Chapter Thirteen

Bravo and One-Four set up the terrain generator in the morning, their last full night of rest before they pushed on into the mountains proper. Mike went from man to man, taking a drop of blood from each to run the nanite count. He had to check for signs of disease and swarm strain: leukocytes, inflammation, dead nanites. Even Patriots could have swarm problems in this part of the world.

They gathered around the hovering map sphere when he was done. It synchronized their coronas into a real-time network and synthesized a detailed corneal projection which was identical for each man. The forest in Mike’s field of vision bloomed with diagnostics while they settled in for the debrief.

“Alright. The plan is nice and loose, because we can’t be entirely sure what we’re up against.” Alpha zoomed out the display to reveal the jungle ahead. They were around fifty klicks from Victoria, but the distance was deceptive. This was the highlands, and fifty kilometers had to account for all of the peaks and valleys on their route. This part of Papua was jagged, like a row of broken teeth from above. “Here’s Charlie Company and the village lookout. The terrain gets nastier the further north-west we go. The Dragon holds the highlands out this way, and the rest of Echo Company is only half a day behind us. They’re cutting around, going down the slopes to find the trails and circle the Pacs out here. We’re delivering the Praxis generator, and then we’re pushing out ahead, undercover, to the south west.”

The others listened thoughtfully, some still eating, others smoking. Mike took out his vaporizer and had a drag, offering it across blindly to his right. Sixie took it, puffed, and handed it back.

“And our target… ” Alpha zoomed in, carrying them down from their eagle-eye superimposition and deep into a mountain valley some ten kilometers from the All-Pac line. A pixelated composite formed, but stayed a little blurry. It was a windowless, lifeless white dome, half buried in the dark earth. It wasn’t especially large, not compared to Lord’s Cradle. Mike thought that they could fit maybe two battalions in it. It probably descended into the ground. “Is this.”

“The hell’s that thing?” Niner pointed his cigarette towards his own projection.

“That thing is an old-ass arcology. Pre-Collapse. It’s our true objective. And it’s got a surprise for us.” Alpha drew a deep breath. “The All-Pac is creating female Nephilim there.”

That woke them up. Mouths opened, closed, or hung open. Niner paused mid-draw. Ten, who leaned against one of the AEGIS legs to keep watch while they debriefed, turned to stare at Alpha in disbelief.

“That’s classified news.” Alpha cleared his throat. “Anyway. We don’t have much information on this place. There’s electric fences and swarm disruptors—that’s why we couldn’t get the scouter in close last night. I’ll bet my balls there’s at least one ATA we can’t see. The scouter didn’t pick up any enemy troops on the side we’re coming from.”

Almost like the All-Pac was giving it a wide berth. Mike exhaled heavily, his brow furrowed.

“Makes sense if they don’t want to call attention it. For a building to stay intact that long, it’d have to have a self-healing surface.” Bravo tipped his face towards the image. “There’s probably all kinds of passive security.”

“Yeah. We have to take out the fences and come in from the side while we rain down on it. Once its defense is cut, we can blow a hole and get inside.”

“But Sir, women?” Niner sputtered.

“Orders are to destroy the place as quietly and quickly as possible.” Alpha’s eyes flicked across to him, but he didn’t turn his head. “Command didn’t say one way or the other. I know what I want to do, but I’ll hear what you boys have to say on the matter.”

Sev shook his head. The rest of them looked around. Sixie held out his hand for Mike’s smoke, and he took a very long drag.

“I want what you want, Sir.” It was Fiver who spoke up. “Whatever you want.”

Sev glanced around the circle, his voice low and slow. “Even talking about women is against the Law. In case you guys forgot.”

“It’s forbidden to discuss the women of the Host,” Mike said. The others glanced down on reflex. Just a mention of the second Law was enough to spook them. “But these aren’t human women. They’re our kind.”

“And they’re probably godless whores,” Sev said. “Only something evil could do this. It’s against nature. You know as well as I do that they’re not supposed to exist.”

“Like you even know what a whore is,” Niner jeered.

“And you do?” Sev shot him a dark look.

“No, but they were good enough for the Lamb. We’re not exactly paragons of nature ourselves.” Niner waved his hand. He glanced to Fiver. “I’m with Fiver on this one. I want what you want, chief. There’s been too many questions and not enough answers in the last couple of weeks. I wasn’t made to think this much.”

None of them were certain, but they were all tired of not knowing. A chorus of assent went up, and Sev sat back, grimacing. Mike couldn’t really blame him. He’d lost his partner. Mike wished that Alpha’s words about Twofer’s fate hadn’t sunk in as deep as they had, but if they got to this bunker and found women there, he didn’t know what he was going to do. Apologize to Symon, probably, and eat a big, steaming pile of crow.

“A-Team, you guys are going to advance around to the west and hit the fences here, while B-Team comes in from the valley and clears out anything on the ground. C-Team, stay loose in this depressed area around here-” Alpha highlighted a zone near the fence breaking launch point, “-and get ready to rush in behind. D-Team, you’re covering me, Bravo and Mike in the funnel. Bravo, Mike, you two are on advance scout. You have to sweep for explosives. We’ll blitz the outside and meet up here to blow a big hole in the roof. Any questions?”

“No, Sir!” They said as one over their BCIs.

“Loud and clear,” Symon echoed. Mike jumped at his voice—he hadn’t said a word before or during the brief, but of course he was listening.

Mike wondered if the Host had heard their ribald conversation. Alpha’s theory seemed a little more likely with each passing minute. “Latest stats show All-Pac units moving east towards your target, fifty kilometers and gaining.”

“Shit. Let’s hope they haven’t figured we’re onto them.” Alpha rose. “And speaking of that. Mike, it’s your turn. Lead on.”

Mike smiled, and stepped forwards. “Given what we’re going after, I thought we’d go from the beginning to the end. The readings today are Genesis 1 and Successions 32:2, so if you’d be so kind as to crack open your books, we’ll get into it.”

* * *

It was twenty klicks to Karo, the village ruins where the Corinthians and the rest of Charlie Company held the line. They found and butchered an advance patrol of enemy soldiers—not Raptorines, but the narrow-eyed, long-limbed Asiatic Nephilim who looked a bit like them. Mike didn’t know what their unit model name was, but he and the other ground crew kicked the dead soldier’s helmets off and scrutinized their faces on the off-chance they would be able to identify one as female. No luck there… but then again, they weren’t actually certain what they were looking for.

The distant patter of gunfire bounced off the gullies and through the trees. Worse, much worse, was the rhythmic boom-boom-boom of artillery. Mike knew the sounds of over two hundred different weapons, and the one that was firing somewhere off into the forest wasn’t any of their guns. None of them slept, keeping watch in a tight cluster, and blinded by the pouring rain.

The forward position was built on the ruins of an old missionary village, long fallen into decay. Karo was like every other hold-out on the Victoria trail: a mucky, bare-bones outpost, saturated in an aura of manic desperation. The one and only Praxis was on half-power, showing up its lines and crackling.

Mike realized quickly that his squad and the Corinthians were the only Rangers here. The rest of the survivors clinging to this wreck of an outpost were either PatriotRifles, dumb as bricks and twice as hard, and old Vanguards. You knew a place was going badly when only the Vans were left. Some of them had been in service fifteen years or more: gray-skinned, lean, wolfish Nephilim. They weren’t kept on base any more. Vans went nuts when they were cooped up, and the Host was thrifty and not inclined to waste their experience. The Vans not on duty hung around while they repaired the generator, watching on with hungry, dull expressions.

“Did the Dragon frag the other squads?” Mike heard Niner ask one of the Corinths. Mike was belly-up under the Praxis, helping One-Four and Ten hold up the generator cage while the Alpha of Corinth squad welded in new pieces. The jungle air was harder on machinery than it was on men.

“Down to a man,” the other soldier replied. “Last big push. It’s been quiet. We’re expecting the next any minute now, God willing.”

“God willing,” Niner echoed. It had a hollow ring to it. “Echo’s on the way. Half a day, maybe more if it rains.”

“We might last half a day if they hit us again,” the Corinthian said. His armored boot, shuffling near Mike’s head, was clotted with old mud.

“Maybe.”

The Sams left in the dead of night. Mike changed his flamethrower out for a reliable machine gun with rounds big enough to take down a charging Raptorine. They marched through rain that came down in sheets. PNG was beautiful, when you had time to look, but it was hard to believe Alpha when he said it was possible to turn it into Paradise. They arrived on the morning of the fourth day of marching, ten klicks ahead of the enemy, who were still approaching from the east. The rain had stopped, and the air was hazy with smoke, but they were in the lead. They were going to get to the facility first.

“A, B and C teams in position.” Alpha addressed Symon as well as the squad. They were on the ridge above the gully. Mike’s breathing was harsh inside his helmet as he warily surveyed the land below. He had his job—look for mines and other explosives. His fingers rippled, tapping the trigger, as he crouched by Alpha’s AEGIS leg. He didn’t like it. There was something too well organized about the scene below. The arcology was sunk into the ground, just like they’d seen in the scan. Mike’s healswarm was struggling along in the nanite disruption field. They couldn’t hear or spot a generator from their perch.

“Chief, there’s a distinct lack of lizard around these parts.” Bravo grunted over the radio. “Creeps me out.”

“There’s heavy fighting to the north that’s sucking up manpower, but you’re right.” Alpha had his launcher vents open, sucking air through the exhaust to cool them down before they jumped in. “C-Team, you see any ATAs from your position?”

“Two, Sir.” Fora replied. “Ten’s got a lock on one, Lev on the other. Waiting on your word.”

“A-team copy,” Fiver said.

“Mike?” Alpha was scanning, too, but Mike had his sensors on. He couldn’t pick out anything in the landing zone.

“Nothing that I can spot from up here.” There was nothing in the trees, either. “Nothing up or down.”

“A and B, act as planned. C, I want those ATAs out before A team reaches the fence. D-team, prepare for backup fire for anything we can’t see, all directions. Now let’s get out there.”

They broke out in near-silence, fast and fearless. Mike’s adrenaline was up despite the lack of an enemy, a giddy rush that sharpened his senses and propelled him forwards as the AEGIS leaped from the treeline and fanned out. He loved that feeling, the cold water shock of rushing out into combat. He landed just behind Alpha and Bravo, Niner dropping down beside him: at the end of the gully, he could see the white dome of their target, glittering wet. Mike saw the air swim in front of it, and thought they must have actually come in from behind, and the heat was venting out from the back somewhere…

And then the Sentry materialized out of thin air, its legs braced on the sides of the gully, and opened fire in three directions at once.