerably more grim.

Sherman ignored the AI. “Reach, we’re dropping you at half a klick. We’ll run a tight circle around the camp at the same distance to drop off Tran and Morales at opposing angles to the camp. You two, squad support for Stewart for asset recovery.”

“You mean Captain America needs a hand? What will the rest of the Avengers think?” Morales asked.

“Not my job to care,” Sherman said. “Thirty seconds to drop!”

The two Ranger squads lined up behind the ropes kicked out by the flight crew. Reach and Brody were first on the rope. Twin lights on the door went from red to green, signaling the ship was hovering for a quick slide to the ground. Brody and Reach launched at the ropes and slid down into the forest using the trees themselves as cover as they dropped between them. They splashed into a water soaked depression hiding their descent and the target profile of the Osay from the RUPAC camp. The pair waited for the Osay’s engine wash to pass as the ship floated onto the next drop zone before moving.

The HUD in Reach’s vision overlaid a map that showed their position relative to the camp. “All right, bud. Let’s do some distance!”

“W-w-we’re a small town hick sheriff’s department, Colonel, but we’re expected to do our duty just like our h-h-eroes in the special forces!”

The two sprinted out of the dip in the landscape, Reach’s enhanced biology matching the speed of Brody’s advanced robotics as the two flashed through the forest. Gunfire echoed through the trees as an eerie backdrop to the smell of burning metal, wood, and plastic. Approaching the camp, the pair bounded over terrain thick with black smoke and the smell of cooking human flesh.

“Cobra Actual, this is Reach. Brody and I are inbound to your north. ETA 2 mikes. Request passage of lines and shift fire to engage hard target at enemy camp. How copy, over?”

* * *

Lieutenant Vander grabbed his first squad leader. “Shift team two over to that outcropping. They’ll have better cover and give incoming QRF some room to get in there.”

“Sir, the higher spot will put them in line to that pain tube.”

“Got to be done, Sergeant. Hopefully they’ll have enough cover from the rock to negate the effect.”

The squad broke apart, the team in question high crawling into position as the heavy chain gun on the treaded mech chewed apart the hill. Dirt rained onto the LT’s helmet, making him eminently aware that they were danger close to a situation that had spun out of control. On the other side of the ridge, the pain cannon firing robot had emboldened the RUPAC, who were fighting building to building with the Osay that had infiltrated the camp. Cries in both bastardized English and Russian echoed the same things on either side.

“Firing!”

“Cover me while I move.”

“I’m hit!”

“Medic!”

The Osay fighters, who had taken control of the camp only moments before, were fighting a withdrawal on all sides save for the one where Sergeant Stewart’s crew was trying to gain access to the main structure. They were dedicating maximum effort to get into the building while creating holes in the RUPAC counter assault, giving the Osay avenues of escape.

Vander cued the channel for Platoon Ops and called over the mic to his third squad leader. “Cobra Three Actual, this is Cobra Actual.”

Sounds of gunfire and ricocheting rounds filled the response. “This is Cobra Three, send it.”

“Cobra Three, this is Cobra. We will cover you to break contact with defending element. Fire and maneuver to Prowler Actual. Support breach to main objective. How copy, over?”

“Wilco. Cobra Three out.”

Vander cupped his hands to his mouth. “First Squad! Put forty mils in front of Cobra Three. Yukes, Tyrone! Lay it thick on that thing!”

The machine gunners, Yukes and Tyrone, rolled from their position at a break in the ridge. High cycle seven point six two rounds barked from the front of the gun and pinged off the front of the mech. The machine limped along its broken track, angling for a better shot at the renewed threat. Twin bursts from the spinning outboard guns throttled the rocky ridge to no effect. As the rounds continued to bounce across its armored hide, it rotated its torso in line with the swarm of full metal jacketed wasps impeding its ability to subdue the Osay threat. The long tube hummed to life, radiating concentrated electromagnetic waves toward the hill.

Yukes shouted in pain as the invisible beam activated nerve endings, giving him the sensation that he was on fire. Refusing to give up his sight picture, he focused five to nine round bursts in rapid succession, causing the bot to flinch and attempt to dodge the wave of lead making its defense of the front gate difficult.

While the mech was engaged, the two Cobra squad grenadiers acting as ad hoc mortar men alternately dropped grenades into the RUPAC camp, giving Third Squad the maneuverability to back off and circle for their link up with the Rangers. Alpha team’s grenadier, Moburry, took a round in the shoulder from the camp returning fire. The weapon tumbled to the bottom of the ridge, entangled with its ruined operator.

“No!” Vander shouted to the man’s teammate. “I got him!”

The Cobra commander launched down the hill, checking the man’s vitals. Moburry labored under bubble soaked breaths as he stared into the eyes of his platoon leader. Without a word, the man thrust the weapon into the LT’s hands, nodding for him to take his place. Vander felt the sides of his eyes grow wet as his soldier continued to bleed into the mud.

After taking the rifle and a handful of grenades, Vander assumed the man’s position and lobbed forty millimeter shells into the camp to support Third Squad’s fire and maneuver. When he saw the last of the squad make a break for the wood line, he changed his sight picture and lobbed a grenade at the mech’s body. Counterfire systems on board the bot fired a two-second long burst as Vander sent the last of his grenades into its chassis. The robot’s weapon spun seventy rounds into the LT, shredding the armor and the man beneath. He fell beside the soldier he’d taken the rifle from, both staring up at Amir’s sky, which was lighting up with the first rays of dawn as they took their final breaths.

* * *

“I’m coming!” Brody said as they pounded out the final meters to their target. “And hell’s comin’ with me!”

“All Prowler elements, this is Reach! Be advised, we are inbound to your position from the north. Engaging hostile armor at front gate. Lift and shift fire!”

Brody sailed through the gap in the firing line created by the Cobra first squad. Leaping into the air, he was greeted by empty space as the Vulcan cannon on that side of the mech was ruined by Vander’s grenade. “H-h-hey, laser lips! Your mama was a snowblower!”

The mech couldn’t turn fast enough to stop the android from hitting it at nearly forty miles an hour. The only thing keeping the robot fighting machine upright was the wide tread-base supporting it. It turned with the force of the hit, slamming Brody into the camp fence.

Reach slid down the side of the ridge, dodging incoming fire from the remaining rotary cannon. He came to a stop beside the two machine gunners struggling to recover from the machine’s pain-inducing weapon. Reach fired his rifle into the bot’s sensor suite. “Brody! We need you, now! Get up!”

The mech whirled hard on its remaining good tread, spinning out of the line of fire from the pesky human. A wave from the projector on its back surged across Reach’s position, baptizing him in pain. He curled in place like a dying spider. The two gunners were likewise suffering. The battle bot lined itself up with the downed combatant, ready to limp forward behind a brutal shower of high velocity slugs.

HUD indicators in Reach’s vision highlighted that the microwaves were igniting pain receptors in his body but doing no real damage. An action message broke into the display.

I can turn off the pain, but you won't know when you’re hurt. It was Alexa.

Reach screamed “yes” into the world, not being able to concentrate through nerve endings shouting that he was on fire. Another message flashed across his display.

Re-route complete. Engage targets!

Reach rolled back from the edge of the firing position, pulling the pain wracked gunners with him. Vacating the space left it empty as the mechanized terror ripped the ground down to the roots with heavy caliber munitions slung at two thousand rounds per minute. It tried to pull its one-track-spin trick again for a better firing solution against the trio, only to meet the machine gunners of Cobra Platoon pouring half a belt into it as fast as the gun would push. Rounds pinging around the machine’s sensor suite left little in the way of detection methods on the embattled robot.

The throttling hum of the pain inducing weapon cycled up, the bot trying to get angle and elevation on the trio in order to put them down for a killing blow. It never got the chance to fire as a fence-entangled Brody hopped onto its back, yanking on the launcher to twist it away from its targets.

“W-w-watcha gonna do when B-b-brody goes wild on you?” Brody untangled himself from the fencing just as the combat robot attempted to throw him from its back. Heavy chain links threaded with barbed wire caught into the damaged track, further binding up the machine into a gear-wrenching halt. “How ’bout we level some pain back atchu, brother?”

The android jumped to the functioning gun mount, his fingers crushing alloy weapon struts and tearing out belt feeders for the gun.

“Yesli ya poydu, ty poydesh’ so mnoy?” the bot said as though its voice was through a failing speaker.

“Reach,” Brody shouted into the link. “He’s gonna b-blow!”

Brody superimposed his targeting data through the neuro-link into Reach’s HUD. High definition scans through a multitude of spectra dissected the bot’s internal structure, showing the power core along with its CPU.

“The thing has a decentralized processor!” Reach shouted. “Can you tear it from the treads?”

“Roger, Texas Ranger!” Brody dropped down behind the torso joint, holding onto its sensor with one hand and spinning up the chain gun on the other. The barrels on his forearm spun at a dizzying rate, feeding sabot light armor piercing rounds into the attachment harness.

Reach came from the other side, bounding from the ridge at the bot. “Coming in hot!”

Brody released the head and dropped fully onto the lower tank body with a devastating kick straight into the damage his minigun had caused. Metal-rending snaps sounded as Reach stuffed a cooked off grenade into the savaged frame. Both dove away from the bot as the weapon exploded. Stuffed into the hardened alloy structure, its own body acted like a funnel to direct the energy and fragmentation of the blast back on itself.

“Oh y-y-yeah! Nothin’ like a clothesline to send ’em sprawlin’ to the m-mat!” Brody tackled it along the mech’s lower torso, severing the connection to the tank body.

“Running out of time, Brody!” Reach shouted.

“Tagging you in, b-b-brother!”

The duo scooped up the severed torso and sprinted down the trail away from the camp. In Reach’s HUD, he could still see Brody running detection on the environment when he spotted what he remembered from the intel Stewart’s crew had sent to the USS Osay. Buried in the road were the remainder of the stolen RUPAC anti-vehicle mines. The android’s interface drew a line of trajectory indicating what they should do next. They jumped up and lined the robot’s broken shell with one of the mines, then used their momentum to ram it face down into the road. Brody switched direction and tackled Reach over the ridge.

Dirt and thunder filled the trail as the magnetic mine locked onto the bot’s carapace and detonated. Its twisted frame bounced several times before coming to a halt.

“Seriously, bro. Did you have to tackle me that hard?” Reach asked.

“Did you just call me bro, Citizen? That word is a badge of honor among the greats! When you marry Liana, that means I get to be the best man, right?”

“Getting way ahead of yourself. Gotta survive first.”

“A tertiary assessment indicates that seventy-four p-p-percent of you is one hundred p-p-percent functional.”

Reach got to his knees. “What do you mean seventy-four percent?”

“You have fourteen contusions, a minor t-t-tear to the muscle in your shoulder, and a large p-piece of fragmentation right there.”

Reach stared at the six inch piece of metal sticking from his thigh. “Wait, why can’t I feel that?”

“No pain, all bang,” Brody answered. “I just figured you hulked up like a Real American.”

Reach had gotten himself severely beaten up in the fight and hadn’t picked up on any of it. He winced. Partly at the damage he’d taken, but more so at the looming reality that he’d have to have Alexa turn the pain back on at some point.

* * *

Osay Sergeant Casey ducked behind the copse of trees, whistled, and shouted, “Onyer lift. Comin tooya.”

“Covering!” shouted the Osay rifleman.

The platoon sergeant dropped to a knee behind one of the camp Conex buildings. “Thanxfer da cover shoots. Where izahyah Squad Bosser?”

Casey followed the direction pointed out by the Cobra soldier, ducking, crawling, and weaving his way between Osay firing points to get to the squad leader for Second. Baxxer was another of the hunters sprinkled throughout the Osay platoon that made them so disciplined. One of the few anglers in the mix, his patience in fishing Amir’s rivers close to their settlement combined with hiking his catches back to the same made him a formidable hunter among the people. He was lithe and strong and as good with a rifle as he was with a fishing rod.

“Bax!”

“Sup, Sar’nt.” Bax had taken a liking to the Rangers early on, and as a result, he’d lost a lot of the Osay patois from his speaking of “Brody.”

“You heerdah newz on Vander?” Casey asked.

“Yeah. First Squad called it in, Citizen.”

“Need you beeyin da new platoon boss.”

Bax shot twice. One round took a RUPAC soldier in the shin, forcing him to pitch forward on top of his shield. The next entered the space between the man’s shoulder and his neck, switching him off for good.

“Not me. Rohlo is next in line.”

Casey reloaded his rifle and fired across the length of the camp. His shots were aimed at a woman firing against the advancing Ranger element. The bullet entered just behind her ear, slapping her against the building and dropping her into the mud. The platoon sergeant pulled back behind the cover of the building. “Don haz time ferdis. Rohlo got shooted. He bustid up pretty good. You da boss now.”

Bax whistled to his men to shift position, maximizing their cover against another squad of RUPAC exiting the building. “Who is to be running my crew?”

“Alpha team boss da gurl ferdis. You hoppin witmee.”

Baxxer sighed before keying the squad com. “Ash, it’s Bax. Run the squad. If RUPAC crew is push us out, who knows what’s coming next.”

The comm squelched. “Roger, Citizen. Where you going?”

“Big house. Break.” Bax switched channels from the squad to the task force broadcast. “All Prowler elements, this is Cobra Two Actual. Change of call sign. I am now Cobra Actual. Out.”

“No poppin’ flashin’?” Casey asked.

“If you want that, Sar’nt, you should have kept Rohlo from getting shot. Okay, Sar’nt, I need you to grab a medic and collect the wounded. I’m going to stay here a minute until Ash gets her wits about her. I’ll join you soon.”

“But mee knife ainta wet enuff yeet.”

Bax wasn’t brooking any argument from the lanky NCO. “Sorry, Sar’nt. But if I’m in charge, that’s what I need.”

“You gonna be good ahdis, but mee knife no happy.”

Bax took several more shots at oncoming RUPAC forces, sending rounds pinging across the side of the Conex. “Something tells me there’ll be plenty of work for that blade of yours before the day is over.

* * *

Stewart used his weapon’s aiming laser to highlight a target on one of the corrugated buildings. Lawler knocked the RUPAC machine gunner down with a single shot to the face. The soldier rolled off the top of the Conex, leaving the assistant gunner behind to deal with a heap of Rangers leveling fire and maneuvering to take back control of the camp.

“Nice one, Lawler,” Stew said. “Burns! Swing wide to catch the corner of that building. Those guys are up to something.”

“On that, Top Cat.”

Bravo Team broke off from the squad’s advance and took shelter behind a smoking building that had taken the brunt of the Ranger outgoing fire early in the engagement. Fenton took the lead, firing his MK-46 with speed and accuracy to suppress the oncoming RUPAC looking to exit the main structure for a move into the twisted camp. The machine gun unleashed a swarm of five point five six millimeter rounds, forcing the exiting RUPAC forces to rethink their tactics. While moving in a wedge with his fire team, every time the specialist painted across a target, his teammates would catch the scattering troopers looking to avoid the wave of lead.

Fenton swung his step into the cover of a non-perforated building. “Barrel change!”

“Got you covered,” Lawler barked.

Stewart came over the comms again. “Need that corner locked down, Burns. They’re probably up to no good over there.”

Burns tossed a grenade around the corner. While the wily NCO went to one side of the building, Keever went to the other, shooting anyone who tried to stop his team leader from making the throw. The grenade detonated, lacerating the corner of the building and knocking the RUPAC squad into the dirt.

“Stew!” Vito called into the net. “They’re cracking the back door.”

A tidal wave of machine gun fire erupted from the vehicle bay, protecting one of the RUPAC soldiers hoisting a tubular weapon on his shoulder. The troopers inside the bay alternated their fire between two guns. Each barked out a lengthy burst before going silent to let the other weapon have its say.

“RPG!” came multiple calls from across the net.

Ignoring the risk, Keever worked the corner in order to grab enough real estate to do in the enemy grenadier. A single round from his rifle tagged the young Broski center mass, knocking his launcher’s point of aim toward the ceiling. The heavy impact against the chest plate caused the grenadier to reflexively pull the trigger. The rocket propelled grenade exploded against the roof, showering the bay in shattered stone, a fallen support beam, and a gaggle of cables. RUPAC soldiers around the bay were thrown from their feet, men scrambling for any cover they could find from the deluge of shrapnel flying about them.

A stray round zinged out of the motor bay, catching Keever in the face. The bullet penetrated his faceplate and plunged into his skull. The impact snapped his head back, forcing his body to follow his brain into the ground.

As the rangers of Bravo Team descended on their teammate, the whine of a turbine screamed throughout the motor bay. The light armored vehicle the RUPAC had used during their hunting trip roared to life, shrugging off the debris from the grenadier’s errant shot. It raced from the bay, tore through the camp, and exited the empty minefield along a predetermined path, even though Alpha Team had moved the traps.

“Prowler Two to all Prowler elements, we have a rabbit out the back of the camp, heading south along Route Buckholz!”

29

The six-wheeled light-armored vehicle slashed down the trail leading away from the south of the camp. Rangers and Osay Cobras dove out of the way, firing at the vehicle’s back hatch to no effect.

A second engine sounded from behind them, preceding the explosive sound of metal ramming metal as Badger One left the trail leading to the front gate and smashed into the sidelong perimeter of the RUPAC camp. The dorsal fifties sent massive gouts of dirt and grit along their path into the camp, rending structures and RUPAC soldiers alike.

“All Prowler elements,” Tran called over the task force channel. “This is Badger-1. Proceeding through the camp direct to Prowler Actual. Dropping assault element at the back door before pursuit of HVT designated Roadrunner.”

Tran’s HUD flared to life, dropping the message icons for Brody and Reach in his view. “G-g-greetings, Citizen! You need some more cowboys for that posse you just b-brought into town?”

“Tran, it’s Reach. On our way to you now. Will board after Morales exits.”

“Thirty seconds. Tran out.”

The Badger took successive fire from all angles of the camp as it bulldozed its way through. Occasionally, counter fire algorithms on the main gun’s CROWS system would track incoming fire back to its owner and reward them with a full burst of fifty caliber hell for their effort. The vehicle stopped at the main building’s ramp and swept the bay with its side-mounted machine guns to keep anyone still alive from thinking to stick their heads up. The ramp dropped, freeing Sergeant Morales and his crew to slither to the side of the main building.

“Wow, Stew. You couldn’t get into an open door?” Morales chided over the link.

“I’ve been working all day while you’ve been in an air conditioned ship having Ivan rub your feet for the glory of RUPAC. I figured I’d let you get your boots dirty before we hit it,” Stew responded.

“Work, work, work.” Morales laughed. The laughter died once he saw the feed of Stewart’s squad in a perimeter around Specialist Keever, who was being worked on by an Osay medic.

“Break. Break. Break.” Reach transmitted an image into the heads of both squads. “Two coming in!”

“Bring it!” Morales and Stewart shouted in response.

Reach and Brody sprinted from structure to structure, dodging enemy RUPAC fire at a dead run into the vehicle ramp. Slapping the ramp controls, Brody pointed to Morales. “I’ll b-b-be back.”

Badger-1 kicked up a rooster tail of dirt and debris as its twin turbine engines sped up to power and throttled the vehicle from the camp.

“Was it something we said?” Stew asked.

Morales shrugged. “My guys are on sweep and secure. I’ll hit you up as soon as we’re locked down.”

“Take it, bro.”

Morales motioned for the second fire team to circle close to Stewart’s crew to get eyes on the inside of the space. Specialist Moorehouse reached into a pouch on his armor and produced a miniature drone. He flung it toward the open bay door, and the rotors spun to life, then the machine whizzed into the depths of the vehicle bay like an angry bumblebee.

Picture-in-picture windows sprang to life in the Ranger’s line of sight, showing the path of the little spy as it soared through the tangles of hanging wires and over the downed beam from the errant RPG strike against the roof. After a two-minute flight, the drone rose to the rafters and aimed its view from a corner of the ceiling.

“Got some broken-Broski movement in the bay, but it doesn’t look like anyone is combat ready,” Moorehouse said.

“Alpha on the broom. Bravo, dust pan,” Morales chirped into the comm.

Sergeant Darrow moved his team into the vehicle bay. Hand signals and neuro-linked prompts maneuvered his people into position without a sound among them. The perpetual grin on the buff sergeant didn’t betray the hefty dose of tactical acumen running behind the man’s eyes at the moment. They broke left, moving parallel to the long wall down the side of the structure. This allowed them to spread out within the open bay and see down its width while benefiting from Stewart’s squad outside having a line of sight to the opposite long wall should anything pop its head up. Darrow called out through the link, “Moving through.”

Sergeant Tulli’s team posted across from Stewart’s crew, giving them the opposing viewpoint. As Darrow’s team swept across looking for threats,Tulli would watch behind them in case anyone was playing possum. Anyone found alive would prompt a member of Tulli’s guys to break off and head inside for capture and control duty.

“Got doors on the eleven and two. I have P-I-D from Prowler that two is the lab entrance,” Darrow said. “Tagging the rigging in the floor. Possible drop space covered by diamond plate used for vehicle maintenance. Could be rigged. Could have stragglers hanging out.”

“Roger. Stew, you want the whole thing cleared before you go, or what?” Morales asked.

“Negative. Just get me and mine to those doors so we can roll this up. No telling what they’re doing to Marlin.”

“Roger. Flush the pipes?” Morales asked.

“Solid. Wilco,” Stewart replied. “All right, Prowler. Burns, get ready to hit that two o’clock door. We’re running the structure and pushing any Broskis left inside out the front door where our Cobras will round them up or they’ll run around the structure out the door at eleven to get scooped and looped up by Morales’s crew.”

Affirmative responses hit from his squad while Burns moved to the door to run his wire and observe. A thumbs-up from the sergeant ignited an action message from Stewart. “Hit it.”

Burns rushed through the door, and his team moved down the hallway two deep. Fenton and Lawler were in the lead, while Burns trailed behind. Lawler pointed out the observation window in the wall. “Under or through?”

“Through,” Burns replied. They turned to face the window, sidestepping down the hall so their weapons could be pointed through the glass. Over a dozen RUPAC in the scientific jumpsuits they’d seen earlier on Lucid Ivan were standing in the center of the room. The red light was gone, replaced by normal soft lighting in the ceiling.

“Gaggle of RUPAC in the lab. Door behind us on the opposite wall to the comm station.”

“Coming up,” Stewart said. The squad leader crouched so the Rangers didn’t have to lower their weapons as he passed. He crawled his way to the door, then stood to take hold of the handle while he flashed a look at Burns.

“I don’t see any wires or leads that would indicate it’s trapped, boss.”

Stewart nodded. He looked around the hall, then focused his attention to minor gratings at certain points in the ceiling. Switching to Russian, he said, “Do you understand me?”

A technician with her hair in a neat bun, a pen holding it firmly in place, nodded slowly. The glare of hatred in her eyes was palpable. She gently reached for something underneath the observation screen. An auditory pop sounded in the space. “I can understand you. We are not combatants. We will not resist unless you try to harm us. We would prefer peaceful surrender.”

“Then you shall have it. Open the door, please.”

Hair Bun did as requested, lightly opening the door with an airy hiss from the controlled environment meeting the humidity of the hallway. “My name is Ayla. I am the senior technician now that the director is gone. What would you like us to do?”

Stewart produced his battle board and showed Ayla a picture of Marlin. “Have you seen this man? He was taken by RUPAC forces over an hour ago.”

“If this man is here, he is not in the lab,” Ayla said. “But if you please, on the other side of the facility, there are wounded and those who didn’t want to fight you. Please do not hurt them.”

“Please, remain still,” Stewart requested. “Morales, this is Stew. Gonna need you and the boys to get in here.”

* * *

“Damn, Reach! How the hell are you still walking?” Watts asked.

Reach gave a half smile. “Can you do something about that?”

The medic shook his head. “Sir, if I yank it, that is going to bleed like a sieve. I can pack it with coagulant, but it really is safer at the moment to leave it in until we can get you back to either the Osay or medical back at the fort. Whatever happens next, you should stay in the truck.”

Reach nodded. “Thank you, Sergeant Watts. Appreciate it.”

The vehicle bucked beneath them, rattling equipment and slamming the ammo cans stacked and racked to the side of them back into the deck. A quick jerk of the vehicle’s wheels had the assembled squad groaning against the harnesses into another bounce that rattled the ammo again.

“Yippee ki yay, mutha...” Brody yelled out as the vehicle continued hairpin turns and angry bursts of speed, followed by hitting the brakes when the driver decided the jarring force of slamming to a stop was preferable to whatever he was seeing from the view screen.

Tran rode in the cab beside Private Dippel. “You know the object is to catch them, right?”

“Oh we’ll catch ’em. Donya worry about that, Sar’nt. Trick is gonna be running ’em down to a right stop without either of us chewing the other to pieces!” Dippel responded.

They were half a kilometer from the RUPAC APC and gaining ground. Where the enemy vic was having a hard time of it barreling on and off the road, Dippel was negotiating the terrain, finding just the right angles to take the unimproved road as the fastest way to hunt the rabbit.

“Who’s on my guns back there?” Dippel asked.

Brody raised his hand. “T-the 12-gauge auto-loader. The .45 l-long slide, with laser sighting. Phased plasma rifle in the 40-watt r-range. The Uzi n-nine millimeter...”

“Not you!” Dippel shouted. “Day. It’s you.”

“No can do, oh driver my driver. Got the eyes running.”

“Why is the gunner running drones?” Dippel groaned.

“I got it,” Unga said, jacking a fiber wire into his helmet. Plucking the hand controls from the CROWS system, he acclimated himself to the multitude of available weapons. “Always loved these. Not as good as the VR-arcades back home but beats getting your bean cracked being up top in a turret.”

“Yeah, yeah, mate. We know your original home before the good ol’ U-S-of-A was all peaches and coconuts.”

“We didn’t have coconuts.”

Reach’s brow furrowed at the statement. He was lucky that Alexa’s trick had turned off his nervous system to pain; otherwise, he’d probably be screaming as Doc Watts was taking a set of metal shears to the fragment sticking out of his leg. “Unga… pretty sure that Tonga does have coconuts.”

“Hey, sir, don’t feed the trolls. Besides, Dipp, you’re an immigrant too!” came the giant’s good natured reply.

“I prefer the term willing participant. Whatever. Lay some hate across that ridge coming up,” Dippel barked.

Unga lined the sights with what Dippel was seeing. “Oh I got you, bro.”

Tran growled at his men. “Shoot something to make those chuckleheads turn. Do it now!”

A five round burst from the mounted MK19 sailed away from the vehicle. It collided at the juncture of trees and boulders where Dippel had asked him to shoot. The explosion was followed by the trill echo of rock bouncing off rock and the chirping of splintering wood yielding to gravity. “Oh, now I did it!”

The resulting landslide toppled the immense boulders, sending them tumbling down the hillside toward the approaching RUPAC forces. The roiling mass of debris collided with the back of the RUPAC APC, knocking its rear wheels to the side from the impact. The trees toppled just ahead of the vehicle in a tangled mess of trunk and branches getting caught in the front wheel wells. Myriad stones ranging from softball sized to those as big as the Badger tires carpeted the forest floor surrounding the enemy’s wheels. The vehicle spun its tires, kicking out stones within flying plant matter, grinding the wet earth to mud. Whoever the driver was, he was good enough to rock the vehicle back and forth versus a continual spin of the tires. While temporarily stuck, there was the possibility he wouldn’t be permanently so.

“What are you waiting for?” Tran shouted. “Punch some rounds into the big boulder and give it an occasional tap on the armor. No grenades. I want that vic anxious to leave.”

“You don’t want me to handicap it?” Unga called back..

“I want you to do what I said!” Tran barked.

“Going hot!” The energetic Ranger PFC fanned the trigger, loosing a ten round burst from both barrels of the twin fifties. When the dust settled, the boulder resting against the LAR-V’s wheels displayed a host of new scarring from the heavy caliber rounds. Some of the trees had been cracked and were nearly ready to split from the assault.

“Hit it again!”

Day interrupted the festivities. “Sar’nt, that thing just uncoiled an APMS!”

Tran leaned into his driver. “Drive this thing like you stole it!”

Dippel rocketed the vehicle in a sporadic course through the trees as the first rounds fired out the anti-personnel mortar system. Falling explosive ordnance showered the vehicle in great gouts of dirt and shattered tree limbs. Some of the rounds detonated into great plumes of smoke that made navigating the wooded landscape next to impossible. The Badger caught the edge of the brush guard on a stout tree that had weathered the firestorm, keeping the vehicle from evading the targeting systems on the enemy vehicle.

“Um. Sar’nt? That vic is gonna need some convincing not to place a hot poker up the pooper.”

“Unga, put the heavy stuff around the APC but don’t deadline it! Be convincing!”

Twin fifty caliber machine guns alternated a chorus of destruction along the top of the LAR-V, slapping against the hull and ruining the APMS. Bringing up the secondary weapon, the Badger’s Mk-19 dropped a heavy dose of grenades against the rock strewn terrain, pelting the RUPAC with stoney fragmentation. Unga’s fire bracketed the other vehicle until the enemy driver took the hint. Finding purchase along the newly dropped ruined vegetation, the APC lurched from the mud, brackish muck shooting from the back tires as the light armored vehicle resumed its course through the forest. It gained a solid purchase on the trail ahead of the ambush zone and sprinted to a curve along a bend in the trail.

Unga unleashed a torrent of alternating bursts from the twin guns to pound the armor hard enough to pierce one of the back panels. The enemy truck returned fire, dodging behind a rock pile for cover. The chain gun on top fired a smaller round than the fifty but disgorged an avalanche of lead into the oncoming Badger. Dippel jerked on the wheel, taking refuge through a treeline and a decline in the terrain to offset the high cycle fire coming from the RUPAC truck.

“Rabbit’s got teeth,” Dippel yelled.

“Day?” Tran shouted to be heard over the sound of seven point six two millimeter rain slamming the outer armor.

“We’re good!” the Ranger called back.

“Dipps, unclip us from the tree and run us off-road, over there into the thick.” Tran pointed to where he wanted his driver to go.

“We’re not chasing them?”

“What did I just say?” Tran said in his authoritarian dad voice.

“Roger that.” Dippel pushed the vehicle deeper into the forest and rounded a bend in a depression that took them from the RUPAC’s line of sight.

“Sherman, this is Tran.”

“We got them, Sergeant,” the lieutenant responded. He pushed a picture of a micro sized aerial drone into Tran’s HUD. “Day attached the drone, and we have the transponder cutting across the map as well as on visual from up here in the ship. It looks like they’re heading deeper into the forest so we might lose the signal. If that happens, the drone’s auto flight kicks in and we still have them.”

“Auto flight?” Reach asked.

“Yeah,” Sherman answered “The drone with the transponder has limited flight and broadcast time. It’ll map out where it’s going while it’s attached and send out a signal we can track. If it loses connection with us, it’ll go dormant to save power. After a few hours, the drone will fly to where it can get a signal and try connecting to us. At that point it’ll upload its former location and we can wrap this up.”

“Smart,” Reach said.

“We do what we can. Tran, hunker down until we know they’re not circling back. Doc, is Reach good to go for the minute or does he need to be extracted?”

“Better if you yank him, sir.”

Reach protested. “If this crew is running to another established location, you’re going to want me there in case you have to...”

“What? Negotiate?” Sherman asked. “These guys unleashed a swarm of rabid thunder monkeys on us. We let them think they’ve slipped the noose and then we Ranger this out. We stalk, observe, assess, and plan. Once this is all SOAPed up, we decide how we’re going to deal with them. However, of prime importance is saving that leg so you can do your Super Reach thing on future missions.”

“Technically I don’t work for you.”

“Alexa?”

“Yes, Lieutenant Sherman.”

“Can you turn his pain receptors back on?”

“Don’t be a dick,” Reach admonished. “I’ll get the leg looked at.”

“Thank you. Tran, when we’re clear, withdraw back to the RUPAC base and link up with the medics on sight until we can get to you,” Sherman said.

Tran keyed several waypoints into the battle board attached to the radio mount by the seat. “Roger that, Boss. Dipps, give us a sec and then spin us around back to camp.”

Dippel knocked on the dash to get Tran’s attention. “That’s good that we’re going back. I’m gonna need a change o’ shorts after that mortar thing, Sar’nt.”

* * *

“We have the box, sir,” Sherman said through the link.

Bosa’s window was live video in Sherman’s picture-in-picture display. Doctor Roman was seated behind him. The tired yet enthusiastic doctor leaned forward in his chair to view the connection.

“Are you going to remain on station to support the Operation, or are you going to return it here?” Bosa asked.

“Do you have a preference, sir?”

It was Roman who answered. “Yes, Lieutenant. You should return the particle immediately to ensure nothing happens to it.”

“Will do, sir,” Sherman responded.

The video link cut out, replacing itself with an image of Bosa, indicating it was just the two of them on the neural-linked call. “Give me an abbreviated hit list.”

“Yes, sir,” Sherman replied. “We have six KIA from First Platoon, Craiswell Company. Three injured. The Second Squad leader has assumed command of the platoon.”

“Vander is dead?” Bosa asked.

“Yes, sir. Killed during the engagement with the robot. On the Ranger side, we have four minor injuries and one critical. We’re flying there now to recover him.”

“Keep me in the loop. I’ll meet you on the ground when you get back. Good hunting. And Mario, bring our guys home.”

Sherman thought about the expression. Home. “Will do, sir.”

30

Sherman was having a hard time finding white real estate on the towel he wiped over his hands to clean off the blood. Raising his eyes to the room, Sherman squared himself to the approaching Doctor Roman. The man had been sick, or at least sickly, over the last few weeks. Sherman couldn’t recall watching him so animated as he approached, his hands clutched close to his chest in expectation of receiving the cargo the bloodied lieutenant was carrying.

“I hope it’s worth it, sir,” Sherman said.

“Only time will tell, Lieutenant. May I have it?”

Sherman slung the towel over his shoulder and retrieved the armored case from under his arm. So much trouble for such a small thing. He handed it to the doctor, watching the look of disgust on the man’s face as he struggled not to touch a smear of blood maring the case. “Sorry about that, Doctor Roman. Specialist Keever’s face was coming off on the ride here, and it was everything we could do to help the medics keep him still when he came to. Things got a bit messy.”

Doctor Roman sighed. “Yes, it probably would have been cleaner if you had come here straight away.”

Alexa swooped in from the side of the room and rested a hand on the infirmed scientist. “While it’s probably not my place to question my creator, that was extremely insensitive, Doctor.”

As if coming out of a stupor, Roman looked from Sherman, to Alexa, and then to the grim face of Captain Bosa. “You are right, my dear. Too right. I’m sorry for my insensitivity, Lieutenant Sherman. My haste is getting the better of me. So much to do. I hope you can forgive me.”

“With everything you’ve done for us, Doc, you get a pass now and then,” Sherman said. He went back to wiping his hands as he followed Bosa near the door to have a moment to confer with his CO. “Medics think Specialist Keever is going to make a full recovery now that we can get him into cryo. Still, who knows if he’ll even want to ranger after taking a bullet to the head. There’s no guarantee that cryo will be able to unscrew his brain from the trauma of taking a hit like that.”

Bosa read the concern writing itself across his officer’s face. “Mario, you don’t have to go back up. Let Harmon take the wheel for a minute.”

“I’m the senior guy on that ship. If the pilots and crew are going up, I’m going up. That’s how you would have done it, sir.”

Bosa handed Sherman a new towel. “This whole army thing is a team sport, you know. We don’t give out MVP medals unless you also get fitted for a headstone.”

Sherman threw the original towel in the medical waste bucket. Taking the new one for a spin around his blood-stained hands, he said, “But how would you have done it?”

“I would have rode the carnival until the wheels came off and I was ordered by my CO to stand down. Then I’d have gone up anyway.”

Sherman smiled. “Harmon’s in the ship priming it for a return trip to support the ongoing operation. We’re loading up some additional gear to take on the hop. If things get heavy, he can help.”

Liana quietly slipped into the room and waited behind the two men for an opportune time to speak. When it didn’t come, she interrupted. “Lieutenant Sherman, I was watching the operation, but there was so much going on I lost track of the casualty reports. How bad is it?”

“We have six KIA from First Platoon. Three injured. The injuries are not critical so they should be up and around in a few days. One of the men killed was Lieutenant Vander. I know he was a protege of your father’s. I’m very sorry.”

Liana dipped her head for only a moment before raising her chin to stare into the man’s eyes. “Thank you for that. Did he and the members of Cobra Platoon meet your expectations?”

“Exceeded. They were amazing,” Sherman said softly. “The wounded and the fallen are being brought to the medical bay.”

Liana’s voice caught in her throat, even though she refused to lower her head to hide the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “Thank you, Lieutenant Sherman.” She absently walked though the two men on her way out the door. Hovering at the exit, she hesitated over the handle. “How... How is Reach?”

“He took a piece of shrapnel to the leg. Luckily it didn’t hit anything vital. Medics are removing it now, and he’s going back out with us.”

Without another word, Liana nodded and made her way out the door.

* * *

Liana passed one of the Osay medics guiding a wounded Cobra Platoon soldier who was bleeding from his left shoulder. The man was bandaged and acting as though he’d had too much penu-lopu. They'd probably given him something strong for the pain. Drafts of warm currents came off the USS Osay in waves, buffeting the grass leading to the landing pad. The loading ramp lay open, exposing a gaggle of crew and familiar faces hurriedly loading equipment.

“Greetings, C-c-citizen! Have you come to enter the K-k-umite? Does your face need a f-few more scars?”

“Hey, Brody! I was happy to hear that you were safe,” Liana said.

“B-b-brick not hit b-b-back!” Brody said, raising his fist triumphantly.

“Hey, Liana,” Reach called out, taking a break from rigging a cargo box to the deck.

She quickly moved toward him. “I heard that you were hurt. Is it bad?”

Reach tucked the remainder of the strap under the suspension line and stood to his full height. He took a tentative step on the leg to test it. When it didn’t seem to cause any problems, he shrugged. “Could have been worse. Of course someone could have given me a second to duck before spiking the ball for the win.”

Brody looked around the bay before putting his arm around Reach. “C’mon, one m-m-more game. We can even it up. We can t-t-take these turds.”

Lieutenant Sherman called to the war machine from further down the cargo bay. “Hey, Brody, I need you to lock down those last two containers.”

“Of course, Citizen!”

Thankful for Brody being pulled in another direction, Reach guided Liana beside the strut, away from the main door where it was a little easier to hear. No, they had implants. That wasn’t it. He was taking her to a place that was more private. “I’m sorry for the men you lost. They were something out there. Vander died a hero. I know saying that won’t bring them back, but the Osay should be proud of how they fought today.”

Liana took a steadying breath, trying to find the right words without saying too much. “We are proud. But there’s a lot to do to heal the injured and honor the dead. I just wanted to stop by to make sure you were okay.”

Reach smiled, catching and holding her stare as if to say he was having the same problem she was. How much do you say when everything is so unsure? “Honoring the fallen is an important part of what we do. When it’s time, will you save me a seat so I can pay my respects.”

Liana patted his chest, then she walked down the ramp and called out over her shoulder, “You’ve already paid us a great deal of respect, but I’ll save you a seat anyway.”

Reach watched her leave, not sure about what was going through either of their heads, and not noticing Brody moving beside him. The man was deep in thought when the android surprised him, causing him to jump.

“It’s t-t-true! Spontaneous E-mo-mo-motional resp-p-ponse!”

Reach shoved the overexcited android. “Knock it off. Let’s get this bird into the air.”

* * *

Sherman walked up the ramp, his helmet cupped in one hand, a brace of silver bottles in the other. He unwound one of the bundles free of the five-fifty cord and handed it to Reach. “Something for when it gets thin.”

“This coffee or bourbon?”

“Which one do you want it to be?” Sherman said. “How’s the leg?”

“Medics did an extraction, and then some medical voodoo stuff to plug the hole. They hit me with a nerve block. Localized version of what Alexa did to my entire body. It’ll be sore over the next few days but shouldn’t be anything I can’t work through. It was really freaky getting sensation back after what Alexa did to me.”

Sherman didn’t respond, too busy looking at the patchwork repair done to Reach’s leg.

“You good, Mario?”

“Huh? What? Yeah.” Sherman rubbed his temples. He gathered up his belongings as if he was going to trek off into the ship, but he remained in place. “Holding Keever’s face together through all that screaming until they got the meds on board must have crossed my wires. Stuff like that usually doesn’t bother me till a lot later when I can put it in the right box to deal with when I want to deal with it.”

Reach nodded. “Maybe you put it in a box that was already full.”

Sherman was glad that Reach hadn’t twisted his words to make him look weak. To make him look like he was less of a leader because he was having a moment where he needed someone to lean on until he got his bearings. Sherman had rode him pretty hard on the mission to get here and even after they landed. He wasn’t sure if Reach’s ability to affect people was a skill Reach possessed while he was in the Corps. Whatever it was, Reach’s observation seemed to settle the pit in his stomach.

“That’s probably it,” Sherman said. “Thanks.”

“Lead the way, Ranger,” Reach said, holding up the thermos bottle in salute.

Sherman flashed a thumbs-up and departed for the bridge.

* * *

Sherman entered the bridge with a whistle, grabbing Harmon’s attention in time to have the man catch the Thermos bottle thrown to him.

Harmon slid it in the pack beside the command console chair. “Mothers milk.”

“You and your mom are in my seat,” Sherman chided. He looked to the pilots, hoping the shakiness he’d worked out with Reach was far behind him, leaving only his military bearing behind. He didn’t have to be inhuman, but he’d been trained by the best. Shed tears in private and blood in public, one of his mentors used to say when he was a junior lieutenant. The philosophy had served him well thus far. “Strahler, what’s our track?”

“We’re leveling off at thirty thousand feet above some pretty dense cloud cover on our way back to waypoint November. We should have comms with the ground in a matter of minutes. Osay on their side was going to set up a base station to give them some range.”

Sherman marked up his battle board. “Solid. Thank you, Chief. Give me a heads up when we catch them yapping.”

“Will do, sir.”

Sherman turned to Harmon. “What do you have for me?”

“We got Dawson riding shotgun with the eleven charlies we minted out of the Osay. They’re only running sixty millimeter mortars, but that should be good to get a real defense in the field and be maneuverable enough to ruck and truck in the event Broski gets his war face back on.”

“Why do you want the mortar section on the hop?” Sherman asked.

“Not my first rodeo, sir,” Harmon said, his hands flaring like he’d just made some awful affront to the officer.

“I’m not questioning you, Harm. I just want to know where your head’s at so I can steer mine along the same path.”

“All right. All right. I got what you’re laying down. Keep the mortar team light and springy in the event the RUPAC shows back up with more vics. The light mortars can even be point fired, which could give them an advantage against said vehicles with the terrain being so thick. Snow, running a Ranger team from your crew, is going to set up an eighty-one mil in the depression northwest of the RUPAC camp and can fire heavy if the need arises.”

“Trackin’,” Sherman said.

“With Cobra taking up trap and trace duties down on the RUPAC Camp, we tap Morales to pull out and support Tran on the hunt for our wayward RUPAC vehicle and our missing man.”

“I like it. Put it to work please.”

Ross signaled Sherman by waving his hand in the air. “Hey, sir. Got the camp on the horn.”

Sherman waved his hand in a “gimmie” motion, indicating he was ready for whatever the pilot had for him. “This is Sherman.”

“Sherman, it’s Morales. We’re audio only because of the range. You on your way back?”

“Roger that. Doing a loop first to see if the drone poked its head up.”

“Roger. We got some funky stuff going on down here, boss. Like X-files funky. Don’t know if you want to come down here to take a look or just do that thing where we see through each other’s eyes.”

“Eyes is fine.”

Strahler turned her head so Sherman could hear her over the hum of the ship. “Thirty seconds until we can use Neural-links with the ground.”

“Roger that. Standing by for the brain case hand shake,” Morales said.

In short order, Morales’s icon popped into Sherman’s HUD, along with a video stream. The rangers in the feed moved down a hallway littered with Osay fighters acting as security. He turned the corner and entered an expansive laboratory secured by rangers hovering over RUPAC science techs, all standing in a line with their heads toward the floor. Stewart was speaking with a woman who’s prominent pompadour of a hair bun was impressive by anyone’s standards.

“Hey, Stew, got Sherman on the line,” Morales called out.

Stewart’s icon appeared in the HUD next to Morales’s. “Hey there, sir. We got us a regular carnival sideshow of horrors up in here. Let me show you. Over here I have buckets of goo with fildeema parts. Over here there are specimen canisters with full fildeema, which I assume are dead.” Stewart motioned to Hair Bun, who said something in Russsian. “My contact on the ground tells me these are preserved.”

“What does that mean?” Sherman asked.

A quick flurry of Russian passed between them before Stewart answered, “Seems these particular murder monkeys were part of an experimental group that were ‘altered’ off planet and then returned here. This batch of sister wives were supposed to build on the work of that guy Reach has under house arrest. The goal was to produce hyper aggressive monkeys that could act as agitators with some super monkey stink to make the other monkeys into murder monkeys. Does that make sense? Because it means jack all to me, sir.”

“It could be pheromones, Sergeant,” Alexa said, chiming in to the link. “The fildeema give off a scent that reacts to the brain chemistry of their species. When the unaltered animals inhale the chemical, it produces a reaction not unlike human beings on PCP. The fildeema soon observe everything not giving off this scent as a territorial threat and behave hostile toward any stimuli invading their environment.”

“That seems to track,” Stewart said, moving over to the other side of the lab. “But according to my new friend, that’s not the only thing they’ve been working on.”

Morales’s vision switched to a massive cryo-cylinder at the other end of the lab. The lens was crusted over with ice from two cables feeding gasses into the apparatus. Steam rose from the cables as the temperate air in the lab met the frigid lines. Stewart moved to the cryopod and dropped his glove over the viewport. A quick swipe turned Sherman’s blood cold as it exposed the head and torso of a Bangora.

“This one’s dead. They recovered it near one of the landing sites some distance away from where they were ‘inserted’ on Amir. There was a RUPAC science team that was supposed to recover it, but they never showed. My new friend tells me they were to monitor and report activity of the Bangora back to headquarters. But since they’ve had no contact with their higher ups in a couple of months, they’ve just been collecting data and doing a little peeking under the Bangora hood.”

“They find anything useful?” Sherman asked.

Stewart looked uncomfortable. “Since the RUPAC really doesn’t share all the cool evil mad genius stuff with each other, this science team decided to study what they found. Someone engineered this thing to survive in extreme environments against advanced equipment and trained personnel. It’s every bit as dangerous as they wanted it to be so they built in a fail-safe.” Stewart took a moment to listen to Hair Bun’s explanation before continuing. “On every Bangora there’s an auto-injector under the arm where there isn’t any natural armor. The device has enough of an enzyme that it needs to process its food, aka us, to last it three to six months. Once the injector is empty, the food supply becomes toxic and the creature starves and dies.”

“Like a food allergy?” Sherman asked. “Neat trick. Have the Bangora enter the target area, pick it clean of competing colonists, and then swoop in when the Bangora is dead. I don’t see what the...”

The bridge crew looked at Sherman when he stopped talking to process what he was hearing, keeping his thoughts to himself as it all played out in his mind.

Harmon finally poked him. “Hey. What is it?”

“Liana said these things have been around since at least when she was a little girl. So either the RUPAC have been targeting this place for a long while or I know what the creepy hair bun science lady is going to say about the one she has in the test tube.”

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Stewart said. “The one in the tube doesn’t have an auto injector.”

There was silence on the comms for what seemed like an eternity. “Where did they find it?” Alexa asked.

“Near Gruber’s hiding spot,” Stewart said.

It was Morales’s turn to present what was bothering him. “That dude said he’d been a prisoner of one of those things for a few decades. So either there’s some specimen that doesn’t have the injector or they somehow found another source of the enzyme in order to live that long, right?”

“It is possible they evolved to no longer need the enzyme,” Alexa said. “Certain species adapt symbiosis with other creatures for mutual benefit. Pilot fish and sharks, certain tropical spiders and poisonous frogs, and even man and the many beasts they’ve domesticated are examples.”

“So Alexa, you’re saying this thing is working with another species of animal on Amir?” Sherman asked.

“More like it discovered an effect from the animal. It was Liana that said the Bangora was more apt to take someone wandering away from their colony. At first they thought it was those who left Brody’s protection. Allow me a moment to analyze Dr. Roman’s analysis on the Bangora.” The moment lasted all of two seconds. “I theorize the Saraka may be involved.”

“The zombie bugs the old RUPAC survivors used to eat to get high and die?” Morales asked.

“Yes. Trace elements of its poison were documented in the Bangora’s gastrointenstinal tract. Dr. Roman theorized it may have been part of the Bangora’s diet. However, our understanding of the insect’s effect on people is that those stung by it were impossible to restrain and simply wandered into the forest. What if those ‘chosen’ were actually bitten and then hunted by the Bangora for some effect of the venom that mimicked the enzyme. The specialized food source eventually worked out the toxic vulnerability in the creature. It would be a fascinating study. It certainly warrants additional research.”

Sherman furrowed his brow in consideration. “It also means we could be dealing with two different groups of the creatures—however many of them there are. The ones that attacked the Osay had become acclimatized to living here. Did the one that attacked us have a unit under its arm, Alexa?”

“None was identified, but a full autopsy has not yet been completed. I will have to study the carcass more closely and get back to you, Lieutenant Sherman.”

Sherman highlighted the icons for Stewart and Morales to send them a private message. “We’ll let whatever that is percolate with Alexa. Any sign of our guy at that facility?”

“Negative,” Morales said. “We went through the whole place. If Marlin was here, he isn’t now.”

“Then the Rabbits took him. Are the RUPAC personnel willing to leave?” Sherman asked.

Stewart’s icon flashed, growing in Sherman’s vision until it allowed him to see a video feed. A large, server style computer system was set into a wall. The clunky machine was two parts massive computer and one part desk. Numbers flickered across a screen, giving the impression of a countdown. “My new friend said that while they are willing to leave with us, the facility here must be manned at all times. The director, Katya, was running some sort of personal project and a code must be entered into this terminal every twenty-four hours. She doesn’t know what it is or what it does, but any time she left she would assign my new friend to the duty. While I’m keen to let it fail, something tells me this could be of value to us while it's running.”

Sherman scowled at the thought of this. Doomsday scenarios where a button must be pushed every so often or else, flashed in his mind. It was typical RUPAC conditioning. “Will she give us the code?”

“It’s a whole book. She already gave it to me. Reminds me of an old timey SOI book for programming radios.”

“That’s strange. Stew, since you’ve already built a relationship with these people, I want you and Cobra Platoon to stay behind. Catalog and contain anyone at that camp. How many personnel do they have here?”

“Roughly thirty assorted personnel,” the staff sergeant responded.

“We’re circling to you now to pick up Morales’s squad. I have a feeling we’ll need ’em. Wait, did Hair Bun say they had about thirty? That RUPAC force was like seventy and a few. So we’re missing forty-five people?”

Morales chirped into the radio, sounding more happy than he had during the rest of the call. “We didn’t lose them, sir. We merely allowed them to egress from the position in an asymmetric withdrawal so as to make it more fun to hunt them. Sir.”

31

Marlin had to remind himself not to gawk. The rangers had been truly impressive in their equipment. Alexa seemed a miracle. But these Ghosts had technology that was closer to magical than anything he’d yet witnessed. Sitting in a rocky depression covered by camo netting was nothing new to the scout. He’d been to patrol bases loads of times under the watchful eye of Sergeant Dawson. This camo was something altogether different.

The standard, stringy netting supporting flaps of mylar, canvas, or something else meant to break up the outline was there. It provided the patchwork shade with the excuse of checking on this tactical detail or that, which soldiers had been forever using as reason to duck out of the sun for a minute. Seeing it from the outside was another matter. The depression became hard to look at. Much like a stationary version of the ghostly optical camouflage, micro sensors projected the image of what was behind the cover, giving the effect of looking at the landscape through a smudged lens.

An interrogator knelt close to the Osay scout and moved things around on a tablet similar to the battle boards the rangers carried. The woman who’d spoken with him earlier approached. The pair conversed in their language before the interrogator spoke to Marlin.

“It would seem that your friends have taken control of the camp after driving out the command element, whom they lost in the woods. They now control the science building.”

“Why is that important?” Marlin asked.

“It was the reason we were scouting here in the first place. There is much to learn on this planet. So much for us to adjust to. But this much we know: that building was part of something larger, and the factions of what you would call RUPAC have stopped their petty bickering long enough to remember that it was here.”

“Is that why you are here?”

“No, my friend. We’re here because we are tired and wanted something that was just for us.”

“Friends usually know each other’s names,” Marlin said flatly.

“Surrounded by what are obviously very serious men and women, you still go for the recon. Very well, my name is Koen. And you are?”

“Marlin.”

The smile that crept across Koen’s face seemed genuine. It was warm, like the smile of a man who was more at home sitting by the fire with a good book than stomping around the wilderness with a fortune in military grade tech and a team of trained killers. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. My associates also tell me that your men are more than just grizzled colonists stranded here for some time, like we were initially led to believe. You have sophisticated vehicles and perform combined arms tactics. I believe you might not have been telling me the whole truth, Marlin.”

Marlin thought about his answer before blurting anything out. “We were the people you spoke of, but then a new force, much like yourself, came to Amir. We worked with them to overcome a dangerous RUPAC group. Now we live as one people. It’s not perfect, but it’s growing on us.”

Koen seemed to consider the statement. His voice came out as a whisper, more to himself than anyone else. “One people. How much different we would be.”

The team of ghosts gathered around the woman who Marlin guessed was Koen’s executive officer or some kind of senior NCO. The commander excused himself and studied her battle board for several minutes, leading into a conversation that the prisoner scout easily recognized. They were planning a patrol order. The group wouldn’t be here much longer.

Koen returned and kneeled down to show Marlin the board. “We desire to bring you back to your people, but not until it is safe for us to do so. They are readying themselves for an offensive, most likely against the RUPAC that escaped the camp. We noticed this making a drop-off a short time ago. This is of extreme interest to me. They are flying a RUPAC ship. How did they come about it?”

“They fought and won. Now the ship is theirs,” Marlin said.

“Formidable. We shall have to be extremely careful not to give our new friends the wrong impression of us.”

“Or you could help,” Marlin offered.

Koen looked intrigued. “Come again?”

“My people attacked the RUPAC because you allowed them to believe they took me prisoner. As that is not the case, you should assist them.”

“A reasonable argument. Or perhaps your people should have verified your presence at the camp before attacking.” Koen pointed to the board, showing Marlin the position of troops fortifying positions and readying vehicles for deployment. “Now that they’ve gone inside, they know something is there, but they don’t know what it is, yet. If you look here, you’ll see they are preparing to defend the site until they can understand what it is. Your people also know they can’t allow the RUPAC forces that eluded them to remain at large. Why would I endanger any of my people by putting them in the middle of all of that when all we really want is to be left alone?”

“If you truly wanted to be left alone, you wouldn’t have taken me. You could have just continued to be ghosts. Being a ghost is lonely. No one sees you or hears you. The ghosts of the forest only walk, hoping for even a moment of contact.”

Koen raised an eyebrow. “I take your meaning as something more than primitive superstitions, Marlin.”

The Osay nodded. “Finding us meant the possibility of Amir being more than just you against the elements. You could stop being alone and be part of something.”

Koen huffed. “And what that might be? A new America?”

Marlin kept his eyes locked, staring into the face of the man that controlled his fate. “A new Amir.”

* * *

Sergeant Morales adjusted the viewfinder he had trained into the valley. “We have P-I-D on secondary location for RUPAC forces, designation, Rabbit. Lock all data systems on my paint, how copy?”

“Solid,” Sherman responded. “Execute forward observation of enemy location. Proceed with caution as Rabbit has shown willingness to employ anti-intrusion systems. Recon and report in one hour.”

“Morales out,” he said, cutting the link to the LT.

Although finding where the RUPAC had gone wasn’t a problem, getting close enough to see what they were doing might prove difficult. Morales and his crew had done plenty of time as recon elements for a variety of units. Stalking an enemy position of this sort wasn’t unknown to them. What made things feel like a horror movie waiting to happen was the planet itself. There was no telling what manner of creatures or strange terrain they had yet to encounter would prop itself in their way. Plus, these RUPAC weren’t backwards savages like their first encounter with the crashed, starving survivors had been. They had many of the same techniques and technology that the rangers had, which would further impede the mission to recon the site the enemy LAR-V had escaped to.

The valley started as a gradual decline in the terrain until a steep drop-off led to a near sinkhole naturally walled off by the contour of the forest. A rocky escarpment dumped a gentle cascade of water into a nearby pool, providing clean water for the encampment below. The battered smoking LAR-V was just inside the gated fence, being worked on by technicians. Roving patrols both in and outside the fence posed a convincing deterrent for anyone looking to approach. A smaller, similarly cut stone building rested next to the waterfall, surrounded by Conex box structures.

“Morales, this is Tran. We have an enemy squad moving into your sector by foot at one nine four magnetic.”

Morales marked them on the battle board as the second squad to break from that trail since they’d been observing. He updated the map for all units while tallying the number of forces and the time on his data sheet. “That makes seventeen coming in from the forest. They had a squad packed into the back of the LAR-V along with Mother RUPAC and Lucid Ivan. There are ten personnel that we could see at the camp, the squad, and now the stragglers. That puts the total at forty-two.”

“Going to be a busy night if they keep letting people in,” Sergeant Darrow said.

Sergeant Tulli’s icon appeared in Morales’s HUD. “I’m on the opposite side from that squad. We have no trips or sensors anywhere down here. From what we can see, the mines don’t start until you’re nearly on top of the fence. The main dirt road and the two hiking trails are the only places with anti-intrusion measures in place. PFC Cohen just said the main road has snap cameras for at least half a click leading in. Trails, too. He’s marking their positions now. If we’re lucky, they’re wireless and maybe Alexa can take control of them.”

Morales cleared the HUD except for Tran. “What’s our goal here, Mike?”

Tran clicked over into the comm. “Boss man said we recon the site. So we recon the site. But we’re not going to be able to get much closer unless we do something about all the cams they have here. While we don’t have the mines and such until closer in, there’s got to be a reason they don’t have anything away from the trails.”

“All right. I’m going to push all of this forward and see what the LT has up his sleeve.”

* * *

Sherman dropped into the cargo bay and found Reach and Brody unlocking a container from the deck. “Did you get it?”

“Got it right here,” Reach said, knocking on the lid of the case.

“Greetings, Texas Ranger. How g-g-goes the battle? Because it would go better if you put me in, coach.”

Sherman nodded to the android before turning his attention to Reach. “Alexa, this is Sherman. I have Reach with me. Can we get you and Captain Bosa on the line?”

“Of course, Lieutenant Sherman. I have linked the captain to the call. You may proceed when ready.”

“Thank you, Alexa. How certain are you that this new armor will have the same effects that the Bangora has in regard to its ability to hide itself.”

“The Bangora’s natural armor was genetically modified to act the way it does, Lieutenant. Noting some of the markers and adapting them to synthetic material so it reacts the same wasn’t as hard as one would think once we deconstructed the process they used. I am fairly certain that anyone wearing the armor will have a Bangora-like ability to evade natural and technological detection of anything short of our density scanners.”

“What is fairly certain?” Sherman asked.

“Ninety-two point four eight percent.”

“That much, huh?” Reach asked.

Alexa returned her briefing to the point. “The armor also takes several cues from the Bangora’s ability to stave off physical harm. While your armor before was quite good, it was also designed by Dr. Roman. This will be a marked increase in protective adaptability to environmental and combat hazards.”

“I like the sound of that,” Reach said, involuntarily brushing his hand near his wounded leg.

Sherman walked around the case until he faced Reach. “Good. Because for some reason, the armor is sized for you. Alexa was only able to make a single suit before this all went down and now that her and Doctor Roman have the particle, they aren’t going to be stitching any more together for a bit. Too busy in nerd-vana. Is that leg going to hold up long enough to get you through a close recon of the site?”

“Dad’s not a n-nerd. He’s a genius.”

Reach did away with the smirk on his face from Brody’s protectiveness. “Yeah. I can make it work.”

“All right. Suit up. Alexa, can you link Sergeant Stewart to the call?”

Stew’s icon flashed into the HUD matrix. “Wow. Never been paged in my own head before. What’s up?”

“Stew, it’s Sherman. We’re going to need any info you’ve been able to collect on this RUPAC fallback site.”

“Gotcha,” Stewart said. “I’ve spoken with Ayla, the senior lab technician, since we’ve taken control of the camp. Seems she’s the next in line after Lucid Ivan. Based on everything she’s told us, the RUPAC presence on Amir is like the tide. Sometimes it's high, sometimes not. There’s a lot more to this place than we initially thought.”

“Why is she being so cooperative?” Sherman asked.

“If you’re not from one of the approved parts of the RUPAC, there’s a chance you get treated like our friend Doc Gruber. Subordinate, inconsequential, or expendable were some of the words she used. Unlike Mother Rupac, who she’s identified as the head researcher for the lab we busted up.”

“Katya?” Bosa asked, speaking up for the first time since the call started.

“Yes, sir,” Stewart confirmed. “She’s some sort of science-team rock star to them.”

“Staff Sergeant, is Ayla with you, now?” Bosa asked.

“No, sir. But I got her close. By the way she’s sawing logs, I’d say this is the first sound sleep she’s had in a minute.”

“We have Tran and Morales gathering intel, but again they’re looking at a sizable force. Wolverine platoon is on tap for combat support. They’re moving into position now. I need to know what they can bring to bear on this.” Bosa spoke with his task force commander voice, the one that brooked no arguments when he made demands for things that needed to happen yesterday

Rustling and the groaning of someone slogging off sleep sounded in the background. A more frantic tussle ensued, followed by calm. After a moment of hushed speaking in Russian, Stewart said, “Ayla says that the facility we’re describing is for agricultural research and is heavily guarded.”

“They’re heavily guarding vegetables?” Morales asked.

Sherman cut into the conversation. “Think about it. You’re on a planet where no one has seriously been able to develop farming. They hunt and gather because setting up a farm would attract predators, and they haven’t domesticated animals like dogs as deterrents. Creating a rapidly growing plant staple to supplement the fruit supply would be essential to a viable colony here, especially because their fruit intake is mostly alcoholic.”

More Russian drifted into the call, with Stewart interpreting. “She says they have a functional security robot on station with one of those pain cannons. That’s going to have to be dealt with.”

“Can we have Alexa turn off our nerves like she did to Lieutenant Reach?” Tran asked.

“That would be unwise, Staff Sergeant Tran. I have not had the ability to study Jared in detail after the incident involving the heavy security mech. His enhanced physiology and ability to rapidly heal from injuries allowed me to mitigate the risk from the procedure. We don’t yet know if he suffered any prolonged damage due to long term exposure to concentrated microwaves.” Alexa showed real concern in her voice.

Stewart’s cold voice continued. “Ayla says they also have modified fildeema in the area. But not a horde like we faced before. These are modded and trained for surveillance. It’s why there are no cameras. The monkeys are the I-C.”

Sherman gave Reach a troubled look.

Reach shrugged. “When I was on deployment, some of the MARSOC guys swore by the dogs they used. The locals didn’t like them until they saw them in action. And it wasn’t the attack dogs that impressed them. It was the ones fitted with a micro GoPro and sent to just chill near a tree or under a porch to record everything in the area and return at the end of the day. The navy has been using dolphins for decades, although I was always partial to the sea lions.”

“While I have a strange need to know more about this,” Sherman said hesitantly, “I don’t want to know what your fascination with the seals is. So we have the pain cannon mech, trained monkeys—because of course they have trained monkeys—and what else?”

“She says they already had a net call in for forces guarding other satellite facilities to assist, like a QRF. Sounds like that’s old news though, which is why we encountered that company minus on the road. They were already planning a hit when we stumbled into them.”

“Tran, Morales, pull your guys into OP’s and hunker down,” Bosa said. “Reach, suit up and join them on the ground. You’ll be able to slip by their little freak show and get intel on what we’re dealing with so we can get our guy back.”

“Sir,” Reach called into the comm. “When we get Marlin back, what’s the end state for this? Do we take anyone left alive prisoner? Do we build a prison? Where does this lead for us?”

Dead air filled the comm as no one spoke. Across from him, Sherman looked away, rubbing the back of his shaved head. Bosa cleared his throat and the net. “We do what we do to any bully, Lieutenant Reach. When they get pushy, we push back. If they continue to play the role, we bury them in it.”

* * *

The engine wash of the Osay buffeted the trees as Reach and Brody waited for the vehicle to depart. “You know what would be absolutely great? A vehicle for the two of us. I mean, we keep working together like this, why can’t we have a dune buggy or a couple of ATVs or something.

“That would be r-rad,” agreed Brody. The war machine looked around. “D-d-do you see any dunes? I don’t see any d-d-dunes.”

“Forget the dunes. I’m just saying that we’d be more effective if we didn’t have to run everywhere.”

Reach heard a sudden transmission from Brody in his mind. A musical score he couldn’t quite place until… “Is that Chariots of Fire?”

“Y-you came to see a race today. To see someone win.”

“No.” Reach waved his arm forward and bounded down the slope at near a dead run. “When we hit the valley, break off to link up with Morales. I’ll move in to take a look at the structure.”

“R-r-roger that, citizen!”

The two split from each other, both ignoring the hiking trails that permeated the wilderness for unbroken forest. Alexa’s icon broke into Reach’s HUD as he negotiated a log crossing a stream. Reach fell from the log and landed on an exposed stone, which he used for a step to reach the other side of the bank. “A little warning next time.”

“I wasn’t going to speak until you answered the comm.”

“Didn’t stop your face from filling up my brain. What’s up?”

“I am curious about the armor. Dr. Roman and I worked diligently on it. Have you felt the difference in weight?”

“This can’t be put off until the after action report?”

“I feel that Dr. Roman would be encouraged in hearing about the success now.”

Reach wondered exactly what that meant. He seemed more than eager to take a look at his new entangled particle. Then again, Roman was clearly suffering from something. “It’s lighter, so that’s nice. Also, it’s really tight.”

“It is meant to be formfitting. Is it uncomfortable?”

Reach laughed. “Only when I breathe. I can hold my breath once in a while. It should be fine.”

“That could lead to some serious complications during the mission. Should we recover you from the operation so we can make alterations?”

Reach stopped under cover of a copse of trees that reminded him of hanging willows with strange palm fronds. “Joking, Alexa.”

“I see,” she said matter-of-factly. “The timing of your mission prevented you from field testing the unit or even getting a detailed overview. You should know that there are controls in this suit linked to your neural implants that will allow you to change the light absorption and refraction properties of the armor at will. The hard-to-look-at quality comes from the Bangora’s counter illumination camouflage absorbing all spectrums of light and then diffusing it in a way to make it appear as part of the environment. Doing this across multiple spectra while achieving a low thermal signature similar to poikilothermic creatures is remarkable.”

“So, I can control the camo with my noodle?” Reach asked.

“If your noodle is your brain and not your fallus, then yes. You can control the optical camouflage with your noodle.”

Reach shook his head. Alexa had been with them a while and had observed Doctor Roman for most of her life. He thought “noodle” would have been part of her vocal repertoire by now. Then again, she’d been observing Rangers, so maybe that’s where the second definition came in. “Got it. I’ll give it a go.”

A prompt entered his peripheral vision on the lower left corner of the HUD. It went from static grey to a swirl of colors. Reach held up his hand, marveling as the mottled camo paint on the forearm plates faded to black before adapting a near perfect pattern his mind recognized as the landscape around him. The entire armor continued to adapt, becoming almost translucent, as though some movie director wanted him digitally painted out of the environment.

“Now we’re talking. How long will this hold?”

Alexa went straight to professor mode, detailing the inner stylings of the armor. “The power system for the skin’s adaptive functions will last twelve hours while completely immobile. You can charge the system when still by remaining in proximity to sunlight or by completely powering down so the onboard battery will cycle back the charge. Sustained movement of eleven minutes or more will kinetically charge the skin via adaptive accelerator and alternator chains throughout the plating. The more you move, the longer the skin will continue to function.”

“Sounds good.”

As Reach spoke, he became instantly grateful for the conversation taking place in his mind through the neural implant. A fildeema crawled across the lower branches, testing the air with its nose. It stared out from the cover of the cascade of branches, turning this way and that. Reach could see a diminutive harness on the animal patterned after its own fur, continuing its ability to blend into the birch trees that dominated the forests on this side of Amir.

“I’ve got eyes on one of the surveillance fildeema from the briefing.” Reach pushed the image into the link. “Camera is fixed on its head. Can it see me?”

“I would advise remaining still,” Alexa answered. “The RUPAC might have trained it to look for the anomaly the Bangora are known for. If the camera has a density scanner similar to that which Dr. Roman designed, it may be able to provide an overlay that will reveal your position, though you are significantly less dense than an actual Bangora.”

“Roger. It’s looking at me and sure doesn’t look like it knows I’m here. Should I take it down?”

“Stand by. I am using your suit’s sensor package to sweep for signals coming from the animal.” Alexa activated a sensor overlay into the HUD, analyzing the creature for a variety of broadcasts. “There are none. I would suspect the control module on the back of its hand running from the wire down its arm activates the rig so it can either broadcast or record. We won’t know which until they turn it on or we capture one.”

“Knowing the guys who trained him, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s got a suicide vest and enough training to shout ‘For the Glory of RUPAC’ before he hits the switch too.”

32

Reach circled through the switchback, careful not to disturb the undergrowth and precarious carpet of leaves and dead branches that could announce his presence with a single misstep. Now that he knew what to look for, he realized the fildeema were numerous. Most were of the wild variety. The militarized ones were less frequent, occasionally working their way through the treetops for a birds-eye view of the engagement area. Alexa had yet to detect any signals coming from the diminutive spies, but that didn’t stop Reach from sending warnings to Morales and Tran when he tagged camera-adapted fildeema heading their way. He’d been able to identify four so far, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t more in the area.

Moving up to the fenceline, Reach watched as the last embers of sunlight radiated off the horizon, turning the forest’s crown from dark jade to a bright amber hue. Amir would be perfect if the planet wasn’t constantly trying to devour them. “This too shall pass,” his mom used to say when he was coming up. It’s also what his former Gunny used to say after they’d leave that little taco bar just outside of the base.

Shrugging off the meandering thoughts and focusing on the task at hand, Reach discovered a sliver of silver hiding in the shifting grasses outside the fence. The fluffy-topped reeds mixed in flopped and whispered in the air currents that swept through the waterfall basin, which was his first clue that there was something there.

Watch the landscape.

That’s what the same Gunny from the taco bar, a MARSOC operator, had also told him. “Watch the landscape. She’ll tell you where the bad men touched her.”

The reeds waving behind the ultra thin tripwire were still hampered by the metallic strand impeding the natural ebb and flow of the plant in the wind. Switching to a different vision mode, the line, along with the three others and a pressure plate, lit up like beacons telling him where not to step.

This is why we can’t have nice things, Reach thought as he navigated through the defenses. This RUPAC camp was a smaller version of the one they’d just beaten on. If it weren’t crewed by the grey jumpsuited technicians and the mottled uniforms of the soldiers, it would be a nice spot to visit based on the natural scenery alone. Two RUPAC guards waited by the gate entrance, both with what looked to Reach like futuristic-looking Kalashnikov equivalents hanging on two-point slings. One of the men flicked a cigarette, the bright embers of the falling ash highlighted in Reach’s vision.

The two men spoke in Russian, easily audible to Reach.

“Any word from the search teams about forces that made it out of Baranov?” Cigarette man asked his partner.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve asked me that in the last hour.” The partner carried an annoyed grit in his voice. He flung the drippings of a metal cup into the grass before continuing. “I don’t have a special connection to the director. She tells us nothing. Sergeant Ryabko said that if it wasn’t for the committee’s insistence that she be indulged, they would have staked her out for the wildlife a long time ago.”

The cigarette flicked again before coming up and being inhaled in a drag. “You don’t have to be so sensitive, Yuri. I was just wondering. You know, Misha was part of the crew that held off the aggressors so the director could escape. That punk owes me money.”

“Cards again?”

“Dominos.”

“Good luck collecting. I hear the newcomers have some sort of genetic hybrids as shock troops,” Yuri said, gesturing with his rifle. “They took on a T-774 by hand. Ripped it right out of its tread housing.”

Cigarette man took a fresh one from the pack and lit it with the old one. He flicked the butt into the grass, striking Reach in the helmet. Reach remained still, letting the errant embers fall away from him. The two men missed that the discarded smoke struck an invisible wall in the grass before disappearing into the reeds. Reach remained motionless, letting the men continue their chatter.

“How do you know it wasn’t one of the androids?” Yuri asked. “You know what they did to Task Force Wolf.”

“C’mon. Our androids aren’t even that good. And theirs are supposed to be more than a few generations old.”

Yuri snapped his fingers twice in time with his thoughts. “Android generations or people generations?”

“What does it matter? Ours are still better,” Cigarette man said.

Yuri scoffed. “Sure. That’s why we committed almost everything we had to go and get it when the Americans wouldn’t just hand it over. An inferior android destroys an entire platoon and makes off with a guard unit's ship. But ours our better.”

“I heard they used biowarfare.”

Yuri spit in the grass to show his displeasure at Cigarette man’s explanation. A line of spittle hung in the air for a moment, defying gravity instead of oozing down a reed stalk or the fluffy waving grasses. He leaned in to see what trick of the light had altered his spit's trajectory in such a strange way. And then the dripping length of slime continued its path down a reed stalk unhindered. Yuri blinked and shook his head.

“See something?” Cigarette man asked.

“No. Trick of the light, maybe. I'll be jumpy until they're all inside the wire and we turn the water back on.”

Reach circled around the duo, careful not to disturb them or the soft wet ground around the position as he moved into another section of grasses. He didn't dare walk into the camp until it was completely dark as he didn't want to risk the mud giving him away. The soldier's spittle had almost ID'd him, and if it weren't for some clever maneuvering on his part to let the goo slither down a reed like it was supposed to, he'd have been caught. This camouflage was amazing. Reach would have to let Alexa know her work was a masterpiece.

If he lived that long.

The sun finally set, a prelude to floodlights snapping on with an echoing crack throughout the camp. The static hum of the lights warming up flitted through the camp, prompting some of the meandering technicians to make their way into the main building. One of the techs pulled the cover from a large standing object, revealing the frame of another T-774 Heavy Security mech.

Reach snuck through gaps in the lighting to crouch next to the imposing war machine in its prefabbed bay. He watched the camp’s inhabitants going about their business as if nothing was the matter. As though they hadn’t just taken a beating by a smaller force that was out there pursuing them. They had to know that it was only a matter of time before that same force hit them again. The behavior, even among the two guards who had been passing the time, was relaxed and nonchalant.

A small alarm sounded. It wasn’t terrifying or indicative of a major disaster. It reminded Reach of the alarms C-Vehicles and other construction equipment used when backing up. Just a steady beep-beep-beep. When the last echoes of the alarm faded, tall poles spaced around the camp and extending into the woodline came to life, spraying a light mist of water everywhere. More of a drizzle than shower, the mist wafted across the camp, coating all the buildings, the fence line, and the grasses swaying outside the perimeter.

Reach cued up the neural link to Alexa. “Are you seeing this?”

“It is possible this is due to the base being an agricultural facility, Jared.”

“Or it's because of the Bangora.” Reach was getting an antsy feeling in his stomach. Something wasn’t right.

“Please, explain.”

“They’re funneling water from the pond into these sprayers to coat the camp in a drizzle. If the Bangora comes from the jungle, it gets coated by the water and interrupts the fall of the sheet. They don’t need a density scanner to see the thing in the dark, they can just watch for something breaking up the patterned fall of the water. I should have seen this before.”

“What?”

“Normally when you create a camp or combat outpost, you cut back the foliage and trees or whatever to create open ground so that you can’t be snuck up on. It gives you a clear sight picture to any targets trying to cross the open ground. The RUPAC camp we hit earlier left the grass tall but didn’t have the benefit of such a large water supply nearby to generate the mist.”

“I was under the impression the tall grass was meant to hide tripwires and mines,” said Alexa.

“Or to see when a predator moved through it. The Bangora. This facility left the grass long near the wire, and that’s how I was able to slip in so easily. But unlike the Bangora, I moved slowly and closer to the ground so as not to bend the reeds.”

“The saturation of the ground does suggest these sprinklers operate all night long,” Alexa observed.

Reach switched his vision to infrared. Immediately the mist glowed and he could make out the shapes of everything it settled on. “This stuff is laced with something. I’m picking it up clearly on IR.”

A new buzzing sound echoed through the camp, and the watering poles positioned nearest to the wire turned off. The mist that had cascaded out the perimeter and into the surrounding grass subsided until the air was still beyond the wire and a swirl of spray like the bottom of Niagara Falls drifted inside the base.

Reach scanned the perimeter and spied through the mist, something that caused his blood to run cold. Staked on the comms array were a pair of human heads, skin leathered by the sun and picked away by carrion eaters. It was clear they’d been there for some time and no one had bothered to make the climb to take them down.

The mist was RUPAC’s solution to seeing the monster of Amir in lieu of a density scanner. Realization settled in like a shock wave on Reach. He immediately pinged Sergeant Morales. “Morales, it’s Reach!”

“Go for Morales. You find Marlin yet?”

“Has Brody linked up with you yet?” Reach asked, the desperation clear in his voice.

“We see him trucking up the hill right now. What’s up, sir? Are you in trouble?”

“No. You are! Have Brody activate his Mass Density Scanner now!”

* * *

“Brody, you catch that?” Morales called through the link.

The android stopped in mid run and slowly rotated in a circle. “B-Bangora. It found a w-w-way in. Something we m-missed. Something under the floor, not in the plans. Sergeant T-t-tran. You are too far for the density scanner to d-d-detect any anomaly. P-p-please collapse the squad to the outcropping at fifty-four degrees magnetic.”

“Roger,” Tran said. “Moving.”

Brody turned in time to see the massive fist of the Bangora throttle him in the chest. The force of the impact sent him tumbling end over end until he collided with a tree, shattering it into splinters. The war machine wasted no further time with movie scenes or clever one liners. He immediately broadcast over the net, “Bangora in AO. Do not fire on the creature. Do not break concealment b-by shooting. I have a plan.”

Brody rose straight to his feet as though he were a marionette dragged by his strings. The Bangora pressed its attack. He blocked two of the creature's strikes, adopting a fencer’s stance with his right hand forward. “Waaaah. Oooo. Wataaaaah!”

At the height of his yell, Brody executed a cutting punch, dropping his forearm across the creature’s thick, armored wrist and sailing his fist into its chest. The sound of the thick hide cracking filled the forest as the shadowy creature buckled under the mechanical driven impact. Moving his hands like a buzz saw, Brody struck blow after blow into the creature, knocking its arms down before each impact right as he blew it through a copse of trees.

“B-be like water, m-m-my friend,” Brody said as he turned to run. “Citizen Reach! I am leading the Bangora to you. Time to sh-sh-show the dirty little RUPAC commies what their science experim-m-ment thinks of them.”

“Copy,” Reach sounded out through the comm. “You thinking we do another tag team match?”

“For the title!”

* * *

The T-774 rolled out of its enclosure, it's weapons spinning to grizzly life as trap cameras broadcast Brody running up the main trail to the camp. “Obnaruzhena ugroza!”

Reach, nearby and invisible to the machine, called in a warning. “Brody! The mech has you on its scope. That makes two squads of men with rifles jocked up down here and that security mech ready to go to town on you.”

“I'm about to jump off the t-t-top rope, brother! Reach out for the t-t-tag!”

Reach groaned. “I need something more specific than that. What’s your plan?”

“R-right. The plan. Direct the pain cannon at the troopers when the Johnny F-five goes to fire it to deter the Bangora.”

“How do you know it’s after the Bangora and not you?”

“I heard it say so… I s-still got it!”

Brody rounded the corner, practically a blur with the Bangora in pursuit. Reach's stomach dropped as soldiers checked the actions on their weapons, clicking off selector levers from safe to fire. The war machine was tough, but Reach had no idea if Brody would be able to survive a wave of rounds from the twin squads that had emerged from the research facility.

The outer poles hastily came back to life, sending their spray back out on the perimeter to see what was blazing toward them.

The battle android gave a short hop and rotated in place until he faced the Bangora loping at full speed toward him. Digging his armored boots and gauntlets into the ground, Brody came to an abrupt stop just as the Bangora leapt at him. The behemoth sailed over him and spun itself to stop from overshooting, using the same trick as its prey. Drifting mist coated the back of the creature, which made it a glowing mass to anyone using infrared filters. The RUPAC soldiers were all equipped with the same.

Inside the gate, the treaded, armored robot brought up its sonic weapon, looking to drive off the beast—a primary programming function according to Brody. Reach cringed as it spoke in Russian. “Hostile biologic detected. Firing inducer.”

The weapon powered to full capacity, aiming the business end toward the road. The Bangora seemed to know the sound of the inducer all too well. It looked from Brody to the RUPAC automaton, as if trying to decide whether killing the troublesome thing that had punched it so hard was now worth the effects of the pain cannon.

Reach jumped from the 774's enclosure, the pollinated water falling across the camp covering the top half of him in an eerie blanket of half sight. He rotated the robot's torso, bringing the searing waves of pain emanating from the business end of the weapon to waft across the twin RUPAC squads lying in wait for the adversaries outside. Torrents of agony accosted the soldiers, blasting them into the mud as their nerve endings, activated by microwaves, signaled to their brains that they were on fire.

The Bangora whirled toward the camp and saw the humans and their pet pain-dealing demon being attacked by something not unlike itself. The Bangora leaped away from Brody and raced toward the fence.

“Reach! H-h-here it c-c-comes!”

The 774 backed into the enclosure, ramming its bulk, and Reach, into one of the frame struts. The impact knocked the wind out of Reach and sent him slogging into the mud beside the agonized RUPAC soldiers. Seeing that he was covered in gritty liquid, Reach deactivated the armor’s mimetic camouflage and became visible for all in the camp to see.

“Intruder! Surrender or be ground to dust for the glory of RUPAC!” the bot echoed through its external speakers as it aimed its twin rotary cannons at Reach.

There was a definite pattern when it came to RUPAC programmers and the inclusion of that phrase in their artificial creations.

From outside the camp, the water jets continued to spray their granular concoction, revealing the Bangora in mid leap toward the security mech. It cut through the mist like a ghostly reaper come to claim its due for some dark master. The robot was facing Reach, thereby giving the creature the angle it needed to arrive with a bone jarring crunch that obliterated the pain cannon. The bot spun in place, seeking to dislodge the beast before it did any more damage to its chassis. A flurry of blows rained on top of the bot, wrecking one of its weapon arms, rendering the cannon into hanging scrap.

“Morales, this is Reach. Contact with RUPAC forces and Bangora at target gate. Request immediate assistance. How copy, over.”

A round from a RUPAC soldier shooting from behind cover punched Reach in the chest, knocking him back down into the muck. He rolled out of the way of the crushing tank treads as the 774 continued its wrestling match with the Bangora. Recovering from the effects of the sonic weapon, the squads were seeking cover from the mauler melee playing out in their courtyard. The robot rammed the Bangora against one of the Conex houses, bending the corrugated structure and dislodging the animal. Spinning on its powerful tracks, the 774 raked across the camp with a high cycle burst of Gatling fire from its remaining cannon.

The monster bounded from building to building, brachiating off of hanging branches and equipment rigging that kept the water jets standing upright. Dodging or shrugging off the swarm of seven point six two millimeter rounds humming toward it, the Bangora dove behind one of the Conex buildings and slid underneath its support pillars.

Two soldiers aimed RUPAC machine gun variants at Reach, shouting for him to remain still. He froze, keeping his hands to the side so as not to appear threatening to them. With a thought, his armor drank in the light like a specter escaping the sun, fading him from view as the troopers watched in stunned silence. When he darted away, they fired at the space where he'd been standing, throwing massive gouts of mud into the air. They managed to fire off several bursts before the real Bangora slid from under the structure behind them. It rammed its horn through the back of the first soldier, breaking his back and rupturing both lungs. Waving its head, it tossed the soldier free, sending him into his partner. The other man struggled for a foothold to get free from his broken comrade, only to be snatched up by the creature. Its claws tore through clothing and body armor, ripping the man's weapon arm nearly free of his body.

The remaining squads opened fire on the beast. Rounds zinged through the space from nearly every direction, pelting the animal so savagely it huddled against one of the buildings to cover its head from the incoming fire. The creature plunged its hands into the corrugated metal corner of the storage container turned living space, peeling back the metal for an avenue of escape. It slithered into the breach and let the panel slap back against the frame with a hollow clang.

Reach rotated behind the gun position in order to crawl under the nearest Conex. He waited for his armor to adjust to the muck beneath the structure, returning him to his near invisible state. “Brody! Light up that mech!”

“Greetings from The Humungus!” Brody yelled as the Gatling cannon on his arm spun to life. High yield explosive tipped ammunition slammed into the armored 774, occasionally finding purchase in this seam or that dent to begin the dismantling process at speeds of two thousand rounds per minute.

Reach let the deadly dance play out, reluctant to take his eyes off the space where the Bangora ducked into the container. “Corporal Masau, this is Reach. You have eyes on me?”

“Masau here, LT. I got you, five by five.”

“Masau, if anything comes from the cargo box directly to my rear, I want you to send in a round or ten. Last seen loc of the Bangora.”

“I copy, turn targets inside out upon exit.”

“Thank you, Corporal.” Reach crawled out from the building’s underside and began a loping run at the recently vacated machine guns.

“LT, you sure you want me on monster hunter duty instead of suppressing that squad?” Masau called over the net.

“You cover the Bangora. I’m going after the OPFOR. If we get another squad of enemy RUPAC coming from the main structure, they’re going to fan through the camp. If they dig in, we'll never get in there before they kill Marlin,” Reach said, trying to keep the frantic pit forming in his stomach from affecting his voice.

“Reach, this is Morales. Brody is taking a beating from all that return fire. We're coming up to support.”

“Bring it.”

Reach slithered through the camp and fell on two enemy soldiers recovering the downed machine gun. The position would be ready to catch anyone advancing toward the stone building in a crossfire with their comrades set up ninety degrees across from them. He snapped the neck of the first man and let him simply fall into the mud. He stretched across the weapon, grabbing the AG by her ponytail to yank her off her feet by it. She slammed into the ground head-first with a sickening crunch, and her body fell limp beside that of her partner.

Soldiers across the way caught the strange occurrence of their comrades seemingly falling dead without incoming fire or a body dealing out the damage and decided the most logical course of action was to send some bullets in that direction. Rounds pinged off Reach's armor, one finding purchase behind his knee, earning him a ride back into the mud. He made an attempt for the machine gun the soldiers had been trying to field, only to find incoming fire denying him his prize.

“Backblast area clear!” shouted SPC Earley into the net.

A massive pressure wave flew across the camp, preceding a high explosive armor penetrating round that rocked the 774 mech hard enough to almost topple it. It blew a hole in the thing's chassis and ignited, turning the machine into a burning effigy of its former glory. Concentrated rifle shots echoed from the forest, joining the sounds of outgoing from the camp. A maneuver element dodged the tripwire triggered mines at the side of the camp, putting fire from the flank into the embattled RUPAC forces.

At the sound of the mech exploding, the Bangora tore through the side of its container and made its way to the fenceline. A crack sounded somewhere in the distance, followed by a zipping noise ending in a dense thud. The waterlogged monster pitched over and slapped its shoulders into the mud.

“How ya like them apples? This time we use cannonballs,” Masau said.

“Hit it again!” Reach shouted over the comm.

“Sending.”

Another dense crack slapped the Bangora, rolling it over onto its belly.

“Hit.”

“Brody, keep suppressing that RUPAC element. Morales! Put something heavy into that creature.”

SPC Early waited for the tap on his helmet from his AG. “Backblast area clear! Firing!”

The Bangora staggered to its feet, highlighted by the milky rain coating its hide. The second round through the eighty-four millimeter recoilless rifle sent a shock wave across the trees as it punched the projectile to target. The high-explosive, dual-purpose shot impacted against the structure in an eruption of twisted metal and black smoke that catapulted the Bangora away from the Conex through the fenceline.

What was left of the RUPAC squad used the ensuing chaos of the Rangers fighting the creature to disengage from the close-quarters battle. Reach watched as the remaining soldiers withdrew by fire back to the main structure. He deactivated the camouflage on his armor and limped out to meet Morales. Brody jogged up from behind, riddled with impact dents that were smoking in the mist caused by the ever present shower from the camp's low tech Bangora detector.

“What happened to you?” Reach said reflexively.

“A p-polar bear fell on me.”

“Any sign of the Bangora?” Morales asked.

“Negative. Masau tenderized it right before Earley slapped it with Carl Gustav. Holy hellbender, that thing is loud. In any case, it hit the fence over there. I don’t see it through the Alexa-vision. It must have crawled into the trees.”

Morales pointed to the building in the center of camp. “Everyone go in there?”

Reach nodded. “Yep.”

“We gotta go in there?”

“Yep.”

33

The sounds of booted feet stomping down the trail prefaced the all too familiar sound of NCOs barking orders and setting perimeters. A tall, severe man with a stride that made it look like he could outrun a Badger made his way to Morales, Reach, and Tran, who were kneeling in the muck.

“Citizens! Lieutenant Cobey, Wolverines.”

“Good to have you, LT,” Reach said, fist bumping him. “I remember sitting in on some of your training. We need the Wolverines to secure a perimeter and watch for anyone trying to escape. We still have a man missing and we don’t want to give the enemy any room to use him as a way out.”

“Understood, sir.”

Tran raised a hand, capturing the LT’s attention. “We also have a Bangora that could be in the area. It got pretty banged up so I doubt it will hunt you or your men, but make sure everyone knows they need to be eyes up out there.”

“Will do, Sergeant.”

“Alright, Alexa. Continue,” Reach said into the link.

She added Cobey’s icon to the call, translating the neural-linked conversations into the radio so he could listen in, though his command of “Brody” was exceptional. “Thanks to the intel gathered by Staff Sergeant Stewart from his RUPAC asset, we are looking at a multi-tiered facility where the majority of the structure is below ground. This is first and foremost a hydroponics site. The premier level will contain most of the ingredients to make that happen. Pools, plants, and water-slick decking will be the primary landscape.”

Reach highlighted the adjacent chamber. “What’s this?”

Alexa further highlighted parts of the chamber as she spoke. “Power. It seems they have several generators working in concert. Lines running to the valley connect to solar panels that provide power most of the day. These are battery stations for nighttime operations. And this is a generator backup that uses a RUPAC designed fuel cell.”

Sergeant Morales highlighted additional concerns. “Here, here, and here look like barracks for technical workers. They could be holding Marlin there.”

“What’s this?” Tran asked.

Alexa was quick with an answer. “That is a reservoir from an underground spring, most likely why the location was chosen. If my observations of you are any indication of what you would ask next, then yes, they could use it as an escape to come out over there.”

The image of the map pulled back in the various viewing sources for the ad hoc staff meeting. The pool beside them highlighted, showing that it continued into the rock face of the valley wall. Several tunnels bore through the rock, with potential exit points coming up as grid markers in the display.

“Volcanic activity probably made those,” Morales said.

“Gonna have to shore them up,” Tran replied.

Reach nodded his agreement. “Can we take a team through there? Come at them from behind?”

Tran pointed at the virtual display between them. Running his finger through the map, he drew lines from the beginning of the water source and then from the entrance they were facing. “We’d be coming at each other from opposite sides. That’s not a good idea without some shoot house time, sir. A lot could go wrong. Plus, with them inside, they could turn on these pumps in the spring, feeding water to the facility. If we surface while they’re on, there’s no telling what could happen. We could get dragged into a pipeline—or worse, some sort of filter.”

“This just turned from a breach into a containment op,” Morales groaned.

“All right, sweethearts, y-y-you heard the m-man. Pull ’em out,” Brody said, arriving at the meeting.

“What’s that?” Reach asked.

“Ideas, Texas Rangers!”

“Rig some gas or something?” Morales suggested.

“Wait a sec,” Reach said, holding up a hand. “We need to stop constantly attacking everything like we’re back on Earth and embrace the place, like the Osay have. They’ve lived as long as they have because they worked with Amir rather than against it. Plus, since these guys were nice enough to send us weaponized fildeema, I figure it’s time we return the favor.”

* * *

The USS Osay hovered to a landing just outside of the valley. Sherman waited at the base of the ramp next to Sergeant Baldino as Brody and Reach ran up.

“You guys come by your lonesome?” Sherman asked, patting Reach on the shoulder.

“Tran's in the woodline doing the Ranger invisibility fandango. He insisted we had security once we took possession of that.” Reach pointed to an enormous thick-glass bottle being held by Baldino.

“Just for the record, sir,” Baldino said, handing the specimen jar to Brody, “as far as all time bad ideas go, this ranks at least an eight point nine five.”

Reach shook the sergeant's hand. “Surprised I didn’t get a full blown ten on the dumb-o-meter.”

“Nope. Screwed by the East RUPAC judge.”

“It's a m-m-matter of science. Ev-v-volution, isn't it, gentlemen?”

“Thanks, Brody. You're all heart.” Reach tapped the bottle the android held. “Just make sure you don't over science and drop that thing. This all goes pear shaped if we end up drooling and running into the woods naked.”

Brody nodded. “Aye-f-f-firmative.”

The duo raced back through the woods against the backdrop of the USS Osay climbing toward the sky. Tran’s squad flitted through the shadows in the forest along a parallel path as silent security against threats to the high value package reaching the target area. Reach’s density scanner flared to life, giving him glimpses of the squad in overwatch when he caught the first hints of the Osay platoon acting as an outer cordon. “Wolverine Actual, this is Prowler Five. We are entering your AO and request passage of lines to Waypoint Atlantis.”

The sound of squelch felt at once familiar and eerily wrong to Reach as they passed through the forest on their way back to the RUPAC camp. Too much time using the neural link had made talking on a radio alien, and radio procedure something he had to put effort into remembering.

“Good copy, Prowler Five. You are clear to Atlantis main gate. Wolverine Actual, out.”

“Cobey is g-g-good people,” Brody said through the implant. “Raised that one right, I did.”

Reach studied the Osay platoon that had linked up with Morales and Tran. The platoon was situated across the valley, with scouts and roving security. If there was a guidebook Sergeant Dawson had used as a bible for their training, Cobey was no doubt in there somewhere pounding on it like a Sunday morning preacher. Much like the Cobras, his Wolverines were well trained and disciplined.

While Cobey lead the platoon, Sergeant First Class Smith was the driving force of the group. Tales had circled back to the rangers about this man whose arms looked as thick as the legs on most men. Rumor had it that a pack of Zaskonek had taken a child from the river while the Osay were washing clothes, and Sergeant Smith rushed them. He tackled the biggest of the creatures holding the child, then took the three of them back into the river. Emerging with the child in one arm and a whimpering, half-drowned Zaskonek in the other, he cemented himself as an Osay fighter not to be trifled with. Amir is hard and mints hard men. When the Osay volunteered for training, Smith had asked to be a squad leader. Everyone unanimously nominated him for platoon sergeant because none of the Osay would deny him anything he asked for.

He fell in step to the duo on their run back to the camp, two other soldiers behind him keeping stride. Surprised by the encumbered soldiers moving so quickly, he ran beside Smith, attempting to take the temperature of the predatory looking NCO. “You making sure we get back to the target safely, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir. But if the Lieutenant Sherman aye correct, having dat bottle be problemin,” Smith said.

“Only if we suck at our job, Sergeant.”

Reach moved with the Osay platoon for a half kilometer before Tran pinged him on the implant.

“Unga swears he saw something move in the trees east of your POS. Smaller than a Bangora. Scans don’t show a thing, though.”

“Acknowledged. Reach out.”

Lieutenant Cobey sent scouts in the direction. The scouts came back. No hostiles. The team picked themselves up and began to move forward, only to be hit from the east a few hundred meters ahead.

The ambush began as an Osay soldier stepped into the path of a Claymore-like anti-personnel mine, killing the man instantly. Cobey and Smith spacing the men out properly kept any others from becoming casualties in the opening assault.

As the men took cover at the sound of the mines, Reach scanned the terrain for the most defensible ground. That would be the most likely place for the ambushers to occupy. They hadn’t followed up the attack by opening fire on the platoon, but Reach suspected they were out there. Though it could be a case of RUPAC mining the forest, Unga’s sighting made Reach feel as though that wasn’t the case.

Lieutenant Cobey ordered his men to fire at the likely sight of the ambush, though no one yet had eyes on the enemy. In the classroom, he’d been taught that this would sometimes coax undisciplined soldiers into sending return fire, thereby revealing their position. The real world didn’t work as smoothly; RUPAC didn’t take the bait.

A follow-up of grenades didn’t elicit any moans of pain or set off any secondary explosions. If the ambushers were in the target box, they were either dead or had moved on.

“Sgt. Smith,” Cobey called. “Let’s—”

A new series of explosions struck the formation, this time centered around Brody. Rocket propelled grenades streaked toward the battle android, engulfing him in a grouping of four concussive explosions that knocked the big machine flat. The attack was immediately followed up by coordinated machine gun fire.

The Osay platoon returned fire, moving to flank the muzzle flashes of the machine guns and sending grenades into the forest.

Reach counted three blasts from the RPGs, followed by two machine guns firing. That was five men, seven if the machine guns had a gunner’s assistant. Hardly an overwhelming force. He moved to engage targets and saw three RUPAC soldiers clad in the black garb they had identified as RUPAC Special Forces in the initial attempts to disable Brody back at the Osay village.

All three soldiers sent a salvo at the battle android, firing specialized weapons that didn’t produce a muzzle flash. They attempted to withdraw, but Reach had his weapon up and quickly dropped two of them with successive headshots before the third dove back into the concealment of the thick forest underbrush.

No sooner had that happened than the machine guns began to coordinate a withdrawal by fire, accompanied by rifle fire from at least four more shooters. Sensing that the ambushers were giving way under the fire, Osay from Wolverine platoon hastily pursued.

“Don’t run straight in!” Reach warned.

Sgt. Smith saw the same thing. “No! Do no run into site!”

The warnings came too late, and four soldiers were consumed in a blast of fire as mines triggered, sending a pattern of metal balls out a hundred meters and adding additional casualties to the Osay. Reach himself was hit by the blast, but his armor took all of it, leaving him unharmed. Add that to the list of things to praise Roman and Alexa for when it came to give a report on the armor’s combat functionality.

“Tran,” Reach transmitted. “RUPAC SF hit us. They’re pulling back in your direction.”

“We’ll get ’em. Out.”

Reach saw Sgt. Smith and Lt. Cobey working to organize their platoon and pursue the RUPAC soldiers, communicating with Tran as they attempted to maneuver the ambushers into an ambush of their own.

Brody was sitting up as though dazed. One of his arms was blown off and lay at his side. Sgt. Morales and his team arrived at the ambush site. Morales went straight to Brody and attempted to rouse the warrior. “We need you back in the game, Brody. You good?”

“M-my left arm. They took it from me. It was my second f-favorite arm. And they took it from me.”

“Well, no time like the present to pay ’em back.”

Brody pointed a finger in Morales’s face. “You’re absolutely-lutely-lutely right about that one. Let’s take it to the mattresses. Where are the dirty commies?”

“Withdrawing to the west. Let’s move.”

“Come, my minions,” Brody called with a literal wave of his arm—he held the severed limb in his right hand. “And behold how-how-how I unleash the fury of—”

The gun on his right arm discharged into the canopy of leaves overhead.

“Whoops. M-my bad.”

“Whoops?” Morales said to Reach. “I don’t like whoops comin’ from him, LT.”

“Neither do I,” Reach replied. Something wasn’t right. “Brody, I want you—”

More fire sounded deeper in the forest. One of the pursuing teams had caught up with RUPAC.

“We got this,” Tran reported to Reach. “Get the package delivered.”

“Roger,” said Reach. “Brody. You okay to walk?”

“W-walk. Run. Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance. I g-got the moves.”

Reach eyed the battle android. He was acting unsettled… even for him. Brody attempted to move, taking a step and then dragging his back leg as though it were completely dead—a mummy emerging from an ancient dormancy beneath a pyramid. “Huh. C-can’t get my leg leg leg leg leg leg leg leg leg to…”—there was a buzzing sound and then more—“leg leg leg leg leg leg…”

“Brody, what’s going on?” Reach asked. He immediately switched channels to communicate with Alexa. “Something goin’ on with Brody.”

As he spoke the words, he identified several small discs implanted on Brody’s armor, most near the hole created when his left arm was severed.

“Problem. RUPAC shot him with more of those power-suck discs.”

“You will need to remove each one for him to regain full functionality,” Alexa advised.

“Roger.”

Brody swung his arm around and aimed at Reach. “D-do you believe in Jesus? You’re gonna-onna-onna-onna m-meet Him.”

34

Reach never imagined he’d have to pit himself against a fellow soldier, even if the soldier was a robot. Loyalties ran deep once you spilled blood with someone, and Brody had become part of the team—an immensely valuable one. But that’s precisely what Brody forced when he leveled his wrist-weapon at him.

Reach had the presence of mind to dive for cover the moment Brody turned on him. The shots went wide, bullets striking the side of a meter-thick tree and further adding chaos to an already hectic battlespace. Brody tracked Reach as he rolled clear, a Terminator if there had ever been one. But the bot was soon struck by Morales’s fire up close.

The Ranger had the peace of mind to concentrate all his fire on Brody’s good arm. By the time Reach was out of his roll to assess the situation, Brody’s remaining arm was hanging limp and useless. Morales adjusted his aim to the war bot’s head.

“Cease fire,” Reach yelled. “Cease fire!”

Morales obeyed, though his reluctance was visible on his face.

Brody staggered forward in the silence and looked to Morales. “I thought we w-w-were cool, man. What… What have y-y-you done?”

“You shot at Reach, you psychopath?”

“N-no I didn’t. We’re am-mi-mi-gos.”

Reach got to his feet, quickly checking to verify that the jar was intact. It was. “Brody, fall in.”

“You… shot me.” Brody tilted his head to Morales like a sad puppy. “I thought w-w-we were friend-zzzzzzz.”

Captain Bosa came on the line. “What’s the situation, Reach?”

“Brody might be compromised.”

Bosa hesitated. “Roger. Standing by.”

“Alexa,” said Reach. “Gonna need some help on this. Something beyond a power suck is happening with Brody. He nearly gave this armor the kind of test I was trying to avoid.”

Enemy gunfire sounded in the distance once more, increasing in severity before falling quiet.

“RUPAC eliminated,” Tran reported. “SF confirmed. Same guys. Had more of those discs.”

“Please have a runner deliver those to the ship as soon as possible,” said Alexa. “I need to examine them.” To Reach, she said, “I am examining Brody’s primary behavior protocols, and they do appear to have been compromised.”

“Can you reverse it?”

“I cannot. The attack is ongoing. It appears an external agent is attempting to hack his CPU. Have you removed all the discs on him?”

“Not yet,” Reach said. “On it.”

He approached Brody, who stood by docile while Morales and his team kept their weapons ready in case the big android attempted to inflict more harm on his friends.

He pried off five of the devices—all that he could find on the chassis. “How you feelin’ now, Brody?”

“I f-feel fine. Smoke ’em if you got got got got gotzzzzz.”

“Not working, Alexa,” said Reach. He looked into the cavity. “I think I see some of these inside. Can’t reach them.”

“Brody,” Alexa said. “Disassemble yourself so Reach can remove the hardware.”

“C-can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The little Russian boy in my head s-says so. H-he won’t leave. You know… real communism has never been tried.”

Reach and Morales exchanged concerned looks. Alexa’s voice was equally concerned. “Reach, you need to shut Brody down. I fear that whoever is attempting to obtain full access is getting closer to their goal. I need him offline and back here.”

Reach shook his head. “Yeah. I don’t think the real Brody would ever say anything like that. How do I shut him down? Is it one of those verbal sequences?” Reach could remember the complicated tonal passphrase Dr. Roman had used to unlock some of Alexa’s secret cheat codes.

“There is a verbal command,” Alexa confirmed, “but he may not hear your voice commands in this state, and given the stress of combat, it is unlikely you will be able to modulate your voice properly. You will need to manually power him down. I will guide you.”

Morales hissed. “He ain’t gonna blow us up for tryin’ this, right?”

Alexa paused. “I suggest you hurry and deactivate him to avoid such an outcome. Brody is equipped with a miniature tactical nuclear device in the event of capture.”

Reach pressed his lips together in a tight compression. “Morales, give us some room. I’ll try and get him shut down.”

“Roger. Not sure that’s gonna help against a nuke, though.”

Brody walked himself toward a tree and began to bang his head into it. “I c-can’t do this anymore, man. My h-heads about to explode. My whole l-life sucks! I d-don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where I’m going.”

“Okay, Alexa,” Reach said. “I’m giving it a shot.”

“Move quickly. Whoever has compromised Brody’s behavioral protocols is advancing to his CPU.”

“Brody,” Reach said, “I’m going to try and help you here. Get you fixed up and back to normal.”

“H-have you tried turning me off and back on-on-on again?”

“Alexa and I are doing that right now.” Reach pushed himself past voices telling him this was the end. He kept close, following Alexa’s instructions and wondering if he was about to be incinerated just for being near the manic robot.

“You wiiiiill never-rrrrreven take me—take me to your le-le-leader—alive,” Brody stuttered.

Reach saw red lights appear in a small gap between Brody’s plate armor. “Tell me that’s the power down light, Alexa.”

The light flashed, and Reach instinctively covered his head. Like that would have done anything.

But the explosion never came.

Reach looked up and saw Brody’s head slump. The bot declared, “C-commies ain’t people,” and then pitched forward. Reach hopped out of the way as the war machine slammed face-first into the ground.

“That was close,” Alexa said. “That light was not a power-down indicator. More of a self-destruct, actually.”

Reach let out a breath. “We got someone who can lug Iron Giant here back to the ship?”

“I am coordinating that with Lieutenant Sherman and Wolverine platoon. You are to proceed with Sergeant Morales to your destination. Sgt. Tran will join en route.”

“Here that, Morales?” Reach called as a squad of Osay soldiers approached the inactive Brody warily.

Morales limped up. Where he got the injury, Reach didn’t know. “Yeah, I hear it. Dunno about you, but I’ve had about enough for one day.”

Reach gave a half-smile. “Little more never hurt. You good? What’s with the limp?”

“Took a round to the shin. Armor for the save, though.”

“Can’t believe you’re still walking,” Reach said.

“Shit,” Morales said. “RUPAC can kill my ass and I’m still walkin’ out of here.”

35

Reach found himself in a position to test how well his new combat armor handled underwater application as he moved through the pond, following the supplied layout to access the RUPAC facility, his payload of biological warfare bees still in hand. The darkness of the submerged tunnel was mitigated by the variety of sensor suites laden into his advanced combat helmet. Runs, rolls, and jagged protrusions in the rock were outlined in stunning clarity within the heads-up display. Reach pulled himself along the tube, watching for the variety of traps the rangers had insisted were there.

“How’s it looking so far?” Sergeant Darrow asked Reach as he moved toward the objective.

“So far so good. Hopefully the luck holds.”

“If it were me,” interjected PVT Grant, “I’d put trip wires or something similar in tight spaces down there, and if you got snagged, it would flip a switch on a live wire in the water. Blammo slammo. Fried intruder on the half shell.”

“Who let you into the party?” Sergeant Darrow asked like an annoyed parent.

Reach pushed his thoughts back through the link. “Trying to concentrate here, guys. Keeping a level head while holding your breath and a case full of zombie wasps while trying to negotiate an underwater tunnel full of potential traps is one thing. Doing all that while you guys keep yapping in my brain is harshing my vibe.”

“Nice one, LT. Knew you had surfer in you,” Unga chimed in.

“Dude, zombies down there could totally be a thing,” Grant said.

Morales took command of the channel, locking out all but Tran and the team leaders. “And, you’re done. Sorry about that, LT. There’s only so much of that I can log before I lose my mind. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that a nineteen year old ranger is still a nineteen year old. Totally not their fault though. I had the command node linked to the team channels so they could watch the op. Forgot to mute their side of it. My business, my bad, sir.”

“All good, Sergeant,” Reach said, shaking away the lingering reflection that they still called him LT. “Although, Unga has me thinking about surfing now. We work with some characters.”

“That we do, sir. How is your air?” Morales asked.

While the NCO seemed steady and levelheaded, Reach detected a hint of concern in his voice. Since the voice was technically a trick of the neural implant, he wasn’t sure what he was picking up on in the other man. Still, it couldn’t hurt to put the cautious NCO’s mind at ease. “Air is good, Sergeant M. It’s crazy what the enhancements are doing to us. Heal quickly, outrun a vehicle, wrestle a robot. I mean, I’m having a mind-link conversation with you while I hold my breath for going on two minutes. This is straight out of a comic book.”

“Best to focus on that passage, sir. We’d hoped that we could have at least sent Brody with you.” Morales sounded somber. The fight to get the specimen bottle back to the target had been tense. Hacking Brody wasn’t something they ever factored into the equation when sending out the deadly combat android. And if they could hack Brody, does that mean they could do it to Alexa?

“Improvise, adapt, overcome, right?”

“Roger. But seeing how that isn’t the case, sir, we need you running the razor down there. Head on a swivel and all that.”

“Roger that, Sergeant M.”

Reach negotiated another turn in the tunnel when something suddenly didn’t feel right. The water dragged at him. It was subtle, as if the water was being sucked past him and it would carry him along if he let it. “Morales, this is Reach. I’m getting a tug in the current. They might have a filtration system or a pump like we spoke about in the briefing.”

There was no response. Broadcasting through the first hundred feet of tunnel did nothing to hamper the signal to the Osay for rebroadcast to the command staff. Rounding the last corner must have put too much stone and minerals between him and an unimpeded signal to broadcast.

“Captain’s Log, star date who the hell knows. I’m on an alien planet infiltrating an enemy aqua farm while carrying zombie bugs in a jar to infect the bad guys.” Reach curled up into a ball and rotated so that his feet were aimed in the direction of travel. He held onto roots in the ceiling, letting the current pull him parallel to the tunnel. “That’s it. No more hanging with Brody when they get him back in shape. Now he’s got me doing it.”

Reach released the hold on the foliage and drifted further into the tunnel. Lights appeared ahead as he picked up speed. He flared his arm, the drag against the water flaring his feet back to the floor. The first contact with the ground pitched him forward. He would have struck his head into the top of the tunnel if it weren’t for genetically enhanced reflexes acting in concert with hyper acute senses. Sensing he was going to smack the stone, he rotated in place, dropping his hand to the floor. Between his feet digging for purchase and his free hand slapping the porous stone, he anchored himself against the undertow threatening to yank him into whatever space it was feeding.

A convulsion in the pit of his stomach raced into his upper abdomen. Aw, c’mon! Reach thought as he detected the first strain of his body running out of air.

He released his hold on the ground, letting the current drag him along toward another bend. He snaked his body, narrowly missing the protrusion of the sluice way guiding him to what he hoped would be the main feed chamber for the base. His grandfather had fed him stories of being a Tunnel Rat in Vietnam. Soldiers chosen for their smaller stature or for their ability to tolerate tight spaces for long periods of time, these men were sent into enemy tunnels and underground bunkers to sow mayhem or straight out kill anyone they found. As another convulsion threatened him to take a breath, he wondered if his Papa had suffered through anything like this.

Heading toward the lights, he stopped himself just shy of entering what appeared to be a pool. The convulsions were coming faster now, but he didn’t risk surfacing quickly in the event the pool was monitored, occupied, or trapped. The current was torrential, pulling against his armor in heaving tugs that were timed nearly to the heaving going on in his chest. The embattled swimmer remained attached to the wall, climbing along the outer edge of the pool. Four radiant spotlights were positioned equidistant from each other around the shore, lancing the greenish water with four illuminated spears. Reach crossed under the first light, his hand struggling for grip on what felt to be slime littered rock. Unable to hold anymore, he slowly surfaced, just breaking the surface of the water with his mouth.

The air was dank. It smelled of wet stone and that cabbage strewn salad they used to serve at the FOB when he was deployed in the PAC. Marines were many things, but culinary dynamos was not one of them. It didn’t matter what it was as long as you chewed, swallowed, and processed. Calories were all that mattered to a deployed marine. If you wanted taste, you had to wait for your enemy’s blood to wash down your throat.

After a few shallow breaths, Reach felt the fire burning in his muscles and the ache in his stomach fading away. He submerged again, looking toward the surface now that the tunnel vision from oxygen deprivation had passed. The chamber was a bulbous cave with a high arched ceiling covered in lichen. Dust motes, highlighted by the underwater lights, drifted from the green above into the water. The smell tickled his nose and drifted into the back of his throat, where sneezes sleep before erupting out at full force. Rubbing the back of his throat with his tongue put the sensation out of his mind. The last thing he needed right now would be to give away his position by having an allergy attack.

A gantry ringed the far side of the natural pool in a half moon shape over an intake vent. A RUPAC soldier stood next to a technician who was pointing frantically around the pool.

“I don’t care how it smells, Sergeant. Have your men climb in there and place the sensors around the water at surface height. If anything comes up from below, it will trip the laser grid and alert us to their presence.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the soldier said, trying not to sound bored. Reach couldn’t read his face from beneath the pool, but his body language screamed that he wanted to either push her in or drown her outright.

“The pool will be less choppy once we turn off the pumps, so anyone you station in here will be more likely to see someone swimming in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman adjusted her glasses and stared into the pool where Reach was hiding. “Do you… do you see anything in that spot between the two lights?”

Flicking on a switch, the soldier shot a brilliant beam from under his rifle that penetrated the water to give a clear view of the grate leading into the facility. The soldier rotated the beam around the pool, finally coming to rest in the spot between the two floodlights. “Nothing there, ma’am. I know this moss is crucial for keeping the creature away, but have they tested it to see if there are any side effects?”

“Other than making my military staff dull? None whatsoever,” the technician said. The scorn was heavy in her voice as she took another look at the spot while adjusting her glasses.

Reach observed the affair from the tunnel entrance, waiting for them to turn off the high intensity flashlight so he could once again close the gap to the gantry. The noise from the water being churned by the pump could mask his approach toward the catwalk and have these initial two RUPAC take the brunt of a Saraka flight to the face. The first RUPAC camp that dealt in studying and manipulating local wildlife was firmly in the grip of Second Platoon leading the Osay militia. Having control of it meant having access to its inventory for the rangers to use against their adversaries. Seeing that the camp had many of the other nasty animals common to the area for study, it wasn’t a stretch to think they had the nasty zombie bugs in their clutches as well. All the task force now needed was for even a few members of the RUPAC holed up here to be stung. Once they began to react to the potent venom, they’d do nearly anything to get outside and make for the forest. Then Morales and Tran could slog into the facility and find Marlin, ending this little escapade once and for all.

The soldier turned to leave, placing his foot on the first stair leading out of the grotto. “We’ll get it done, ma’am. Are you coming?”

“Yes, Sergeant.” She remained still for a moment, staring at the spot where something had caught her eye. “I want this done right away. If Katya were to be caught, it would be hell to pay for everyone.”

“Straight away,” the soldier responded.

Reach watched the two exit the chamber via a door at the top of the gantry. He surfaced once he was alone, taking heaving breaths that were agonizing and glorious all at the same time. There was still no contact with his people on the outside, but he didn’t need it for this next part. Allowing the specimen jar to surface, he steadied himself for more time underwater. Once he popped the lid on the container, he’d have to go underwater fairly quickly to avoid being stung himself. While he thought that the enhancements done to him could possibly keep the effects of the potent neurotoxins under control, there was no way to tell for sure other than the hard way.

Settling himself close to the water line, Reach removed the lid keeping the venomous insects safe during their underwater excursion. With the top off, he waited at the surface of the churning pool until the creepy pests were free from their enclosure. He pulled the bottle underwater with him, and the last of the Saraka flew free to escape drowning inside their former prison.

As he angled himself toward the tunnel entrance, the immense pull of the undertow ceased. The RUPAC who’d been in the room had said they were going to turn off the pumps to set up a sensor suite, but Reach didn’t expect it to be so soon. He scrambled into the tunnel, risking one last breath before escaping beneath the calming surface of the pond.

* * *

The Wolverines rushed the first prisoners like their namesake to an intruder in its den. The motivated Osay infantry platoon had sent two teams of scouts through the rough terrain to identify potential gaps in the Osay cordon, only to find members of the camp-fight struggling to escape the valley.

Lieutenant Cobey called in teams of skirmishers to run the ridgeline, forcing fleeing RUPAC forces back toward the very camp they were trying to escape. Shouts and hollers of “dirty commie” and similar insults learned from Brody drifted through the woodlines to mix with a variety of animal sounds Sergeant Smith had taught them to make. In the rustle and creek of the dense forest, it turned what should have been a nervous scamper to high ground into a nightmare pursuit for the RUPAC, ending in capture.

Kneeling in the mud against a Badger, the thirteen RUPAC prisoners, men and women, had the broken hope of people about to die. Several were wounded, either by gunshots or freak accidents with the terrain as they fled. Sergeant Smith stalked into the midst of them, his rifle dangling from its sling to the front of his body armor. Two men with large packs walked behind him, struggling to keep up with the man’s grizzly gait on his way to survey the Wolverine’s haul.

“Sergeant, do you talk RUPAC?” Smith asked.

PFC Cohen raised his hand, smiling at the grim sergeant. To his surprise, the Osay Platoon Sergeant nodded with what might have passed as a slight grin of his own if it weren’t for the multitude of scars radiating across the man’s cheek. Cohen took it as a good sign, nonetheless. “I can talk to them a little.”

“Good. Please talk them to identify the broken so we can patch them over, please thinkyoo.”

Cohen was taken aback by the simple request spoken in such an odd way. When he translated it, he was further surprised to have one of the RUPAC dressed in military fatigues stand up with balled fists. Members of the assembled Ranger-Osay force shouldered their weapons to the patrol ready posture, signaling they were more than ready for the fight to be a one-sided affair than the other man was.

Cohen translated something from the RUPAC soldier, halting at first, and then the words forming full sentences as he became more comfortable with the dialect. “He says he’s not a coward. At least I think that’s what he’s saying. ‘I fight if you hurt these... citizens,’ I think is the word he’s using. I don’t think he understands we want to help them.”

Smith ran the rifle sling around his armor until the weapon hung behind him. His stare was that of a predator who’d just found an intruder in its territory and wanted it very clear that the only way it was staying was as fertilizer.

Even shivering from being in the mud, the defiant RUPAC prisoner was no small person. He was heavily muscled, indicating some sort of regular extreme work or exercise. None of it seemed relevant as the brute that was Sergeant Smith, equal to the man’s height and stature, approached with a sense of grim purpose.

Cohen held his breath, unsure of what Smith would do. Like everyone else, he’d heard the stories. He’d been there during the frantic fights with the zaskonek and seen what a pack of them could do. Taking on one by hand and facing down its pack had earned Smith a reputation with the rangers that he hoped wouldn’t play out here.

Smith reached into a pouch behind his plate carrier and produced a stick of jerky favored by the hunters among the Osay. He bit off a piece and handed the remainder of the stick to the brutish RUPAC Soldier. Reaching toward one of his medics, he retrieved a wrapped ration pack and ripped open the top. The specialized modern rations had a small fuse, for lack of a better term, inside the pouch that reacted with air. When the seal was broken, the package heated to produce a warm meal. Smith handed it to the man after taking a spoonful for himself to show it wasn’t poisoned.

Smith motioned for the medics. “Halpz them.”

The stunned RUPAC soldier watched as the medics identified the wounded and began the first stages of triage. A Wolverine squad came from the woodline, pulling space blankets from their packs to cover the prisoners. Water and food were produced as the prisoners were identified, treated, and allowed to eat under guard.

Patting Cohen on the back, Smith said, “You talk them. You make the understand.”

“Will do, Sergeant. Hey, that was intense.”

Smith sucked at his teeth, attempting to dislodge a bit of ration from between them. “We are not monsters unless the world makes us.”

* * *

Morales’s rangers stacked beside the building ruined by gunfire and the Bangora. “You see it?”

“Them,” Darrow responded. “I’m pretty sure I can grab one.”

“Can you do it without getting lit up?”

“It’s a monkey. If there’s one thing I know, it’s monkeys. I have two of them that work for me.”

Wilcox and Grant both shouted, “Hey!” into the comms.

Darrow whistled, startling the fildeema perched on a nearby branch. Multiple harness wearing fildeema were situated throughout the trees, observing everything the task force was doing. Alexa had identified signals being broadcast in the operation’s area, giving Morales an idea involving the not so subtle little spies. While Morales wanted to shoot one of them and take the harness, Darrow had other ideas.

He presented a candy bar from one of the ration packs and threw a piece of it to the closest critter, then waited for curiosity and hunger to get the best of it. The mottled creature took the morsel and climbed to the top of the tree to keep away from its brothers rather than escaping the rangers on the ground. After a few cautious bites, the fildeema descended like a SOCOM operator down a fast rope to confront the generous sergeant about his choice to only give the insistent little monkey a portion instead of the whole thing.

Screeches and chitters brought the others from the trees, hands held out as they exposed finger long fangs and nails that had proven they could shred a man’s flesh in seconds. Darrow had seen firsthand the destruction a group of altered and agitated fildeema could do to a platoon of his men. He wasn’t about to repeat the process. As the creatures got insistent, he removed his pistol from its holster with a graveyard snap.

The monkeys reacted by darting back into the tree. Darrow returned the pistol to the holster, accepting a tap on the arm from Sergeant Tulli. “They know what a pistol is, but they aren’t afraid of the rifles.”

“The harnessed up ones are trained. And since the RUPAC see them as equipment, it would make sense they would put troublesome ones down with a pistol over a rifle.”

Darrow threw more of the candy to the harrowing creatures, their interest finally overwhelming their fear. Darrow knelt, waiting for them to come to him. “Hey, Big M. If you’re going to do it, now is the time.”

Morales approached cautiously, more so that the fildeema wouldn’t run off rather than from fear. He held his own piece of candy, pulling it back as the harnessed monkey, something out of a Saturday creature feature TV show, tried to take it. “Ah, Ah, Ah. Little monkey. Good, stay right there so our friends can see and hear this. Cohen! Need you to roll this over in Russian. So here’s the thing. We have your compound surrounded. We sent the Bangora running off to hide in whatever deep hole it crawled out of, and we even stole your pet monkeys. This is your chance to come out right now and be treated fairly.”

Morales donned his helmet emblazoned with a skull logo on the faceplate. “Or we can come inside and talk about how rude you’ve been.”

36

Sergeant Darrow hugged the wall behind the entrance to the central building with the rest of the team following suit behind him. Wilcox was doing that thing with his foot again, which wasn't much as distractions went, but it was enough that Darrow wanted to elbow the kid in the head to rock him back on his heels. The sergeant also wondered if Tulli, stacked to the other side of the entrance, was having the same issue. “Wilcox. Knock off the tapping.”

“Sorry Sar’nt. My old lady used to slap my leg when I did it at the dinner table.”

PVT Grant nudged his partner with a shoulder. “You even old enough to have an old lady?”

“Thirty-one tomorrow,” Wilcox added with a bit of pride.

“Damn, Cox. You’re older than me,” Darrow proclaimed. “Trouble is, you’re gonna leave this planet before hitting thirty-one if you don’t stop tapping that toe.”

“Roger, Sar’nt”

Morales broke into the conversation via implants. “First Squad, we have vibration on the door. Call out your actions before you go. We’re working in tight and there isn’t going to be a lot of room to maneuver.”

“One-Alpha, roger, out.”

“One-Bravo, roger, out.”

Darrow tightened the grip on his pistol. “Cox, Grant, Easy E. Stay tight and keep that door clear.”

The sergeant received a squeeze on his shoulder from behind, a signal that everyone in the stack knew what was expected of them. They also expected the sergeant to get the hell out of the way and let them do their job in return. And that job involved keeping the entrance to the door in front of them clear.

Reach had shaken the tree by inserting in the back door with the bugs. Morales had rung the front doorbell by using the fildeema jacketed with a sensor package, treating the little animals as spies. Somehow, some way, someone was coming out of that door, and it was up to Darrow to handle it.

An explosion impacted the door from the inside, sending a small pressure wave to dislodge the dust on the ground outside. Darrow held his spot. “Wait for it.”

The camp and the valley it called home was in the firm control of the American Rangers working in tandem with elements from the First Osay Infantry Regiment. Cordons had been established, security measures enacted, and the rangers of First Platoon, First Squad were on hand to see the next phase of the operation through. In the intervening hours since Marlin, a member of Cobra platoon had been taken, the unified group under the callsign Task Force Prowler had made a concerted effort to get their man back. This explosion was the first sign that things might be going according to plan for the rangers and not so well for the RUPAC.

“‘Bout time,” Tulli said to Morales. “It’s only been a couple of hours. What have they been doing down there?”

Highlighting elements on his battle board, Morales closed the device to his armor. “Not my turn to watch them. If we’re hearing fireworks on the other side of the door, everyone needs to get their radar dishes on for when we break the seal. We don’t want to run into the only mine the Broski’s haven’t set off to get away from the zombies. Tran, you good?”

“All up, Bro,” Tran responded. “We’re on the back burner when you need us.”

Reach was situated in the torn building across from the entrance. “You sure you don’t want me to come in, Sergeant Morales?”

“No sir. Need you on top with the rest of my guys in case we need a calming influence among the epic levels of crazy about to come out that door.”

Reach risked a look at the smoking portal. “And you think that’s me?”

Morales chuckled. “If you can shut Brody down, I have faith in you, Sir.”

Several loud bangs struck the door, prompting the rangers to adjust their stances. Go time was most likely in the next couple of minutes and the rangers were like a copperhead snake ready to strike on something it didn’t like.

“Here it comes,” Darrow growled.

The door slammed open, disgorging a man in ripped fatigues with his equipment dangling haphazardly. The entire ensemble gave the haggard soldier the look of a marionette whose strings had been cut. He looked in both directions before jumping down the stairs to the dirt. After taking several deep breaths, he sniffed the mud as though it were the most natural thing for him.

“Wolverine Actual this is Prowler-One. We have infected RUPAC forces exiting. Allow egress and wrap and stack to outer cordon. How copy, over?” Morales called into the comm.

“Wolverine Actual, Roger out.” Came the reply from Lieutenant Cobey.

Morales pinged Darrow. “First wave. Target appears to have large reddish-brown sores on the back of his neck. Bugs caught this guy. Let him pass and the Wolverines will roll him up.”

The ruined soldier clambered to his feet trailing bits of muck back to the ground. He threw his head back, howling into the valley. He took a few halting steps toward the road leading out of camp before finding his balance to run. The man’s equipment rattled like wooden wind chimes as the assortment of weapons, carriers, and trinkets slapped against him on his loping gallop out of the camp.

RUPAC soldiers who had ingested the saraka poison as a form of tea were able to follow commands at least. They had battled the Rangers, shrugging off injuries and using their weapons in battle. But these who had been directly stung were a different case altogether. It was like Liana had told Reach, they just wander like wild beasts. Zombies was a good moniker given their behavior.

The rangers snapped their attention to voices and shouts echoing from the bottom of the entrance. A metallic ball the size of a fist flew from the building, landing in the middle of the camp on the ruined Conex building next to Reach. Made of black metal with light blue piping in strange patterns around the surface, the sphere came to an unimpressive rolling stop on the roof.

“Grenade!” Tulli yelled into the net.

Masau broke through with a net call, going over neural link and audio. “Negative. It’s not a grenade. That thing just painted everyone in the camp and the first line of Wolverines in the woods. You need to get someone up there and either bury it or destroy it.”

“Paint?” Cobey asked.

“It’s dropping targeting data and broadcasting it in a comms burst,” Morales explained.

Alexa joined the call. “I concur. It is a wide spectrum info burst that is going out in all directions at extreme range. I advise following the Corporal’s assessment and destroying the object as quickly as possible. I further--” Alexa abruptly broke off her communication before coming back a moment later. “Excuse me. There is a developing situation here.”

Reach moved to climb from the cover of the structure he rested against, trying not to think what that might be about. Rounds impacted all around him, pinging the corrugated metal in hard slaps. Flak peppered his armor, doing little to him besides warning of the destructive cyclic rate of fire keeping him firmly in the mud. Someone inside the opening Darrow and his men were stacked outside was targeting him.

“Need someone to close that door or give the gun something else to think about!” Reach shouted.

“Fire in the hole!” Darrow shouted as he lobbed a grenade into the structure. A soft pop-hiss from the weapon vented thick, oily purple smoke into the stairwell, obscuring the outside from the inside and vice versa. Glittering specks of metallic chaff littered the smoke, breaking up the most common electronic combat optics, making them next to useless.

Reach shimmied up the side of the building, using the remnants of the Bangora’s rage as handholds to get to the top. The blueish seams in the ball were drinking in the light one second, going nearly black in the next, before a flare of hard to look at blue radiated from them. “There’s a trigger switch in the center of the ball. Pressing now.”

Multiple electric shocks flared from the sphere, straightening Reach into a board ready to topple over because it had nothing to lean against. Searing pain, not unlike the pain cannon aboard the T-774 mech, raced through him, forcing him to grunt and shut his eyes as he rode the lightning.

“Morales, this is Alexa. Whatever Reach is doing, stop it now. He’s about to go into cardiac arrest.”

“I got anyone on the starting line covered. Go!” Masau commed.

Darrow and Grant raced from cover, sliding under a renewed hail of automatic gunfire coming from the breach. A powerful boom sounded in the distance, shattering the stone somewhere back in the hallway. The machine gun raked from left to right as much as the door would allow in response. Giving just enough of an opening to get something back through the portal.

“Grenade out!” Priming his underslung launcher, Darrow sent a forty millimeter grenade sailing into the open door. The echo of a detonation against stone followed by smashing sounds beyond the thick purple smoke brought a satisfying stop the outgoing enemy fire.

“Gotcha boss,” Grant said, pulling Reach from the roof by his boot.

Reach tumbled into the mud, releasing the sphere. The private used his rifle stock to dig a quick hole in the wet earth and tangled roots. Tapping it with his weapon, he knocked it into the makeshift grave to bury it alive.

“C’mon LT. Give me something,” Darrow growled his concern, hoping the unconscious Reach would hear him. Rolling him over onto a poncho, he yanked out a long plastic brick from the man’s improved first aid kit. Peeling away the adhesive backing, he slapped the contraption on Reach’s armor in the center of his chest. Pulling away two pads, the sergeant slapped one on the shoulder, and another on the man’s ribs. Bio data appeared in Darrow’s HUD, showing a flat lined heartbeat.

Grant continued to pile mud onto the sphere. “Alexa?”

“Signal strength is waning. Keep doing what you are doing Private Grant. The only ones it can see right now are the three of you behind the building. It must use a hybrid type of echolocation to detect the battlefield in real time, but the signal is strong and penetrating. Pile more on top, please.”

“Digging!”

Turning away from Grant, Darrow watched the automatic electronic defibrillator flash a warning label across the screen.

NEGATIVE HEARTBEAT.

CHARGING.

STAND CLEAR...

STAND CLEAR...

Darrow pulled his hands away from Reach so the device could deliver an arcing dose of electricity. When nothing happened, another prompt flashed across the HUD.

STANDING BY.

PATIENT UNDER CONTACT.

The sergeant swore under his breath. Reach’s fingers were just touching his knee. He slid back, once again raising his hands so that nothing of his was touching the lieutenant. “Do it! Hit him!”

STAND CLEAR...

STAND CLEAR...

SHOCKING PATIENT.

Reach arched his back, flopping back into the muck under the poncho with a wet slap. Darrow was about to order the AED to hit him again when he saw something rise above the trees. “Grant!”

The private piling on scrap metal, roots, and mud over the sphere froze in place trying to make sense of what he was seeing. A small military aircraft the size of an old time helicopter hovered over the trees. Outboard jet engines at the end of the wings kept the plane hovering in place. A triangular nose rotated to face the frozen soldier.

NEGATIVE HEARTBEAT.

STAND CLEAR...

STAND CLEAR...

Darrow grabbed the drag handle on the back of Grant's armor, yanking him backwards. The private tumbled into the mud near Reach, slapping into the cover of the conex building. Twin rotary cannons, much like the ones on the security mech flared to life, sending a tornado of rounds into the ground where the private was just standing. High velocity, high cycle gatling gun fire whirred into Sergeant Darrow, blowing tremendous holes through his armor, spraying his blood in huge gouts into the mud. The sergeant stumbled, forcing his body to obey him not to fall, even as the energy and life poured from him. He was a ranger.

Surrender is not a ranger word.

Pain rocketed through his nervous system, forcing convulsions that spat more blood from his mouth. He took another step, watching the display change from Reach’s vitals to his own. His heart rate and blood pressure were plummeting.

Surrender is not a ranger word.

Another step. Just a few more and Sergeant Darrow would complete his mission. Bury the comms buoy. Another step. More pain. Breath was coming in short wheezing rasps as the collapsing lungs struggled to fuel the fire for one more step.

Surrender is not a ranger word.

Another whine of the banshee vehicle in the distance pulverized the space being baptized in Sergeant Darrow’s blood. Rounds sent splashes of mud into the air several feet as multiple impacts punched more of the sergeant’s life from his body. He stumbled to his knees. Great wheezes racking his frame as failing organs struggled to fight for more time, more distance, and one more step.

Surrender is not a ranger word.

SHOCKING PATIENT.

Darrow stood, stumbled, and brought his rifle to his hip. Rapid fire trigger pulls clumsily sent rounds toward the aerial threat as Darrow flopped onto the pile formed by Private Grant.

Alexa sounded in his ear. Her voice was calm and solemn. “You did it, Sergeant Darrow. Signal down.”

Darrow wheezed again. Forcing himself through the fire in his chest to get enough air to gurgle out a blood soaked, “Changing mags!”

Light went out of the Sergeant’s eyes as he watched Reach bolt upright.

* * *

Reach’s eyes flew open, followed by wracking coughs and the sounds of typhoon style gunfire. The heavy burping noise of twin rotary cannons stunned his senses into hyper reality as his HUD screamed at him.

NORMAL HEART RATE DETECTED.

ACCELERATED METABOLISM DETECTED.

STUDYING BIO RHYTHM...

Flopping his head to the side, he watched fire die inside Sergeant Darrow’s eyes. The sight of a blood trail over the course of six or seven feet leading to the shattered warrior punched him in the stomach even as the blood rushing in his ears sounded out his triumphant return to this side of the grave. Rage overcame pain as the combat leader got to his knees.

VITALS RETURNING TO SYSTEM NORMAL.

PLEASE DIRECT PATIENT TO COMBAT MEDIC FOR ASSESSMENT.

Reach tore the AED from his armor, tossing it into the mud. Alexa’s icon appeared in his vision. He hovered his eyes over it, activating her presence in his mind.

“Jared. Bio-signatures suggest your enhanced physiology is recovering you quickly from a triggered defensive shock by the sonar buoy. With the loss of Sergeant Darrow, Lieutenant Sherman has requested you take command of the situation on the ground.”

“On it,” Reach said, feeling as though his molars had been fried. “Can you do anything about that drone overhead?”

“My time is split between attending to Dr. Roman and additional RUPAC aerial drones to deal with and we don’t have the resources to destroy the one currently harassing the camp.”

“What’s wrong with Roman?”

“He decided to have a heart attack as well…”

Reach risked a look from behind his cover. Grant attempted to pull him back. There was pain and anguish in the young private’s posture, as well as the desperation in his grip. Reach held up a finger, causing Grant to relax a bit upon seeing Reach had come back into some sense of his faculties.

The drone was making streaking runs against the camp, using its gatling guns with abandon. Swaths of treeline broke under the hurricane of rounds firing in alternating bursts as the cannons swiveled in opposite directions. The aircraft danced and whirled, giving the guns equal times in and out of the camp. Return fire from the ground was intense, with tracer rounds highlighting a path to the target as the rounds zinged harmlessly off its armored skin.

“Tran, it's Reach.”

“Glad you’re still with us.”

“Barely,” Reach croaked. “Morales, you here too?”

“Online, sir. At the entrance to the target structure. We’re the corral point in the event someone pokes their nose out.”

Reach took a sip from the straw in his helmet, taking it on faith that a bit of water would help his voice. “Tran, I see in the roster that you have a Badger with you. Need you to run that up to this side of the valley while Morales gives the thing something to shoot at.” Reach highlighted a section of the map overlay running from the cliff face where the waterfall fed the pond.

“Oh we already got it interested in us,” Morales said. “That burping isn’t just a bad dream. That thing is mobile and hostile, raining rounds all around us.”

Reach took another sip to stifle the cough threatening the impromptu FRAGO. “Good. Use the Osay. When you’re in position Tran, I need you to hit it with the twins. Drive it to this overhang. Morales, tell me you have more eighty-four mils.”

The Badger had proved effective against a RUPAC drone in their early days occupying Camp Ohio. Reach was hopeful that with a clear line of fire, its targeting system could deal with the UAV again.

“Yes sir,” Morales said with a little too much enthusiasm. “Launcher has a couple of HEDP rounds we can send air mail.”

“Let’s make it work Gentlemen.”

“What are you going to do LT?” Tran asked.

“I’m going to wait here a bit. Still gotta catch my breath.”

* * *

Under cover of the ADV, another pocket of RUPAC soldiers leading technicians scrambled from the smoke laden door. Firing in multiple directions, the soldiers ran for the road leading out of the camp with their collection of civilians in tow. Hot on their heels came one of the zombified RUPAC, this one in much the same state as the first save for being without his gear. He ran a few steps outside of the enclosure, whirling on Earley and Wilcox. The husk of a man screeched, grasping for the duo for some reason known only to himself.

Earley waited for the thing to get mere steps away when he kicked it square in the sternum. It stumbled back several steps, looking down at his chest in disbelief. The thing hunched down, ready to lunge back at its chosen prey when a single round blew the back of its head through the front.

“Splash one Zulu. You good?” Morales asked.

The pain in Earley’s voice was clear, even in the neural link. “Not alright. I want to smash that toy out of the sky and take off the fingers of the one flying it with a pair of pliers.”

“Draw it in. We’re going to punch it.”

“On it.” Earley said. Placing several rounds at the vehicle did nothing as it strafed the building again, keeping the rangers pinned to the side of the structure where the corrugated buildings around it kept them out of its direct line of fire. Mud splashes showered them in bits of bog strewn detritus as hyper kinetic impacts smacked against the ground. Directing PFC Wilcox, the two moved from cover as the junior ranger played the high cycle game with the drone. The MG-6.8 delivered its deadly swarm of hornets to the target, pounding on the thing’s outer armor hard enough to get its attention.

“Now we did it.” Wilcox said.

The drone angled its nose down, flying over the treeline in a strafing maneuver to get a better angle on the annoying SAW gunner. In rotating over the trees, it left one of its rotary barrelled guns to engage the Osay below it. The agile fighters were quick to adjust to the mobility of the drone, using the valley’s terrain to provide cover and firing positions to engage the machine. Sergeant Smith ran from cover, lobbing a grenade from his underslung grenade launcher. The round impacted against the tops of the trees, exploding hard enough to knock it off course. The fragmentation of the round smashed one of its cannons offline, shredding the feeding mechanism into a hanging ribbon of scrap metal. With so many targets lobbing fire at it, the drone pulled away to a dip in the valley.

“We need that drone back up here,” Morales said.

“Give it a minute,” Tran indicated on the net. “That thing pops up every time they try to slip a few more peeps out that door and past us. It’s here to provide cover and harass us.”

Another squad came from the door, this one all in civilian fatigues. Morales highlighted them on his battle board so that the units outside the fence would know they had another herd of sheep trying to outrun the dogs. Lieutenant Cobey acknowledged the broadcast, indicating they had rounded up the first crew without incident.

The drone roared over the trees, coming to hover just outside the camp. It sent rounds into the structures to keep the rangers heads down while the technicians escaped. The hollow deafening bell of twin fifty caliber machine guns echoed through the trees from the top of Tran’s Badger. The savage anti-armor high explosive incendiary rounds punched gaping holes through the flying demon’s armor, spinning it around from the force of the impact as it tried to obey gyro stabilizers keeping it in the air. One of the engines huffed, coughing bellows of smoke as the vehicle flew sideways under the protection of the cliff face. Rounds impacted the stone, turning the rock into deadly flechettes threatening to overwhelm the embattled craft.

Earley stepped from beside one of the buildings. “Backblast area clear! Firing!”

The recoilless rifle round sailed across the camp, the pressure wave from its firing drifting across the structures and sending the purple smoke obscuring the door back inside. The round detonated inside the drone’s armor, popping off armored plates and sending the throaty growl of the engines into the mournful wail of a dying creature. It pitched forward and then sidelong, cavitating as it lost altitude.

“All Prowler elements, splash target zero one,” Morales called over the net.

The machine crashed just outside the gate, tumbling sideways until the machine broke apart in a fireball as a power cell ignited the magazine. Whatever that drone had been, it was a hell of a lot tougher than the model they’d first encountered. RUPAC was not without its surprises.

Within the chaos, Morales called into the net. “Prowler One is nose dive on target building.”

37

“Give me an ID on that plane so I can carve its name on the tombstone!” Sherman barked.

“Supreme Commander Sherman! That is a V-21 Multi Role Aerial Combat Drone fighting for the glory of RUPAC!” Shouted Ivan over the loudspeaker. “You may wish to reconsider your engagement.”

“Brody may have been right about you,” Sherman muttered under his breath. “Ivan, the drone is being directed by traitors to the RUPAC. They are looking to sabotage settlement operations here on Amir. Every round fired from those guns is a failure for Central Command!”

“Intolerable!” Ivan ranted. “Supreme Commander Sherman, I have a course of action for you.”

The look of disgust on Sherman’s face at being called whatever Ivan was calling him would have been funny if a second drone hadn’t been on hand to harass the incoming USS Osay and its two Predator Heavy Hauler escorts. With the wing engines rotated for thrust, the drone was fast, maneuverable, and deadly against aerial targets.

“Tell me”—Sherman paused, the feeling of indigestion rising in his expression—“Comrade Ivan.”

Ivan’s voice enthusiastically returned to the speaker after he was called comrade by his Supreme Commander. “Currently, we have a V-21 firing on both Predator Haulers flying in tandem with us. If it continues, it will use its dorsal missile launchers to disable them both. This will be used as a diversion to have us split our forces. Half for the camp, half for the rescue operation to recover the downed Predators. Such are the tactics drilled into these traitors.”

“Smart Pilot,” Ross said.

“They do not possess pilots, comrades. They are Ivan-autonoms, like me,” Ivan said proudly.

Sherman called to Alexa over the link. “Can they be hacked?”

A second feed interrupted the briefing. “Predator Two to Osay, this thing is hammering us pretty good. We need an assist! How copy, over!”

Sherman used the link to speak directly with the Predator pilots. “Two, this is Osay. Working it now.” He switched back over and said, “Ivan, I need that solution now!”

“Yes, Supreme Commander. Primary option, we use heavy ordnance to destroy the camp. If there are no survivors, there is no reason for the drones to remain.”

“Let’s hear option two.”

“The V-21 will not enter into the range of our PDCs. It cannot withstand such an assault. If you allow the Predators to draw fire while we circle the valley at extra-orbital speeds and come from the opposite direction, our PDCs will be able to destroy it as we pass by. This option carries considerable risk.”

“Like what?” Sherman barked.

“Maneuvering fast enough to come from the other side for a strafing run could potentially set the atmosphere on fire.”

Sherman sat in stunned silence for a moment. How fast could this bird go? “Alexa?”

“It is a possibility,” the android responded.

Ross asked from the flight console, “What about accelerating to fly past all the ships and let the point defenses target the drone?”

Ivan’s holographic head, floating in front of them all, took on a pained look of regret. “The V-21’s are very evasive. They would dodge such pitiful attempts.”

Alexa interrupted the conversation. “If I could find the signal they are using to broadcast, I could potentially breach their framework and attempt a hack. Unfortunately, I can find no signal broadcasting to or from them.”

Sherman stared at the Predator Haulers being raked by rotary cannon fire. A missile flared from the drone’s back, streaking toward Predator Two. “Ross, speed us up and have the PDCs target that missile.”

Inertial compensators flared, making the gravity inside the ship feel like they were all sitting in a hot tub filled with bubbling syrup. A staccato thrumming through the hull heralded the point defense cannons doing their job, decimating the missiles in flight. True to Ivan’s speculation, the V-21 veered and dipped, flying in and around the Osay’s offensive and defensive measures before diving toward the ground. Barely above the canopy, the ship rotated its engines to their VTOL position, bringing it to a fraction of its capable speed but floating it above the treetops too close for the Osay to follow.

Strahler put a flashing marker on the screen with a trail leading to the RUPAC camp. “It's making a break for the camp, LT!”

“Smart,” Sherman remarked. He rubbed his chin, staring at the virtual battle board floating in the altered reality vision courtesy of his implant. “Get us to protect the other ships and it breaks low for the camp. Time to target?”

“This traitorous AI will arrive at the camp in ninety seconds,” Ivan said, making a spitting sound afterward to emphasize his displeasure.

“Reach, this is Sherman,” he said through the link.

“Go for Reach.”

“Did you miss any other back doors?”

“Negative. Checked and double-checked. Why?”

“Then the RUPAC is going to come out heavy in the next forty-five seconds to extract an HVT.”

* * *

Reach ran beside Morales, the effort taxing his system, which was still working to recover him from near death. “You catch that last bit from Sherman?”

Morales put three rounds into the side of the open door to the base. A fusillade of machine gun fire responded to his shots, further denying them entry. “Yes, sir. I caught it. I just put Tran and his guys on pulling an Osay security element into that waterfall in case they try and squirt out the back. Trying to keep his mind off of our black eye.”

Reach glanced toward the broken body of Sergeant Darrow. “Good plan. Tran coming up?”

“He’s dismounting now. We need to get in this door yesterday, sir. But I don't want to send any of my people into a wood chipper for nothing,” Morales shouted despite the implant, his nerves going to old habits amid the din of automatic gunfire.

“I’ll go. I’ll get us in,” Reach said.

“Not for nuthin’, LT, but we just got your motor running again. No time for hero on this hop.”

Reach held up a finger to Morales. “Something tells me we don’t have the time for that.” He ran into the woodline, linking up with Sergeant Smith. He returned with two ballistic shields lashed together by hundred-mile-an-hour tape. “They took these off the escaping RUPAC. I figure two ought to keep me from being shot until I can get something off.”

“And what’s that?” Morales asked.

“I got a couple of flash bangs left. I’ll hurl them down the stairs, and you guys can trail behind me. Once the machine gunner is tango uniform, you rush through and start the push.”

Morales shrugged. “Well, it’s not a great plan, but at least we’re doing something. You think it's too late to go through the back door? I know it's a long swim, but the temporary air supply in our armor should hold us for long enough to get to the other side.”

It was Reach’s turn to shrug. “You want to take the chance someone gaffs the swim and drowns in there?”

“So our choices are drowning or wood chipper?” Morales asked. “Lovely.”

“Pick one, Sergeant.”

“Woodchipper it is.”

* * *

Reach moved as fast as he could crouched behind the double-stacked riot shields. The frenetic clang of bullets ricocheting off the surface sounded like someone was playing drums on a church bell as sparks and blackened cerakote flew from the shield in droves. Reach had strung a zip tie through the grenade pins, allowing him to pull them in a single go. He waited for the spoons to drop, counted one one thousand, then lobbed them over the shield.

The weapons hit the ceiling and rebounded down the stairs into the midst of whoever was firing the machine gun. A massive dull THROOM washed through the hallway, covering Reach in a shower of dust. The machine gun stopped firing, giving Reach a few breaths to rush for the stairs. A quick leap dropped him to the bottom of all ten steps behind a gaggle of RUPAC technicians rolling on the ground covering their eyes and ears.

Concussion grenades are meant to be set off in large enclosed spaces or outside so the overpressure from the explosive detonating doesn’t permanently injure those the grenade is trying to disable. Using a double-stacked grenade in close quarters, such as a stairwell, is a good way to rupture eyes, blow out eardrums, and even kill those whose constitutions aren’t what they used to be.

Two of the technicians were dead at the bottom of the stairs. One seemed to have succumbed to the effects of the grenade, while the other had shrapnell scoring around the face and neck caked in a thick black blood. Four others were rocking back and forth, obviously regretting their poor life choices.

Needing to communicate but without the time to wait for the technician’s hearing to return, Reach typed out a phrase in Russian on his battle board. “Where are the prisoners?”

The technician blinked several times, trying to get her eyes to focus. She stared at the board, the cyrrillic writing bringing recognition into her tear soaked eyes. She tapped along the keyboard at the bottom of the screen, the effort of forming words like this becoming a major strain through the fog of pain most likely obscuring her vision.

“What prisoners?”

Morales snuck behind Reach and squeezed his shoulder in the event he too was suffering from the effects of the grenade. “Joy or no joy?”

“No joy. This batch knows nothing about prisoners.”

Morales signalled past Reach, moving Wolverines into the space to seize the machine gun and control the prisoners. A line of the Osay soldiers were at the top of the stairs. As the rangers moved through the structure, the Osay called additional units forward to take up security points for controlled areas. That way RUPAC forces couldn’t double back to reassert control, trapping the rangers with nowhere to go.

“Two fresh faces coming up,” Tulli said, advancing down the hall toward the two leaders. “Bravo on the bounce.”

“Sergeant Tulli, lead us in,” Morales said to his team leader.

Specialists Moorehouse and Tarrant walked forward with two fresh shields, moving shoulder to shoulder through the hall to absorb the space. Sitting atop cuts in the armor were the two men’s pistols, put into carbine mode to facilitate a more stable shooting platform. The duo glided down the hall and entered a large space glowing with green and white light.

* * *

Tran had Dipps park the Badger within the fence overlooking the compound’s pond when the call came through the comms.

“Tran, this is Sherman. We have another drone en route to your position. Best to spin up that gun truck in the event it decides to pay you a visit.”

“Roger out. Unga, need you on the geek goggles again.”

Unga strapped the control harness to his face. “Feeling a little attacked, Sergeant.”

“Send hate mail care of the US Army Rangers to any address I provide.”

“Roger that, Sar’nt.”

Tran ran down the ramp to the waterfall to oversee the squad acting as a security entrance to the facility pool.

Sergeant Heller from the Wolverines watched the lean sergeant with the race track stride approaching his position and decided to meet him halfway. “Whaz good, Sar’nt?”

Tran gave a curt nod. “Team one in the hole encountered some resistance, and the big ship spotted another drone. Stay frosty.”

“Cold fer sure.”

Tran returned to the vehicle, peeking between the buildings to see what was going on at the main entrance to the lab. “Vance, it’s Tran. You got anything out there?”

Tran’s remaining team leader keyed right into the call. “We got eyes on the Wolverines rolling up that last crew that tried to run the wire. Masau and Day are doing their thing at the top of the ridge. You got something?”

“Sherman just called in another drone running the ridge this way. Could be something.”

“Sergeant Tran, this is Masau. Just put eyes on your Osay Sergeant, Heller, looking around the pool area like he lost his dog.”

Tran cursed and brought his rifle up. Going from an aggravated walk to a rolling shooting platform required no effort for men like Tran. Principles of combative movement were no different to him than someone going from a walk to a run and back again. “Sergeant Heller. SITREP!”

“Can’t find one of me peoples. Here one tic, flash gone the toc.”

Tran lowered himself to a kneeling shooting posture, tightening the rifle to his shoulder. The other six Wolverines in the cave followed suit, recognizing the tactic from their training with Sergeant Dawson. “Reach, it’s Tran. What’s the likelihood these RUPAC guys can make the swim that you did?”

* * *

Reach keyed into the comm. “Right training, most of us could do it, but the technicians who specialize in stale coffee and snack machines would have a hard time. Why?”

“I’m missing a man and I think we might have squirters coming through us,” Tran said. “Stay frosty. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Tango Yankee. Reach out.”

Walking into the eerily lit room, Reach was struck dumb by the simple elegance of what the RUPAC had built. Feed lines from the pool below fed a water filled shelf lined with vined plants, mostly tomatoes, that circled a large opening in the floor that was as wide across as half a football field. Drip lines along the overflow points in the runner leaked water to the floor below where there were more vine-like plants soaking in the mineral rich liquid of the growth shelf. A third floor down ended in a lit pool that someone could observe through transparent carbonate walls. Small, alien-looking fish darted in and out of the plants, eating algae and other pond-forming greenery before such things could form and choke the nutrients out of the water. It was a complete ecosystem centered around growing crops in the safety of the underground versus amid the fildeema, Bangora, and other complications that roam up top.

Reach watched the fish dart in and around a plant that looked a lot like an onion, when something in the environment, or at least past the environment, didn’t look right. He kicked Specialist Moorehouse’s shield, sending it sailing in front of his partner, Specialist Tarant. Two rounds struck the shield, putting two rifle-slug-sized dents into the metal rather than the ranger’s skull.

“Contact, eleven o’clock! One floor down!” Reach shouted.

A flurry of rounds blasted through the aqua shelves, spreading shreds of plant matter and water across the wall. The rangers dove for cover, using the stone beneath the glass hangars to shield them from what sounded like seven-point-six-two millimeter rounds slapping against their cover.

Reach poured his rifle over the side, pushing bullets through the chamber toward the threat. He had a better view than the others, seeing six men in RUPAC security gear tapping the shelves around them with gunfire. Reach went for the kill straight away and placed two rounds center mass of the first guard, cracking the man’s body armor and sending him into the wall. The third shot punctured the center of his forehead, dropping him in place.

PFC Cohen leaned over the rail and dumped several bursts from his SAW across the divide in the level. Belts of 6.8 millimeter wreaked havoc with the water shelf, blowing out plants and water as well as the helmets on two of the RUPAC guardsmen. A stray round from the other side of the expanse caught Cohen in the cheek, shattering his faceplate and blowing through the soft flesh underneath. To his credit, he spit out the bullet and several teeth before replacing the plate and putting the weapon back in operation. Staccato bursts from the 6.8 machine gun shredded the soldiers he could see. The super angry PFC found an inlet to the stairs and walked to the next level. “Gowich, dow to engage tahgits,” he managed to stammer out.

Tarrant and Moorhouse ran to catch up in order to give their enthusiastic fellow murderer a shield to hide behind. Rounds pinged off the super strong alloy, stripping paint and leaving burn trails.

Reach took his own battered shield and raced down the stairwell. Morales followed in tow, catching the invigorated super soldier when he came to the landing below his rangers. A zombified RUPAC technician charged out of the darkness and pushed Reach’s shield into Morales, knocking the sergeant against the wall. Reach aimed his rifle at the man when it whirled on him and batted the weapon away as a precursor to throwing Reach down the stairs. A second of the stung RUPAC arrived and pushed on the shield, crunching Morales into the door he’d just come from, trying to push past him to leave the facility and get underneath uncovered skies.

Reach quickly recovered and raced back up the stairs. He grabbed one of the two, ready to hurl it away and free Morales, when a round zipped through the poisoned man’s ear from above, switching off its lights for good.

Moorehouse shouted into the link. “LT! Incoming on your ten o’clock!”

The remnants of the RUPAC squad were on the opposite side of the catwalk, waiting for things to play out. Of the two remaining soldiers, only one was on the rifle. The other was holding the side of his helmet, probably calling something into the radio.

* * *

The first of the infected RUPAC exited the pool, their swollen necks making them look like they had gills. Two of them rushed a member of the Wolverines, slamming him into the wall even as he dumped an entire mag into them. Members of Heller’s squad reacted immediately, firing on the move using their soldier as a line they had to cross in order to keep him from being shot himself.

Tran spent a single round to ventilate the head of the first sakara-infected… thing, putting it down for good. Turning on his heel, he sent a round into the ripples forming at the back of the pool. A single body floated to the top. Tran sent another round into the back of its neck for good measure. If the shot didn’t kill it outright, the poor bastard would drown and the result would be the same.

“Withdraw by team back to the APC,” Tran ordered. “Heller, lay down suppressive fire on the pool so your men can beat feet!”

“Sergeant Tran,” Alexa said over implant. “These infected need only be given space. Their aggression is linked only to those who they deem as trying to prevent their urge to move into the wilds.”

“Not the zombies I’m worried about,” Tran shouted back.

As the squads exited the basin, the first helmeted head appeared, complete with face mask and two glowing eye slits for dramatic effect. The RUPAC was anything if not theatrical when it came to its gear. The black armor and fatigues sporting a wolf logo patch rose from the water like some nightmare creatures from the depths. The Osay just escaping the infected’s stampede out of camp was gunned down in an instant.

Heller put rounds on target, slipping past the exquisite armor to find the soft squishy bits underneath. The Black Wolf soldier presented his back to the impact, and turned to fire several bursts at Heller, rejecting the sergeant’s invitation to death.

Tran shouted out orders. “Unga! Lay some hate into that—”

Before he could finish the sentence, a wave of lead rocked the Badger as a low flying V-21 burst from the trees, sending its devilish requiem of gunfire into the vehicle. While the rounds didn’t penetrate, their consistent shelling fritzed out the targeting system for the virtual reality interface, leaving Unga two choices. Choice one, hunker down. Choice two, operate by hand.

The V-21 strafed to the side, drifting along its VTOL engines with a constant stream from the rotary guns as if it were a hose watering the grass. Ventral housings in its armor flared open, exposing a micro missile launcher. The tiny projectile popped from its launcher, igniting the motor a second later to run its line straight to target, completely down Unga’s throat.

As the giant PFC breached from the top of the vehicle to operate the guns manually, he roared in the face of the incoming missile he wouldn’t have time to stop. The projectile raced over the trees, losing altitude as Unga fought with the control release that would remove the gear locks for the altered reality control and let him run the guns manually.

The missile streaked in and collided with a Predator Hauler that swooped into the weapon’s targeting line. The missile’s coring effect burned clear through the heavy craft’s thick armor plating and exploded inside the cargo bay with a muted thud. The predator spun out of control, running aground to the outside of the fencing, just shy of the road.

“Usi fale kai ta'e!” Unga shouted as he swung the twins toward the machine that wanted him dead.

Long, deliberate bursts rammed into the side of the aircraft, shredding the right outboard engine. The aerial death machine wailed as smoke and burning metal drooled from its wing mount. Tran joined the firefight, putting rounds into what he hoped would be its sensor eye. Out of the corner of his own eye, he caught a movement from the falls. One of the black clad wolves was running with a thin woman in tandem. She was wearing a skin tight suit that resembled a wetsuit with magnetic attachment points and a black face shield over her face.

She dove into the woodline as the RUPAC special operator turned to address the Wolverine soldiers and the angry Army Ranger that was bearing down on them. Carrying a short, fully automatic belt-fed weapon, the operator adopted a kneeling shooting stance. It was textbook, like he’d trained his whole life for this moment and would be the one to put this threat to the Glory of RUPAC down for good.

“Splash one.”

Masau’s voice through the link dropped into the pit of Tran’s stomach as he watched the RUPAC wolf train his weapon on them all. The operator’s head snapped back with a sickening crunch, shattering the helmet and flipping him onto his neck. The weapon scattered onto the ground and rolled into the pond without firing a shot.

“Heller!” Tran shouted, a one-word order.

The Osay squad leader raced into the woodline after the black clad RUPAC woman. He sprinted into the woods and disappeared between the smoke and leaves of the forest. Two other Osay were about to give chase when Tran stood them down.

“No! I need you here! Unga, Swing those guns!”

The giant PFC did as ordered, catching a round in the shoulder plate of his armor. It rocked him into the side of the cupola, causing him to cry out in a roar of rage induced agony.

Coming from the pool was what looked like the remainder of the assault element for the special guard sent to protect this woman. Had the other two Osay given chase to follow Heller, they would have been shot in the back. A vicious gunfight ensued between the black wolves and the Wolverines. Rounds passed in and out of the water, turning the pool a muddy brown. The special operators deployed flash bangs, sending the Osay reeling for cover. The wolves advanced, only to be cut down by Unga working his twin fifty caliber’s with one and a half arms.

Explosive slaps sent geysers of mud, blood, and water racing toward the sky as the twelve point seven mil rounds eviscerated the black clad RUPAC soldiers. A series of burst fire from the twins collapsed the special force, leaving little alive to mount a defense. A soldier with another of the short machine guns sent rounds flying back toward the allies, tearing into two Osay soldiers and dropping Tran in the mud.

The sound of rending metal exploded behind them. A badger tore free from the carcass of the downed predator, swinging its own twins toward the sky. Rapid belches of hellfire from the linked machine guns tore the rest of the V-21 apart in mid air, even as it tried to limp from the combat zone. It exploded high above the canopy, showering the forest in liquid fire and exploding rounds.

Unga dropped down from the gunner's platform and slid in the mud as he struggled to get to Tran. Rolling him over, the Tongan ranger sucked in air through his teeth at the sight of his chest plate ruined by automatic gunfire. He tapped the release latch on the side of the man’s helmet to check for a pulse.

Tran’s eyes were lucid. He gave an uncharacteristic smile. “Why is it when I’m facing the sky about to take my last breath, it’s you that’s there to give me mouth to mouth? Why can’t it be one of the Osay girls or that cute space force pilot?”

Unga serenaded his sergeant with curses and then wiped his nose, trying to keep the sniffling instrument from revealing to his squad leader just how worried he’d been before that moment. “I can put in a good word for you with either, Sar’nt.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

38

Sgt. Heller ran through the woods in pursuit of the woman, the VIP.

Heller was a good tracker and an excellent Hunter. Already in good physical shape when he first volunteered to be trained by Sergeant Dawson as a soldier, he’d since achieved fitness levels that seemed almost otherworldly. He was on par with the Rangers, matching their intensity and staying with them on runs, stride for stride. The whispers among his fellow NCOs were that once the call came for candidating to a new Ranger school, Heller would be among the first selected.

He wanted to be a Ranger. The idea of being the very best at something had been a driving factor his entire life. Everything he did as a member of Wolverine Platoon seemed to take him one step closer to his eventual goal. And now, if he could come through for Sergeant Tran and bring back the VIP… how much more would he be proving to the Rangers that someday he should be counted among them?

The only problem was, the woman was nowhere to be seen. At first, there had been signs of her hasty retreat. Bushes were disturbed, their stalks bent or snapped. Water had dripped from her skin-tight wetsuit to leave other markings splattered on broad leaves or pooling on the prints of her boots before the forest grew too carpeted to reveal such things.

Heller felt that he should have already caught up with her. He was fast, and although he had no idea how fleet-footed the woman was, he felt confident that even in his full kit he should at least have her in sight now. And if not in sight, he should hear her running ahead. She hadn’t gotten that large of a headstart.

He stopped and listened to the forest. It would tell you things if you were quiet and let it. And right now it was telling him that it was still feeling violated. The usual noise and rhythm of its natural working order wasn’t there. Things were quiet.

“Sergeant Heller.” It was Lieutenant Cobey. “Have you apprehended the VIP?”

Heller activated his comm and quietly said, “Negative. Should’ve run her down by now. I think she be hiding somewheres.”

“Don’t pursue any further. We are sending in third squad to assist.”

That was good. If LT had the manpower to do that, it meant things at the camp were under control.

“Roger out.“

Heller looked around. She was out here somewhere, hiding. That was the only logical explanation. He continued to scan his surroundings, listening and looking. He spied up into the branches of the trees and crept around the underbrush, hoping to spook the woman into moving or otherwise revealing her position. So long as that revelation didn’t come from the wrong end of a gun. Not that she’d looked armed in the glimpse of her fleeing figure that Heller saw. And her escorts were all dead. Still, there could be emergency weapons caches buried out here. Best to remain vigilant.

The Osay Sergeant looked into a thick, thorn-covered mass of bramble that rose a full two meters into the air and must have been at least twice that thick judging from how dense it appeared. It was a veritable wall of thorns… except for a single, small opening at its base. A hole in the wall. Something that was likely made by some animal with thick enough fur that it was able to forge a path through the underbrush rather than scurry around it.

That path had been maintained by other animals and just happened to be the right size for a human to shimmy down inside and hide beneath the thick tangles of bramble, albeit with a few scratches for the effort. But then, the VIP was wearing a protective wetsuit with a full helmet. Heller hadn’t found anything discarded, meaning she was still wearing it most likely and therefore had some protection against the bush.

If she was anywhere nearby, Heller was sure it was there.

Sure enough, as Heller studied the opening he saw what looked like a faint rustle of movement. There was no sound, but leaves amid the tangle seemed to sway against one another despite a total lack of wind. With his rifle ready, Heller crept toward the opening, his ears straining for any hint of movement or breathing, his eyes fixated on the oddly jingling leaves.

As he approached, the leaves seemed to blur. Heller rubbed his eyes. As his hand came away from his face, something more than leaves suddenly came into focus, as though the air itself were taking shape. The Osay Sergeant realized that he was mere centimeters away from the business end of a rifle barrel, heavily camouflaged with hanging moss and leaves. He froze in his tracks.

“Move back,” said a voice, speaking in Brody. “And stay quiet. We do not intend to harm you.”

Heller slowly raised both hands, letting his rifle hang limply on its sling. He took slow and deliberate steps backward until the disembodied voice ordered him to stop. As if levitating in the air by magic, the rifle barrel followed him out of the bush. Heller squinted in confusion and then the silhouette of a man became visible, slowly simmering in the air and then becoming solid. This was one of the ghosts Cobra platoon had reported during their stalk and chalk.

The sergeant stood still, not wanting to show any signs of aggression. If they wanted him dead, they had the opportunity. But then, perhaps they simply didn’t want to give away their position. In that case, someone might be coming over to do the work up close with a blade. To that end, he heard a single set of footsteps somewhere behind him.

Fine, Heller told himself. If that was the way this was going to go down, then he could at least fire his weapon and notify his brothers that the woods were not yet clear of RUPAC danger.

“Heller, it’s okay.”

Sergeant Heller knew that voice. He turned his head slightly and confirmed what his ears had told him. “Marlin.”

The tracker nodded. “Yeah. I is back.”

“But who”—Heller turned back around to check on the man with the rifle, only to find that he was no longer there. Just a faint ripple of light seemed to pass in his vision for a moment before it disappeared into the brush—“was that?”

“Strange things,” said Marlin. “Big trouble in little China, like Brody says. But maybe not so big, I think.”

“These were RUPAC.”

“I don’t think so any more longer. They gave me something for command. Talk to me. Let me go. They say they just want to be left alone.”

“Must not be on Amir very long to think that a possibility.” Heller looked one more time for any further signs of the ghosts. “How long were you out here, Marlin? Watching me?”

“The whole time. I waited in woods for the entire fight with them. Saw you a mile away. Too noisy, Heller.”

The Osay Sergeant frowned at the admonition.

Marlin shrugged as if it say, ‘“It’s true.” He continued. “They wanted to turn me over after fighting done. Said they know Rangers win. I tried to convince them to help us. I say that would go a long way to let USA Rangers know that they are not enemies. But… they weren’t interested.”

Remembering the VIP, Heller asked, “Did you see a RUPAC woman come this way? In a tight suit with a helmet on? Was she with them maybe?”

Marlin shook his head. “Been out here for a while. Nobody came this way.”

Heller looked around and cursed. “I was chasing her. This way, I is sure. She couldn’t have just disappeared.”

Marlin looked over to where they’d last seen the ghosts. “You sure about that after what you just saw?”

Before Heller could answer, Lieutenant Cobey chimed in asking for another SITREP after informing his sergeant that the promised support was delayed for another five minutes. “Or have you found the VIP already?”

Heller looked over to Marlin for a beat and then reported back, “I found one of them.”

* * *

Reach emerged from the now fully clear agricultural facility with Morales and his squad in two. The RUPAC soldier with the rifle and his partner working the comms had represented the last vestiges of any concerted resistance. That defense didn’t last long. The two belonged to the RUPAC special forces unit, part of the squad named Black Wolf according to intel gathered from the men’s corpses. With them eliminated, everyone else inside had been the model of compliant surrender. The only technicians who wanted to do anything but give themselves up were those who had been stung. These needed only be given a clear path to the outside where they would disappear into the wilds.

All but one.

Alexa had asked for one of the infected to be captured and restrained so that she could study the effects of the venom. The request was more easily given than achieved. Even when Unga joined the group of Osay soldiers attempting to restrain the selected man, he struggled and fought with the strength of PCP addict who’d just won the lotto.

Finally Doc Watts had come over and injected a sedative into the man. “Hope that doesn’t mess up your studies, Alexa,” Watts said. “But this guy literally didn’t know when to quit. He was about to struggle his way into cardiac arrest.”

“Not something we need to have happen a third time today,“ said Alexa. “Thank you for your efforts, Sergeant Watts.”

The ranger grunted and then went back to overseeing his Osay medics as they tended to the wounded, the most severe of which had already been loaded onto the remaining Predator hauler and rushed back to Camp Ohio-Craiswell.

Reach heard the conversation over the open net. He hopped onto the command channel and reported that they had full control of the RUPAC facility… “No sign of our guy anywhere.”

“Well done,” Captain Bosa said, though the news about Marlin not being present seemed to temper his voice somewhat. He sounded tired. Nevertheless, he sprang into action. “Lieutenant Sherman, we fought hard to get these two facilities. I want Cobra platoon left as a garrison on facility one and Wolverine platoon left at two. Last thing we want now is to allow the RUPAC to come crawling back in and have to fight another knock down drag out with them in case we find there’s something else that we need here.”

“I see a lot that we could use here,” said Reach. “There’s some hydroponic farming happening underground that could serve as a real booster to our own efforts in that regard. I think Dr. Roman might like to take a look at it once he has his QEC thing figured out.”

No one immediately replied, and Reach sensed tension through the implant despite not being present with any of the officers on line. Finally, Captain Bosa said, “Dr. Roman... is no longer with us.”

The shock of those words slapped Reach in the face. “Sir?”

“He suffered a massive myocardial infarction while working on the QEC,” Alexa explained, sounding clinical over the loss. “A heart attack, in layman's terms. I was physically away when it happened and was unable to resuscitate him upon arrival. He was already very ill.”

“The good doctor literally worked himself to death on our behalf,” said Bosa. “His final act may have been putting in the last touches on the QEC. Alexa will still have to review his work, and, needless to say, we have other more pressing priorities at the moment.”

“Roger that,” Reach said, still reeling from the news.

The weight of all that had just happened was now bearing on him. Not just Dr. Roman, though that loss in itself was miserable. There had been others. Lieutenant Vander. Sergeant Darrow. Osay soldiers as well. More than one ranger’s life hung in the balance, along with several Osay as the Predator hauler raced to give them the medical attention needed—lifesaving treatments that would require the use of the altered cryopods.

Lieutenant Cobey then came to the net with some good news. “Reason you didn’t find Marlin in the facility was because he wasn’t there. But we have him now. Just got the word from Sergeant Heller.”

“That is good news,” said Sherman.

“How did that happen?” asked Reach.

“I haven’t gotten the full story from Marlin yet. Sergeant Heller was chasing a VIP in the woods and says he ran into Marlin and some of those Ghost RUPAC Cobra platoon picked up on the trail cams. They turned Marlin over to him and disappeared.”

“Sergeant Tran,“ Lieutenant Sherman said, “what’s the likelihood that RUPAC SF pulled Marlin out of the pool?”

“Slim to none, sir,” said Tran. “I saw every single one of the suckers that came out of that pool. The only one who made it out of the camp was our VIP. And Marlin ain’t got a figure like hers.”

Cobey elaborated further. “Heller says that Marlin was informed that these RUPAC are an unaffiliated entity that don’t want to be involved with what we have going on with the others. Perhaps more like Dr. Gruber?”

“How come we didn’t get that option to sit on the sidelines when we arrived?” quipped Sherman. “I don’t remember RUPAC asking us.”

“I want to see Marlin for debriefing ASAP,” said Bosa.

“Yes, sir,” said Cobey. “Marlin says they gave him something called a data packet that will better explain their position. He has it now.”

“Sounds like a phishing scheme to me,” said Reach. “Another crack at getting their hands on Brody or Alexa.”

“That may be true,” said Alexa. “However, we possess the ability to read a data packet without compromising our systems. I would like to examine it after I have overseen the treatment of our wounded and restored Brody to full operational capacity.”

“Brody‘s in a crate in the cargo hold,” said Lieutenant Sherman. “Quietest trip I’ve ever had with him on board. We’ll set down outside the facility to grab Marlin and all other personnel not designated to RON.”

“That list should include Mr. Reach as well,” said Alexa. “Though I am sure he desires to Remain Over Night, I believe that is the meaning of RON, he has cheated death a few too many times for me to feel comfortable leaving him the field without a thorough examination. The colony cannot afford to lose both him and Dr. Roman in one day.”

“Hear that, Reach?” asked Sherman. “You’re a special boy. Touching down in five. Be ready.”

Reach felt fine, all things considered. He would prefer to be on hand in case RUPAC performed a counter assault. However, this is what the Rangers and the Osay have been trained for. And at some point he needed to get out of the way and simply let them do their jobs. “Roger that. Save me a seat in first class, will ya?”

“It’s a RUPAC ship,” said Sherman. “Everything is economy. Out.”

Reach chuckled as he terminated the link from the command channel. He moved with Sergeant Morales to go find Sergeant Tran and see how he was doing. Tran was up and performing his part to help his squad position the Osay to best defend the camp now that they had full control of it. From the looks of it, he had been performing the work almost from the moment he’d gotten up from being knocked down by enemy fire. The job looked complete.

“How are you feeling, bro?” asked Morales as he strutted toward Tran and locked arms with his fellow warrior. “Must not be too bad if they didn’t toss your ass in that Predator.”

“I feel like every part of my body has its own set of nuts and they’ve all been kicked.”

Reach laughed out loud at the description while Morales gave an exaggerated cry and repeated the line, wiping away an imaginary tear from his eye. Reach looked over to Unga, who had come by to join the conversation. “Heard you were trying to win MVP today, big man.”

“That’s every day. Nah, just trying to work my way into getting that sham shield like these two. Not gonna lie though. Today sucked.”

Reach looked out on the camp with the blood of the fallen still mixed in with the mud. Unga was right; today sucked. Reach stared out at the perimeter, past the spot of Marlin’s arrival where he enthusiastically retold the tale of his capture only to be interrupted by his cousin Cameron, who looked like he was trying to break Marlin’s back with a gigantic bear hug.

Out there beyond the wire and the momentary celebration was at least one Bangora and who knew how many RUPAC.

Reach turned back to Unga. “Hate to say it, but I’m pretty sure tomorrow’s gonna suck, too.”

Epilogue

Reach could hardly believe that the doctor was gone. It wasn’t for the fact that Roman’s body lay in a cryo-chamber inside the doctors lab—if Reach wasn’t actually seeing the man—he still might not fully believe it. Yes, Roman had been looking ill. Alexa had hinted that it was something more than fatigue from his tireless efforts at finishing one task and then another. It was remarkable how Roman put himself to solving one more problem for the camp or achieving the next in what had been an incredible series of scientific breakthroughs. If the doctor had accomplished what he’d accomplished back on Earth, Reach was sure that every news outfit in the world would be leading with the story of his passing.

But earth was gone unless Roman’s final invention worked as he envisioned. Either way, for those on Amir, the loss of Dr. Roman was an incalculable one.

The return to Camp Ohio-Craiswell had been somber because of the dead and wounded. Liana had showered Reach with a hug and a series of unexpected but welcome kisses on his cheeks before reluctantly leaving him to volunteer with the medical team in treating the wounded Osay soldiers. That was the sort of character trait the people who’d chosen her deserved to have in a leader—someone who realized their duty was one of service and not power or exaltionat. Something the leaders Reach left behind on Earth had learned far too late, if even at all.

His health examination complete and his bill of health still sterling, Reach stayed with Alexa, who was herself splitting time between remotely monitoring the wounded among the cryopods and physically attending to Brody. The pair stood beside each other, picking off the little RUPAC discs that had slowed Brody and ultimately attempted to hijack the battle android completely. As Alexa dropped one of the disks into a box designed to disrupt any transmissions it might emit, a smaller version of the room they stood inside already, she caught Reach giving her sideways glance.

“My understanding of human facial expressions suggests to me that the present level of silence in the room is not as you desire it.”

Reach gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Guess you could say that. Got a lot of questions running through my mind. Feel like talking out loud if that’s all right.”

“Very much so. Dr. Roman was the same way.”

“Yeah. How are you feeling about that, Alexa?”

The android tilted her head thoughtfully. “I do not know. I am inclined to say that I feel an emotional sensation you would identify as sadness, but my experience in such matters is so limited, I cannot be sure. It feels… different here without him.”

Reach glanced back at the dead man resting in cryo. “Not exactly without him.”

“Not physically, you are correct.”

“You’re uh…” Reach began. “You’re not going to try and… reanimate him, are you? Bring him back to life? Is that possible with the cryo units?”

“Not at this time.”

Reach nodded and found another disc that had somehow managed to trickle deep down into Brody’s inner torso before settling on a belt of ammunition. He wasn’t sure it actually did any damage there but removed it all the same. “It’s not just those that died. We’ve just had a tactical nuke‘s worth of surprises dropped on our heads. Two undiscovered RUPAC facilities, more special forces, some splinter group that at best adds diplomatic complications to our actions and at worse is another ruse to catch us napping… Amir feels a lot smaller than when we first landed. Can’t help but feel like things would be better if Doc Roman were still here to help us think it through.”

“That is an astute observation. However, Dr. Roman himself was aware that his remaining time was short. He is deceased, so I will share with you that his illness was a return of cancer cells to his body. The heart attack, however, was a surprise.” Alexa flashed Reach a sly smile. “As was your own, I imagine.”

Reach dropped another disc in the box. “You got that right. What do you mean ‘return’ of his cancer? I don’t remember him fighting off that disease being part of his backstory while he was just a famous techno-genius back on Earth.”

“His initial bout with the disease took place en route to Amir. He grew ill on the Boone and worked with me to heal himself. Many of the upgrades to the cryopods themselves and their ability to heal the inhabitants came about as a result of that crisis.”

“And he kept us in the dark because…?”

“Anything he felt might jeopardize his projects, he kept quiet about. He was deathly afraid of Captain Bosa or someone similar forcing him to ‘take it easy.’ He was not the sort of man to stop working when he felt progress was being achieved.”

Reach shook his head. “Sounds like some Rangers I know.”

“It is a quality that only serves one well until the heart attack, but yes. I believe his intention was to reenter treatment in the pods once his work on the QEC was accomplished. Alas, the heart attack prevented him from seeing it done, I’m afraid.”

Alexa sounded almost poetic. Reach wondered what was going through her mind, knowing that it had to be something more than a simple algorithm and yet less than a human being.

There was another issue that had been on Reach’s mind, and it was about the QEC. With Dr. Roman out of the picture, was Alexa capable of completing his research? That she was a major contributor to the doctor’s myriad of ideas and designs was no secret. But it always seemed to reach that it was Roman who came up with the fantastic and elaborate potential in things while Alexa applied her processing abilities to verify the doctor’s genius. The duo had managed to cut down on the research and other necessary processes to get from hypothesis to working prototype in remarkably short periods. But did Alexa have the ability to think like Dr. Roman? Or was she more of a tool? Thoughtful and powerful tool but ultimately one best used by a master craftsman.

Reach’s grandfather used to say, “You can drop some boards, nails, and a hammer in an empty lot, but you won’t get a house until the carpenter arrives.” He had similar ways of saying the same thing about everything from shooting to making omelets.

The point stood, though. Was Alexa the tool or the carpenter?

He decided to ask her about it.

“Do you think you can finish what he started without him guiding you along?”

Again, Alexa looked thoughtful. She was really considering the question on its merits instead of giving a quick, reassuring yes. “I admit, I do not apply computing power to the question of what could be like Dr. Roman. My interest has largely been on what now is and why things are the way they are. I believe that in time I may be able to think more like the doctor if I am given help by some other minds more adept at questioning what is possible.”

“I can h-help,” Brody said as his helmet stuttered to life. “Th-thought one: is it p-p-possible to clone John Matrix using only saved images from Commando?”

Reach looked down at Brody‘s helmet and smiled like a kid. He realized at once how much the curious war machine meant to him. “Hey, buddy! You’re back!“

“C-commie ain’t been born that can keep me down. Can you guys put my heavenly b-b-body back together, or are you too busy getting a good look at what a real man looks like?”

Alexa smiled. “That was the last of the darts. I’ll reassemble you now. I have some news you need to hear while we’re at it.” She proceeded to put Brody back together, filling him in on what happened to Dr. Roman as she did so.

When he was settled, Brody looked down in deep sorrow. “Oh, no. Not Dad. Who will walk me down the aisle now?”

Reach patted the massive android on the shoulder. “Sorry, pal.”

“Life isn’t like in the m-movies. Life… is much harder.”

Alexa smiled warmly. “I’m glad you’re starting to recognize—”

“That’s from Cinema Paradiso. 1988. Not very John Matrix.”

“Of course,” said Reach.

“Where’s the body?” Brody asked. “I need to pay my final respects.”

Alexa pointed Brody toward the cryo unit where their maker now reposed. Brody walked over to it and placed his hand on the canopy. “Dad…”

“Should I go?” Reach whispered to Alexa.

Brody overheard. “N-no, stay. You’re family. Also, I still got it.” The battle android activated the canopy release. The lid to the crypod lifted with a hiss of vapor from the cold air inside.

Alexa took a step to stop Brody, but Reach held her back. “He needs to… grieve.”

Brody looked over his shoulder. “Yeah.” The war machine looked down at Dr. Roman, the frail old man’s visage reflected in the visor of his battle helmet. He gently caressed his father’s face and placed his finger on the man’s chin.

And then he made Roman’s mouth open as though it was talking and said in a high-pitched voice, “Brody, you’re my greatest creation. I love you more than Alexa and the whole world. Brody the War Machine, you’re my hero.”

“Th-thanks, Dad.”

“Honestly, Brody,” said Alexa, scowling and rushing forward to reclose the lid. “A little decorum is appropriate.”

“Hear hear,” said a new voice.

Startled, Reach twirled around at the sound of the newcomer. There, standing naked, was Dr. Roman. Not the aged Dr. Roman who lay in death, but a younger man. The man Reach last saw the day they’d left Earth for Amir.

“Dad!” shouted Brody.

Reach scrunched up his face in confusion. “Doc?”

Alexa’s eyes went wide. “You initiated the program? Dr. Roman, you said yourself that there was a full two years of testing that needed to be completed before I could begin the process. Are you quite certain—”

“Certain, no,” said the doctor, chuckling like his old, aged self despite the young body.

“What’s going on here?” Reach asked.

“A transfer of consciousness, my boy!” exclaimed Roman. “My mind into an android body similar to Alexa’s. Anatomical preferences aside, of course.”

“Is that… safe?”

“That remains to be seen,” said Alexa, sounding as close to annoyed or angry as Reach had ever heard her.

Roman put his head down like a chastised puppy. “I know. I know. I know what I said. It’s just that… there’s still so much to do.”

* * *

Reach and the others will return in WAYWARD GALAXY 3, available to preorder now on Amazon.

For updates on this series, be sure to join the Facebook Group, “J.N. Chaney’s Renegade Readers.”

Author’s Note

There you have it. Wayward Galaxy 2: Yeet Boogaloo.

Some extremely large acknowledgements are in order. First, to Walt Robillard, our resident Ranger. His attention to details is responsible for all the times those who know nodded their heads and said, “Yep, that’s about how it goes.”

We’d also like to give a shout out to Christopher Hopper, who spent some time with us when we were rolling around concepts for this book. Among other things, he came up with the name Bangora. Which is pretty fun to say. Bangora. Bang… gora.

Also, thanks to R.C. Bray for performing the audio book.

And thanks to Podium Audio for contractually forcing him to work with us.

A special thanks is also due to those of you who left reviews asking for more. You gave us an excuse to dive deeply into 1980s action movie cinema. I can’t remember if I saw Invasion U.S.A or Blue Thunder before, but now I’ll never forget those gems.

You readers and listeners have set the Wayward Galaxy ship sailing. And we’ll be working hard on getting more of the planned titles out faster, beginning with Wayward Galaxy 3: The Search for More Money. Look for those books to release between our other flagship series: Jason’s Galaxy’s Edge and Forgotten Ruin and the other hundred or so series that Jeff does.

If you haven’t found Jason and Jeff at one of their email lists or fan groups, all of which can be found at their websites, JasonAnspach.com and JNChaney.com, hurry up and do so. We want to hear from you, and it’s hard to do that unless you email us first. The FCC has rules about us emailing you without permission. And Jeff can’t go back to prison on another stalking charge… although that is where he got the idea for Sentenced to War, I think.

All right. I gotta go watch Action Jackson and Robocop in preparation for Wayward 3. It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it. Everyone else, back to work.

Stay free.

Jason Anspach

June 2021

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About The Creators

Jason Anspach is an Associated Press bestselling author best known for the Galaxy’s Edge military sci-fi series. He lives in the Pacific Northwest and is regularly the MVP of all driveway basketball games—at least until his sons grow a couple of inches taller.

If you’d like to read more from Jason, check out the expansive Galaxy’s Edge catalog at www.GalaxysEdge.us or visit www.JasonAnspach.com.

* * *

J. N. Chaney is a USA Today Bestselling author, has a Master’s of Fine Arts in Creative Writing, and fancies himself quite the Super Mario Bros. fan. He migrates often, but was last seen in Las Vegas, NV. Any sightings should be reported, as they are rare.

Chaney is best known for his Renegade Star series, the Variant Saga, the Messenger series, and Ruins of the Galaxy. For more on his releases, go to www.jnchaney.com