Copyrighted Material

Marines Never Die Copyright © 2022 by Variant Publications

Book design and layout copyright © 2022 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.

www.jnchaney.com

www.jonathanbrazee.com

1st Edition

CONTENTS

Don’t Miss Out

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

Epilogue

Glossary

Nations, Independent Worlds, and Political Entities Within the Congress of Humanity

Cast of Characters

Acknowledgments

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1

“Were you ever scared?”

Gunnery Sergeant Reverent Pelletier, Perseus Union Marine Corps, just gaped at the question. He could feel the holorecorder on him, and his mind raced as he tried to figure out what the Public Affairs captain, who was observing the event, wanted him to say.

“Punch!” he subvocalized.

<Just tell the truth,> his battle buddy, a crystal AI embedded in his brain, replied.

Easy for you to say.

He gave the captain a quick glance. The woman’s face was impassive. He wasn’t going to get any help from her.

“Well,” he started to answer the ten-year-old, “I was confident in my training. The Marines are the best-trained military in the galaxy. And I had Pashu here.”

He raised his IBHU in emphasis. The entire class had been fascinated by the weapon, and he hoped that brandishing her might take the focus off of him.

No such luck.

“But were you scared?” the young boy asked.

<Tell the truth. They’ll know if you’re being less than honest.>

Ah, screw it. I’m not going to lie to a class of fourth graders.

“It’s hard to describe. I was hyped on adrenaline, and I was excited, too, like before a flipball game. But at the same time, yes, I was afraid. I knew I might not make it out of the fight alive. But I was more afraid of not completing my mission. And if I didn’t, the rest of my Marines and other troopers would suffer, and the Breel prisoners wouldn’t be freed. And more than that. If we lost the battle, the noxes . . . the Naxli would continue to try and come into human space. Maybe even all the way here to Safe Harbor.”

Oh, crap, he thought, giving the captain another quick look, expecting her to jump in and cut him off. I just told a bunch of ten-year-olds that the noxes are coming here.

“But I also knew that I was the best person to be in that position.” He’d already lowered his IBHU, but he reached across with his right arm and patted the weapon. “I have a lot of firepower.”

He studied the young boy for a moment and was relieved when the lad nodded as if what Rev said made sense. None of the other students seemed overly alarmed at his comment that the Naxli might make it to Safe Harbor.

All of these kids were alive when the Centaurs had invaded the planet, but they would have been quite young at the time, so they weren’t as scarred as some of the older citizens.

“Were the ents happy you rescued them?” a girl in an impossibly vivid blue t-shirt asked without raising her hand to be acknowledged.

Rev had to bite back a laugh. The captain had briefed him to use official names for their allies. No ents, lemmings, clickers, singers. Breel, Kanters, Uauii, Sia, instead. But the military nicknames had evidently made it to the civilian population.

“Yes, they were very happy.”

He didn’t say that the Breel command hadn’t been so pleased that the commander had disobeyed orders when he gave the green light to the rescue mission. Colonel Gaffenuo had paid the ultimate price, even if the mission had been a success. He’d been executed for disobedience.

The students—and the holovid audience who were watching—might accept that Marines could be afraid, but he didn’t need to expose them to some of the darker sides of their allies.

“OK, class,” Mr. Saud, the teacher, said. “One more question, and then Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier has to get back to Camp Nguyen.”

Several hands shot up, and Rev pointed to a small boy who’d silently watched and listened for most of Rev’s presentation. The youngster’s shirt and pants were clean but showed a little more wear than the rest of the students’ clothing. Three or four of the others rolled their eyes after Rev selected the boy, but he didn’t know if that was because they couldn’t ask their questions or if the boy was not popular with the rest of the class.

“How can you become an IBHU Marine?” he asked in a too-young-sounding voice.

A couple of the other students gave derisive laughs, but Rev ignored them. “Well, first, you have to be a Marine.”

Which wasn’t exactly true anymore. With a shortage of IBHU Marines, several civilians and sailors had been given IBHUs and brought in as corporals, something Rev was adamantly against. Inexperience and a lack of adequate training had cost Corporal Ziegler her life on the hiver planet.

“Then, you need to have lost one of your arms. Instead of getting a prosthesis or having a new arm grown, you get an IBHU.”

Mr, Saud started to step forward to thank Rev, but the boy continued. “The Mad Dogs, they don’t wait for one of their soldiers to be hurt. They just make them into karnans. That’s why they have so many of them, and we don’t have enough IBHU Marines like you.”

If Rev had been stymied by being asked if he’d been afraid before, now he was shocked into silence. This was a major topic within the IBHU ranks, one without a unified opinion, and to have a small boy ask such a deep question took him by surprise.

The PA captain surged to the rescue. “We are not the Manifest Destiny Sphere. We value the rights of our citizens, and we don’t maim them to pursue political ends.”

Rev frowned. He’d lost his left arm while saving his adopted sister, Kat, many years ago, and he didn’t consider himself “maimed.” And the question wasn’t one of politics but of military needs. He wasn’t in favor of amputating anyone’s arms so they could be fitted with an IBHU, but he also wasn’t entirely comfortable with how the captain phrased her answer.

“And with that, as your teacher said, Gunny Pelletier needs to get back to Camp Nguyen. Thank you so much for inviting us to talk to you today.”

The teacher stepped to the front and said, “Grammercy?”

A girl in the front row stood and gave Rev a stuffed bobcat in a green sports jersey. The jersey had a number one on the front and “Pelletier” across the back.

Rev thanked her, and the teacher told the class, “Let’s give Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier a Bobcat thank you!”

The students gave snarls that could possibly have sounded like what Rev imagined a bobcat might have made while they all made little clawing motions with their right hands.

Rev held the stuffed animal with his right hand, then raised Pashu and made the clawing motions. His snarl was much louder, and the students seemed to get a kick out of it.

The captain signaled for the holovid to cut before she shook the teacher’s hand and led Rev out.

“Nice touch there at the end with the bobcat thing,” she said. “That’ll go over well. Your next event will be Friday with the VGW in Anastasia. I’ll send your orders over by COB Thursday. No need for a briefing beforehand. You’ve done enough of these by now that I can cover the specifics on the way over.”

That’s an understatement.

Since the battalion’s return from the Uauii planet, Rev had done at least a dozen of these public affairs presentations. He’d been taken aback at his reception by the public and how he’d become something of a celebrity, a local boy who’d done well. The Marines—and he suspected maybe the Union government and possibly the Congress of Humanity—wanted to capitalize on that goodwill.

Rev had initially balked at these events as taking him away from his duties, but with the battalion on a semi-standdown, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have the time.

He looked at the stuffed bobcat in his hand as they walked to the autocab that was going to take them back to the base. The name on the back of the jersey was kind of touching, he thought.

When the girl had handed it to him, he’d considered just giving it to Tomiko, but now that it was in his hand, he changed his mind. He was going to keep it.

Maybe gunnery sergeants of Marines didn’t collect stuffed animals, but if the class had thought to give it to him, he owed it to them to keep it.

Right?

* * *

Rev leaned back and rubbed his gritty eyes. He’d been staring at his screen for too long, and the numbers had started dancing on their own.

“There’s gotta be a better way to do this,” he muttered.

<There are many better ways to conduct and record inventories. Civilian corporations have off-the-shelf programs that could do the same thing in a tenth of the time.>

“Then why the heck don’t we use them?” Rev asked.

<Why does the military do anything? They’ve been using the same methodology for the last 200 years.>

Rev grunted. Two hundred years ago were the Corolla Wars, when humankind pushed back against the Genesians, the Deimers, and the Eunuch Regiments. Part of the fallout from the wars was an aversion to the tech that made the androids and eunuchs possible, and that bled over to AIs and automated systems. Humans were inserted into processes as controls.

That had slowly shifted since then. Punch was an example of something that wouldn’t have been allowed during the first century after the wars. An IBHU Marine was another example, reminding too many people of the part-human, mostly android Genesians. There had been significant resistance to most of humanity’s hyper-augment programs. Without the threat of the Centaurs, Rev didn’t think they’d ever have gotten off the ground.

“A fully automated inventory system’s hardly a return to the Deimers.”

With a sigh, Rev leaned back. He still had a couple of hundred line items that he had to confirm, and the inventory wasn’t going to get done with him bitching to his battle buddy.

He’d managed two more when there was a rap on his office door. For a moment, he was tempted to tell whoever it was that he was busy and to come back, but the thought of a break in the monotony was attractive.

“Enter!”

The door opened, revealing an older Marine private . . .

“By the Mother, Per!” Rev shouted as he recognized the man.

He jumped from behind his desk and rushed to shake the Marine’s—yes, that was a Marine uniform—hand.

“What the heck are you doing here? And a Marine?”

Per Tiwari came to a relaxed position of attention, ignoring Rev’s outstretched hand.

“I enlisted, Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier.”

“I can . . . I can see that. The utilities sort of gave it away. But why? And how? You’re from Samara, not the Union.”

“The Perseus Union accepts citizens from many other nations. And with Samara only having a Guard, and if I toh wanted to fight the Naxli, then I figured I had to do the needful.”

Rev smiled. He’d forgotten about the Hinglish phrases the Dalit like to use.

“And the needful was the Marines? What about the Legion? They take a lot more foreigners than we do.”

“I kinda got used to Marines,” he said, still standing in a position of attention.

“I guess you would. And relax. You’re standing there like a damn recruit.”

The older man gave a rueful smile and relaxed somewhat. “Sorry, Gunny. I just got out of School of Infantry.”

Which explained the stiff posture. Rev saw it all the time with new privates. It just seemed so out of place with someone Tiwari’s age and someone who Rev considered a peer.

“I’m surprised to see you,” Rev said. “I can understand why you chose the Marines if you wanted to get off Samara, but there are a lot of planets in the Union, and the Corps is everywhere. What are you doing on Safe Harbor? We’re just a backwater provincial way-stop.”

“I requested Safe Harbor.”

“And they just said yes. No disrespect intended, but the Corps doesn’t bend over backward for recruits.”

The new Marine shrugged, and a little of the old Tiwari Rev had known surfaced when he said, “When they want to show that all of humanity is in this together, and they want some Samaran representation, they do. And it didn’t hurt that you made some good comments about me in your reports, na?”

Rev narrowed his eyes. “And how do you know what was in my after-action reports?”

“I didn’t, although you just toh confirmed it,” Tiwari said with a smile. “But I figured as much. When I said I wanted to come here, and I was with your platoon, the attaché laughed. But then, somehow, when my orders were approved, it was toh to come to boot camp here. Why here unless you said something good about me, na?”

He looked pleased with himself, and Rev had to smile. Tiwari was a smart cookie, and he’d played the game. Probably better than Rev would. The Dalit would do well as a Marine.

Especially with a little help from Rev.

Wow. I can be a rabbi.

There was a long tradition of senior Marines helping guide junior Marines in their careers. It might seem weird for Rev to be a “rabbi” for someone twice his age, but it was military seniority, not age that mattered. And while a gunnery sergeant wasn’t particularly senior, if Tiwari was stationed at Camp Nguyen, Rev was sure he could watch over the older man and give him the proper nudges along the way. A lot depended on what his exact infantry specialty was and who he had as his SNCOs.

“So, what’s your unit?” he asked.

Tiwari looked confused for a moment and then said, “Alpha Company.”

“Which Alpha Company? There’re a lot of them here at Nguyen.”

If he looked confused before, Tiwari looked even more so now.

“Right here. Alpha Company, First Human Expeditionary Battalion.”

It took a moment for that to register. “You’re a Kraken? But, you’re a private. You don’t have any experience.”

“No experience? I fought the Naxli before you came, and then I fought them with you,” he said, sounding as if he was taken aback.

“I don’t mean that. I mean, you don’t have formal experience as a Marine, and the brigade is something of an elite unit, with the best troopers from throughout humanity. We don’t take new privates.”

“And yet I’m toh here,” Tiwari said, already losing his private-to-gunny awkwardness as their old relationship started to resurface.

“Did you request the company?” Rev asked.

“I didn’t even know this was a unit. You were in a different battalion when you came to Samara.”

This is weird. And it can’t be a coincidence. I’m going to have to find out what’s going on.

“Well, like you said, you’re here. Have you checked into the company yet?”

“Not yet. The sergeant at the office—”

“Teller. Sergeant Teller,” Rev said.

“Sergeant Teller told me to get my gear and weapon issued and to come back at fourteen hundred to see the first sergeant.”

The platoon sergeant in Rev kicked in. “Any problems with that? You get everything?”

“Got it all. I miss my crossbow, but I guess my M-51 will do, na?”

Rev laughed. Tiwari could do more with his crossbow than many Marines could do with an M-51.

“How about your PAL?”

“Not yet.”

Rev checked the time. “Why don’t you take care of that now? Drop off your specs so the armory can get one adjusted to you. That should take you up to fourteen hundred, and you can check in and get assigned to a platoon.”

“Aye-aye, Gunny. I’ll get on it.”

Rev held out his hand again. “It’s good to see you. And I’m glad you’re here.”

This time, the Dalit private took it.

“I didn’t think we’d be in the same unit, but no matter our past, I understand military protocol.”

“I didn’t doubt it,” Rev said. “Now go take care of your PAL.”

Tiwari started to come to attention, then with a sheepish grin, just said, “Aye-aye, Gunny” and stepped out of the office.

“Do we have any other Samarans in the Corps?” he asked Punch.

<Twelve. Three are either here at Camp Nguyen or on their way. Two have not been assigned a unit yet.>

“This is too much of a coincidence.”

<The battalion is a multinational unit. If representation is a goal, then their being assigned here makes a degree of sense.>

Rev frowned. He understood the politics of keeping humanity together as a unified force, but he didn’t like it if military considerations were ignored. Tiwari had proven himself in combat, and Rev didn’t think he’d be a drag on their effectiveness, especially as the battalion was starting up a new training cycle. But who knew how capable the other two Samarans would be? Rev had already seen the consequences of untrained personnel going into combat with Ziegler’s death.

There was a reason Tiwari was assigned to Alpha Company, and he wanted to know what that was. But first, he had to do something before the private returned to the company office.

Being Tiwari’s rabbi was now a non-player. That only happened when the subordinate was not in the same unit. Even with him in another platoon, that was still too close. But given their former relationship, it would still be better if Tiwari was assigned to one of the other platoons.

“Captain Bundy, connect,” he said into his wristcomp to put his case before the company commander.

* * *

Private Tiwari was assigned to Second Platoon at Rev’s request, but it didn’t matter, and why the private had been assigned to Alpha Company became clearer two days later when Temporary Additional Orders for him were received.

Rev was on the same set of TAD orders, as was a large percentage of the company—all of the Marines who’d been on the Samara mission and a few key players from other militaries.

The Naxli had attacked the homeworld of the Toan, one of the alien allied races. Without a real military, the Naxli had enjoyed initial success. Since then, the Niklith and Breel had managed to launch a counterassault and had established a foothold on the planet.

The Toan occupied two adjacent systems, and now that they’d been attacked, their philosophy of not needing a military had taken a gutshot. Believing that their secondary planet was at risk, they were attempting to mobilize their poorly armed police forces there. But they needed help.

And evidently, humans were the new flavor of the month, given their initial success against the Naxli. First Human Expeditionary Battalion was one of two human units to have worked with the allies, and with the MDS-centric Third Battalion currently deployed, that left First to take on the mission. And with a good percentage of the Marines in Alpha Company having experience as a military assistance team, they got the call.

One hundred and forty-six troopers were going to deploy to the Toan planet and try to whip the citizens into good enough shape to beat back a Naxli invasion.

No problem.

2

“Take a look at that,” Tomiko said as they were escorted past what might be immigration on a human world.

“Is that their commandant or a chorus girl?” Rev asked.

It was obvious that the other Toan were deferential to the two-meter-tall alien, who was festooned with a uniform that would have made a dragoon of the Thirty-First Century’s Sylvian Empire green with envy. The bright colors clashed so much that they almost hurt Rev’s eyes.

Behind the Toan were seven others in only slightly less-impressive uniforms, all in a line in what might be a position of attention if overgrown root vegetables attempted it.

“For a race that doesn’t have a military, they sure seem to be going a bit overboard with the martial stuff,” Tomiko said.

“Remember our brief. The Toan don’t see as well as we do in our wavelengths, so to them, they’re probably looking pretty professional,” Kelly said.

“I don’t know how they figured that out if we’re the first ones to see them,” Tomiko said.

Rev pointed at a human in CoH blue standing by the far wall. “Not the first, evidently.”

It was probably too much to hope that the CoH wouldn’t have sent a minder to watch over them. Captain Bundy and Major Ma, who was the OIC of the detail, spotted the other human and made a beeline for the man, walking right past the big poobah Toan.

The head radish doesn’t seem happy being ignored,” Rev whispered to Tomiko.

“Radish. Ha!” Corporal Ethereal Randigold said to Yellow Master Jie Ikinikin.

“Way to go, Rev. I think you just nicknamed them,” Tomiko said.

“I didn’t mean to say that loud enough.”

“With hyper-augmented hearing? Come on, Rev. You know better than that.”

He could hear the “radish” label go down the line of humans along with the laughter that was pretty indicative that Tomiko might be right.

“Radish” might not be the most imposing nickname, but it kind of fit. The Toans’ skin was that same radish red, and green fronds of some sort sprouted from what looked to be their heads.

They were vaguely humanoid, at least from mid-torso up. Below their kilt-like uniform bottoms, a mass of tendrils or filaments served as legs, but they had recognizable arms.

The CoH rep spoke with the two officers for a moment, then led them to the head Toan.

“Welcome to Krantom,” the Toan said in Standard that wouldn’t be out of place on Titan. “We are grateful that you have come.”

Rev and Tomiko exchanged surprised glances. As far as they could tell, the Toan didn’t have one of the ubiquitous Breel translators but was actually speaking Standard in a rich baritone.

Major Ma seemed nonplussed to hear the Toan speak. “We are happy to be here. I hope that our presence will be beneficial in your military capabilities.”

“Our constables are eagerly awaiting what assistance you can give. And from the cargo being offloaded now, may I assume that our request for your modern weapons was approved?”

“Twenty-thousand M-49s and over ten million darts, sir,” the major answered.

The green fronds on the Toan’s head had seemed stiff, but at the major’s words, they seemed to relax.

The question of providing weapons had gone back and forth as the detachment had scrambled to get ready to deploy. Human weapons were made for human bodies. They’d be of little use to the Kanters or Breel, for example. But when the CoH was assured that the Toan could fire human small arms, the Union had offered up the surplus M-49s, which were in the last phases of being replaced by the M-51.

The M-51 was developed specifically to fight the Naxli, and the darts were slightly heavier than those for the M-49. Rev gave the honor guard a quick glance. They were armed with rifles that looked high tech to him, so he wondered if the 49’s were a step up or down for the Toan.

The leaders exchanged a few more pleasantries, most along the lines of history and interspecies friendship, before the CoH rep interrupted and said that as training was scheduled to begin first thing in the morning, maybe the troopers should get to the barracks and settle in.

The Toan apologized for monopolizing their time, and Major Ma gave the order to move out.

They exited the building and got their first real look at Krantom. It was surprisingly human-like. Buildings, streets, ground vehicles—without the Toan gathered to watch or who were going about their business, they could be on a human world.

Except for one other thing. Tomiko nudged Rev and pointed up. A Sia was two or three hundred meters overhead, and it sure looked like it was observing the humans emerge from the terminal.

Rev still didn’t know what to make of the floating aliens that looked like giant mutant Portuguese men-o’-war. The other aliens seemed to respect and even defer to the Sia, but they didn’t fight or even interact with those allies, the best Rev could tell, and they seemed to always be around when the troopers were hit by a Naxli ambush.

He kept one eye on it as they moved down to a line of buses—not the Breel flatbeds they had to use on Clickerland.

“Those things give me the creeps,” Rev said just before he stepped up into the bus.

“You’re a weird one, Reverent Pelletier. I think they’re beautiful,” Tomiko said.

“We’re not here on a beauty contest. We’re here to kill noxes, or at least help the Toan kill them.”

* * *

Mr. Iona hadn’t cut the initial welcome short to give the detachment time to settle in as he’d told the Toan. With training commencing in the morning, he’d wanted time to bring the troopers up to date.

The buses had taken them to a section of an isolated police base where a small CoH advance party had erected two Confederation-designed expeditionary shelters. The first was going to act as their billeting, and the second was their armory, supply, and headquarters. The troopers had been given fifteen minutes to drop their seabags and use the heads before entering the headquarters, where they were told to grab a spot on the floor.

Their briefs back on Safe Harbor had been spotty at best. Mr. Iona’s wasn’t an in-depth analysis of their allies, but it offered a heck of a lot more than they’d previously known.

And there was one big bombshell that Rev was still trying to absorb.

Iona had started as expected, explaining the layout of the camp and their initial POD for the first few days. After that, the plans of the day would be up to Major Ma and Captain Bundy, but the powers that be wanted to have something set up and ready to go.

He then gave them an update on the main fight on the Toan homeworld. The Naxli still controlled about two-thirds of the planet, but with the arrival of the Breel and Niklith reinforcements, their advance had stopped, and things were in somewhat of a stalemate.

“And it’s likely to stay that way,” Iona said. “There are now enough forces to push the noxes off the planet, but not quickly enough to keep them from blowing it up.”

“They’re afraid of winning because the noxes will go scorched earth on them and detonate a planet buster?” Major Ma asked.

“That’s about the short and sweet of it,” Iona said as a low murmur rose from the troopers.

Human military forces didn’t fight for stalemates. They fought to destroy the enemy.

But humans had over a thousand planets, and Mr. Iona had to remind the troopers the Toan had two: their homeworld Desig and Krantom. That changed the equation.

That wasn’t the bombshell, though, which came almost as an afterthought.

“You’ve all worked with aliens before, and I’ve read the reports. The clickers can be difficult allies, and as your Third Battalion is finding out, the Niklith can be even more so. With that in mind, I think you’ll be happy to find out that working with the Toan will be much easier. They may have next to no military knowledge, but from a broader perspective, they are far more like us than perhaps any of the other races.”

“Maybe that’s why they can speak Standard,” Tomiko whispered.

“They are facing the possible extinction of themselves as a race. Genocide. So, they are eager to learn, and I think you’ll find that they’re quick studies. This won’t be like trying to teach the singers to fight or make a lemming take things seriously.”

Rev had to smile. He was quite fond of the small Kanters, and they were brave fighters, but they seemed to lack the ability to be serious about anything.

“That may be because they’re our cousins, so to speak, but whatever the reason, it’s going to make things easier,” Mr. Iona said.

It took a moment for the full sentence to sink in, and for those who caught it, Bundy was speaking for them all when he asked, “Cousins?”

Now everyone understood the comment.

“Oh, sorry. I guess that might not have reached you yet. Not cousins, per se. Long, long, long lost cousins, maybe.” He looked out over the troopers, who were looking back at him in confusion. “Ah, hell. Screw security. You guys deserve to know.”

He took a deep breath, then said, “Most of our allies—and the noxes and Centaurs, for that matter—are completely different lifeforms than we are, as you know. We’re able to communicate and interact because of parallel evolution. Life evidently follows patterns over time, and form follows function to a great extent.”

He paused for a moment as he chose his words. “The Toan and humanity, however, we share a family tree of sorts.”

“Bullshit,” someone said from the crowd, and Gunny Lian had to yell, “At ease, troopers! At ease.”

“It could be bullshit. But our models say differently. Using genetic retrogression, there is a probable link from almost six billion years ago.”

“The Big Bang?” Staff Sergeant Yancey asked.

<The Big Bang was thirteen-point-eight-billion years ago. The Earth is four-point-six billion years old,> Punch told Rev.

“I’m a civil servant, not a scientist type. But as I understand it . . .” He paused mid-word and got the far-off look that some Marines got when they conversed with their battle buddies. “ . . . abiogenesis started long after the Big Bang, but the RNA building blocks came out of the ejecta from the event. Humans and Toan are from the same neck of the woods in the galaxy, so it’s possible that the same group of ejecta formed life on both Earth and Desig.”

“But the radishes”—Tomiko nudged Rev at the use of the term— “aren’t like us. We’ve got legs, and they don’t,” Yancey said.

Mr, Iona shrugged and said, “A cabbage and a human share 45% of our DNA. If what the genetic analysts are saying is that we share a minuscule genetic history with the Toan, then I think that could take care of the leg issue.”

“So, the Toan came from us?” Sergeant Nest, from Second Platoon asked.

“I think that they’re saying we evolved separately but from the same pot of chemicals and acids,” Iona said. “And if anyone’s the younger cousin, it’s us. Toan life started before Earth life.”

More questions were shouted out, but Bundy stood and turned to face the detachment. “This is fascinating, and we could discuss this all night. But it doesn’t change what we’re doing here. And we’re starting that mission in just over six hours. So, unless Mr. Iona has anything else pertaining to that mission?” he asked, giving the civilian a look.

Mr. Iona shook his head, and Bundy continued. “Then, with Major Ma’s concurrence, let’s get back to the barracks and get some rest. All of you should be synched into local time by now, but morning’s going to come early. Major?”

Major Ma shook his head, and Bundy said, “Platoon commanders, see me. Everyone else, dismissed.”

Rev stood. He’d have to make sure the watch was set up and the rest of the troops were down for the count. Then he’d have to wait for Lieutenant Marble to get back from her meeting before he could hit the rack.

His mind was buzzing with the fact that humankind might be related to the Toan, even if tenuously. He knew he and Punch were going to have some interesting discussions about it. But not now. Bundy was right in that any connection was an aside to their mission here.

What mattered was how well the Toan could absorb what the humans had to offer. If they were as hardheaded as the Breel could be, and if the Naxli did decide to invade, Krantom was going to be bowled over.

3

“Are you gonna charge right into the teeth of a nox BFG?” Rev shouted as he strode into the assault like a bull in a China shop.

The Toan froze under his anger and looked at each other in confusion. Rev grabbed the nearest Toan by the collar and shoved him to the ground.

“Take fucking cover, or you’re gonna be dead!” He swung his prosthetic left arm around to encompass them. “All of you are dead. Dead! Get back to the starting line, and we’re going to do it again. And again. And again, until you get it right.”

He stormed back to the little rise they’d been using to watch the evolution.

Staff Sergeant Kelly O’Donnell gave him a bemused smile. “You know what they say about a person and iron?”

Rev was still angry, and he wasn’t in the mood for another of Kelly’s down-home witticisms. But he knew she wouldn’t let up.

“What do they say?” he asked as he turned to watch the Toan’s next attempt.

“When both a person and iron lose their temper, they’re pretty much useless.”

Rev took a deep breath. Maybe he shouldn’t have lost it out there. The Toan were trying their best, but that wasn’t going to be good enough if the Naxli invaded. This was the real world, not one of their reenactments.

“Unless they get it through their green heads that the noxes aren’t playing make-believe, they’re gonna get blown away,” he said defensively.

“They’re coming along. You can’t fault their attitudes.”

“Attitudes aren’t going to keep them alive, Kelly. The noxes don’t give a flying fuck about attitude. And you heard the brief this morning.”

He knew Kelly was right, though. He shouldn’t let his frustration get the best of him. That wouldn’t be doing anyone any good.

“If you catch me losing my temper again, give me a little nudge or something,” he told Punch as the Toan moved to their starting line.

<That’s a very smart move. Should it be verbal or visual?>

So Punch has noticed I’ve been getting a little short lately, too?

Rev considered that for a moment before saying, “Better make it visual.”

Rev’s vision momentarily flashed pink.

“Uh, pink? Isn’t that kinda, you know . . . ?”

<Specifically, it’s Tickle Me Pink, Pantone fc89ac. And I think it’s appropriate, given the circumstances.>

Rev shook his head. Mother, save me from a smartass battle buddy.

He turned back to the Toan as they prepared for another run-through. Mr. Iona, their CoH liaison/minder, had been both right and wrong when he said training them could be easier than working with other aliens. He was right in that they thought much like humans, certainly much more than the Uauii or the Kanters, and probably more than the Breel. That made explanations easier. The Toan could understand what the humans were telling them.

But they had almost no military experience. There was nothing to build from. It had been centuries since they’d had anything approximating a military back before their first contact. Once that contact was made, instead of doubling down on their militaries, they’d been more than happy to stop spending and let treaties take care of their defense.

The closest the Toan came to a military tradition was the constabulary’s gaudy uniforms and a small group of reenactors who recreated historical battles. Many of the constables the humans were training were those reenactors. But that somehow made it worse. When playacting, the enemy didn’t have modern weapons that would cut them down.

So, when the simulated gun emplacement had opened up on the Toan platoon, it hadn’t fazed them. They just kept their steady advance up the hill. And that’s when Rev lost it.

“Let’s see how they do this time,” Rev said, intentionally keeping his voice casual and trying to remove any hint of anger from the tone. “They need to get this down.”

“They’ll learn soon enough if the noxes do come,” Kelly said.

“It might be too late. Unless they can hold out long enough for the ents and scorps to come, the planet will be lost.”

“We’ve got the lemmings.”

The detachment had been pleasantly surprised to find out that a division-equivalent of Kanters—approximately six thousand of the diminutive warriors—had arrived to reinforce the planet. But taking nothing away from them, the Naxli could arrive in large enough numbers to quickly overcome them.

“Not enough, Kel. It’s gonna haf’ to be the radishes. And they’re just not getting it.”

“I think they’re doing better than you think, Rev.”

The Toan had reached the training line of departure, and Rev pulled out the air horn from his cargo pocket and gave it a blast. The Toan started their advance again.

“I hope you’re right, Kel. But I fear you’re not,” Rev said.

* * *

Two weeks later, Rev hadn’t changed his mind. In some ways, the Toan were doing well. They could fire their weapons as well as most of the humans, and their ability to move troops around was nothing short of remarkable. Two days ago, with only an hour’s notice, five thousand constables had been transported a third of the way around the planet to meet a simulated Naxli landing.

Rev had to give credit where credit was due. He wasn’t sure the Marines could do that in such a short amount of time.

But the Toan lacked a killer instinct, in Rev’s opinion. They’d lost the inherent barbarism that was necessary to bring death to the enemy.

There were humans like that. The Mennonites and the Brothers were all sworn to non-violence. But enough humans still retain that primitive ability to kill so that they could fight the Genesians two hundred years ago, the Centaurs ten years ago, and now hold the Naxli at bay. The Toan had lost that, if they ever even had it.

They acknowledged the need to fight, and they were taking all the steps possible to prepare, but Rev wasn’t sure they could punch the Naxli in the nose. They’d try, but without that violent streak, he was afraid for their future. And a detachment of human trainers and a division of Kanters wouldn’t be enough to hold out.

Rev wasn’t alone in that assessment. Most of the humans were of a similar mindset. If enough Naxli came, no one thought the Toan could hold them off.

And that led to a very real problem.

“The lemmings have indicated that they’ll stay and fight,” Mr. Iona told the troopers.

The major had called the meeting of the detachment leadership to answer the question of what the humans should do if the Naxli did invade. Their orders were to train the Toan, not to fight for them. And it wasn’t as if a single human detachment could do much to stop a major invasion, especially a detachment without their full combat T/E. Most of their heavy weapons had been left behind, and more importantly, as the Toan didn’t have combat suits, the humans didn’t bring theirs, either. No PALs.

There wasn’t much six thousand Kanters could do as well, but that was their mission. That put the pressure on the humans to stay and fight, too. But if the Toan defense collapsed, as everyone predicted, staying to fight would probably be signing their death warrants.

Major Ma nodded. “That’s no surprise. I expected that’s what they’d say.”

“Any update from battalion?” Bundy asked.

The major shook his head. “Same old, same old. No change. It’s my call.”

Except it really wasn’t, unless the major decided to pull chocks now before any invasion. Once the Naxli did land, and if they came in force, the chances of the humans getting a ride off-planet were going to be slim.

Once again, Rev was glad he wasn’t the one to make decisions like this. If the OIC decided to leave now before a Naxli invasion, he was essentially giving up on their orders. But if he decided to stay longer and try and train more Toan, it might be too late to leave.

Then there were appearances. No one really expected that the small number of Toan being trained by the humans was enough to turn the tide. With sufficient time for the Toan trainers to be trained, then go out to spread the knowledge to their fellow constables, it might make a difference. But the reason the detachment was on the planet was because the Toan had requested them, and as the newbies in the alliance, the congress hadn’t thought humanity could say no.

And if the humans packed up and left, especially when the Kanters were staying, what kind of message was that sending?

“Sir, if I may?” Rev asked.

“Go ahead, Gunny.”

“I think we’re looking at this the wrong way.”

“How so?”

Rev looked over at Tomiko, who was staring at him with an unfathomable look on her face. Except she knew him, and she knew what he was about to say. He might be thankful that the decision wasn’t on his shoulders, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have an opinion. He broke eye contact with her and plunged on.

“If Krantom was a stand-alone planet with no allies, then twenty thousand noxes could take it.”

There were several nods among the other troopers.

“But this isn’t a stand-alone planet. And the radishes are not in this fight on their own.”

Mr. Iona frowned at Rev’s use of “radishes.” Rev didn’t care.

“The radishes don’t have to win. They just have to survive until help can arrive. Same as us. All we have to do is make it until then, too. And we’ve got practice. How many of us were on Syron III, wandering around the swamps and hunting down noxes?”

He looked around, trying to judge how the others were taking in what he was saying.

“Besides, how many noxes could come? The bulk of them are engaged on Desig. Can they just pick up and leave? Take too many, and the ents and scorps will swarm what’s left.”

Mr. Iona started to open his mouth, probably to protest, but Rev went on, cutting him off. “Yes, I know the noxes might want a diversion, but still, how many fighters can they afford to commit to that without putting their main force at risk?”

“So, you’re advocating that we stay,” Major Ma said.

“Yes, sir. We’ve got our mission, and that’s to help prepare the radishes. We can’t do that if we run away, right? And we’re not even positive that the noxes are coming. So, if we run while the lemmings stay? And then the noxes don’t even show up? How’s that gonna look, sir?”

“And if they do show up, Gunny? What then?”

“Like I said. We take it to them, and we survive. We’ve done it before. We can do it again.”

Bundy caught Rev’s eye and gave the slightest of nods, which was a relief. Rev wasn’t alone in his opinion. And as he looked at the others, he thought most of them agreed with him.

But most didn’t matter. It was Major Ma’s call, unless the CoH intervened.

“Anyone else want to add anything to what Gunny Pelletier just said?” the major asked.

“I think his logic is sound,” Bundy jumped in.

There were some nods, but no one else said anything.

“Very well. I’m taking your opinion under advisement, Gunny. We still have time, though. There isn’t any intel that nox units are preparing to move. So, until I make a decision, we’ve still got our orders. And every radish we train, that’s another who can go out and train their compatriots.

“So, let’s table this for now and carry on with the schedule. Let’s turn these radishes into lean, mean, fighting machines.”

* * *

Major Ma said they had time. That was incorrect. Two days after their meeting, the Naxli dropped onto the planet.

The main landing was on the next continent, and the Uauii offered to send in a ship to take the humans off the planet, but the major said no. They were not going to abandon the Toan.

It had come down to two things. The first was that their mission wasn’t over. The best training the Toan could have was in combat itself. The costs were high, but the lessons learned were the most valuable. And the humans could serve best by keeping up their mentor role.

The second was because every trooper felt a responsibility for their students. It went against every fiber of their being to run away while leaving brothers in arms to face the enemy alone.

4

A crack filled the air, and one of the Toan was hit.

When they died, a Toan lost some of their structure, and the fighter collapsed like a building imploding upon itself.

“Keep down!” Rev shouted. “I told you, they’ve got us zeroed in.”

If the humans had a chance at leaving the planet, that was long gone. The initial Naxli landing on the other continent had torn through the Toan defenses in fourteen hours. Even before the final defeat, the enemy had started sending their warriors to the second continent to target the Toan, human, and Kanter defenders.

The Kanters had proven to present a much stiffer defense than the Toan could muster, but over the last two days, as more and more Naxli were thrown into the battle, that defense was starting to crumble. Naxli snipers had infiltrated forward and were in range of the Toan and humans.

Not just snipers. An explosion sounded behind Rev, but the trenches, built by the Toan excavators, were providing acceptable cover. The artillery and rocket fire were sporadic, and with the exception of the fuzed rounds that exploded ten meters above the trenches, they weren’t very effective. It was the snipers, though, who were picking off those who were losing concentration and exposing themselves. That was mostly Toan, but Corporal Balloway from Fourth Platoon had his bell rung when he’d gotten up too high. Without his helmet, his brains would have been splattered across the trench.

It sounded like it was a different story with the Kanters. The fighting was heavy, which was undoubtedly why the humans were only lightly engaged. But if their allies fell, Rev knew that the humans and Toan would be receiving the brunt of the Naxli assault.

“Gunny, come on in to the CP,” Lieutenant Marble passed over the Toan communicator.

“Roger that. I’m on my way.”

Keeping as low as he could, he made his way down the trench, squeezing past the others until he reached Yancey. “I’m heading to the CP with the lieutenant. You’ve got the platoon.”

“I’m on it. Any instructions?”

Rev shook his head. “Nothing’s changed. Make sure everyone keeps their head down. We just lost another radish a few minutes ago. They seem to forget that there’s a bunch of noxes out there just waiting to take them out.”

“For smart folks, they can sure be dumbshits,” Yancey said.

“And it’s up to us to keep them alive.”

A crescendo of the sounds of fighting washed over their heads, causing them both to look up.

“Sounds like the lemmings are in a world of shit,” Yancey said.

“At least with them, we know they’re dishing out a world of hurt on the noxes, too.”

Yancey shrugged. He’d never been a huge fan of the way the Kanters just threw themselves at their enemies. “Not for long. They’re outnumbered, and you know how they go through fighters.”

“Well, you’d better hope they’re attriting the noxes, ’cause after the lemmings are gone, the noxes are coming for us.”

Rev retreated back down the trench and headed to the CP. He had to give it to the Toan on that, at least. They’d reprogrammed agricultural machinery somehow to dig the trench complex. From start to finish, it had taken less than two hours. He ran his right hand over the walls as he walked, marveling at their evenness. The Marines had robotic excavators as well, but they couldn’t have gotten the defenses done in such a short amount of time, nor to the same high standards.

He passed through Third Platoon’s position and reached the CP, which was just another section of trenchline. The platoon commanders and other platoon sergeants were there, and Rev slid in beside Tomiko. Mr. Iona was sitting on the ground, his helmet askew on his head, while he looked like he wished he was anywhere else at the moment.

“Is that it? Do we have everybody?” Major Ma asked, peering up and down the section of trench. “I guess we do. First things first. I’ve been in touch with the lemmings, and their situation is getting dire. They’re preparing for a counterassault, but I get the feeling that they don’t expect to get out of this alive.”

Shit.

Rev half-suspected that the Kanters were in trouble, but to hear the major say it aloud made it real.

“They’re delaying their counterassault for an hour, though.”

Why would they do that? The longer they wait, the more noxes will be in place to face them.

He hadn’t asked that aloud, but the major moved right into the explanation. “They’re doing that to give us a chance to get ready. We’re going to attempt a breakout.”

They’re doing what?

“Which doesn’t give us much time. But we’ll be ready, and by the Mother, we’re not going to waste their sacrifice.

“The short mission statement is that First Platoon, you’re the leading element. The rest will follow in trace, bringing along as many of our Toan as possible. Once we’re through, we’ll attempt to keep on the move and not allow the noxes to pin us down and engage us. We’ll shift to guerrilla tactics to keep the noxes frustrated, but we can’t afford to get into a full-out battle.”

He looked around the gathered company leadership.

“While I hope the lemming assault will give us cover to get out unseen, we can’t count on that. We’re not armed for a major clash, but damn it, this is what we do. We’re going to get out of here, and then we’re going to make the noxes wish they’d never set foot on Krantom.”

Rev tried to keep from frowning. It was all well and good to give a little rah-rah, but the major called them in for this? If they only had an hour, he needed to be getting the platoon ready. It wasn’t even an operations order. It was more of a warning order, and not much of one at that.

“Captain Bundy and I are working on the specifics right now. Hopefully, we’ll get some more intel on the enemy disposition. But for the moment, get your troopers ready to move. I’ll be sending more before we step off. Questions?”

I might have questions if you’d told us anything.

“In that case, get back to your platoons. Stand by to kick this off.”

* * *

The sounds of the Kanter counterassault had died down behind them. Rev hoped that meant their allies had broken through, but his practical side knew that was unlikely. Major Ma had said he didn’t want to waste the Kanter sacrifice, and Rev was totally on board with that.

The operations order for their own breakout wasn’t a whole lot more than what they had for the warning order. They had a route planned, and they were in a company column with First Platoon as the lead element. They’d be more secure in a different formation, but the major’s intent was to focus their strength forward, gaining local numbers superiority even when the Naxli far outnumbered them. It was textbook, but it made First Platoon extremely vulnerable.

Without heavy weapons, the platoon had to rely on the IBHU Marines and the lone karnan with his big BIPAC. The lieutenant had pushed the hyper-augments forward, which meant Rev as well. Where a platoon sergeant normally would be in the rear of a platoon movement, his IBHU relegated him to the front—something he preferred anyway.

The company was in a column, but the platoon was in a wedge, which they hoped would force their way through any Naxli resistance. Rev had convinced the lieutenant to lead with Second Squad as the point of the spear, not because of Yellow Master Ikinikin, who’d taken over the squad after Master Corporal Inglesias had been killed, but because he wanted Randigold in the front. If and when the platoon got Staff Sergeant Tsao back, that would change the dynamic. But until then, Randigold was his most experienced IBHU, and the one he trusted most in battle.

At the moment, Randigold was in position right behind Scout 3 Schaefer, who was the point trooper in the movement. Rev was behind her team, ready to assist if they came into contact. Under-Sergeant Kimms, with his BIPAC, had the left flank of the squad’s formation. It was about the best he could do with what he had to work with.

They moved through the planet’s forest, which wasn’t as dense as a human-terraformed world. Above them, the rail-like fronds gave decent overhead cover, but down at ground level, the dearth of lower-level growth and the narrow trunks meant that visibility was forty or even sixty meters in places. A Naxli force could be prone on the ground or taking what cover they could and still spot the humans and Toan approaching.

They made one klick, then two, without sign of the Naxli. There were a few occasional sounds of battle off in the distance, but with the Kanters defeated, it was mostly silent as the company advanced. As they approached three klicks, Rev started to hope that they might sneak out the back way without drawing the Naxli’s attention.

Which, of course, was when the gods of war decided to punish him for his impudence.

Schaefer froze, signaling the rest of the squad. Rev didn’t have a clear view through the other troopers to catch what the Tau Ceti Ranger had seen. He started to shift slightly to the left when a fusillade erupted from far ahead, dropping Schaefer. The Naxli had kicked off the ambush too early and from too far away, probably because Schaefer, with his hyper-augmented eyesight, had spotted them. Even as spread out as the tree trunks were, there were enough here to give the humans some cover.

Randigold immediately opened up, and Rev shouted, “Assault left!” He caught the flash of a muzzle and sprayed a burst of twenty-millimeter rounds, sending them out through the gap between Randigold and Nezev.

Those troopers forged ahead, darting from cover to cover, knowing that Third Squad would be maneuvering to flank the ambush. The incoming fire wasn’t as great as Rev had expected, but still another trooper went down as the squad moved forward.

Beyond the line of Naxli firing at them, he caught brief glimpses of movement, and the situation started to gel. They’d been hit by a relatively small force, maybe only a couple of warriors. But more of them were rushing to join the fight. If enough reached their fellow Naxli, they could blunt Third Squad’s maneuver.

Rev switched to his Moray, set the fuze for anti-personnel, gave it a range of three hundred meters, and fired. The Moray was guided, but its maneuverability was limited in such tight quarters. With a 300-meter planned detonation, it was programmed to avoid anything else along its path, which included objects like trees. Rev held his breath as he watched the missile rocket downrange, weaving back and forth just enough to miss the trees in its path.

This time, the gods of war must have been smiling on him because the missile somehow made it through to detonate, sending a deadly spray of shrapnel out like a lethal fireworks display. Rev didn’t have a clear view, but he did see bodies blown aside.

He used the blast as a diversion and ran twice as far before taking cover again. Randigold was quicker than he was. She was twenty meters ahead, bounding on her new, improved prosthetic legs and pouring fire ahead.

Rev followed the first Moray with a second, but his luck had run out. The missile kissed the side of a tree, bounced off course, and collided with another. It failed to detonate.

But he still had his beamer and twenty millimeter. He kept up a steady stream to suppress the incoming fire, which was still light . . . until it wasn’t. Some of the other Naxli must have reached the nearer ones, and the incoming increased significantly, which halted the assault. The troopers took whatever cover they could and returned fire. Rev slipped behind a large-bole tree just as it took several rounds. Instead of splinters, Rev was splattered with a gloppy mass, and half of the trunk disappeared. Slowly the top of the tree above the damage tilted and fell.

“Not much protection with these things,” he muttered as he got lower to the ground and fired another burst from his twenty.

“Get me a target for my beamer,” he told Punch.

He still had plenty of power, and he’d like to husband his kinetic rounds. Punch could only see what Rev saw, but his battle buddy could closely watch everything, including what was in Rev’s peripheral vision, while Rev could only focus on a small part of his field of view at a time.

Tree trunks were bursting as they were hit with bullets, but they seemed to be absorbing much of the energy beams. Rev sent another volley of twenties downrange. He didn’t have a target, but he had to help keep the Naxli pinned in place until Third Squad could flank them.

<To the right,> Punch said as he highlighted something in the distance. Rev turned to focus on what looked to be simply a dark patch, a shadow. But if Punch was inputting a marker into his visual cortex, Rev was going to trust his battle buddy.

He narrowed his beamer to a pencil form, aimed, and fired. The energy beam skipped past the trees through a narrow corridor, barely missing several trunks, and hit the center of the dark spot. A Naxli body fell across the narrow field of view. He couldn’t make out much, but the enemy soldier started to crawl away, so once his beamer recharged five seconds later, Rev fired one more time center mass. The Naxli went still.

There was a blast from a whistle ahead and to the left, and Rev shouted, “Shift fire! Shift fire!” as Third Squad started assaulting through the ambush. But more Naxli were arriving, and they oriented to Third and stopped them.

The humans were reacting right according to their SOP. Second Squad had assaulted through as much as they could while Third maneuvered to flank the Naxli. Unfortunately, the enemy had a way of ignoring textbooks.

But their shifting focus to Third gave Rev a window of opportunity again. “On me, Second. Back into the assault,” he shouted as he jumped up and started moving forward again, trying to use the trees to hide the shift for as long as possible. “Positively identify all targets.”

Friendly fire was a distinct possibility, and without the human comms to coordinate, that potential was even greater.

But he did have the Toan comms with the lieutenant, so he told her what he was doing.

“Can you hold them?” she asked.

“We still don’t know how many there are. What’s the status with the other platoons?”

“They’re already passing through. But you didn’t answer. Can you hold?”

The plan was for First Platoon to form a breach in any Naxli resistance, then create a corridor of sorts, with Second and Third Squads forming a defensive line along the left side of the axis of advance and First and Fourth on the right side, with the rest of the company passing between them.

Second and Third Squads had to hold off the Naxli until the company made it past them, then fall back and follow them while taking rear security. It looked good on paper, but the Naxli weren’t cooperating. It looked like more and more of them were coming, more than two squads could hold back.

A blast exploded to Rev’s right, then rounds started zipping through the forest as some of the Naxli, at least, shifted back to Second Squad. Rev took cover behind a tree for a moment so he could respond to his commander.

Rev knew that the lieutenant was considering sending over either First or Fourth Squads. But that would leave the right flank open, and Rev was sure the enemy was converging on them from that direction. And if the rest of the company was already passing through the breach, then Second and Third wouldn’t have to hold on long.

“We can hold. Don’t change the plan now.”

“Understood. But if you start losing ground, tell me immediately.”

Rev caught sight of two Naxli maneuvering to his right front. He snapped off a string of twenties. Both disappeared. Rev was pretty sure he’d hit one of them.

Another explosion went off, this one closer. Shrapnel pinged off of Pashu and his helmet. One small piece got below the bottom of the helmet and scored his neck. He reached up with his right hand and brought it away bloody.

“Am I all right?” he asked Punch, which might seem like a dumb question. But when adrenaline was flowing, he sometimes couldn’t tell how badly he might be hurt.

<Your bios are elevated, but I don’t see signs of serious injury.>

Rev ignored the pain and kept moving forward. But it wasn’t only the humans who were advancing. So were the Naxli, and as Rev skirted a dense thicket, he came face-to-face with one of the enemy. Both combatants spotted each other at the same time. The Naxli’s BFG was already aimed in Rev’s general direction.

It didn’t matter. Rev was quicker, and his beamer burned through the warrior’s chest a full half-second before it could have fired. Which was a good thing. Without his PAL, his body armor would have been like tissue paper to the big Naxli round.

He stepped back behind the nearest tree and peeked around to try and figure out what was happening. Humans and Naxli were darting from cover to cover as they got closer. If they intermixed, things were going to get complicated.

Very complicated.

I’ve got to create some order here.

“Troopers, consolidate on me! Link up!” he shouted over his speakers.

Hopefully, the Naxli didn’t understand Standard. The ones he’d faced in human space could speak it, but so far, this deep into alien space, none had shown that capability.

“Tighten up!” he shouted.

He didn’t see much in the way of troopers condensing their position, and he wondered if he’d lost control in the rush of the assault.

“I think I screwed up, Punch,” he said. “I let everyone disperse, then I waited too long to take control.”

<They’ll be collapsing on you. You’ve rehearsed this before.>

Another Naxli appeared to his front, and Rev nailed it with a single beamer through the lower torso. The enemy bent over and tumbled to the ground. It turned over, and from the prone position, raised its weapon. Rev’s beamer was still recharging, so two twenty-millimeter rounds put an end to that.

He needed to regain control. He shifted to the left, and he spotted one of their troopers, Blue Master Istep, just ahead.

“Istep!”

The Frisian turned at the call, then diverted toward him. Out of nowhere, just twenty meters away, a Naxli erupted from a small bush that would have had trouble concealing a rabbit, one of its swords raised high. With Istep in the way, Rev tried to target the sword but missed. The Frisian trooper spun around and tried to raise his M-51, but the Naxli was too close. At the last instant, he managed to use his rifle to deflect the blow, and the Naxli crashed into him. They both went to the ground, and Rev darted two steps to the left as he aimed Pashu just millimeters past Istep’s ear. The instant his recharge light went green, he fired, and the beam burned through the enemy’s head.

The Frisian pushed the body off of him, then scrambled to his feet. He fired a burst of hypervelocity darts into the dead body.

“You’re OK, Istep. Get back here.”

The troopers in each squad weren’t as dispersed as Rev had feared. Hussein started getting his troopers into position, and those on the right started laying down a heavy curtain of fire. That allowed Rev to unscrew the cluster between the two squads.

With Hussein’s help, he managed to get a reasonable defensive line. A perimeter would be better, giving a 360, but he had to make do with simply refusing the flank. Hopefully, the Naxli would take a bit of time before they realized what the two squads had done.

It didn’t take them as long as he’d hoped. The Naxli started concentrating their fire on the human line as they pushed forward. Some of them were getting within thirty meters before being dropped.

Without Hochenspatter with Third and Randigold with Second, both putting out huge amounts of fire, Rev didn’t think the two squads could have held the enemy off. The question was how long the two IBHU Marines could sustain the fire. Rev still had power for his beamer, but his twenty-millimeter round count was dwindling quickly.

He fired two more Morays. They were not the best weapon against personnel, particularly where there was heavy vegetation, but he wasn’t going to get extra credit for turning them back in.

“Feda’s hit!” someone called out. It sounded like Hvarser, but Rev wasn’t sure. Lance Corporal Feda had been on the flank, and if she was hit . . .

“Hus-man, keep it up!” Rev shouted as he stood and ran to the left side of the line. Rounds chased him, and he was splattered with more tree goo.

Feda was on her belly, but Rev’s attention was in the forest beyond her. Four Naxli charged forward as they attempted to run up the humans’ flank. Rev instinctively switched to guillotine mode as he brought Pashu up and made a sweeping motion. Three of the Naxli went down. The fourth dove to the side, the beam just missing it. It fired a wild shot at Rev, but it never got off a second as Rev drilled it with three twenty-millimeter rounds.

He scanned the forest again, then knelt beside the lance corporal. She’d taken a shot to the throat, and her head was barely attached.

Shit.

“Hvarser, you’ve got her,” he told the Alliance soldier. “I’ll shift Günther over to help you.”

He ran back to the center of the line. Hochenspatter’s rate of fire started to slacken, and he paused beside her.

“What’s your round count, Hoch?”

“Sixty-five, Gunny,” she said.

“Switch to your beamer.”

One of the big advantages to the twenty was that the booms reminded the Naxli that they were under fire, which tended to slow them down. The beamers were silent.

Rev checked his own counter. He had 412 rounds left. It was time he started to add more to the outgoing.

“I’d give anything for a Jackhammer now,” he said as he fired a burst. With three IBHUs, Torking with his BIPAC, and the two M-103 40mm grenade launchers, they really didn’t have much in the way of heavy weapons. The only saving grace was that the Naxli hadn’t shown much in the way of their own.

As if to punish him for the thought, a rocket emerged from the front. It impacted Second Squad.

“I’m hit,” two voices shouted almost simultaneously: Weld and Kata.

Naxli bodies littered the forest floor in front of them, but it seemed as if someone had turned on the Naxli spigot. They kept coming. The humans were holding them back, but for how long?

About a dozen Naxli rushed the left side. Five or six were cut down. That was Manning with her beamer. Rev took down two more, but he had a bad angle. Several of them made it within ten meters of the line before the M-51s took care of them.

Next time, they might reach the humans.

Rev pulled out his communicator, but the lieutenant beat him to it.

“Gunny, pull back now!” she passed.

“Thank the Mother. We’re heavily engaged at the moment, though. It’s going to take a bit of time.”

“You don’t have time, Gunny. Get Second and Third out of there. Our radish friends are setting up a little greeting for the gaunts.”

Rev didn’t know what that could be. There were about eighteen or nineteen Toan with the company, and to the best of his knowledge, they weren’t armed with anything more than the old Marine M-49s.

“What kind of—”

“Disengage now and beat feet, Gunny!”

Rev triggered three blasts on his whistle, the compressed air powering the sound waves through the trees. He opened up his helmet loudspeaker and shouted, “All hands, pull back now, ricky-tick. Move it! Racine and Nezev, keep the noxes’ attention.”

His helmet speaker might not have the power of the PAL-mounted one, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. Naxli, too. A fusillade of rounds reached out for him, splattering him with tree goo.

Around him, bodies started to retreat. A trooper stumbled and went down, but another—Neary, it looked like—jumped in and helped the trooper up, and together, they joined the retreat. Racine and Nezev started pumping out their 40 mm grenades. They only had six rounds each. Hopefully, the Naxli didn’t know that, and they’d be slow in pursuing them.

“Let’s give them something else to worry about.”

He fired his second to last Moray, then a burst of twenty fire before he started his own retreat. Another twenty burst answered his but from behind him.

“Eth! Get your ass back. Retreat!”

There was another long burst, and he heard her shout over her loudspeaker, “You, too, Gunny!”

But he caught a glimpse of her through the trees as she pulled back.

“She’s going to get herself killed,” Rev muttered.

<I can say the same thing about you.>

More shapes started to advance toward him through the forest. Rev switched to guillotine mode on his beamer and gave the distant shapes a slice, but between distance, trees, and the Naxli body armor, he wasn’t sure he’d taken any out.

Something exploded about four meters off the ground, but the same trees shielded Rev. As the Naxli closed the distance, though, there would be less cover.

“Nezev, Racine, pull back!” Rev shouted.

<I would suggest that you pull back as well,> Punch added.

Rev gave one burst from his twenty and started retreating again. Troopers were in a full-out run as they rushed to the rear. Four of them were being helped or carried by others, and Rev was asking for headcounts as they converged on their previous route, where the lieutenant and the other two squads were waiting.

Three Toan were working on something, but Rev barely gave them a second thought.

The lieutenant was urging them to hurry. She put two troopers on the four who’d been hit. Feda was KIA, but the others were still alive. Within moments, they were on the move, scooping up the three Toan and hurrying after the rest of the company.

Rev started to fall back with Randigold and Kimms, but the lieutenant said, “That’s a negative, Gunny. Keep up!”

Which was tactically unsound. A few troopers could slow down the pursuing Naxli, but without any resistance, the enemy would run right up their asses. But orders were orders, so Rev kept it tight—although his attention was oriented to the rear. A running retreat was one thing, but if the Naxli caught up to them, he was going to take the other two troopers and light the bastards up.

They’d gone about two hundred meters when one, then another blast made it through the forest to them. Now he knew what the Toan were doing. They’d set up a couple of booby traps. They might have just taken out a Naxli or two, and that might slow the pursuit down a bit, but not by much. Still, it was better than nothing.

After another two hundred meters, the two troopers carrying Feda’s body dropped her. Rev stopped to cover them while they picked the body back up and started off again, so he was looking back the moment the maelstrom engulfed the area behind them. Rev’s mouth dropped open in awe at the roiling black cloud that shot into the sky, then he was staggered as the shock wave hit them. Trees broke in two, and bushes were pulled out of the ground.

The two troopers carrying Feda were knocked off their feet.

“What in the hell was that?” Rev asked, scanning the sky for some sort of aircraft.

<Evidently, the Toan left a larger greeting than Lieutenant Marble let on.>

“I guess so.”

Rev stood still for a moment as the troopers got back to their feet. Now he understood the need for speed. If they’d been a bit slower . . .

He had no idea what the Toan had set off, but he knew it had devastated the Naxli. No matter how many there were or how many had survived, they were going to be much more cautious from now on.

Rev didn’t know yet what Major Ma or Bundy had in mind, but the Toan had just managed to break contact with extreme prejudice, giving them time to move to the next stage of the conflict.

5

Rev idly chewed on the Toan ration bar as his team set up their booby traps. Back when he was at school, which seemed like a century ago, he’d dated Lana Jules for a couple of weeks. The other students thought he was punching above his weight class. Rev didn’t agree, although time had clouded his memories of her. But one thing he vividly remembered was how Lana was always munching on rice crackers. He’d hated the dry, tasteless pieces of cardboard.

And that’s what the Toan bar tasted like. They made his Marine combat rats seem like gourmet delicacies. But without knowing how long they were going to be on the planet, the major had ordered that they ration their human food and substitute at least one meal with the local bars.

The problem was that while the Toan rations did provide nourishment for humans, it wasn’t much. Humans and Toan may have a long-ago common origin, but so much had changed over the billions of years that most of their allies’ food simply passed through the troopers’ systems—which was another uncomfortable process that Rev didn’t want to think about now. With so little usable nourishment, Rev had to eat at least twenty of the bars to get his minimum calories.

“We’re finished,” Senior Constable Geen told Rev.

Rev put the rest of the ration bar into his pocket and took a swig of water from his camelback to wash the dryness from his mouth, then he moved forward. The tiny booby traps were almost invisible. They didn’t look dangerous at all, but he’d seen how effective they could be.

The Toan might not have the fierce, death-dealing attitude it took to take the fight to the Naxli, but they were pretty good at killing using their own dispassionate methods. In a way, they were like human sailors whose task it was to push a button and send weapons of war on their way. A warrior didn’t have to face the enemy to kill them.

“Show me the pattern,” Rev said.

Geen led Rev down the trail, pointing out both the first line of booby traps and then the two secondary lines. Rev stopped in the kill zone and looked up and down the trail.

“You’ve got a gap in the coverage right there,” he said, pointing. “That tree will mask a good portion of the blast, and if one of the noxes makes its break here, the second line might not take it out.”

Geen studied the terrain for a moment. “I see what you mean.” He said something in one of the Toan languages, and Constable Three Koronot hurried to place another of the booby traps in the gap.

Rev could have used the Uauii translator to listen in, but it was in his assault pack. With every Toan in the unit speaking Standard, he’d gotten out of the habit of using it.

“Other than that, it looks good, Geen. Let’s arm them and get out of here.”

“Let’s hope the noxes find our little welcome,” the Toan said with the snorting sound that the humans understood was their laughter equivalent.

They might not have that streak of overt viciousness, but they’re getting into the killing part.

Rev signaled Private Tiwari to move to Tail End Charlie. Rev had started to take the Dalit with him on these escort missions. Normally, he’d rather have someone with a little higher rank and experience, but he’d proven himself during the last battle, and Rev trusted the man to keep a cool head on his shoulders.

The six Toan moved into a column, and Rev moved to the front.

<Did you ever think you’d be taking point as a gunnery sergeant?>

“I never thought I’d be on a patrol with a bunch of radishes who were our long-lost cousins, Punch. That’s a little more unexpected, I think.”

<Point taken.>

Rev probably shouldn’t be out on a patrol like this, but there weren’t enough IBHUs or karnans to go around, which, except for a single Jackhammer and two MM-37s, represented the extent of their heavy weapons.

But he had Pashu. He’d told Bundy that he needed to observe the Toan patrols to see where they needed further instruction. His old friend hadn’t bought that for one second, but he didn’t order Rev to stay behind, either.

Rev gave the signal, and the patrol moved deeper into the forest. Krantom had been settled for over three thousand Earth years, so this was old growth—not like on Earth or even Warner, but close enough for government work. The ground was covered with detritus, so they moved silently. One more trap to set, and they’d return to the base camp. Six or seven more hours, and he’d be eating combat rats.

I never thought I’d be looking forward to chowing down on sludge.

After a hundred meters, Rev glanced behind him. Instead of every other Toan holding his weapon to the right or left, the M-49 muzzles were already dragging, pointing at the ground. He hadn’t deciphered all of the Toan body language yet, but he’d swear they were just out for a stroll without a care in the world.

For a moment, he was tempted to stop and correct them, but he knew that five minutes later, they’d revert. If there were Naxli out there, Rev would notice them long before any of the Toan. They might have shown a propensity for booby traps large and small, but they didn’t have a martial bone in their bodies.

With a sigh, Rev just kept going. They weren’t going to change a culture in a month, no matter how hard they tried. He just had to focus on improving what they could do.

They moved down a slight slope. Rev didn’t have the planet’s magnetic fields downloaded, so his embedded navigation system wasn’t fully operational. But he could still tell direction and distance. Three hundred and fifteen meters ahead was a stream, which would serve as their next checkpoint. Three-point-six klicks downstream was their next objective.

They were just over 175 meters from the checkpoint when something barely registered in his hearing.

Rev came to a halt and held up a closed fist, the signal to the others to freeze. It took a moment for each of the Toan to see and react.

“What was that?” Rev asked his battle buddy.

The patrol might be moving silently, but there was life in the forest. Animals scurried in the trees and underfoot. A tiny creature called a jingo filled the woods, and they maintained a low but constant trill of sorts. Something about this sound seemed out of place, though, as if it didn’t belong.

<I can’t analyze it. Too much distortion.>

“But it isn’t natural, right.”

<It doesn’t fit any of the native sound profiles.>

“And we don’t have any patrols in the area.”

<There were none planned when we left, and unless they used an air insert, no Toan or human patrol would have passed us.>

“Nox?”

<Possibly.>

Rev turned. Six sets of eyes—more like ocelli, but it was easier just to refer to them as eyes—were locked on him. Tiwari, as he was supposed to, was focused on the area behind them.

Rev could communicate with them via the Toan communicators, which seemed resistant to Naxli jamming. He chose hand and arm signals, though. If he could hear something, then they could be heard, too.

He signaled “enemy” and gave the distance. Two of the Toan seemed to perk up at that, but the other four seemed nonplussed. He added “silence” and “advance.”

Rev slowed down, carefully choosing each step as he concentrated on identifying what was ahead of them. Pashu was at the ready. Rev knew he was quicker than any Naxli, and he was sure he’d identify them before he was spotted, but he wasn’t about to engage a large unit.

<It’s Naxli. I’ve identified L-06.>

Humans weren’t sure how many Naxli languages there were. At least nine had been identified with L-02 probably being their main, universal language. Sometimes, but not always, the Naxli language used seemed to be related to which body shape they were using.

“L-06. Is that the big heads?”

<L-06 doesn’t seem to be associated with any form. But we know very little about it.>

From behind, there was a thump and then a burst of Toan. Rev spun around. Amazingly, one of them had walked into a tree and been knocked down. It was scrambling back up, which made even more noise.

The forest floor absorbed their footsteps, but it couldn’t do much to muffle Toan curses.

Rev muttered his own curse and signaled them to freeze again. He stood there like a statue, trying to determine if the Naxli might have heard the noise. Nothing was apparent.

“I’m going forward alone for a recce.”

<Is that wise?>

“Maybe not. But it isn’t as if I’m just going to wander into them and ask how they’re doing. I’ll be careful.”

Rev signaled for Geen and Tiwari to come forward. He told them what he was doing, then put them in a hasty defense with orders to remain absolutely silent. Then he pulled Tiwari aside.

The Dalit had been given the normal infantry Marine augments, and one of those was improved hearing. “Keep these guys quiet. Not a sound. And if I’m not back in twenty minutes, or if you hear the sound of fighting, you beat feet back to camp. Understand?”

“What about you?”

“If I’m still alive, I can make better time alone, and I think I can draw them away from you here.”

Some of his troopers would argue with him, maybe telling him that they should be the ones to go forward. Tiwari was more pragmatic. Neither he nor the Toan could hope to move as quickly as Rev could should the need arise, and none of them had the firepower.

Rev knew that he should take someone with him, but he had to leave Tiwari with them, and frankly, after that walk-into-a-tree incident a moment ago, he felt safer doing this alone.

“Roger that, Gunny,” Tiwari said.

Rev gave the other man a clap on the shoulder, then turned and started forward. He split his attention between the Naxli to his front and the ground under his feet. He felt naked without his PAL, but at least it made him quieter, and he moved like a wraith as he closed the distance.

The sounds from ahead rose and fell, but there didn’t seem to be a note of alarm. Rev was about forty meters from the creek when he caught the slightest of movements ahead and to his left. He froze as his warrior self, who’d been hovering in his consciousness, surged to the forefront. That wasn’t what he needed at the moment, and he forced that aspect of him back down.

“What did you see?”

<Exactly what you saw.>

“You know what I mean. What were you able to discern?”

<A body, possibly a Naxli big head variant, moving at a slight oblique.>

Which was what Rev had figured, but it was good to get some confirmation.

“I’m moving forward,” he told his battle buddy.

He went down on his belly and started to low crawl. His IBHU made it an awkward movement. After every operation, it seemed like, he’d requested that something be done to make crawling more feasible, but while he’d been promised some improvements, all he’d really gotten were crickets.

But he’d rather be with Pashu than without. She gave him a strong degree of confidence.

He used a tiny wrinkle that ran parallel to the creek in the forest floor for cover, and when he thought he’d gone far enough to the left, pulled out his Optisight and used it to look down the last twenty-five meters to the creek bed.

Six half-naked Naxli big heads were sitting on rocks in the creek, washing their bare feet. Shoes and their applied armor pieces were on the far bank, and their weapons were stacked on the dry ground as they chatted.

Only six of them. I can take them out in a second, he told himself as his warrior tried to rise.

It really would be easy, he knew. A beamer blast or a burst from his twenty would cut them down before they could react. He brought his IBHU up, ready to deploy, then shifted his Optisight . . . and froze. Another Naxli had been just out of the instrument’s field of view when he was looking at the six in the creek. This one was alert and facing outboard. If Rev had gone another fifteen meters, he’d have been right in the fighter’s line of sight.

Stupid, Reverent! Of course, they’re going to have some sort of security while others are washing up.

He mentally kicked himself. Poor situational awareness was a good way to get yourself killed.

Slowly, afraid that any movement would catch the Naxli’s attention, he scanned the area. It took several minutes, but he spotted four more. One of them should have seen Rev as he approached, but he couldn’t see any signs that it knew a human was nearby.

That changed the equation. Eleven Naxli, if they were all bunched together, could still be a valid target. But dispersed? And with several behind or next to trees? He’d get some, but not all. This was too much for him to bite off. The best thing for him to do was to retreat, then report what he’d seen.

His warrior clamored for attention, but Rev knew that this time, discretion was the better part of valor. There would be time for killing Naxli later.

A germ of an idea hit him, but he shook his head and pushed the thought away.

He looked for an axis of retreat, and he quickly realized that if he went straight back from his current position, the first Naxli he’d spotted on guard duty would see him before he went two or three meters up the slope. As he studied the terrain, it was quickly obvious that he’d advanced along about the only axis that he could have, and even then, it was a miracle that he hadn’t been seen.

Can I make it back up that way?

He needed a better angle to see, so he started to back up, Pashu oriented to the enemy. If his IBHU made low crawling difficult, it made backward low crawling almost impossible. He’d made it only four meters before he had to stop. The way he was squirming, he was going to make a mistake and be spotted. He looked back along where he would have to retreat, and it was clear that there was no way he could make it without being exposed. He couldn’t count on a lax Naxli on security duty to somehow miss him again.

<I didn’t think this was a good idea.>

“Shut up, Punch, unless you have something that can help the situation. It is what it is.”

Punch remained quiet, and Rev said, “I thought so.”

It didn’t help that his battle buddy was right. Rev had known he shouldn’t have gone forward alone, but he’d let his ego-slash-confidence put him in this position. That was water under the bridge, though. He had to figure out what to do now.

He carefully raised the Optisight again. Two of the six who’d been washing stepped up to the far bank. Whatever they were going to do next looked like it would be soon.

The question was what that was. If they were going to go up or downstream, then Rev could just hunker down and wait them out. But Marines were taught not to follow terrain features. They were too easy to monitor, booby trap, or target. If the Naxli avoided terrain features as well, and if their boots were on the other side of the creek, then they probably had come from that side. And that meant they’d be heading right at him once they resumed.

Rev hated not being able to control the narrative. Marines initiated action. They didn’t let others force their hand. He studied the Naxli once more, trying to determine if he could see anything that might indicate their plans.

The four still washing in the creek turned as one to look up and to their left. Rev adjusted his Optisight, and yet another Naxli walked into view, one Rev hadn’t seen before. It said something to the four and gestured.

Rev couldn’t be certain, but it sure looked like that one gestured in Rev’s direction.

“They’re coming this way, Punch.”

<I’d have to agree with that.>

Which meant Rev had to act. Maybe he should just fire a couple of volleys, take out as many as he could, then run and hope for the best.

But if he were going to do that, then he’d better give Tiwari and Geen a heads-up. They could backtrack along their previous route, past the boobytraps, while Rev diverted the Naxli away from them. If he could somehow make it to the top of the rise in one piece, then he thought he’d stand a pretty good chance of getting away, given his greater foot speed.

“Per, we’ve got a situation here,” he passed on the Toan communicator.

“Roger that. What do you want us to do?” Tiwari asked.

Rev started to tell him to gather the Toan and retreat, but his warrior self was clamoring for attention. He started to push him back, but that germ of an idea he’d had earlier returned, and it wouldn’t go away.

Would that even be possible? Or was this Rev’s ego refusing to accept that he’d made a mistake, and this was a way to prove it.

Rev did a quick risk and benefit analysis. There was no time for a detailed consideration of every fact. He had to go with his gut, and his gut said the increased risk was minimal while the potential benefit was huge.

He’d already known what he was going to do, but at least this was justification.

“I’ve got about a dozen noxes here, and they’re about to get on the move again right soon. And I think they’re coming your way.”

He gave Tiwari his orders and told him to move out now. Then he gave the Naxli another look. One of the Naxli in the water said something to one on the dry land. That one picked up a pair of boots and tossed them over the creek. The one in the water climbed up the bank on Rev’s side, then sat down to put the boots on.

“That confirms it. They’re coming this way,” Rev told Punch.

Not that it mattered. He’d already made his decision.

He gave one more sweep of the area. Two of those on security were looking back to the ones who were just getting out of the creek. Unfortunately, the one who had a direct line of sight to where Rev would be once he stood was not one of them.

He gave Pashu a quick visual. He didn’t expect to see a problem, but he’d been crawling around on the forest floor. He flicked off a piece of loam that wouldn’t have made any difference to this IBHU.

“Systems check.”

“All systems green. You have a full combat load, and power is at sixty-seven-point-three percent.”

“Is this crazy?” he asked Punch.

<No crazier than half a dozen other things you’ve attempted in the past.>

“You think it’ll work?”

<Surprisingly, yes. You always seem to find a way to pull a rabbit out of your hat.>

“I hope you’re right.”

<Now would be a good time to initiate, while three of them are still barefoot.>

“Right you are, Punch.”

Rev returned to his target. The warrior hadn’t moved since Rev had first spotted him.

With his head facing away from the Naxli, Rev was going to have to rise, turn, acquire the target, and fire before the enemy could react. He slowly brought his right leg forward and planted his right hand on the ground.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered as he pushed off with the leg and hand and swung Pashu around as he rose to a kneeling position.

The enemy soldier was quick. Almost too quick. It spotted Rev the instant he cleared the tiny bit of cover and swung to engage. The earlier version of Rev, when he first acquired his IBHU, would have been cut down. But with his Centaur enhancements, he beat the Naxli to the draw. Barely, but he beat him. The beam nailed the fighter high in the torso just as it fired. The rounds passed harmlessly over Rev’s head, but he was already moving. He fired a single burst of his twenty at the group at the creek as he spun around and started pounding up the slope.

He didn’t know if he hit any of them, but hopefully they’d at least take cover, giving him a few more seconds. He was more concerned, though, with the others, the ones who’d been on security. Two of them opened up with their slug throwers, and Rev was hit with gooey splinters from one of the tree trunks as he ran by. But the dense forest gave him just enough cover, and with the grace of the gods of war, Rev made it to the top of the rise untouched.

They were coming, though. Rev could hear them shouting as they charged. A big part of him was tempted to take whatever cover he could and light them up as they reached the top. But while he knew he could drop a few, all the rest would simply move to flank him. He couldn’t press his luck that much.

Rev kept running but made no effort to throw them off his trail. He put every ounce of effort he could into increasing the distance between them, though. There was fairly heavy cover right here, but that would open up somewhat just ahead. He needed to increase the distance between them a little more if he was going to get through this in one piece.

Rev passed where he’d left the others. He couldn’t see anyone nor any obvious sign that they’d been there.

Come on, guys. Be there.

“Per, what’s your status?”

“You’re first class.”

“I’m what?” Rev asked.

“First class. Solid.”

“Tell me in Standard! I don’t understand your Hinglish!”

But it was too late. Rev was already entering the kill zone.

Mother, help me.

He ran through the first position, and nothing happened. Then, he passed the second as a burst of rounds reached out for him from the Naxli. One buzzed past his ear like an angry hornet. That gave him a burst of energy as he bolted forward. He had to get out of the kill zone.

Something exploded just to his right, knocking Rev down. For a moment, he thought Geen had prematurely triggered the ambush while Rev was vulnerable, but he could hear the triumph in the Naxli shouts as they rushed to close in.

Rev got back to his feet and tried to dart forward while the enemy chased him with more rounds. He wasn’t sure he was far enough when the roar of eight Toan booby traps filled the forest, and then the concussion reached Rev, sending him stumbling face-first onto the ground again, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. He lay there a moment, trying to catch his breath, but the distinctive sounds of M-49s and Naxli slug-throwers registered past Rev’s ringing ears.

He got his feet under him and shakily stood, then turned to join the fight. He tried to run, but he canted to the side and slammed into a tree trunk and fell down again . . . much like the Toan constable had done just fifteen minutes before.

By the time Rev managed to get back up again, the Naxli weapons had gone quiet. A few more snaps of the M-49s filled the forest until they were replaced by the undulating warbling of Toan throats.

Rev kept Pashu at the ready as he moved up to the killing zone. And the term fit. He counted what had to be at least thirteen mangled and partial bodies—it was hard to tell where some bodies ended and others started. And there were five intact bodies lying on the ground, with three, at least, looking like they’d survived the booby traps to charge the Toan.

Geen stepped out from his firing position, warbling for all he was worth. The others followed as they came down to inspect their handiwork. Tiwari emerged from behind a tree and oriented back down in the direction from which the Naxli had approached in case there were any more coming.

The Toan leader stopped warbling as he reached one of the mostly intact Naxli bodies. He toed it, then looked over at Rev.

“It worked.”

Rev counted six Toan. They’d all made it through the ambush. And in the kill zone were eighteen Naxli, six more than he had spotted. Punch had said he had a way of pulling a rabbit out of his hat, but in this case, he hadn’t deserved it. He’d made too many mistakes, but Tiwari and the Toan had pulled his ass out of the fire.

He’d take it, though.

“Yeah, Geen. It worked.”

6

“All hands, Wombat. I repeat, Wombat,” the message came over the Toan communicators.

Rev raised his hand, signaling the patrol to come to a halt. He sighed. He should be considering what that meant and asking why the CP had to relocate, but all he could think of was that it was more Toan rations for the near future.

“What’s our next RP?” he asked Punch.

<Orion,> Punch said as he overlaid the position on the map and projected it into Rev’s visual cortex.

Every four hours, the captain switched the rally points. Orion was about nineteen klicks from their present position. That was nothing for him and Tiwari, but he thought that would be pushing the Toan.

He signaled for his allies to face outboard, then for Tiwari and Geen to join him.

“I see you’ve gotten the word that the Naxli are assaulting the camp,” Geen said.

That caught Rev’s attention. All he’d received was the code word not to return but to head to Orion.

“What do you have?”

“A force of over three hundred Naxli are in the process of assaulting the former CP. They’re being slowed down by the mines we set, but we’re using that to break contact and abandon the site.”

Rev grunted. The CP had been in a series of gullies that gave excellent cover—but evidently, not good enough concealment. It had been probably too optimistic to think that the humans and Toan wouldn’t ever be detected, but still, it was disappointing. And now the CP, if they managed to cleanly break contact, would displace to Orion.

“We’ve got orders to move to the RP,” he said, mostly for Tiwari’s benefit. “But be ready for changes. Breaking contact isn’t a sure thing.”

“How far?”

“Punch?”

<That translates to eight-point-three huws.>

As fluent as the Toan were in Standard, human distances were difficult for them to grasp.

“Just over eight huws.” Rev could see the constable deflate. “If we need a break, let me know.”

“We’ll be OK, Gunny.”

“Even so, let me know. We’re taking five now while I plot the new route.”

Geen went to tell the others, and Tiwari asked, “Do you have any more information?”

“Hell, Per. I didn’t even know the noxes were hitting us until Geen said so. Let me try to get a hold of the lieutenant.”

He attempted to pull her up, but as expected, the comms were still out.

Thank the Mother we’ve got the Toanphones.

They weren’t even military comms. Toan civilians used the same communicators for isolated construction projects. Rev didn’t know if the phones were just that good or if the Naxli had somehow overlooked them.

“Get yourself a drink and maybe a bite to eat. We’ll move as long as the Toan can keep going.”

Tiwari scowled. “More Toan tatti? I was looking forward to human food.”

“You and me both, Per. You and me both.”

Tiwari moved back into position while Rev did a short map study. The satellite views the Toan had provided were detailed. Rev could make out individual trees and bushes. From what he could see, the route to Orion wouldn’t be too strenuous. There was one river crossing, however, most of the rivers in the region were waist-deep at the most.

He selected his route and was about to dismiss the map when he paused. “Where is Tomiko’s AO?”

Punch highlighted an area and said, <Staff Sergeant Reiser’s patrol area encompassed this AO.>

He studied the AO for a moment. The patrol had already cut the distance to Tomiko’s AO by about half since leaving their ambush of the Naxli, and while they weren’t exactly adjacent, both routes to Orion could come close to each other.

There was nothing in their orders to meet up, but then again, there was nothing prohibiting it. Rev threw out his planned way to the RP and picked another that would be closer to Tomiko’s probable route. It would be slightly more strenuous on the Toan, but the potential support should they encounter the enemy more than made up for the extra effort.

At least, that was how Rev justified it.

Rev moved back into the point position and signaled for the rest to follow him. He knew he was teaching poor positioning with him both in command and taking point, but once again, it came down to his firepower and speed of employment.

They moved out and made good time. Rev kept hoping Bundy or the lieutenant would give them an update, but his Toanphone stayed silent. Hopefully, that was a good thing.

Despite, or maybe because of their initial quickness, the Toan were dragging within thirty minutes. Rev cut back on the pace. Things got worse, though, after another klick when the vegetation shifted to a less dense canopy, but more ground plants impeded their progress.

Worse than that, in Rev’s mind, was that it cut down on his visibility. There was much more cover that the Naxli could use to ambush them. His monocle didn’t have the same capabilities as his PAL-HV’s face shield, but he kept running through his filters in an attempt to detect any sign of the enemy.

It took just under four hours before they reached where he figured Tomiko would be moving to the RP. He stopped the patrol and told the others to take a break.

“We don’t need an intramural firefight. I’m going to report my position,” he told Punch, who didn’t reply.

Rev felt guilty for trying to justify his actions to his battle buddy.

Without a dedicated comms chief, Gunny John Lian was running the Toanphones for the humans, acting as a central operator. It would be much easier to use the P2P with their military comms, or if not that, something like a normal wristcomp where he could just ring Tomiko up, but that wasn’t possible with what they had.

Rev connected with his fellow gunny. “John, this is Rev.”

It wasn’t proper comms procedure, but then again, normal comms, when it worked, didn’t make use of a commercial circuit.

“Go ahead.”

“No change in our situation, but we’re 550 meters south, 140 west of Sirius. It’s pretty dense here, and I need to know who else is near before we start lighting each other up.”

He didn’t mention Tomiko, but her patrol would be the closest.

“Wait one, Rev.”

Twenty seconds later, Tomiko came on the line. “Rev? You OK?”

“We’re fine. But we’re at 550 meters south, 140 west of Sirius, and I just want to make sure we know where each other is.”

There was a pause, then “You’re just over six hundred meters from our position. Why don’t you stay there, and we’ll link with you.”

Which was exactly what Rev had hoped to do.

“Roger that. Let me tell Gunny—”

“I heard,” the gunny said.

He didn’t say he was going to check with the captain to see if that was OK, so Rev was going to take that as permission.

“We’ll be waiting,” he said, then to Gunny Lian, “What’s the situation there?”

“We’re on the move. The Toan mines slowed them down, but the captain didn’t want to engage and get stuck. We left a team to harass the noxes to keep them occupied and hopefully lead them on a wild goose hunt, but the main body’s on the move.”

“Any word on what’s next?”

“Depends on the noxes.”

Rev trusted Bundy to make sound tactical decisions, but he feared that the noxes would keep on their butts, making this a long, drawn-out chase. And that could only end with them being maneuvered into a decisive engagement with a much larger force.

“Understood. Uh . . . if you get a chance, can you update Lieutenant Marble on where we’re at.”

“Will do. And I’ll let the skipper know, too.”

“Thanks. Rev, out,” he said and cut the connection.

Rev told the patrol what was happening. The Toan were relieved to know they could rest for a bit longer.

Nineteen minutes later, Tomiko’s patrol emerged through the undergrowth.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she told Rev. “Slick maneuvering.”

“Makes sense, though. We’re a larger force.”

“With a larger footprint.”

“Oh, so you didn’t want to link up?”

“No, I’m glad. Just playing devil’s advocate. What now?”

“Well, we’ve got over twelve klicks to go, so I’d say let’s reorganize this patrol, then step off. We don’t want to be the last ones to the party.”

* * *

“How far back do you think?” Rev asked as he glassed the area behind them.

He couldn’t see any sign of them, which wasn’t surprising given the thick vegetation.

“A klick at most,” Corporal Ginnie Smith said.

Rev had Smith follow behind the combined patrol, keeping an eye on their trail, and now he was glad he did. The decision had been prescient. Tiwari, for all of his strengths and even with his augments, was still an older Marine, and Rev couldn’t send one of the Toan. He’d hated to send Smith off alone, but now that had been a fortuitous choice.

“Are you sure they’re following us?” Tomiko asked.

“Damned sure, Staff Sergeant. They’re right on our trail.”

The soft forest floor made movement relatively silent, but it also left signs of their passage. If they had spotted the footprints, then Smith was right. The Naxli were onto them.

“No idea how many?”

Smith shook her head. “I saw sixteen of them, all big heads, but I couldn’t very well just wait until every one of them passed me so I could get a good head count. But more, for sure, Gunny.”

“No, of course. You did right,” Tomiko said.

“What do you think?” he asked Punch.

<There isn’t enough data. It does appear that we’re being tracked, but we don’t know if it’s by a recon team who are just following us to the RP, or if it’s a combat team hoping to engage.>

That “following us to the RP” worried Rev more than an engagement. With only four humans and eleven Toan, they weren’t a particularly robust combat unit, but leading the Naxli to the rest could have far greater consequences.

“I need to report in,” he said.

“John, this is Rev. We’ve got a situation here. There’s a nox unit of unknown size on our asses.”

“Wait one. You’re not the only one. Stand by.”

“He wants me to wait,” Rev told the others.

“Wait? With the damn noxes breathing down our necks?” Tomiko asked, fire dancing in her eyes.

“We’re not going to stand here until he gets back to us. Per, you’ve got point. Miko, you’re navigating.”

“To where?”

“Still the RP until I get some orders. I’m falling back to Tail End Charlie. Let’s move it out, now.”

“What about me?” Smith asked.

Rev was about to have her trail them, but he knew the Naxli were coming, and there was no reason to risk the corporal.

“Flank me on the right side and keep your eyes peeled. Geen, you’ve got to light a fire under your constables’ asses. No more breaks. Thirty seconds, folks, and we’re moving.”

They’d gotten back on the move almost two minutes before Bundy, not the company gunny, came on the line.

“What’s your situation, Rev?”

“We’re still en route, heading two-four-four to Orion, nine klicks out. But there’re at least sixteen, probably a lot more, big head noxes trailing us, at most a klick behind.”

“Can you break contact?”

“The Toan are dragging. There’s no way.”

Rev waited for the orders. The logical thing would be for them to change course away from Orion. That could be a death sentence, but it was the sound tactical decision. Sacrifice the few for the good of the many. It was an age-old decision for commanders, one of the most difficult they had to make.

“Well, you’re going to have to kick them in the ass,” Bundy said.

“Kick who in the ass?”

“Your Toan, of course. Get to the RP.”

“You mean, that’s still our objective?” Rev asked, not sure he’d heard that correctly.

“Damn right it is. We’ve gained some separation, and I’m not letting Korgan and his squad’s sacrifice be for naught.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. Yellow-master Lin Korgan was the squad leader for First Squad, Third Platoon. Sergeant Elsa-Tyne was their IBHU Marine.

“They were the situation Gunny Lian mentioned?”

“Led the noxes away, but then the noxes caught up to them. I think all were lost. Like I said, though, it gave us separation. You and Miko keep moving. As soon as we reach the RP, I’ll send a force forward to try and meet you.”

“When?” Rev asked as he tried to get a timeline.

“Our ETA for Orion is in three hours, ten minutes, Mother willing. But I’m breaking off a relief force to cut across and send your way. We’re at Alstair, and they’ll move to link up along your azimuth.”

“Roger that. We’ll be looking.”

“Just don’t let those bastards catch you, Rev. Keep your people moving.”

“Roger that.”

Rev heard a slight intake of breath as if his old friend was going to say something else, but then he said, “May the Mother be with you. Six out.”

Things weren’t looking good for the patrol, but they were a heck of a lot better than they were just a few minutes ago.

“Keep a running timeline for me,” he told Punch. “I need to know how close the relief force is at all times.”

<It will be an estimate only. I won’t have their actual positions.>

“Good enough. But what’s your initial estimate?”

<Depending on their speed over the terrain, just over three hours.>

Which seemed like an awfully long time, but he’d take it.

Rev broke into a jog and started up the length of the patrol, extolling the Toan to speed up. He had to be careful, though. Push too hard, and they’d collapse.

He reached Tomiko and fell into stride with her.

“Did you hear from the gunny?” she asked as if she didn’t really want to hear whatever the gunny had said.

She knew the situation just as well as Rev had, and she knew what the textbook orders would be.

“Not the gunny. Bundy.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Better than I’d hoped for. We’re still going to Orion.”

“No shit? But that’s . . .”

“I know. But he’s gonna send a relief force to meet us. Maybe three hours.”

Tomiko glanced around the Toan. Some of them were in visible distress. “Three hours is a long time from the looks of our allies here. And the noxes are only a klick back.”

“It is what it is, Miko. Let’s just play with the hand we’ve been dealt.”

* * *

“Can he keep going?” Rev asked.

Geen made a clicking sound, their version of “no.” “He’s gone into . . . I think you would say ‘estivation.’ He can’t be roused.”

“Punch?”

<Estivation is when some mammals go into dormancy or a long-term torpor, usually in periods of drought or hot weather. I do not think Constable-1 Geen is using the term correctly. From appearances, Constable-3 Jomma is either in a coma brought about by exhaustion, or his body is simply failing.>

Whatever the reason, Rev could see that Jomma was down for the count.

“Rev. We need to keep moving,” Tomiko said.

He knew that. The last hour had been brutal on the Toan. They were all suffering, and they were slowing. Smith had dropped back once, then returned to tell Rev that the Naxli were less than five hundred meters back and moving easily.

He was sure the enemy could move into a sprint and catch his patrol, and the fact that they hadn’t ate at him. If they weren’t still on a direct course to the RP, Rev would have thought that the Naxli were herding them. The most logical reason was that they wanted Rev to lead them to the rest of the humans and Toan.

That would normally be enough for Rev to change course, but he had the ace in the hole of the relief force. According to Punch’s estimate, they’d link up with them in about another seventy minutes.

Which wouldn’t matter if the Naxli closed the distance before then.

“Can you carry him?” Rev asked Geen.

Geen clicked no. “It would only send more of us into the same state.”

That left the four humans. The Toan were much heavier than humans. In their PALs, carrying the comatose constable wouldn’t be much of a problem, but it would tax the other three Marines as they were now. As a hyper-augment, Rev had the necessary strength, but that would severely limit his ability to quickly deploy Pashu.

This was one of those command decisions, the ones that could mean life or death. Whatever decision he made, it could haunt him for the rest of his life.

They needed to keep moving for at least seventy more minutes. Carrying Jomma would almost assuredly keep that from happening.

“Rev?” Tomiko prompted.

He had to decide now.

Greater good, Reverent.

“We’re pulling Jomma aside, out of our trail. Give me a volunteer, Geen, to stay with him. Hopefully, the noxes will bypass them.”

It was a sucky decision, one that filled him with guilt. But now that it was made, he had to act. He bent down, picked up the Toan, and grunted under the dead weight.

“Keep them moving. I’ll catch up,” he told Tomiko.

Her eyebrows raised in alarm, but she nodded and started the patrol moving again.

Rev cut off at a ninety-degree angle, followed by one of the Toan from Tomiko’s patrol, someone who looked about ready to collapse herself. Smith fell in with Rev, giving him cover. He hadn’t planned that, but he didn’t tell the corporal to leave him.

He started to move into a shuffling gait, but the other Toan couldn’t keep up, not even when Smith moved in to help, so he had to slow down again. All the time, he was extremely aware of the approaching Naxli, who were closing the distance between them.

He cast his eyes, looking for any bit of cover, but the forest floor was featureless. Thirty, forty, fifty meters—there was nothing.

“Trees,” the other Toan gasped out.

“What about them?”

“We can climb.”

Rev stopped and looked at her. The thought of the heavy Toan climbing wouldn’t have dawned on him as an option. But the constable slowly—too slowly—began to climb up the trunk of a massive tree analog, the trunk covered with what looked like cancerous boils.

She made progress, but that left Jomma. With Pashu, Rev was not exactly arboreal. But Smith scampered up, and Rev was able to hoist the limp body high enough for the corporal to haul it up to the V in a branch. They weren’t very high, but on this side of the massive trunk and sixty meters from the patrol’s trail, they might not be spotted.

“We’ve got to go,” Rev told the Toan. “But if we make it through this, we’ll be back for you.”

The constable looked ready to pass out herself, but she said, “May the Mother be with you,” using the human phrase.

That made it even harder for him. Even though he might be saving the two Toans’ lives, Marines were taught never to leave anyone behind. And with that very human phrase, she’d just cemented herself even more as a sister in arms.

He wished he knew what the Toan said in this kind of situation, so he just repeated, “May the Mother be with you, too.”

Smith jumped down, and the two humans took a few moments to try and erase their footprints around the tree.

“That’s gonna haf’ to do,” Rev said. “We need to boogie.”

He thought he saw something through the trees, but he didn’t stop to make sure. The two Marines took off in a run parallel to the patrol’s line of movement, and advanced two hundred meters before they started cutting back in. Within moments, they saw the patrol. Tomiko gave Rev a look of relief as he slid into the Tail End Charlie position.

“Did I do the right thing back there?”

<It was the best option.>

Then why do I feel so guilty?

<Whether it was the correct option can only be determined after the fact.>

Step by step, they were hopefully closing the distance to the relief force. But step by step, the Toan were slowing down even more. Several were wavering, barely on their feet. Rev considered stopping and forming a defensive position, but he didn’t think they were close enough to the relief force for it to reach them in time to be of much good.

As always, though, the enemy had a way of taking decisions out of his hands. Sounds of movement reached him, flanking the patrol on both sides. Rev reacted, ordering the patrol to stop and form a defense. Relieved Toan almost collapsed onto the ground, heedless of the danger. It took the four Marines to push, prod, and force the Toan into a semblance of military order.

All during this, Rev kept scanning the forest, looking for targets, his warrior self pushing for attention. There were some brief glimpses of shadows moving around, but nothing concrete. Rev wasn’t going to open up until he had a firm target or until they were taken under fire.

Rev always amped up before a battle, the same way he’d done before flipball matches back when he was in school. It was nervous energy, to be sure, but it kept him alert. It wasn’t fear, per se, unless it was fear of letting his fellows down, but more of an excitement. It wasn’t rational—becoming excited when faced with death—but it was the way he’d developed.

He kept waiting for the Naxli to start their assault. In a way, he almost welcomed it. Instead of trying to hurry along the exhausted Toan, he could take action and get this decided one way or the other.

Which was why he was almost disappointed when the sounds and any sign of movement faded. Five minutes after they’d gone into the defense, the forest was silent. Rev’s warrior self was confused.

“Where are they? Did they bypass us?” Tomiko asked.

“I don’t know. This doesn’t make sense.”

The four humans and nine Toan were hardly a robust force. They weren’t even a speed bump. If the Naxli were attempting to find the main body, then they could probably overrun them quicker than playing whatever game they were onto.

“Keep alert,” Rev told the Toan as he tried to figure out what was happening. “They’re probably still out there.”

The pause gave Rev time to report in. Gunny Lian told him to stay put while he relayed the messages to the company commander.

“Anything?” Tomiko asked him.

Rev shook his head. “‘Stay put.’”

“Like we have much choice. They’re still out there, getting ready.”

“For what? That’s the question.”

Tomiko didn’t have an answer for that.

“Gunny!” Tiwari called out.

Rev turned. From where Tiwari was pointing, a single Naxli was emerging through the trees and heading to them. He immediately drew on the figure, ready to take it out, but he held back.

“Hold your fire,” he told the others.

“They want gnista?” Tomiko asked in surprise.

When humans and Naxli had first contact, the idea of gnista, or combat by champion, had been fairly common, at least until the MDS had broken that compact on Alicia’s Bounty. But it wasn’t just that incident. The more the humans interacted with the Naxli, the more they realized the enemy was not made of chivalrous, honor-bound warriors. They were more than willing to play the game when they had the advantage, but when push came to shove, their honor went out the window.

“Why?” Rev asked. “We know they’ve got the advantage.”

“Something’s wrong,” she said. “Just light the thing up.”

But Rev held back. It sure looked like a gnista negotiation. And if it wasn’t? Well, anything to delay whatever was coming gave the relief force more time to reach them.

The Naxli approached before coming to a stop about twenty-five meters away.

“I’m meeting it,” he suddenly said.

“Rev!”

“No. That’s the right decision.”

He handed Tomiko the Toanphone and said, “Keep the company informed.”

“And if that thing cuts you down?” she asked, grabbing his upper arm.

“Then you’re in charge.”

He started to get up when he remembered that not all Naxli spoke Standard. He pulled the Uauii translator from his assault pack and inserted it in his ear.

As Rev rose to his full height, the Naxli shifted its feet as if it wasn’t expecting him. Rev tried to look confident as he strode forward to meet the enemy and stopped five meters away.

“What are you?” the Naxli asked, the words coming out of the translator.

What am I? Or who?

“I am Gunnery Sergeant Reverent Pelletier, Perseus Union Marine Corps.”

“You are not Toan.”

No shit.

“I am human.”

It was obvious that didn’t mean anything to the Naxli, which seemed more than odd. Humans had been fighting, and often winning, against the Naxli for more than five years now. Admittedly, they were a long way from that theater of operations, but still . . .

“Why doesn’t he know what a human is?”

<It doesn’t seem probable, but possibly there is a disconnect between whatever they call us and what the translator is using.>

The Naxli stood quietly for a moment before it turned to look behind it. Almost immediately, Naxli rose or emerged from cover. Rev brought Pashu halfway to bear, and within a few moments, at least forty Naxli were visible. He didn’t turn around, but he knew there’d been more of them on the other side of the two patrols.

Rev had more experience than most humans on alien body language, but he wasn’t any kind of expert. Still, he thought the Naxli was wavering, and he’d seen what they did to others they considered beneath them when the Synergy Alliance battalion commander on Heverig had been cut down in cold blood during one of these negotiations.

“Are you here to offer gnista?” Rev asked.

The Naxli froze, then slowly turned back to him. “You understand gnista?”

“Yes. I’ve . . .” he started to say.

But would admitting that he’d participated in a gnista be smart? If he was here now, then obviously, he’d won, and would knowing that change the Naxli’s next move?

“ . . . I’ve heard of it.”

The Naxli’s dull black eyes shifted to Rev’s IBHU as if it noticed her for the first time. Pashu was obviously a weapon, and Rev could almost feel its evaluation. He’d give anything to know what it was thinking.

“I offer gnista,” it finally said.

“What are your terms?” Rev asked.

The Naxli made a show of looking at the rest of the warriors as if emphasizing that the humans and Toan were significantly outnumbered.

“The victor will have free passage.”

What the hell?

“Free passage? I’m afraid my translator doesn’t understand.”

The Naxli tilted its head in the same way some Marines did when listening to their battle buddies.

“Free passage,” it said again. “Protection from further hostilities.”

During previous gnista fights, the losing side had to leave, to cede the battle. However, if Rev understood this correctly, then the losing side could stay, and the winning side leave unimpeded? That didn’t make sense.

Something was afoot, and Rev wanted to know what. He had to stall.

“If I defeat you, then how do I know your warriors will not attack my soldiers for revenge?”

The Naxli stiffened, and the spines on its back splayed. It took a step toward Rev, who fought to keep from reacting.

“We are not hreetz!” it hissed

Shit. That was a mistake.

“I do not accuse you. But I have seen, with my own eyes, Naxli turning to hreetz, breaking the covenants of gnista.”

The Naxli froze again, with only the slight lowering of its back spines to indicate it had heard what Rev said. The seconds ticked away.

Finally, the Naxli said, “We are of the Hral. We honor the old ways. Out of the jechek, your warriors and mine will not fight, no matter the victor. This I, M’ora j’ Raa, do so bond.”

Rev stared at the Naxli, and perhaps surprisingly, he believed it.

“How much time before the relief force can get here?”

<My estimate is that it would be thirty-four minutes at the earliest.>

Rev hadn’t really considered accepting the challenge. He was merely trying to delay things. But something about the Naxli standing in front of him gave a jolt to his warrior self.

He studied the warrior before him. The big head version was reportedly quicker than any other form that humans had encountered, and he could see the musculature under the scaled skin and armor plating. But it was still a Naxli, and Rev had killed them before. Maybe accepting the challenge was the simplest way out of the situation.

Rev slowly turned around to look at his patrol. All of them were standing and watching. Beyond them were another forty or fifty Naxli.

No, taking them on in a full-out fight wasn’t an option. And Rev didn’t know how many Bundy was sending in the relief force. With the numbers of the enemy there, it might not be enough.

If the Naxli was being honest, then he could stop the fighting here. He thought he could beat the warrior facing him, but even if he lost, lives would be saved. A short time ago, he’d made a decision for the greater good of the whole.

Sometimes, we have to be the sacrifice ourselves.

“I think I’m going to do it, Punch.”

He half-expected an argument, but his battle buddy was silent.

He turned back to the Naxli. “I accept.”

The warrior pointed at Pashu. “You understand that you cannot use that weapon.”

Rev made a show of rotating it. “This is part of me. I can’t remove it. But I swear . . . I, Reverent Pelletier, give my bond that I will not fire this weapon during our combat.”

The Naxli didn’t hesitate. “I accept your bond.”

It turned and motioned for one of the others, then handed over its rifle. Then it removed a blade from the scabbard on its back. Fifty centimeters of brilliant metal sparkled in the sun.

Rev raised Pashu and extended the blade, the snick clearly audible.

The Naxli warriors edged forward, but with the eagerness of spectators. Rev did not feel threatened by them. But he wanted his own team, too. He motioned back to Tomiko, and the patrols moved forward. His opponent didn’t object.

“How much time now?”

<No sooner than twenty-six minutes.>

It didn’t really matter, though. Rev had made a commitment, and this was going to happen.

With the spectators in place, the two combatants faced each other. Before either could make a move, the faint sounds of fighting reached them. With the way the native forest sucked up sound, the fighting wasn’t that far away, but Rev couldn’t tell much more than that.

Both of them turned to listen to the sounds for a moment. After the initial flurry, the firing slowed down.

Rev took several deep breaths, keeping his warrior self at bay. It was all well and good to have berserker intensity, but it had to be with a clear mind. Blind anger was a good way to get yourself killed.

He studied his opponent for a moment. The organic armor didn’t offer full coverage, which was normal for all the forms Rev had seen so far. His PAL was much better . . . except he wasn’t in his PAL. And having seen the Naxli armor in action, he wasn’t sure if his armored vest was its equal.

It’s time.

There was no bowing, no one saying “go.” One moment they were looking at each other, and the next, the Naxli was stalking forward, its blade held high and slightly behind him. His old swordmaster, Reggie, would have smacked Rev hard had he tried that.

But he couldn’t take that as a sign of weakness. The Naxli almost assuredly had more practice with a blade. Rev had to rely on his strength, speed, and wits if he was going to win.

He tilted Pashu slightly outboard, and the Naxli followed her with its eyes as it slightly adjusted its body. With Pashu on Rev’s left side, that opened up his torso to the enemy fighter. Rev knew the Naxli hadn’t missed that.

He let Pashu’s muzzle rise as if getting ready for the blow, and the Naxli adjusted ever so slightly. Quicker than a rattlesnake, Rev swung Pashu, using her more as a club than an edged weapon.

The Naxli was quick, too, quicker than Rev had anticipated. It flicked the blade forward to catch Pashu and deflect her wide, just missing its head in what would have been a killing blow. And with Pashu down to its side, Rev was completely open.

Except for . . .

As Rev swung, the Naxli was watching Pashu, judging her trajectory, so it didn’t see Rev reach down with his right hand, remove the Uauii blade from the calf scabbard, and follow through to drive the blade just under the body armor and deep into its torso an instant before its sword swept at Rev’s chest.

Suddenly nerveless hands lost control, and the blade didn’t hit Rev’s vest square. It still took a chunk out of the vest before it deflected to fall onto the ground.

Rev twisted the blade, feeling it cut through flesh and bone. The Naxli’s eyes didn’t go round as a human’s might have, but it turned its eyes to Rev’s as it sank to the dirt.

It tried to say something, but it must have been garbled because the translator didn’t try to decipher it.

Rev supported the body until it was prone on the ground before he removed the knife and stood. The Naxli gave one grunt and went still.

From the start of his swing to when he was standing over the body had been less than seven seconds. This wasn’t a duel. It was a simple killing.

Rev finally broke away from the body and looked around. The Naxli were still as statues, and Rev watched to see if there was going to be any sign of aggression. He’d believed his opponent, but he’d been wrong before. And even if the dead fighter had been sincere, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try to exact revenge.

But there was no fight in them.

“Where do you want our weapons?” one of them asked him.

He realized that while his opponent had said there would be no fighting no matter who won, Rev hadn’t promised that. He had an out if he wanted. He could take their weapons, then turn Pashu on them.

But that didn’t seem right. Even if he hadn’t promised anything, even if the Naxli had often gone against their supposed honor, his dead opponent hadn’t. And if he did open fire, that would probably release them from any restraint. There were a hundred of them, after all, so that could be self-defeating.

“Drop your rifles on the ground and go,” he said.

He glanced at Tomiko. She frowned slightly but didn’t say anything.

The Naxli, at least a hundred of them, all dropped their weapons.

“Go where?” the new Naxli leader asked.

For a moment, Rev was tempted to send them forward, to run into the relief force, but once again, it didn’t fit. Instead, he pointed to the southeast, where there should be no humans nor Toan.

“There.”

The Naxli slowly made their way past the watching patrol and trudged into the forest.

Tomiko had been standing next to him, and when the last Naxli disappeared from view, he asked her, “Were you worried?”

“For you? Not a chance. I knew you had it. What now? Meet up with the relief force?”

Rev looked over the Toan. They’d had a few minutes rest, but they were beat.

“No, let’s wait here and let them come to us.”

And that’s where the two squads from Fourth Platoon found them nineteen minutes later.

7

“You OK, Miko?”

“I’m fine.”

The Toan were still exhausted, and they were taking a twenty-minute break. The two Fourth Platoon squads had spread out to take security while the Toan tried to recover.

Rev was still on an adrenaline high from his combat. He’d defeated his enemy, they’d recovered Jomma and the other one, and everyone was heading to Orion and the rest of the company. Pretty good for an hour’s work.

But he couldn’t help but notice that Tomiko was in one of her moods.

“Come on, Miko,” he said, nudging her with his elbow. “We kicked ass, and now we’re heading back for some of that good Marine Corps sludge.”

She scowled but said nothing.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like winning?”

“We didn’t kick anybody’s ass,” she said.

“We didn’t? I don’t know. There’s a dead nox back there that says we did,” he said with a deep laugh.

“We didn’t kick ass. You did, Rev. Like always.”

Rev’s high took a bit of a dive. “Well, yeah. It was a gnista. That’s the way it works. One on one.”

“Like I said, you kicked ass. Good job, Gunny.”

Rev could be dense, but he knew she wasn’t complimenting him. And he didn’t have a clue as to what was eating at her.

“You think we should have fought them, Miko? There were more than a hundred of the bastards.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t think we should have. You did the right thing. You put yourself on the line to save the rest of us. And you won. As usual. The great Reverent Pelletier comes to the rescue. Yay, you.”

She turned away from him and said, “I need to check my Toan.”

Rev was shell-shocked, all of his adrenaline high gone.

What the hell’s with her?

He knew he should let her be to come to her senses, but he couldn’t leave it at that. He hurried up to her, grabbed her upper arm, and turned her around.

“We’re all making it back in one piece, Miko. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? I don’t understand why you’re pissed at me.”

Her eyes flashed sparks, and Rev braced himself for the onslaught. But the fire faded, and her shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry, Rev. It’s just . . . fuck, never mind. Let’s just see if our Toan are ready to go.”

“No, Miko. What were you going to say just now? It’s just what?”

“Rev, you’re an amazing Marine. And it’s not having Pashu. It’s you. Look at all the things you’ve done. You saved Earth. You kept us from fighting the fries on that asteroid. Hell, you’re the one who found out about gnista and all of that shit. It’s always you saving us all. And when I got—”

He knew she was about to say when she got killed, so he interrupted her. “I got lucky. What do you like calling me? Nexus of Chaos? But isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yes, Rev, it’s a good thing. But I’m a good Marine, too, you know. Why can’t I ever save the day?”

“You have. You’ve been in every fight. Like how about when you and Kelly were on Armadillo?”

“And she came to the rescue.”

Rev winced. It had been Kelly who’d saved Tomiko that time.

“You’re a good Marine, Miko. A great Marine. Your troopers love you.”

“They think I’m a hard ass, always riding them.”

“Which a good SNCO does.”

“Yeah, a good staff sergeant. Who had the same date of rank as you, Gunny, once upon a time.”

“I . . . I never asked to be promoted. It’s not my fault.”

Rev didn’t know why he was being defensive. He couldn’t help it if the brass promoted him early.

Her eyes softened, and she lightly touched his right arm. “I know. I’m just being a bitch. You can’t help being you, and I wouldn’t want you to change. I just hope that someday I’ll be the hero.”

“I hope not, Miko.”

Her eyes flashed again, and she pulled back. “What do you mean?” she snapped.

“Too many Marines are called heroes posthumously, and I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “You sure know how to sweet talk a girl.”

Geen interrupted him before he could reply. “Gunny? I think we can proceed further now.”

Rev looked around. While he and Tomiko had been talking, the Toan had gotten back on their feet. Most of them still looked beat, but that was better than looking like the walking dead.

“Well, then, Constable 1 Geen, let’s step off and see about getting back to the company.”

Rev signaled Staff Sergeant Sienna, the leader of the relief force, then took his position. He gave Tomiko a quick glance as she fell in the rear of the column. He understood where she was coming from. Every Marine had a desire to be the hero, to gain the respect of their peers.

But as far as he was concerned, he’d be happy if she’d never face combat again.

* * *

As soon as Rev reached Orion, it became obvious why the Naxli had fought him for safe passage.

Reinforcements had arrived in the form of 8,000+ Niklith. The Naxli must have known that, and they’d been scrambling to save themselves. Something like this should have been obvious, but Rev hadn’t managed to figure it out.

“Mean-looking suckers,” Tomiko said as several hundred of them moved through the human and Toan position.

“That’s an understatement.”

The “scorp” nickname fit the large, two-and-a-half meter-long soldiers. They did somewhat resemble an Earth scorpion with black carapaces and a tail that, while it didn’t have a stinger, was carried high and over the back. Instead of a stinger, there was a claw that could manipulate weapons or do the heavy lifting.

Closer to the front, the Niklith had four smaller manipulating arms, two with grasping pinchers, and two with fine tendrils. Four legs provided locomotion.

What set the Niklith apart was their ability to create an electrical current. They could shock an enemy with a touch, although they used their electrogenesis ability to power their weapons. Rev hadn’t seen it, but when they depleted their store of power, the big aliens rolled up into a ball like a pillbug and went into a kind of torpor until their bodies regenerated their epithelial cells.

The soldiers were heavily armed, and they wore what looked like a poor man’s combat suit. Rev couldn’t help but wonder how he’d fare against a scorp in one-on-one combat, even without their electric touch. His gut told him he might not like the answer.

The Niklith were their allies, but Rev had fought former allies before. The universe was a fickle place, and things could pivot on a dime.

“They do smell good, though,” Tomiko said, taking in a deep breath.

“You like that?” Kelly asked.

“Like cookies.”

“Not any cookies I’ve ever eaten,” Rev said.

“Sure. Ginger snaps.”

Rev took a sniff. They had a bit of a spicy bite to them, but ginger snaps? Nope. But he wasn’t going to argue. He was still walking on eggshells around her.

“Think they’ll find our noxes?” Tomiko asked him.

“They’re headed in that direction.”

Rev felt a little guilty about that. He’d given Bundy a complete debrief, of course. And since he’d defeated the Naxli leader, he didn’t promise the others safe passage. But it didn’t feel right.

It wasn’t up to him, though. He didn’t know who Bundy had reported to, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that the Niklith just happened to come through and were going in that direction.

With their allies out of the way, the three continued to the CP. Lieutenant Marble was already there, and she waved Rev over.

“You know what’s going on, ma’am?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Rev said.

He hadn’t seen much of her since their breakout. And it had been kind of nice, if he was being honest with himself. Rev didn’t want the logistical and administrative headaches that came with being a platoon commander, but he rather liked the independence that he’d enjoyed for the last two weeks.

Bundy and the first sergeant made their appearance a few minutes later.

“Well, we’ve got our orders.”

Everyone’s ears perked up. He had their full attention.

“We’re going home.”

What?

“We’ve got fourteen hours before our ride arrives, and things could change before then, but our orders are to return to Nguyen and stand down.”

“What about the Toan?” Gunny Lian asked. “They’re not ready.”

“Evidently, the brass doesn’t think further training is necessary at this time.”

“What do you think, sir?” Rev asked. “Do you think they’re ready?”

Bundy shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think. But with the noxes being rounded up here by the scorps, and things looking bad for them on Desig, the feeling is that the Toan don’t need to be militarily proficient anymore.”

“Until the noxes come again,” Tomiko said.

Kelly made a simple warding sign. “Hey, don’t jinx us by inviting the fox into the henhouse, Miko.”

“I don’t disagree,” Bundy said. “But that’s what’s happening. We don’t have much, so the timeline shouldn’t be a problem. Platoon commanders and Gunny Lian, you stay here so we can lock this down. Everyone else, let’s get the word out to the troopers. Make your goodbyes to the Toan if you want.”

Rev didn’t know what to feel. He was happy to be going home, of course, but he felt as if the mission was only half done. He just hoped that leaving now wouldn’t end up biting them, and the Toan, in the ass.

8

“Should I talk with Sergeant Koral?” Rev asked.

“By the Mother, no, Rev!” Kat said, her eyes opened wide with horror.

Rev tried not to let his pride show. That was the right answer, of course, but as a big brother, he’d had to offer.

He knew he was only getting one side of the story, but from the surface, this Koral looked like he was riding Kat hard because of her relationship with Rev. NCOs didn’t always abide by the rules of what they could and couldn’t do, but if Kat wasn’t exaggerating, then Koral was going overboard.

Most Marines at Nguyen deferred to Rev and stayed on good terms with him, but there were a few who seemed to resent his notoriety. Credits to doughnuts, Koral was one of the latter people.

Judging from the surreptitious glances that were constantly coming their way, the junior troops in the club were decidedly in the first group. Hero worship might be a better term. Rev tried to ignore them. It was odd enough when a gunny hung out at the E-Club, much less an IBHU and Gold Nova awardee. But since Kat was a private, this or the food court at the PX were the only real options.

“Other than the sergeant, how’re things going? Your augments getting to feel normal by now?”

“Mostly, yeah. I mean, I just think about it sometimes. Goose DNA in my brain. Woolly rhino in my bones. It’s kinda freaky.”

There were quite a few more adjustments and splices in her DNA than that, but those two seemed to be the ones the public focused on. For some critics, using an extinct animal’s DNA to strengthen the bones of a Marine was perverted.

He glanced at his prosthesis. Having an IBHU was even worse to some of the critics, but how was that different than the prosthetic arm he was wearing now? At least, with the way the war reporting was going lately, Marines were generally held in good stead, and Rev hadn’t been called a genny in over a year.

There had been some concern after he’d gone ballistic at Grover’s wedding, but that had faded. Sometimes, Rev wondered if the reason he was the one being used for PR was the Corps’ way of trying to rehabilitate him from that incident, to prove that IBHUs weren’t a threat to society.

“Your rhino bones won’t reach full thickness for another couple of months, but you’ll get used to them. I can’t even remember anymore what it felt like before my augments.”

“It’s not that. Most of the pain’s gone, and I’m already used to most of the augments. It’s just the thought that’s a little creepy,” she said as her gaze crept over his shoulder.

“How about your battle buddy? What’s her PQ?”

She looked back at him and said, “I’ve got Pippi at eighty percent.”

<It took two years for you to have me at eighty percent,> Punch said, sounding for all the world a little miffed.

Rev had an aversion to getting jacked before he was conscripted, and that had followed through with Punch when he’d first been embedded. Rev had used him more as a high-end wristcomp than as a true battle buddy.

“Is she telling jokes?”

“Bad ones,” Kat said as her eyes drifted past him again.

Rev had his back to the wall, as he usually did. He turned to see what kept taking her attention. There was a flat-screen on the bulkhead. He began to turn to her when he realized what it was showing.

The reporter was interviewing a spokesperson for the Children of Angels. Rev had thought that they’d faded into irrelevance after the Centaurs had been defeated, but with the advent of all the recent contact with aliens, they’d made a resurgence.

Their party line was that they’d simply jumped the gun. The Centaurs were not the beings coming to elevate humans to the next plane. They’d only been sent to prepare humanity for the aliens to come.

The real saviors of humankind? Laughably, the Sia. All other races were in various stages of uplift, and when they’d reach a certain understanding, the Sia would take them to the next level.

Which was ridiculous, of course. The Sia were . . . well, the Sia. They floated around doing their thing while seemingly ignoring everyone else. Weirdly, that’s why the Children of Angels said they were the saviors. They were now too elevated to deal with the mundane things that occupied other species.

He frowned and swiveled back around to make some derogatory remark when he saw Kat’s expression. It was a combination of revulsion and shame.

“Hey, you OK?” he asked.

She snapped back from wherever she’d been and said, “Sure. Why do you ask?”

Rev wondered if he should say anything. But the big brother instinct to protect was too strong to ignore.

“You know, you’re not an Angel Shit.”

She clenched her jaw, and Rev thought he saw the slightest of tears in her eyes. “I know. I’m a Persean.”

But Rev could see she didn’t believe that a hundred percent. Her Children of Angels parents had sent her off to be a living bomb, to take out the Union Marines sent to evict them from Alafia. They were willing to use their own daughter for their perverted plans. Rev wasn’t sure what was worse, that her parents felt too little for her or that she almost died. She would have died had Rev not saved her at the cost of his left arm.

For Rev, that was all past history. But he could see that the wounds were still raw for her.

“Yes, you are. Not only that, but you’re a Marine,” Rev said. “Fuck the Angel Shits.”

Kat was born on Felicity, a Confederation world, before she’d been taken to Alafia. She’d lost her Confed citizenship when her parents joined the Children of Angels. But once she’d been adopted by Rev’s parents, she became a Union citizen.

“Yeah, fuck them,” she said with much more vehemence than Rev had just used.

Rev wasn’t good at personal relationships. He never knew what to say. His heart ached for his sister, and he wished he knew the magic words that would give her relief.

But when he didn’t know the words, he resorted to what usually seemed to help.

“You got time for a pizza, little sis?”

“Koral’s expecting me back. He says he’s got some extra duty lined up for me.” She paused for a moment and then, as a sly smile took over her face, said, “But if you, as a gunnery sergeant, you know, if you tell me I need to stay another half an hour, well, who am I, a lowly private, to argue?”

Rev laughed and put in the order.

9

“Did you check the unclass?” Lieutenant Marble said as she stuck her head through the door and into Rev’s office.

“No, ma’am. Something there for me?”

“Just check it,” she said before disappearing from sight.

Can’t you just tell me?

Things had changed since Krantom, and Rev wasn’t sure why. There wasn’t anything that kept them from working together, but a small separation had appeared between them. They’d never been particularly close, but it had been better than this.

He pulled the repeater out of his desk and opened up the message board.

“You know what this is about?”

<You know I don’t have the unclass in my feed.>

Punch kept track of the news and public media for things that might interest him, but he didn’t have the same access to the unclass and classified boards, which made no sense to Rev.

“Just thought you might have picked up something.”

He scanned the list of message titles, more than a little frustrated with the lieutenant, before he finally saw it.

Shit.

He hadn’t expected the message to come out for another week. For a moment, he wanted to just ignore it, but his curiosity was too much for him. His heart started pounding, and his warrior self stirred. He opened the message and started scanning. He was so nervous that, at first, he didn’t see the name. He went back again, and there it was: Reiser, Tomiko B.

By the Mother.

He slowly leaned back in his chair as he let it sink in. He started to activate his wristcomp, but then changed his mind.

“Neary, I’m heading out to the field. I won’t be back before COB,” he told the Marine on duty.

“Roger that, Gunny,” the PFC said. “Have a good evening.”

Won’t be that good.

He hurried over to the motor pool and asked Staff Sergeant Jones for a ride, but everything was out in use or in maintenance.

“I’ve got a disc you can use, if you want.”

Discs were normally broken out for training or combat. They were not used for personal transportation back at camp. But beggars can’t be choosers, and if Jones was going to offer one up, Rev was going to take it.

One of the motor pool lance corporals pulled the disc out, and Rev signed for it. He hadn’t been on one in a long time, and that was with Pashu on. This time, he only had his prosthetic arm on, and when he hopped on the disc, he felt oddly imbalanced. But he slowly worked his way behind the motor pool and supply and out to the tank trail that ran behind the battalion area.

Now it was just a matter of using the network of trails to get out to the training area. Twenty-three minutes later, he reached Range B-88 just as Second Platoon returned to the bivouac site.

Rev waved, but Tomiko had already spotted him. She turned the platoon over to Kelly and hurried over to him.

She didn’t really look worried. Slightly concerned was probably a better way to describe her expression. “I didn’t expect to see you until Friday after we came back in from the field. Is something up?”

“The message came out this afternoon.”

“Message? What mess . . . oh,” she said, the concern going up a few notches. “It wasn’t supposed to come out until next week. And you came out to tell me because . . . ?”

He could see she was trying to hold it together and act like it was no big deal. But her trembling left hand gave her away.

Rev wasn’t going to keep her in suspense.

“Congratulations, Gunnery Sergeant Select. You made it, Miko!”

10

“Nothing at all?”

<Nothing that seems a reasonable hypothesis.>

At this point, I’d take something unreasonable.

“Punch doesn’t have anything,” Rev told the others.

“Neither does Lilac,” Kelly said.

“Or Pikachu,” Tomiko added.

“This has to be a dozen levels of top secret,” Yancey said.

“There aren’t a dozen levels above top secret,” Rev said, “but yeah. Something’s going on, and it’s big.”

“Or, this is all a goat rope,” Bob said, “and we’ll be off alert in a week.”

The raising of the alert status to Priority 1 had come as a complete surprise. Everyone in the battalion was restricted to Camp Reyes—they couldn’t even go out to Nguyen—and all communications with the outside world were cut. That included what their battle buddies could access, but the Marine SNCOs had their AIs go over every bit of data from the last few days before they were quarantined to see if they could get a hint at what might be going on.

And it was all drawing a blank.

Rumors were rampant, of course. The Naxli had threatened Earth and Titan. Humans had found the Naxli home world and were going to attack. New aliens that made the Naxli look like pussycats had arrived on the scene. The Children of Angels were right, and humankind was about to be escorted to the next plane of existence.

In other words, anything and everything was being bandied about.

Rev had asked Bundy, but evidently, the officers were just as in the dark as the enlisted were.

It would be better for their mental state if they could train, but they weren’t allowed out in the field. That usually meant that they could get the order to go within minutes. Or, as Bob had said, the entire thing could be stood down in a week.

Still, they’d been at this long enough to be able to pick up hints from the activity around them. The battalion’s combat load was staged and ready to go, which was par for the course. But outside the Camp Reyes gate, lowboys full of mech units passed by. There were none of the big Marine mechs in the brigade, so if they were on the move, this could be something much bigger than just them. Tanks were on the other side of Nguyen, but if they were being mobilized as well, then this could be huge. That had to make Rev wonder if the target could be the Naxli homeworld.

All of this could be nothing, but Rev’s gut told him that something big was coming down the pike. What, though?

* * *

“Don’t we have anything to play other than Knock-on?” SFC Flinnegar asked.

“I think we’re contractually required to play Knock-on,” Tomiko answered the Confederation SNCO. “It was embedded into us when we got our augments. So, are you exchanging or keeping?”

“Stupid game,” Flinnegar said as he folded.

Rev wouldn’t admit it, but he could take the game or leave it. Tomiko wasn’t that far off with what she said. It was certainly part of Union Marine and Navy culture. Not just Union. The Hégémonie Navy and the Synergy Alliance Army were even more fanatical with the game than their Union brethren were.

He was OK with playing it now, though. With the movement restrictions currently in place, unless he was teaching a make-do class to the platoon, at the chow hall, or on required duty, they were pretty much stuck in the SNCO common room.

At least with Knock-on, he was interacting with others, which was better than just sitting and watching the latest holovid.

Kelly took the hand, which wasn’t surprising, and the deal passed to Bob. He’d just shuffled when Gunny Lian stuck his head through the door.

“Platoon sergeants, in the battalion briefing room, now. Uh, NOFORN. Sorry,” he told Bob and Flinnegar. “And try not to make it look like a big deal.”

Of course, saying that last made it a big deal. And the fact that it was NOFORN, or No Foreign Nationals, added to the gravity. The group went silent for a moment.

Is this it?

“Can one of you get Suarez? I think he’s in his rack,” Rev asked. Bob sighed and went to grab the staff sergeant.

The two Marines stood and exchanged glances at the rest.

“We’ll hold the game for you, so get back as soon as you’re done,” Kelly said.

Which, in Kelly-speak, meant, “Get your asses back here fast and tell us what’s going on.”

Once a sleepy-eyed Suarez joined them, the four tried to casually saunter over to the CP, which made them look like they were trying to hide something. They joined some of the officers at the front hatch and together made their way to the CP. Unusually, they were doing retinal scans to enter. Tomiko gave Rev a raised-eyebrows look as they waited in line to be cleared.

The conference room was packed with the company commanders, the principal staff, and the sergeant major at the table. Several principals had representatives as this was restricted to Perseus Union personnel. It was standing room only for the rest. The four Alpha Company Marines—the three platoon sergeants and Gunny Lian, who was also sitting in for the first sergeant—congregated in the back corner.

Chatting was muted, and Rev could feel an undercurrent of stress mixed with excitement. He didn’t know why this was NOFORN, but something big was about to happen. He was sure of that.

A corporal came in, escorted by an MP. She scanned the room, probably for listening devices, then left.

“This shit’s getting real,” Suarez said.

Finally, Lieutenant Colonel Suk entered the room, followed by an unfamiliar captain. Master Guns Parker, who was acting as the sergeant major, called the room to attention, and the Marines stood there silently as the two made their way to the head of the table.

Rev stared at the commanding officer and tried to interpret the man’s expression.

“Be seated. And before we begin, this meeting is classified Secure Two, NOFORN,” the colonel said as those with chairs sat down.

“This is Captain Warsi from G-3. He’ll be giving us a brief at exactly sixteen hundred, so if we could just wait a few minutes.”

Punch threw up the time without being prompted. It was 1553.

“Seven more minutes,” he whispered to Tomiko. “And if he has to wait, this isn’t the only briefing to kick off at that time. I bet a lot of units are getting this, too.”

Rev had never seen so much security or coordination. A mission order was a mission order. They were issued from above, then the unit developed the actual operations order. It was simple and the way it had been done for millennia.

“What the hell is going on?” Tomiko whispered as she nudged Rev in the ribs.

“We’ll find out in six more minutes.”

The conference room was awkwardly silent. There were a few more furtive whispers as they waited for the clock to count down. Finally, the G-3 officer stood up.

“As Colonel Suk said, I’m Captain Warsi. I’m the scheduling officer at G-3, but I’m just here as a briefer.”

They must have been scrambling to find an officer to do this if they’re doing all of these all at the same time. But if we’ve got a captain, then how many units are getting this brief?

“Also, as the colonel said, this is Secure 2, NOFORN. This is not for release to the entire unit as of now. This brief is strictly so that you can begin your final planning.”

“So, we are getting a mission,” Rev subvocalized.

<It would seem so.>

Rev’s heart started beating a little quicker. He’d figured they might be getting a mission, but to hear the captain essentially say that made it real.

“As most of you know, during the initial phases of the war, the noxes captured large numbers of humans. That has slowed down some, but there are still humans being abducted.”

Rev frowned. The initial horror that swept through the public when the first humans aboard the Distant Trekker were taken had faded slightly, but even with some recent victories over the Naxli, the fact that humans were taken and possibly being held captive was something that was hard to accept. It was always there at the back of the military’s psyche.

“We never knew why they were taken. Possibly for experimentation. Possibly for slave labor. We just haven’t known.”

He didn’t mention the possibility that they’d been taken as food animals, one of the rumors that had made the rounds.

“And we never knew where they were, despite the CoH’s best efforts. But now, and I don’t know the circumstances of that, we think we know where the humans aboard the Distant Trekker were taken. And where they were joined by more than 200,000 other humans.”

A low murmur sounded in the room, and Rev felt as if he’d touched a naked powerline. The hair stood up on his right arm, and the adrenaline poured through his arteries. If they were going to conduct a rescue . . .

“The Director Prime has given orders for the Navy and Marine Corps to prepare to effect a rescue.”

The murmur became a shout with several “ooh-rahs” thrown in.

“This will be a major operation, and several units from Safe Harbor, to include the First Human Expeditionary Battalion, will take part. The tentative date of departure is on the fourteenth.”

Sixteen days from now.

That wasn’t a lot of time to prepare for a rescue of this magnitude. Rev wasn’t sure it could be done, unless . . .

Of course. This is just when we’re finding out. This has probably been in the works for a while.

“Is this why we were pulled back from Krantom?” he asked Punch.

<I can’t say one way or the other. But it would fit the situation.>

The captain went on for another couple of minutes, not revealing much in the way of details but giving a broad overview. Then he opened it up for questions.

Bundy was first. “Why us? The Distant Trekker was a Confed ship.”

Captain Bertrand, the Bravo Company commander, rolled his eyes as if he couldn’t believe Bundy would ask that.

“We believe that there are approximately 19,000 Union citizens at the objective,” the G-2 captain said.

Several other hands went up, but Bundy wasn’t done. “That’s not even ten percent of the total. Where are the Confeds? Like I just said, the Distant Trekker was one of their ships.”

“The Confederation is aware of the situation.”

“This is a NOFORN meeting. Why? What aren’t you telling us?”

“Captain Bundy, that’s about enough,” Major Synne, the battalion S-3, said.

“Wait. I would like to hear the answer to that,” the CO said.

Captain Warsi squirmed, and his dark skin went a little pale. “Uh . . . I’m not sure I’m authorized—”

“I’m authorizing you,” Lieutenant Colonel Suk said.

Rev didn’t think the CO could do that from a legal standpoint, but he could see when the captain’s will broke.

“The CoH has not authorized this mission. There is evidently some hesitation at that level. The feeling is that 200,000 captive humans are a tragedy, but they are already lost to us. If we—we being humans—launch our own offensive incursion into nox space, we’ll antagonize our new allies and show that we’re not team players in the war. The CoH does not want to antagonize our allies, particularly the Niklith.”

The enthusiasm of a few moments ago faded as that sunk in.

“So, the 19,000 Union citizens are being used as justification,” Bundy said. “And we’re willing to go alone if we have to. That’s why this is NOFORN. We can’t let any other nation know we’re about to do this. Otherwise, they may try to stop us.”

Rev glanced over at his friend. While he and the rest of the officers and SNCOs were cheering the mission, Bundy had figured out the part that wasn’t being said.

“That’s a fair assessment,” the captain said. “But that’s not the only reason for all of this secrecy. We do know that the noxes have been able to infiltrate human worlds. We cannot let this leak.”

He shot a glance over at Rev before he looked away. Images of Grover’s wedding came unbidden to his mind, and Rev had to force them out.

“It’s hard to hide the fact that we’re all on Priority 1 right now. And the logistics of the mission are pretty hard to find,” Master Guns Falconer said.

“You’ll be receiving a fake mission by COB. That mission will explain the secrecy and load out,” the captain said.

There were several more questions, and the captain seemed happy to have ones he could answer. But then Bundy raised his hand.

Rev could see the G-3 captain almost grimace, but he asked, “What’s your question.”

“I can’t think that of all humanity, we Persies are the only ones who feel the need to take action. The Mad Dogs don’t want to get into the thick of things?”

The captain opened his mouth to answer but then snapped it shut before he said anything. He started again, and once more, he evidently thought the better of that as well.

Finally, he sighed and said, “Fuck it. I don’t know this for a fact, but up in the head shed, you hear things. I believe there are some high-level, very hush-hush discussions going on right now. As you can imagine, this has to be very delicate shit. If the wrong faction gets wind of it, well, it can all go to hell in a handbasket.

“But I believe that we might not be alone on the mission. Once again, I do not know for sure. And as for the rest of the Marines in the division, it won’t matter. But with you, given your international composition, I think that some of your Marines . . . uh, troopers . . . might be on the mission.”

“It would be nice to know who we’re taking,” Captain Bertrand said. “We can’t plan effectively unless we know who we have.”

“I understand, but I can’t help you with that.”

There were several more questions, but Rev barely heard them. His mind was abuzz with the news. Finally, the captain closed off the brief.

“Division will try and get you more information as we receive it. Major Synne, you’ll get the faux mission, but within the coordinating instructions will be real milestones.

“I’d like to remind everyone that none of this goes beyond this briefing room. There will be no mention of the real mission. We cannot let this leak to either the noxes or our fellow humans.

“Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier and Staff Sergeant Reiser, if you would please stay?”

Wha . . . what?

“Colonel, that concludes the brief.”

The CO dismissed the officers and SNCOs. Rev asked Suarez to tell Yancey to get the squad leaders together and wait for him. Then he sat with an equally confused Tomiko as the rest filed out of the room. The CO stayed put, and once the door closed, the captain handed the CO an envelope. Colonel Suk scanned his retina to open it, then pulled out a plastisheet.

He read it, then turned to the G-3 officer. “That will be all, Captain Warsi.”

“Very well, sir,” the captain said before leaving the room.

What the hell is this?

Rev hadn’t done anything wrong, as far as he knew, but he was nervous. Tomiko evidently was, too, if the little nudge she gave him was any indication.

“You two need to grab your kit and head to Anastasia. Staff Sergeant Černý has already been told. You’re catching a 2045 shuttle.”

“Sir? To where?” Rev asked.

“According to this, you’re heading to New Mars.”

“What the hell?” Tomiko said, forgetting military decorum for a moment.

But Rev was thinking the same thing.

“We’re not going to be part of the mission, sir? What did we do?” Rev asked.

“I dare say you’re going to be part of the mission. According to this, you two and Staff Sergeant Černý served together in First Raider Company when it deployed to Tenerife. My battle buddy confirms that.”

“Yes, sir. We were.”

“I don’t have what your individual duties were there.”

He didn’t ask, but he didn’t need to.

“We were part of the advance party. We were inserted on the planet to prepare the hostages for the rescue . . . oh.”

“Like I said, Gunny. I think you two are going to be part of this mission, and I think you’re going to be kicking it off well before the battalion departs Safe Harbor.”

11

“We’ve sure come the full circle, Miko,” Rev said as they watched their insertion capsule disintegrate.

The capsule, a prototype constructed with both Centaur and Uauii technology as improvements, had done its job. The two of them were on the ground with all their component molecules in their place.

“I wouldn’t have thought we’d be doing this again,” she said quietly. “Not in a million years.”

Tomiko wasn’t exactly enthused about the mission. It wasn’t the danger, Rev thought. But she’d told him she’d had bad feelings about it. Landing on an enemy-held world, without weapons, and with orders to put themselves under the control of the Naxli and hivers certainly contributed, but he knew it was more than that. She just wouldn’t tell him what.

Rev, on the other hand, was excited. His warrior self was banging around inside his head like a canary in a cage, but he was used to keeping that side of him at bay.

“How’s your arm?” she asked him.

Rev stretched out his new prosthesis. “It’s getting there. I’m still getting used to the fine motor movements.”

He couldn’t very well land with Pashu on his shoulder, and like military personnel, his social arm was a shiny, metallic silver. There were at least twenty-six Perseus Union captives with prostheses, but as with essentially all civilians, those were almost impossible to tell from the real thing with just a casual glance. The xenobiologists thought that the Naxli wouldn’t even realize those weren’t the bearers’ original, organic limbs.

So, just before they were loaded aboard their ship, Rev had been issued a top-of-the-line Houris. It looked real, and it even felt real. But it wasn’t his Rycroft arm, and it felt decidedly odd as the biofeedback loops still worked to smooth out his motions.

“Well, we’d better get going,” she said, pointing to the west.

Some brave Navy Scout pilot had come to NH-303 to map it, which included the magnetic fields. So, for the first time since leaving human space, the Marines’ inner navigation was working.

The two headed almost due west until they reached the fault. No one challenged them. No automatic guns opened up. As far as they knew, they hadn’t been spotted, and the wash should give them a degree of cover as they moved to their objective.

“Think the others made it down?” Tomiko asked.

“We did. Tin-ass tech is pretty damn good.”

Fourteen Safe Harbor Marines, all of who’d been part of the insertion force on Tenerife, had been selected for this mission, along with four Navy Seals and another twenty-six regular Marines who had been on similar missions.

Hussein and now-Gunny Minnow Krill were hopefully out there somewhere, heading to their own targets. Of the rest who’d been with the Raiders back then, they were either dead or no longer in uniform.

Except for Hussein, Rev hadn’t seen any of the others in years, and it had been good to catch up during the transit. He’d even enjoyed chatting with the regular Marines and the SEALs, who didn’t seem to have the airs many of them had when dealing with provincials.

But now, it was go-time. Each two-person team was heading to the most likely targets where Union citizens might be. The Navy Scout might have been able to identify the various facilities, but not who was in each one. It was kind of a crapshoot.

Just as they exited bubble space, though, they were informed that the Frisians, MDS, and Tau Ceti were joining the main force, so their citizens were now official rescue targets as well.

Not that any human would be ignored. But with them inserting as terminal guidance teams, who they found would be prioritized for rescue.

Rev and Tomiko slowly made their way through the fault. The air had a rough, biting tang, and Rev had to ask Punch to instruct his medinanos to suppress the urge to cough. They needed to get as close to their target as they could without being spotted.

The planners thought that security wouldn’t be too tough. Where would anyone run to on this Mother-forsaken planet?

But then again, the planners were back on New Mars, not here with boots on the ground.

NH-303 was not a habitable planet. It had been “Naxliformed,” but only to the bare minimum. There was no vegetation, and it was hot. Very hot. There was enough oxygen to support human life, which had probably been released from some sort of seeded bacteria or bacteria analog. There were also large amounts of pollutants in the air, enough so that the sky was dark, as if storm clouds covered the area. Water was probably scarce, and the experts didn’t know if it was shipped in or somehow harvested from the soil.

In other words, it was a pretty good rendition of hell, as Hussein put it.

The two Marines kept up a slow, steady pace as they picked their way down the fault. The air became more acrid, and Rev’s throat and eyes started to burn as well. Some of his enthusiasm began to wane. But this was a vital mission. Over 200,000 lives were at stake here.

Rev paused a moment and pulled at his collar. Sweat dripped down his neck and back. Without knowing what the humans on the planet were wearing, they’d been issued basic ship overalls without markings. Unlike Marine uniforms, the overalls didn’t have any climate mitigating features. Extremes in weather weren’t much of a problem on a spaceship, after all.

Four hours after landing, Rev brought them to a halt. “We’re 275 meters from the end of the fault,” he said needlessly.

Tomiko had the same navigation augment that he did.

“Let’s eat up.”

The two pulled out their combat rations. No one knew how much food was fed to the human prisoners, but no one really thought they’d be fed haute cuisine. And if the two couldn’t find a way into the complex, then they wouldn’t even have access to that. But they couldn’t very well show up with rations in their pockets.

So, they stood silently as they crammed down the four bars apiece, a last shot of calories. In the harsh air, it was difficult to choke down the dry bars, and the little bit of water they carried didn’t do much to help.

“Well, that was delicious,” Tomiko said as she finished off the last bit of her rations. “You ready, Rev?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Wait,” she said. “Give me a hug first.”

It wasn’t Marine SOP, but Rev stepped into her arms, and they held each other for a moment.

“OK, Gunnery Sergeant,” she said, pushing back. “Let’s go save us some humans.”

The two carefully made their way forward to where the fault ended above the deep depression. They both got on their bellies and crept up until they could see what was there.

The depression was below them by about twenty-five meters and was roughly a klick and a half across. Right about in the middle was a large collection of buildings. Black smoke poured out of three stacks, while what had to be the huge Naxli version of a power vampire was sunk into the earth at the far side, drawing power from deep inside the planet.

“Did you ever see the old celluloid movie from back on Earth, “The Wizard of Oz?” Rev asked.

“I saw it with you. You made me watch that ancient thing. But yes, that looks like the witch’s castle. I keep expecting to see flying monkeys in the air.”

They watched for a few more moments, and then Rev said, “I’d kinda rather wish that’s what it was. And now, we’ve got to figure out a way to get inside.”

* * *

It turned out to be easier than either one of them had imagined. Not easy, but easier.

Rev used his quantphone to send a single, coded message to the command that they’d arrived at the target and were about to attempt to infiltrate. Having the quantphone was something new to him. They were usually distributed to company commanders when the unit was on independent ops and only rarely down to the platoon level. If they were issued down that far, it was always the officer who had one and never the SNCO.

“Can’t trust us enlisted peons with them,” Tomiko had said as Rev was issued theirs.

But this was a major evolution, and the brass felt it was worth the cost for each team to be connected, even if a single repeater was worth a third of the cost of a new Shrike fighter. If the command didn’t know where the Union citizens were, they couldn’t effect the rescue.

Like most quantum communicators, this one was limited to sixteen repeaters. There were some thirty-two repeater networks, but the cloning process was far more difficult going past the fourth level. The mother clone was with the command on New Mars. Fifteen were with the adjacent teams. Rev could talk with them if necessary, but not to the other teams scattered across the planet.

Rev carefully inserted the phone into a specially constructed slot in his shoe, then sealed it in. It would stay there until he found a place to stash it inside the complex. Having it discovered on him wouldn’t be a good thing, and no one knew what security was like.

“Make sure you’ve got that baby sealed up tight,” Tomiko told him. “You’d never get another paycheck for as long as you live if you lost it.”

Rev frowned, but he reached down to check it. All was good.

They’d studied the depression for the last thirty minutes, not seeing any covered route to the complex. Several humans had moved between the main complex and a series of single-story huts, and the two Marines spotted three hivers, what the Uauii called the ally/slave race of the Naxli. The images gathered by the Navy scout had hinted that the other enemy force on the planet was hivers, but this confirmed it.

There was probably a queen somewhere in the complex, kept captive by the Naxli to force the drones and soldiers to do their bidding. Rev could feel a bit of sympathy for them, but the blunt truth was that they would oppose any rescue. So, if given a chance, Rev would mow them down like winter wheat.

The humans they saw hadn’t seemed to be under duress, so Rev and Tomiko had decided to just act like they belonged. There might not be any reason for a human to be this far from the buildings, but neither one of them could pick up anything that looked like security cameras.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Rev said.

The two stood and stepped to the edge of the fault, then half-walked, half-slid to the bottom, rocks breaking loose and following them as they descended. No sirens wailed. No automatic weapons reached out to cut them down.

“So far, so good,” Rev said.

The two oriented on the smaller buildings from which the humans had emerged. They were closer than the main complex but were still a good 800 meters away. That was 800 long meters, over which the entire time as they walked, Rev kept expecting something to happen. Anything.

His warrior self champed at the bit, ready for combat. But if it ever came to that, Rev and Tomiko would be in serious trouble.

<Your pulse is racing,> Punch told him. <That might make you stand out. Would you like a mild sedative?>

Rev was usually excited going into a fight, and that helped him keep alert and tuned into what was happening. But here, he needed to blend in, to seem like just another prisoner. He considered it for a moment but decided to turn it down. He didn’t want his mind dulled, even the slightest bit.

<How about a joke, then?>

That was so out of place that Rev snorted. But then he realized that Punch was just being Punch. Using humor to lower stress was something he often did.

“OK, hit me.”

<What do you call a clairvoyant child who has escaped from prison?>

Of course, a prisoner joke.

Rev thought for a moment, trying to guess the answer, but he was stuck.

“OK, what do you call them?”

<A small medium at large.>

Punch added a rim shot for emphasis.

Rev groaned.

“You OK, Rev?” Tomiko asked.

“I’m fine. Punch’s just telling bad jokes.”

Tomiko scowled at him. “Now, while we’re trying to get inside?”

Rev shrugged. Pikachu, who was Tomiko’s battle buddy, evidently never told jokes. He thought Punch had initially told jokes as a way to understand the human mind, but this time, he’d had a reason. And it worked, Rev’s pulse had dropped a little, and while he wasn’t calm, he wasn’t as hyped up as he’d been just a few moments before.

They kept walking, just two prisoners out for a stroll. As prisoners do, of course. But no one stopped them. They reached the first line of buildings, and as they passed, the two of them glanced inside one of the entrances. There was no door, just an opening. The building was empty, but there were scraps of trash and clothing inside.

“I think this is a barracks of sorts,” Tomiko said.

“I don’t see any bunks.”

“Who says there has to be bunks? But look at this place.”

Rev took a moment before he realized she was probably right. It had the appearance of a barracks.

“Then where are the prisoners? I mean, if they aren’t here, then I think the slave labor theory is right.”

No one knew for sure what the Naxli wanted with the humans they kidnapped. Theories ranged from them using humans as food animals to performing experiments on them. But slave labor was probably the most accepted theory. If this was a barracks, and if it was empty now, then the chances were that the occupants were working inside the complex. Doing what was a mystery. But it made sense.

“How many people do you think sleep here?” Tomiko asked.

“Punch?”

Rev’s battle buddy did his thing, then said, <If they are lying on the ground, shoulder to shoulder, then possibly 1,300-1,500.>

“Punch says maybe 1,500.”

“That’s a lot of people.”

“We saw nine of these one-story buildings. If they’re all barracks, that’s just short of 14,000 people,” Rev said. “All at this one complex. How many are on the entire planet, I wonder?”

“You were at the same brief as I was,” Tomiko said. “Maybe upwards of 200,000 people.”

“I still don’t know how they’re gonna get all those folks off the planet. That’s a lot of shipping.”

“If they get them all, you mean. Perseans, fries, Mad Dogs, and Cetis are our priorities.”

Tomiko was right about the priorities, but Rev didn’t like that one bit. They couldn’t just leave fellow humans on the planet, whether their governments participated in the rescue mission or not. What if the people here were from the Mezame Concordat? The Union and the Concordat were long-time allies, and they’d fought and bled together against the Centaurs, Mad Dogs, and now Naxli. Could they just tell them, “Oh, so sorry, but we’re leaving you behind?”

Rev and Tomiko had spotted several humans while they were still back in the fault, but they hadn’t been able to tell where these humans were from. As soon as they got inside the complex, they’d know.

Rev looked over at the nearest complex building. There weren’t any windows, nor was there an obvious door. If there was security, it would be more likely around the complex, and he thought they might attract some attention if they were wandering around looking for a way inside.

But did they have to do that? He looked back through the doorway of the barracks building. He didn’t know what the schedule was here, but if it was a barracks, then wouldn’t it make sense that at some point, the humans would return here?

“What’s that old saying? If the mountain won’t go to Mohammed, then Mohammed must come to the mountain?” he asked Tomiko.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I mean, do we have to go into the factory or warehouse or whatever that thing is? We’ve got an open door here. Why don’t we just go inside and wait for our people to come here? You know, Mohammed coming to the mountain.”

“I don’t think that’s quite the meaning, Rev, but yeah, that could work, I guess. But our orders are to get inside the complex.”

“To find out what humans are here. We can do that right from where we are.”

Tomiko bit her upper lip as she thought about it. But the decision was taken out of their hands. Two buildings down, a hiver walked across the opening. Rev grabbed Tomiko and pulled her into the doorway. Until he knew more about the situation, he wanted to avoid any contact with hiver or Naxli.

He didn’t hear any hue and cry, so after about thirty seconds, he eased his head around, then jerked it back.

“It’s coming this way.”

“Did it see you?”

“I don’t know. We don’t even know if they see at all, at least like we do.”

Tomiko pulled Rev into the building. “Better safe than sorry.”

They both stepped to the side, out of the doorway. They listened, and a few moments later, they heard the sound of steps on the dirt. Rev tensed, ready to act, but the steps passed the door and faded as they continued on.

“Looks like we’re in the clear,” Tomiko whispered.

“Maybe. Let’s take a look around here and see what we’ve got.”

The building wasn’t lighted, but with their augmented vision, they didn’t have a problem. If it was a barracks, then it was a messy one. Debris was scattered around, and the place smelled above and beyond the pollution in the air. Think of an old locker room times ten.

There were a few spots where debris and junk were used to construct little walled-off areas, which looked like the homeless encampments in Anastasia.

“One door in and out. I don’t think the fire marshal would approve,” Rev said. “Maybe we should report it. Let the marshal issue a citation declaring it uninhabitable, then use that to take the people home.”

“I don’t even think a fire marshal would step in this pigsty. Look at this place. The only thing to do here would be to burn it down.”

They continued to look around. Along the near wall was a pile of rags, and beyond that—

<That’s a human lying there.>

“What?”

Punch superimposed an outline on one of the piles of rags. Rev took a closer look, then grabbed Tomiko by the arm.

“Right there. Someone’s sleeping,” he said as he pointed.

“Where? Oh, shit. You’re right.”

“Maybe we can find out what’s going on. Or at least who’s here.”

“Think we should? I mean, wake him?”

“That’s why we’re here, Miko.”

She nodded, and the two carefully approached the body. Soft snores greeted them. As they got closer, Rev could see how they’d missed the figure. He was dressed, but his clothes had seen better days. They were ragged and filthy. The only new item was a red patch of some sort on his right shoulder. Beside him was a black tube, but Rev couldn’t tell what it was.

“I’d think he was dead if it weren’t for the snoring,” Tomiko whispered as she wrinkled her nose. “He smells like he died a month ago.”

They stood over him for a moment while Rev made another visual sweep of the building. It wasn’t as empty as he’d first imagined. Nothing really registered as to how the building was laid out, but as far as he could tell, this sleeping man was the only human in the building.

That might be a stroke of luck. It would be far easier dealing with one person than a crowd who would have to be happy to see them.

Rev stepped forward and gave the man a nudge with his foot.

Nothing.

He turned the nudge into a little kick, and the man mumbled, “Five more minutes, Dante.”

Rev gave Tomiko an exasperated look, then kicked the man harder and said, “We’re not Dante.”

“Fuck,” the man said as he sat up. “Then you’d better have a damned good reason for . . .”

He stopped and stared at Rev, then shifted to Tomiko. “And who in Jackson’s balls are you?”

“We’re—” Rev started before the man’s eyes got wide.

“And where’d you get clean jumpsuits?”

He started to stand, and Rev said, “We’re Perseus Union Marines, and we’re here to—”

“Oh, shit,” the man said as he scrambled to his feet, his voice cracking.

His eyes darted around, and not in the manner of someone welcoming a rescue party. He wanted to run. His eyes went to the black rod that was at his feet, and then he seemed to remember the red object on his shoulder. His left hand started to swing to it.

Rev wasn’t aware of consciously thinking about his next action. He was moving before he realized it. He dove forward, his shoulder hitting the man in the chest and blocking the left hand.

“Rev!” Tomiko shouted.

His left hand, the prosthetic one, still wasn’t completely meshed with his nervous system, and he tried to grasp the man’s arm to pull it away from the red patch as his momentum took them both to the floor. The hand wasn’t cooperating.

The man was stronger than he looked, and he screamed, “I’ll kill you, you persie fuck,” while he kicked his legs and pounded on the side of Rev’s head, each blow rocking him.

Rev had been so focused on stopping the right hand that he lost sight of the big picture. The man might be strong, but Rev was a hyper-augmented Marine. He didn’t need grasping fingers. He shifted his body to give him a bit of space, and with every ounce he could muster, he punched with his prosthesis, connecting flush on the man’s chin.

The force of the blow reverberated to Rev’s shoulder, and the man collapsed. Rev rolled off the body and turned back to Tomiko, who was staring at him, her mouth open in shock.

“What the fuck are you doing, Rev?”

He looked back at the man, who was out cold but still breathing. He didn’t know for how long. The man’s chin was smashed, and his head was at an unnatural angle, which probably meant a broken neck.

“He’s a kapo, Miko.”

She looked confused for a moment, then asked, “A kapo? Like on Tenerife?”

“Yeah. The bastard’s turned on his fellow prisoners.”

Tomiko gave the man a closer look. “How . . . what . . .”

“I don’t know how I know, but I do. See that red thing on his shoulder?”

Now that he could see it closer, it wasn’t a patch but a small instrument of some kind.

“Yeah.”

“I think that’s some sort of communicator. If he’d activated it, we’d be in a world of shit right now. And that?” he added, pointing at the black rod. That’s some sort of baton, I’d bet.”

“You got all of that in what, two seconds? How? Was it Punch?”

Rev frowned. Why did she think it had to be Punch?

“No. I just knew it. And when he said he was going to kill me, well, that was just the confirmation.”

Tomiko didn’t argue. It had taken a few minutes, but it was sinking in.

“By the Mother, what do we do now? Look for anyone with a red disc on their shoulder?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to figure it out.”

The man started to gurgle, his unconscious body fighting to stay alive.

“We’ve got to get rid of our friend here. That’s gonna be hard to hide.”

The man gurgled again, and bloody froth bubbled out of his destroyed mouth.

“Hell, I’m not waiting for him to die,” Tomiko said.

She knelt by the man’s head, reached out, and squeezed his throat. Rev was grateful for that. He knew he’d essentially killed the man but squirmed at the thought of administering a coup de grace. It had been OK with the hiver queen, but kapo or not, this was a human being.

It only took twenty seconds. The thrashing stopped, and the body went still.

“What now?” she asked.

“Let’s find someplace to stash him.”

“Outside or inside?”

Rev thought about it for a moment. He really, really didn’t want to be spotted outside hauling a body around. No, it had to be inside.

The two made a quick recon of the building. There were several cubbyholes around the main walls. Rev couldn’t figure out their purpose, but a couple were large enough to store a body. So, Rev picked up the dead kapo and stuffed him into one of them.

That done, he went back to where the man had been killed. There was blood on the floor, and there wasn’t any way they could clean it. Instead, they gathered some of the rags and trash and just covered it. That left the baton. Rev picked it up and hefted it. It was heavy, but there wasn’t much of a reach. He gave it a shake, but the thing didn’t extend.

<Try twisting the base,> Punch said.

Rev gave it a little closer look. There was a slightly wider ring around the bottom. He gave it a tentative twist, and the baton snapped out another forty centimeters.

“That’s more like it,” he said as he got a feel for it.

He knew he should probably put it in with the body, but he felt a lot better with it as a weapon.

“What about your Q-phone?” Tomiko asked. “Somewhere in this building?”

“It’s as good a place as any, I guess.”

They found a spot on the main wall where they could worry free a bit of an opening, and Rev slipped the quantum phone inside. He felt a pang as they pushed the wall back into place. That had been their last line to the free world. Now, they were just like all the other prisoners.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“These overalls,” Tomiko said. “That traitor spotted them. We need to change.”

“Into what? There’s nothing here but scraps and rags.”

They both turned their heads back to where they’d hidden the body.

“Fuck,” they both said in unison.

They didn’t know how much time they had until whoever berthed in the building returned, so they hurried and pulled the body back out.

Tomiko suggested that they take off the red communicator before they did anything else. They were afraid of activating it, but carefully, they managed to pull it free. Then they stripped the body and stuffed it back into the hiding place.

“So, how do we do this?”

There wasn’t enough there for both of them, but it was going to have to do. They took off their overalls, and with Rev taking the pants and Tomiko taking the shirt, they each managed to get some degree of covering.

“That looks like a dress on you,” Rev said.

“Ah, yes. The height of sewer fashion.” She made a little catwalk twirl. “Let’s see if we can’t fix you up a bit, though.”

She scrounged up a few rags, tied them together, and put them around his neck before stepping back to judge the look.

“It’ll do.”

“Then we need to hide,” Rev said.

While looking for a place to stuff the kapo’s body, they’d found a low space under a platform along the right wall. Rev yanked back the edge of the front, pulling it out far enough for them to slip in. Rev went first, then Tomiko. It was extremely cramped, but it was the best of several bad choices. Rev reached around Tomiko to pull the wall back into place.

There was barely enough room for both of them, but there was a slight gap in the wall where they could look out into the building proper.

Tomiko’s head was right at Rev’s chest. She buried her nose into his armpit and inhaled.

“What’re you doing?”

“With how our new clothes stink, your pit is the sweetest smell around.”

Rev couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud until she reached up and placed her hand over his mouth.

He stopped and quieted down, and together they settled in to wait for whatever was going to happen next.

12

Tomiko shifted her weight, digging an elbow into Rev’s belly and making him grunt.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

Rev was locked in too tight to adjust his position much, but he tried to at least adjust his center of gravity to change the pressure points on his right hip. It didn’t do much good.

<Do you want me to restart the show?>

Just over five hours into their wait, when boredom was running rampant, Rev had asked Punch for something to watch. But the show—a romantic farce—did little to capture his attention, and he’d managed only two episodes before he told Punch to pause it.

“No. It wasn’t very good.”

<I’ve got more than a hundred thousand shows.>

But Rev knew it wasn’t the show. It was the situation. His mind was too occupied with what was happening, even if that was pretty much nothing at the moment.

“Maybe just a little background music, Punch, if you please.”

A soft instrumental kicked in, and Rev started running scenarios in his mind, trying to game out whatever might happen next. The problem was that he didn’t have much of a clue, so the possibilities were endless. But keeping his mind busy was better than just doing nothing.

Rev was trying to work out a plan if they found out that all of the prisoners were suffering from Stockholm Syndrome and didn’t want to be rescued when Tomiko said, “This is a rerun.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Me and you on a planet with human prisoners. Aliens using them as slave labor. Kapos. This is Tenerife all over again.”

“Not exactly,” Rev said.

“How the hell is it different?”

“Well, we’re way the heck into Naxli-controlled space. We’re not in human space.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” she asked as she squirmed again.

“I didn’t say this was better. Only that it’s different.”

“OK, then how else?”

Rev had to think for a moment. “We don’t have the local contacts.”

“Which is what we’re supposed to be doing next.”

“But we don’t have people living somewhat normal lives. There’s no civilian community where we can hide. This isn’t a human world, and the people here are all prisoners. Oh, and here’s a big one. We don’t think there’s a real army with offensive capabilities. No damn paladins or coursers.”

During the Tenerife mission, Rev had managed to knock one of the huge Centaur tanks into a canal, but that had been a miracle. On the one hand, the Naxli didn’t make much use of armor. But on the other hand, what they had was pretty effective. Rev had only really encountered it on Wie’s World, and he was glad the Navy scout hadn’t found evidence of large numbers of the tanks.

“I’ll give you that. But still, this is the same thing. It’s the same mission.”

“And fighting the noxes on Mistworld, Grum, and Wie’s World were all the same mission, too. Close with and destroy the bastards.”

Tomiko grunted and squirmed again, kicking Rev in the shin. “What’s with you, Miko? Can’t you lie still?”

“I’ve got to pee,” Tomiko said.

“No, you don’t. You took the nopee, just like I did.”

“Oh, I’m glad you know what I need to do or not,” she said. “I’m telling you, I need to pee.”

One of the direct combat Marines’ augments was the introduction of kangaroo rat DNA, which changed their kidney’s structure to increase their “medullary osmotic concentration,” was the term used during the brief. All that meant was that they could make highly concentrated urine, which was almost brown as it was released. This significantly conserved water, something that was particularly useful to an infantry Marine. When combined with a PAL’s or mech’s recycling, a Marine could go several days, if necessary, without drinking fresh water.

The advance team onto the planet were not in PALs, so they’d all taken urine inhibitors, which slowed down the process. They allowed for a buildup of waste products in the blood, and there could be consequences of long-term use, but for short periods of time, they could eliminate the need to urinate.

“Well, you shouldn’t have to.”

“Well, I do.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that. Nothing he said was going to alleviate the situation.

Rev was aware of how closely Tomiko’s body was jammed up against his. With a resigned sigh, he asked, “So, what are you gonna do?”

“I’m not doing it here.”

“There’s not much choice.”

“If I let loose here, it’s going to stink up the place.”

Which was true. Their concentrated urine was far more odorous than that of normal humans.

“I’m thinking that I slip out of here and use those heads we saw. Nothing I do’s going to make that cesspit smell any worse.”

Which was also true. But the people who slept here could be coming back at any moment. Rev didn’t want to have them return while Tomiko was doing her thing.

Tomiko pushed against the wall, widening the opening again, and started to slip out.

“Wait, I’m coming with you.”

“I think I can manage on my own, Rev.”

“I don’t want us to get separated. What if the people come back?”

Tomiko just grunted and slid out of their hiding place. But she held the wall out so Rev could tumble out with a groan. His muscles screamed in protest as he slowly got to his feet.

“By the Mother, that’s a relief.”

“The relief will come in the head, not here,” Tomiko said as she quickly started across the open space.

Rev bent back, reached in, and grabbed the baton before following her. As they crossed the building, he glanced at where the kapo’s body was stashed. There was a slight dark tinge to the bottom of the door—maybe some of his body fluids were leaking out. He was tempted to head over there and try to clean it up, but that was probably a lost cause. And from the weird way Tomiko was walking, she wouldn’t be up for any delay.

The “heads” were essentially holes cut into whatever the Naxli used as wooden planks. There were four planks, each with between nineteen and twenty-one openings. If there really were 1,500 people sleeping in the barracks, that wasn’t a lot of toilets.

Tomiko hurried to the closest hole. “This is fucking gross as shit,” she said, but that didn’t stop her from plopping down on it.

Rev turned to face the main hall. It was eerily silent, and he tried to imagine it packed with people.

“Are you going to use it?” Tomiko asked as she slid off.

“Don’t have to.”

“It may be a while, you know.”

I hope not. The people have to come back here sometime, right?

<You’re bladder’s twenty-two percent full.>

Oh, great. Now I’ve got Punch managing my piss, too.

“I’m OK,” he said. “Let’s get back to our hideout.”

They returned with a little less urgency, but they didn’t dawdle. Rev didn’t look forward to stuffing themselves back in again, but he didn’t want to be standing there when anyone else showed up, either.

“Home sweet home,” Rev said as he got down on his hands and knees and crawled in. Once again, he had to do his best imitation of a contortionist until he was in place. Tomiko started to follow when she swung her head around and looked out across the hall.

“What is it?” Rev asked.

“Shit, shit, shit! Here they come!”

And then Rev could hear it, too, the low rumble of voices.

“Get in here!”

But Tomiko was already moving. She got down on her butt and started pushing herself in, feet first. She kicked Rev in the chin as he tried to help pull her into position. Rev grabbed the edge of the wall and pulled back, hitting her on the head. It screeched as the bottom scraped across the floor.

The two froze in place, barely daring to breathe, when the sounds shifted. The people were entering the building. Ready or not, the connection phase of the mission was about to begin.

13

The low hubbub increased as people started coming in. Rev couldn’t see anything through their tiny gap. He twisted his head to try and get a better view.

“Can you spot them?” he asked Tomiko, thinking that with her smaller size, she could get a little better angle.

“Not yet. But . . . no, there are some. They’re coming closer.”

“Can you tell where they’re from yet?”

“From the Planet of the Destitute. Their clothes are just rags.”

Which was what they’d expected. If the kapo’s clothes had been so bad, what would the prisoners’ be?

The first several people walked into Rev’s field of vision. They looked tired, and their clothing was ragged, but the three were chatting like any group of three on a normal human world. Rev guessed that depending on when they were captured, even a life of forced labor could get to be the norm.

The three passed from his view, and more people filled it.

“Come on, people. You know the drill. Move it,” a voice shouted out.

Whoever it was, the people Rev could see paid little attention to the woman. They shuffled past chatting with others or shuffled alone with blank looks on their faces. Those last ones, with their ragged clothing, reminded Rev of the classical holovid caricatures of zombies.

The mass of people kept moving, but some started taking seats on the floor in small groups. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme nor reason as to why they chose certain spots, but for all Rev knew, they had staked out their little pieces of real estate.

Five people grabbed a spot in front of where the two Marines were hiding. They sat in a circle, knees touching as if forming an impenetrable barrier. Three of them—two men and a woman—pulled out something from their clothing and started eating, but Rev couldn’t tell what it was.

“Use the dunny if you need it,” a man shouted. “Shit and get off for the next one.”

Tomiko nudged Rev. “Dunny” wasn’t a term commonly used in the Perseus Union. That was the first indication that they had that these weren’t Perseans. Maybe they were from Outback, which would make them from the Confederation.

“How many planets use that word for head?” Rev asked his battle buddy.

<It is among the top three in common usage on fourteen worlds, and it is in general usage on fifty-six more.>

What would I do without you, Punch?

For someone who’d fought hard against having an AI implant, Punch was just part of who he was now. Rev couldn’t imagine not having him.

“There’re a whole lot of worlds where people use the term,” he whispered to Tomiko.

“But not Union worlds.”

<There are six Perseus Union planets where the term is part of the lexicon.>

Rev didn’t bother telling Tomiko that. Better just let it slide.

More and more people got down on the ground. Some immediately stretched out while others sat in groups. There was some jostling going on, and a few people got stepped on.

Several people got on top of the platform above the two Marines, which creaked as they got into position. Rev briefly wondered if he should try to contact them, but for all he knew, they were kapos using the elevated position to keep watch over the rest.

“Do you think all they do is sleep here?” Tomiko said in a whisper too low for anyone without hyper-augmented hearing to pick up. “That’s going to make it a lot harder to make contact.”

“Do we really need to make it now?” Rev asked back. “If they’re not Union, then the rescue isn’t coming here first. It might be easier to wait until the actual landing.”

Tomiko was silent for a long moment, a true sign that she didn’t agree with him.

“I don’t mean ignore them. But with the kapos, if they get wind of our invasion, chances are that they’re gonna tell the noxes. If our prisoners are down on the priority list, then we’ll still have time to organize them and not have to worry about the noxes being warned.”

“It’s your call,” she finally said.

Even with her whispering, he could tell by her tone that she wasn’t on board with that plan of action.

“It was just a thought,” he said.

By now, most of the people were either sitting or lying on the floor. A dozen or so were still wandering between the bodies, and Rev spotted the red communicator on five of them. Each of them was carrying a baton as well.

Even considering that they could only see a small slice of the building, that didn’t seem like very many kapos to keep the prisoners in check.

Their little group was still sitting and quietly talking. Rev had a difficult time picking out their conversation from those of all the rest, but it seemed like they were discussing rose gardening, which wasn’t one of the subjects Rev would have guessed would be high on the list of Naxli prisoners’ discussion subjects.

A kapo pushed past them, kneeing one of the women in the group. It didn’t look like an accident.

The sitting woman wheeled around and delivered a punch to the kapo’s groin, which he evaded by turning his hip. As quick as a rattlesnake, he lashed out with the baton and connected with the woman’s head. She folded to the ground and lay still. With deliberate motion, the kapo extended his baton and touched the prone woman with the tip. The woman’s body convulsed as the others looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Does anyone else need help to get their beauty rest?” the kapo asked.

No one said a word, but the other four slid down to their bellies. One man took the time to straighten out the unconscious woman before lying beside her.

“That’s better. Next shift comes early, you know.”

Rev heard a soft “Bludger” from one of the prisoners as the kapo moved on.

Within a couple of minutes, all the people within the two Marines’ vision were lying down and quiet. There were rustling sounds as people shifted their position, and before long, snores began to rise.

“That’s it?” Tomiko whispered. “They just come back from their job or whatever, and they got twenty-five minutes before they have to go to sleep?”

“Life sucks as a prisoner, Miko.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

Not everyone was asleep. Rev could hear furtive whispers. Others coughed. But for the most part, it looked like this building was only used as a communal toilet and to sleep in.

“If we’re gonna talk to them, I think it’ll have to be while they’re working,” Rev said. “This place isn’t gonna do.”

Which was a disappointment. He’d thought they’d lucked into something when they discovered the building and decided to wait for the prisoners. It didn’t look like that was going to work. They could check out the other barracks, but chances were that they’d be the same thing.

“Start a timer,” Rev told Punch.

He needed to get a grasp on the schedule here if he was going to figure out what to do next. The rescue was scheduled to commence in five days. That was still plenty of time . . . if they could initiate communications. They were just going to have to be more aggressive.

* * *

Two hours and nineteen minutes, according to the timer he’d started, the woman who’d been beaten and shocked groaned and stirred. She raised a forearm to her head but didn’t sit up. A few moments later, Rev could hear some very quiet, soft sobs.

He could feel Tomiko tense up, so he knew she was awake, too.

“That’s who I’d like to speak to,” Rev said. “I don’t think she’ll be running up to a kapo to report us.”

“Do you want to talk to her?”

“If we can figure out how to identify her, then yes, she’d be a good choice.”

“Then help me with this,” Tomiko said before she gently shoved the side of the wall out a few centimeters.

There was the tiniest of scrapes, and Rev shot out his arm and grabbed the edge of the wall, keeping her from pushing it out any more.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.

“You said you wanted to talk to her. I’m going to get her for you,” she said, the challenge obvious in her voice.

“I didn’t say now!”

“Either you want to, or you don’t.”

Rev knew what Tomiko was doing. She wanted to force his hand and make contact with these people, whether they were Union or not. And he didn’t appreciate it at all.

I’m in charge, not her.

Part of him wanted to knock her down a peg. But there was another part of him that felt guilty for suggesting that they wait until later. And he really didn’t want her angry at him.

<Don’t let your personal feelings for Staff Sergeant Reiser affect your decisions.>

Rev didn’t believe that battle buddies could read minds, but sometimes Punch seemed to be clairvoyant. He shouldn’t care if she was angry at him.

But he did.

He took a deep breath and tried to ignore her for a moment as he considered what he should do.

“These people aren’t Union. But there are eight more of these buildings. Who knows who’s in them?” Tomiko said.

Shit.

Rev wasn’t thinking straight. Of course, what she’d said was true. And their mission was to find the Perseans, the Frisians, and the MDS citizens. They couldn’t do that if they just hid out in the building and waited for the invasion.

He knew the woman out there was not going to report them. That was one risk factor gone. So, this was a good opportunity. The question was if they could catch her attention without alerting everyone else.

Rev glanced out at her again. Most of the people out there should be asleep. Even for the ones who might be awake, would they even notice one more body? And while Rev could see, how many of the prisoners had his visual augments? More importantly, where were the kapos, and could they see?

Tomiko was right. This was an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted.

“I’ll go,” he told her.

“No, you won’t. I’m going.”

“Miko . . .”

“You’re too damned big. We’d have to push the wall open even more for you, and you’re far more likely to attract attention. I’ll go, and I’ll bring her back here.”

Rev wanted to remind her that he was in charge, but once again, she was right.

“Help me move the wall a little more. Even you aren’t small enough to slide through like it is.”

Very carefully, moving it millimeter by millimeter, they pushed the edge of the wall out. They weren’t completely silent, but he thought the sound was lost in the stirrings, coughs, and snores of the prisoners. Rev kept glancing above him, waiting for any indications that the people on top of the platform had heard them.

“I think that’s good,” Tomiko said.

“Miko . . .”

“What?” she asked, the wariness back into her voice.

“Just be careful.”

“Got it, boss.”

And with that, she started creeping out. Somebody’s legs half blocked her in, but she was able to carefully pick her way around them. Then slowly, she started to edge toward the woman, barely moving a centimeter or two at a time. Rev watched her, willing her forward.

He suddenly went into a mini-panic. What if the people woke up, ready for another shift? She’d be caught like a deer in headlights. But his timer was at two hours and twenty-four minutes. Surely, they had to sleep longer than that.

Still, he was nervous as Tomiko spent almost thirteen minutes covering the three meters to where the woman and her group were lying.

The next problem was how to approach the woman, who was still softly sobbing. Her group wasn’t packed like sardines, but they were pretty close together. Tomiko couldn’t crawl between them without hitting one of the others.

But she knew that. She went around them so she could approach the woman’s head. Just as she was closing in, the woman’s sobs cut off as if by a knife. Rev could see her tense up.

Don’t cry out!

Tomiko must have seen the same thing because she pushed forward and put her head next to the woman’s.

One minute. Two minutes. The two heads were almost locked together while Rev wanted to scream. He clutched the baton, and his warrior self fought for release. But for what? Was Rev going to challenge more than a thousand prisoners?

Finally, the woman stirred. She started edging feet first, away from Tomiko and toward Rev. Tomiko started following, sliding her body between the two people on either side of the woman.

Only Tomiko stopped when she was lying next to the other two while the woman kept coming. And she was quicker than Tomiko was. Rev thought she was too obvious, but a minute later, the woman was at the edge of the wall.

“You are in there,” she whispered. “Miko was telling the truth.”

“Uh, yes, I am,” Rev said, not quite sure how to respond. “Gunnery Sergeant Reverent Pelletier, Perseus Union Marine Corps.”

“I’m Lizzie Stavros. And there really is a rescue coming?”

“That is the plan.”

He didn’t tell her that the rescue might not include this group of prisoners. That could come later, if it was necessary.

“Thank the Mother. When you’re . . . after so many . . . fuck, you just lose hope.” She looked inside the little space. “I don’t think I can fit in there.”

She was bigger than Tomiko, and Tomiko had been a tight fit.

“Try with just your head so we can talk. I’ve got some questions I need to ask you.”

She inchwormed herself closer until their heads were just centimeters apart.

“Fire away, persie.”

They spent the next five minutes with Rev asking, Lizzie answering the best she could. She’d been a prisoner for almost six years, making her part of the first wave of kidnapped humans. Of the six thousand-plus who’d been taken from her space station, she thought there were fewer than twenty-five hundred left alive.

She estimated that there were ten thousand prisoners at this site, but as she had only peripheral contact with the other work groups, she wasn’t sure.

There were some Frisians, she thought, and maybe a few Union citizens, but no big numbers of either.

“Why do you want to know that?” she’d asked as a little bit of panic crept into her voice. “You won’t rescue us if there’re no persies here?”

“We want to rescue everyone,” he assured her.

Which was true. It was just that it might not be possible, and they could be much lower on the priority scale.

“What about the kapos?” Rev asked. “How many of them are there?”

“Kapos? What the bloody hell is a kapo?”

“You know, the people with the batons and the red communicators. Like the guy who beat you.”

“Oh, the jacks. Not many of the fuckers, I reckon. We’ve got maybe twenty-five of them here.”

“Make that twenty-four,” Rev muttered.

“Come again?”

Rev frowned. That had slipped out. But it was probably a good thing as he needed to know if the Naxli were going to miss the dead kap—jack.

“I sorta killed one. He was taking a nap here when we came in, and he was about to call for help,” he said as he pulled out the baton.

“I guess you blokes really are Marines,” she said, sounding impressed. “That woulda been Jonesy. He was always sneaking off to sleep.”

She didn’t seem upset that this Jonesy was no longer among the living.

“Is he gonna be missed? I mean, we stuffed him in a locker.”

She bit back a chuckle. “The gaunts and the baby gaunts don’t give a fuck about the jacks. The baby gaunts aren’t too bad, but the gaunts themselves seem to hate the jacks more than they hate us. I seen two jacks get offed just for passing too close to them.”

It took a moment to realize that “baby gaunts” were her name for the hivers. And at first, he was surprised that the Naxli had killed jacks. But then, it made sense. Despite the breakdown in single combat, the Naxli still considered themselves to be honorable warriors. They’d hate traitors. They might be willing to work with them, but there would be zero respect or sense of loyalty to them.

But something sounded off. “If they don’t care, and there’re only twenty-five of them—”

“Twenty-four now.”

“Yeah, twenty-four. But if the nox—gaunts don’t care, why do you put up with that shit?”

“And do what? We’re on this Mother-forsaken turd of a planet with no way off. And they’ve got their rods. We could take them down, but those things can kill, you know. And then some more jacks would just replace them.”

She glanced back into the barracks. “At least these jacks are ours. We heard some of the others are right assholes to make ours seem like cub scouts.”

Rev continued to question her for another twelve to thirteen minutes. They were all slave labor, just as Rev had suspected. They worked long shifts of over nineteen Earth hours, then had six hours and twelve minutes to sleep. They were fed only at the factory and workstations, which meant someone had to be sick and out on their feet not to go to work.

There was another reason not to miss their shift. More often than not, when the work crew returned, whoever was left behind had disappeared. The assumption was that those too far gone were just killed as a waste of resources.

The hivers did move about, but they stayed in the factory for the most part. The humans thought the hivers lived in areas of the barracks that were closed off to them. There were probably at least a few thousand of them. Lizzie didn’t think any of them were soldiers, but she admitted to Rev that she wasn’t that familiar with the military. They supervised the humans and maintained the machinery.

She was sure that the Naxli were fighters, though, which made sense. She didn’t have a firm grasp at how many were there, which was a key bit of intel Rev wanted. Possibly a hundred. Or maybe five hundred. She really didn’t know. They rarely ventured out of the main complex.

The other key bit of information was that, along with the rest of her work crew, she had minimal contact with only about five other groups, mostly during shift change. She’d seen more of the crews, but only as they moved back and forth. She’d never talked to any of them.

That presented a challenge to Rev and Tomiko. They didn’t have time to go to each set of barracks to make contact. Lizzie wasn’t sure how to go about it, but she could ask a few of the people that might have some ideas.

Rev wasn’t comfortable with Lizzie being the point person, but there was one other tidbit of information that tied his hands, at least for now. While the jacks seemed to come and go as they pleased, the slave labor was counted going into and out of the complex. Hivers checked every building as the work crew exited to account for anyone who’d died or was too sick to go in to work. If Rev and Tomiko joined the others to go to the factories, the numbers would be off. There had probably never been a case where there was an overage, and Lizzie didn’t know what would happen if two more humans suddenly showed up.

After a brief discussion, Rev had to agree that the best course of action would be for Lizzie to approach the de facto prisoner leaders. He’d asked her if he could speak to the leaders tonight, but she told him the few she trusted would be scattered throughout the barracks. It was difficult for him to place this in someone else’s hands, but that was the best course of action.

Rev had gotten about all he thought he could, and while there was still more time in the sleep cycle, he thought Lizzie lying on her belly, her head shoved up against the corner of the platform, might draw attention. He didn’t like the fact that Tomiko was still out there. What if one of the others woke up and noticed that Lizzie had suddenly switched into a small, dark-haired woman?

This was about all he could do for now. Lizzie reached in, took Rev’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Rev. You’ve given me hope. No matter what happens, this is worth it.”

She backed up and started crawling back to her place and changed positions with Tomiko, who then started back. This time, Tomiko was a little quicker, but getting back inside their crawlspace, with people sleeping around them and on top of the platform, was a little trickier. But finally, she was inside and the wall pulled back into place.

“Well?” she asked.

Rev gave her a detailed brief with Punch reminding him of any details he missed. Once he was finished, she lay there silently for a moment.

“So, now we just wait,” she said.

“That’s about it.”

“Wish we had a jack cable so we could watch something together.”

“We can start one together, though. It’s almost the same thing,” Rev said.

“Not really, but sure. The Red Rabbit?”

The Red Rabbit was an OK flick, but they’d watched it a dozen times, and Rev would rather watch almost anything else. As Punch had reminded him, they had over a hundred thousand shows available to them.

It seemed a little incongruous that here they were, deep within Naxli space, surrounded by human prisoners and the enemy, and they were going to settle in and watch a holovid about a petite, dark-haired superspy (and he wondered why Tomiko liked the movie so much). But what else were they going to do? They were stimmed up and wouldn’t sleep until after the operation. So, while the prisoners slept, it made sense. Just not The Red Rabbit. Anything else, like . . .

“The Red Rabbit it is, then. Start it on three. One . . . two . . . three.”

Sometimes, even a gunny had to compromise.

14

It was a long wait just until morning, much less until they could talk to some of the leaders.

Rev didn’t see any sort of signal, but the people all got up at the same time, and within twenty minutes, they’d hit the toilets—which was a mean feat in itself, he thought—and were out of the building. They heard someone come in a few minutes later, probably the hiver checking for any remaining humans.

The two Marines stayed inside their hiding place for a couple of more hours. Tomiko’s inhibitors were still not working, and she had to hit the head again. She’d planned on going before that, but twice, they thought they’d heard something.

Finally, though, they decided that the coast was clear. Lizzie had told them that the barracks were left alone while each shift was working.

Tomiko crawled out and stretched, and Rev followed. He didn’t need to use the toilet, but he was going crazy inside their tiny hideout.

Rev stretched as well, his joints popping, when he froze.

“Over there. By the door,” he told Tomiko.

She turned and froze as well.

A woman was on her back, motionless.

“Is she dead?” Tomiko asked.

Rev couldn’t see a red patch on her shoulder, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a jack. The smart thing to do would be to get back in their crawlspace.

But Rev wasn’t always smart. He motioned for Tomiko to spread out from him and then started quietly creeping forward. The woman didn’t stir, but Rev could see the slight rise and fall of her chest.

Rev’s warrior was on full alert, ready to react, but he could see that this woman wasn’t a threat. Her arms were almost devoid of flesh, the elbows wider than the biceps and forearm.

Pity filled him as he reached and stood over her. The woman’s breath was shallow and had the faint rattle of death. He didn’t need to be a doctor to know her time was coming to an end.

As Rev had approached, he had thought she was an elderly woman. But now, as he stood over her, he realized that she was somewhat young. Her hair had the brittleness of sickness, but the color was a deep, auburn-tinged brown without a hint of gray. It was difficult to tell for sure, given her poor state, but they might be about the same age.

Her eyes suddenly opened, and for a moment, Rev’s military instincts almost took over, ready to move into the attack, but he held back.

“Who are you?” the woman softly croaked.

Rev looked at Tomiko, and she back at him. The plan was to keep their presence a secret from the bulk of the people until the last minute. They couldn’t afford to let the Naxli know they were there. But Rev felt this woman wasn’t a threat.

False assumptions have cost untold lives throughout history, though. The smart thing here would be to lie or just walk away. But Rev had already proved he wasn’t being smart today.

“I’m Gunnery Sergeant Reverent Pelletier, Perseus Union Marine Corps,” he said.

“And I’m Staff Sergeant Tomiko Reiser.”

The woman looked confused, but she asked, “Are you here to rescue us?”

Rev didn’t think the woman would be alive by the time the operation kicked off, but he said, “Yes, we are.”

She closed her eyes, and Rev thought she’d drifted off into unconsciousness, but she said, “Thank the Mother.”

Rev glanced at Tomiko, who slowly shook her head.

“What’s your name?” she said as she knelt and took the woman’s hand.

She opened her eyes again and looked at Tomiko. “Aida. Aida Tawfiq.”

“Is there anything we can do, Aida?”

Aida laughed, which then quickly turned into a coughing fit. Rev knelt beside her, but he didn’t know what to do, so he just put a hand on her shoulder.

She finally stopped coughing and said, “You’re a little late for that. I’m probably beyond help.”

“Don’t say that,” Rev said. “Hang on.”

She turned her head to him. “I’ve been hanging on for months now. But today, I just couldn’t. I can feel it. I’m dying.”

She sighed, and Tomiko said, “It’s only a couple of more days, Aida.”

The woman smiled and said, “I don’t think I’ll be here, then. But it’s OK. I’m at peace.”

Rev felt his heart rise to his throat. Across Aida, Tomiko’s eyes were tearing.

“I have a son, you know. Farouq. We call him Dafadae.”

<That means frog.>

“Wouldn’t you like to see him again?” Tomiko asked.

She didn’t seem to hear her. “He’d be nine now. Oh, how he used to sing.”

Aida fell into silence again, and Rev kept expecting to see her chest stop moving.

“What’s wrong with her?”

<I can’t tell based on visuals. But she is rapidly deteriorating.>

“You hang on, and you can hear Dafadae sing again.”

“That would be nice,” she said, her voice fading away.

“Aida, Aida! Stay with us,” Tomiko said.

She looked over at Rev as if beseeching him to do something.

Both of them had seen death. Violent, horrible death. They’d seen friends, and for Rev, family, die. But this was hitting Rev—and from the looks of it, Tomiko—hard. This woman had been yanked from her home, from her son, and taken to a far-off alien planet to work as a slave.

She wasn’t the only one. Lizzie had said the work was hard, and death came all too often. But she was right here in front of them, dying. Somehow, she personified all of the victims, and Rev swore an oath right there that he’d do everything in his power to make sure all of those at this location were rescued, no matter their priority.

Aida suddenly struggled to sit up. Rev slipped beside her to hold her upright.

“Promise me!”

“What. What do you want us to do?” Rev asked.

“My body. Take my body home. To Waha. I need to be buried there. Promise me!”

“I . . .” he started to say but stopped.

He couldn’t promise that. The priority had to be the living. He could just say he would, but lying would be treating her with disrespect.

“We will do everything we can to take you home, Aida,” Tomiko said.

The woman sighed and whispered, “Dafadae can visit my grave. Maybe put flowers on it.”

Her eyes closed, and her body went limp. But she kept breathing.

Rev knew they should just lay her down. They weren’t doing the woman any good staying there, and every moment they were out in the open increased the risk. Lizzie had said that the barracks would be left alone while they were doing their shift, but the jack they’d killed had been there yesterday as he tried to catch a nap.

It didn’t seem right, though, that Aida should die alone. So, he sat behind her, holding her close, while Tomiko held her hand.

Rev told Tomiko to go use the toilet, but she shook her head. She’d wait.

Aida kept fighting, each breath a struggle. It took over four hours, but finally, she just stopped breathing. No death rattle. No final few seconds of consciousness. One second, her chest was rising, and the next second, it had stopped.

Rev held her for a few more minutes, but she was gone. He slowly laid her back. And that was it. Aida Tawfiq had completed her journey in the mortal plane.

It felt weird to just leave her there, but Lizzie had said that when someone died, they placed them outside the door. When they next woke, or they came back from their shift, the body would be gone. She had no idea as to what became of them.

“I hated lying to her, but I hope it made her passing easier,” Tomiko said.

“Maybe you didn’t lie.”

“Technically, no, I didn’t. I said we’d do all we can. Well, there isn’t anything we can do.”

“I’m saying, maybe there is something we can do.”

“What do you mean? The noxes count people here. Including those who’re too sick to go to work. And they count bodies, too.”

“But we have a body.”

Tomiko turned and looked to where they’d stashed the dead man. “But that’s one of the jacks.”

“It’s a body.”

“Rev, it’s a jack. They don’t get counted. Aida is a prisoner.”

“How the heck do the noxes know who to count and who not to count? I’m betting it’s the red patches.”

Tomiko stared at Rev, biting her upper lip as she took in what he’d just said. “That’s a pretty big assumption.”

“But a good one.”

She shifted her gaze to Aida, then back to where the jack was stuffed.

“So, we just switch the bodies? Put the red patch on her?”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Rev said.

“But he’s an older man, and Aida’s a younger woman. Don’t you think anyone will notice?”

“Can you tell one nox from another?”

It wasn’t a good example. The Naxli varied quite a bit from each other. But Tomiko seemed to take his point.

“We take the jack and put him outside the door. We put Aida in the cubbyhole.”

He knew Tomiko was trying to muster up an argument against it. But it was Punch who first voiced caution.

<This is a risk without any possible benefit.>

The rational side of Rev knew that his battle buddy was right, of course. Aida was dead, and whatever happened to her body wouldn’t make any difference to her. And his assumption that the red patch would keep the Naxli from counting her was just a wild-ass guess.

This mission, where thousands of lives hung in the balance, was just too important to take unnecessary risks. But Rev was set in his decision.

“It’s just the right thing to do.”

Punch didn’t argue.

Tomiko came to her own conclusion as well. “Fuck it. Let’s do it. But first, I’ve got to use the head.”

A couple of minutes later, they were standing outside the cubbyhole. Rev cracked open the door.

Tomiko sniffed and said, “Well, that’s one good thing about this place. The stink’s so bad I don’t think anyone would notice the rot.”

She reached in to remove the red patch when Rev said, “Wait. If that’s some sort of counting jamming device, then we don’t want to take it off of him here. What if he shows up all of a sudden?”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Rev. If the body counts were some sort of automatic thing, then they’d have found us already.”

Rev frowned as he considered that. She was probably right, and he didn’t have a logical argument against her, but he thought better safe than sorry.

They pulled the body out of its hiding place and carried it to Aida, where they switched the red patch. Then it was on to the doorway. Tomiko carefully stuck her head out, then said, “All clear.”

Rev didn’t know if there was a particular location bodies were placed, so he just laid the jack out to the side of the opening.

“His face is kinda messed up. Think they’ll notice that he was killed instead of just dying?” Tomiko asked.

It was a good question. Rev didn’t know if the Naxli cared about human-on-human violence. With so many people crammed together and under so much stress, there had to have been cases of it, not including anything the jacks might have done. But it would be better not to risk it.

He stepped back inside, found a scrap of a rag, and returned to try and clean up the face. He took two swipes when he had to stop.

“What are you doing, Rev? We should get back inside.”

He looked at the man. Back home, he could be a guy sitting across from him at a restaurant or the guy taking his kids to the park. Here, thousands of lightyears from the nearest humans, he was the enemy.

“I’ve never, you know, come back to someone I’ve killed.”

“You’re forgetting, I’m the one who killed him.”

“Yeah, but I took him down. And looking at him now, that feels weird.”

“By the Mother, Rev, you can be such a wimp sometimes. The guy was trying to kill you, and who knows how many others he’s already killed. Here, give me that,” she said, taking the rag from him.

She gave the face several rough swipes and said, “There, that’ll have to do. Come on.”

They went back inside, picked up Aida—who felt as light as a feather, which made Rev wonder just what disease had killed her—and took her back to the cubbyhole. They eased her inside, then closed it up again.

“I guess that’s it,” Rev said, feeling as if they should say something.

“Respect for the fallen,” Tomiko said as she stood in front of the hiding spot.

Normally, that was said for military members, but in a way, Aida was the same. She’d been killed by the enemy just as much as any KIA Marine had.

“Respect for the fallen,” he repeated before turning away.

15

“Four days,” Rev said.

“Three work cycles, then. That’s not much time,” Valentyna James said.

Valentyna, Niles Inkster-Topal, and Hermes San Rey were sitting, backs leaning against the Marines’ hideout where Rev and Tomiko were still stashed. They looked out over the mass of people as they spoke with the two of them, hopefully just looking like they were having a conversation among themselves.

“I suspect we’ll have time once the rescue kicks off, but we need a plan before that. We don’t know what the gaunts will do once that happens.”

“We can pretty much guess,” Valentyna said.

“You’re putting our lives at risk,” Hermes said. “We weren’t consulted.”

“And you would have refused to be taken off of this hellhole?” Valentyna countered.

“Well, no. Of course not. I’m just as eager as anyone to leave. But three work cycles? A lot of people are going to get killed, Val.”

“A lot of us have already died.”

That seemed to shut up Hermes.

“We need a way to get the word out to the others here, but without alerting the jacks or the aliens,” Rev said. “From how I see it, we need to protect the people from reprisals and organize them for a quick retrieval once our rides arrive. Once we leave, anyone who missed boarding is going to be left behind.”

“If you Marines are landing, can’t you protect us?” Niles asked.

“The Marines and the other forces are gonna be fighting to control the planet and space around it so the landing craft can take the people off. That’s gonna give the gaunts a period of time between knowing the planet is under assault and when we can get shuttles here.”

He paused to let that sink in. “I think it’s vital that there is a plan that can be put into place for all of the barracks.”

“And the work crews,” Valentyna said. “They’ll be the most immediately vulnerable to retribution.”

“Are the baby gaunts armed?” Rev asked.

“Some of them carry rods, but for the most part, no. The regular gaunts are. They’ve got guns and swords,” she answered.

Rev didn’t understand the Naxli fascination with swords. He’d killed Naxli warriors who’d tried to use them. But against unarmed civilians, swords could be very effective.

“And you don’t have any idea how many of them are here?”

“We never see them together. And sometimes, we think they come from other areas,” Valentyna said.

“We’re just going to have to plan for the worst,” Tomiko whispered in Rev’s ear.

I never thought this would be easy.

“So, from what you’ve told me, we can’t easily communicate with the other barracks and work shifts. We have to have this planned to a T so we can conduct an extract, possibly while fighting for our lives. But because of jacks within the ranks, we can’t let too many people know what’s happening because they’ll tell the gaunts. We don’t even know how many of the bastards are here. Does that about sum it up?”

The three prisoners exchanged looks, then Valentyna said, “Yes, that’s about right.”

“Well, no problem then. Let’s work out a plan to get it done.”

* * *

“This is a shitty plan, Rev.”

“You’ve got something better?”

“No. I wish I did. Truly. I just . . .”

“Just what?”

They were back in their hideout while the rest were at work. They’d spent a good portion of the night with the three prisoners, trying to work out some semblance of a plan before breaking up. Now, the two Marines had tried to build upon the basic framework of what they’d come up with.

Tomiko paused. Rev couldn’t see her face from the way they were positioned, but he knew she was biting her upper lip as she tried to put her thoughts to words.

Finally, she asked, “Do you think it’s really a good idea for us to split up?”

“No, I don’t. But we have to. There’re too many people here for us to stay together. It’ll be bad enough as it is, but we need to spread ourselves out.”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “It’s gonna be bad enough, Miko, getting the word out. I just don’t see how it’ll be possible. But the more people we can brief up, even if it’s at the last second, the better it’ll be.”

She sighed. “I know. I just don’t like the idea of us being apart.”

“Neither do I.”

They lay there in silence until the sounds of the work crew returning reached them.

“OK. Here it goes,” Rev said.

It wasn’t exactly then, however. It took another twenty-five minutes before everyone ate, went to the toilets, and settled in to sleep.

Rev was still doing OK from an energy standpoint, but his stomach was empty, and as he listened to the people eating, it let him know that.

Finally, people started drifting off to sleep, and a half-hour later, there was a soft tap on their hideout. Rev carefully pushed the wall forward, and the two gratefully crawled out. The three leaders and Lizzie were lying down as if they were sleeping. But there was another small woman there as well. Rev didn’t know who she was, but if Valentyna and the rest brought her, there must have been a reason.

Rev huddled close, but before he could start, Niles held out some food. “We figured you must be hungry, so we collected this. It’s not prime rib or a Hortwath Turnover, but it’s calories, at least.”

Rev gratefully took it, then gave half to Tomiko. She broke off a piece and gave that back to him.

“You’re bigger than me, and your hyper-augments are still taking up energy even if Pashu’s back at Nguyen.”

Rev was tempted to give it back, but she was right. He was probably burning twice as many calories as she was.

He tentatively took a bite. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t horrible. It was just there. The crumbled food was like extremely dry quinoa—even blander than that, if that was possible. But it had kept the prisoners alive for years, so it must be nutritionally viable for humans.

He managed to get his down. He wasn’t exactly full, but he had to assume he’d gotten calories he might soon need.

With their heads together like cows at a watering hole, he briefed the others on the plan. They spent about an hour making adjustments until they had something that would never pass muster at officers’ school, but Rev thought it was about the best they could do considering the circumstances.

It left out one huge issue, though.

“Have you figured out how to get us out of here?” he asked.

Tomiko had to get to the other barracks, and Rev wanted to get his eyes on the factory floors before any fighting broke out.

“Yes and no,” Valentyna said.

Rev frowned and asked, “Yes and no? What do you mean?”

“Miko, yes.” She pulled out a ragged piece of cloth and told Tomiko to put it on her head.

Tomiko tied it around like a head scarf. Rev could see in the dim light perfectly well, and he had to admit that the scarf, even as flimsy as it was, did a pretty good job of making Tomiko barely noticeable.

Evidently, Valentyna agreed because she said, “That’ll do.”

“And what about me?” Rev asked.

Niles let out a soft laugh and said, “You’re too big, too fat, and you smell like human food.”

“What? I’m not fat,” he protested.

“Compared to us, you’re obese. We can’t take you out. The jacks’ll spot you.”

Rev turned to Valentyna, who said, “He’s right. We can’t hide you.”

“But Miko?”

“She’s small, and we’ll disguise her.”

Tomiko put her hand on his arm and said, “It’s OK, Rev. I can handle it.”

“But I have to see inside the factory before all hell breaks loose.”

“We’ll just switch. I’ll take the factory, and you take the surrounding grounds.”

“But—”

He’d started to say that the factory was the more dangerous mission, but he’d stopped just in time. If he told her that, she’d not only be pissed at him, but she’d be pushed to take more chances just to prove him wrong.

“I’m the IBHU here. I need to take that mission,” he subvocalized, needing Punch to come up with something to stop the direction in which this was going.

<You’re not an IBHU here.>

He started to argue, only Punch was correct. He just didn’t want Tomiko to risk herself.

<Would you argue if Staff Sergeant Reiser was any other Marine?>

Damn, I hate it when he’s right.

It was one thing to say that they’d treat each other professionally. But she was still his fiancée, and he had that protective gene embedded in his soul.

It took an extreme effort of will not to argue. But there were still questions.

“If I can’t risk going out, how can I brief other work shift leaders? And how’s Miko going to move around?”

“We’ve got two more work shifts, right?” Valentyna asked.

“Three. Yeah.”

“We’ll bring them here, a different one each night. And Miko can come with us to the factory.”

Ah, but you’re forgetting something, Rev thought, happy that he’d found a glitch in their plan.

“But what about the headcount? You said they keep track of that.”

“We’ve got that covered. We’ll just switch someone to bring another work crew rep here. It’ll be a little bit of choreography to keep the jacks from noticing, but they barely pay attention anyway.”

“And Miko?”

Then it dawned on him that the small woman hadn’t said anything so far. He turned to her and said, “You’re taking her place in the hideout with me?”

“You got it, bud. We’re about to be really close for the next three days. I just hope you don’t fart.”

“He does,” Miko said.

“Great. Just my luck. But to get out of here, I’d sleep with a skunk, so I’ll manage.”

16

“The ships are in-system,” Rev said after seeing the message on his quantphone.

“So, this is actually happening,” Valentyna said, her voice terse with excitement. “Somehow, I didn’t think it was real.”

“It’s real, all right.”

“How much time, then, until the fighting starts?”

“It’s probably already started. The noxes—gaunts—had several pickets and more ships in orbit.”

“Can they stop the rescue?”

Rev shook his head. “We’re coming in too heavy. If things go according to plan, then I think we’ll have troops on the ground in less than three hours.”

“But not here,” she said, without a trace of bitterness.

“Not here. But soon.”

Rev had already told her that they were a Priority 3 objective. That meant they had an eight-hour wait at a minimum. More if things didn’t go well at the other objectives. That being the case, they had to keep their people alive for at least eleven more hours.

One of their biggest discussions had been about when to reveal their plan to the general population of prisoners. Too early, and that might initiate revealing what was about to happen to the Naxli. Too late, and they couldn’t organize the people in time. To throw more sand in the gears, the invasion was happening while only four barracks were in their sleep cycle. The rest of the people were spread throughout the industrial complex—where the Naxli were located and where Tomiko was right then.

Between the brain trust, they figured they’d contacted at least one person in three-quarters of the barracks. Hopefully, the rest could be brought in during the expected fighting. It was either that or some would be left behind.

“So, do we start?” Hermes asked as he clutched the small strut he’d smuggled out of the complex.

For someone who’d expressed reservations about how this was being set up, he’d sure developed a militaristic streak to him.

Rev looked at the four sets of eyes that were locked on him. Once he kicked this off, there was no turning back. But he liked to control the narrative, and he knew if he waited, the initiative would be taken out of his hands.

“Let’s do it.”

The five stood, and Niles shouted out, “Everyone! Wake up! Wake up now!”

Six others, who’d been told to stand by but not why, joined the calls. Bodies started to stir, sitting up and rubbing their eyes. People asked what was going on. Not just the prisoners.

“What the hell’s going on?” one of the jacks shouted from their corner by the doorway. He spotted the four and said, “James, is this some of your bullshit?”

“Everybody, get up now!” she screamed, ignoring the jack. “We’re being rescued!”

That caught the attention of those near her. There were disbelieving shouts. There were hopeful shouts. The noise level rose as people got to their feet.

“James, you’re a dead woman,” the jack yelled as he started to push through the people, his rod fully extended.

“You think you’re man enough, Eoch?” Valentyna screamed again, unable to hold in the anger that had been building since she was captured.

The jack started swinging his rod to clear the way, and another jack followed him as they approached.

Rev stepped forward and between Valentyna and the jack. His warrior self, tired of being shunted aside, sang as he took over. And this time, Rev welcomed his embrace like an old friend.

“Get out of the way,” the jack said as he closed the distance.

Rev reached behind him and revealed his rod, the one that had belonged to the jack he and Tomiko had killed.

The jack’s eyes widened, and rage took over his face. He charged forward, the rod held high over his head as prisoners shouted and scattered to get clear of him.

Like most bullies, the jack probably thought of himself as a tough guy, someone who could overpower others. But Rev was a combat, hyper-augmented Marine, not a half-starved slave.

A real fighter would have noted the easy way Rev stood, feet shoulder-width apart, left side facing the man. But from the sneer that shined through his anger, none of that registered.

Rev waited until the man started to bring his baton down before he stepped into the swing, using his left arm to push the man’s arm down and to the side. In the same motion, he brought around his right, transferring all the strength of his hyper-augmented muscles into the last ten centimeters of his baton, which crushed the back of the stumbling man’s skull.

It was over just like that. Rev didn’t need the shocking ability of the rod. The force of the blow was enough, and the jack went straight down, dead before his body hit the floor.

Rev didn’t bother to watch. The follow-through of his blow turned him around, and he kept going as the second jack’s eyes opened wide in surprise and fear. She tried to stop her charge, her feet slipping on the floor.

He could have let her live, but he knew he had to shock the prisoners into action. With two steps, he closed the distance and backhanded the rod, hitting her in the throat and crushing it. The woman went down hard into a sitting position, before dropping her own rod and raising both hands to cover her neck. Her mouth gaped open and shut, but no sound came out. She stared at Rev in despair until she slowly tipped over and fell, her hands never leaving her throat. She kicked twice and went still.

The prisoners around them had been shocked into silence by the violence and the speed at which Rev had acted. But as Rev straightened up, that opened the floodgates. Shouts of both horror and glee filled the barracks.

“You’ve killed us!” a woman wailed as she recoiled from Rev.

Shouts of “What’s going on?” and “What happened?” came from people who weren’t close enough to see through the press of people.

Rev faced the crowd. “Listen up!”

The shouting didn’t pause.

“Listen up!” he screamed, and that was followed by Valentyna, Hermes, and Niles.

The people in the back were still asking what was going on, but near him, Rev thought he might be able to make himself heard.

“I’m Gunnery Sergeant Reverent Pelletier, Perseus Union Marine Corps.”

He realized he must look like a crazed man, with just a pair of ragged pants and blood splattered across his face and chest. But he had to gain control of the crowd.

“I’m here to rescue you.”

Several of those nearest him reacted to that.

“Rescue?”

“Praise the Mother!”

But also, “Bullshit.”

“Listen,” he shouted at the top of his voice. “Right now, Union, Frisian, and Mad Dog ships are in-system. But it’s gonna take them ten, eleven hours to get here. We need to prepare.”

“That’s never going to happen,” the woman who’d said he’d killed them all cried. “The gaunts will come for us.”

Several people shouted in agreement.

“Not if we fight. There’re more than ten thousand of you. And we start now. With them!” he said, pointing to where six of the jacks were standing, nervously looking at the crowd and at the doorway a dozen meters away.

Rev could tell they were weighing their chances of fighting through the relatively few people between them and outside. The prisoners couldn’t afford to let them escape. The Naxli and hivers would know soon enough what was happening, but the longer that took, the better.

Hermes was already moving, screaming at the top of his lungs as he rushed the six jacks, who fell back in a circle, like musk oxen facing a pack of wolves. A couple of people started to follow. Hermes held the strut he’d taken aloft, but as he reached the nearest jack, the woman reached out and poked him in the chest.

Hermes collapsed, his momentum taking him forward and cutting the woman’s feet out from under her, but he was down hard. He convulsed a few times, and white froth spewed from his mouth before he went limp.

“That’s right, try it, you bastards!” one of the other jacks shouted, waving his rod.

The few prisoners who’d started forward stopped in their tracks.

Hell. I can’t let them stop.

With an “Ooh-rah!” Rev started rushing forward. The six had seen what he’d done to the first two, and one broke for the doorway, then another. That was all it took. The six started running.

A prisoner stepped up to stop the first one and was zapped, but someone else reached in and tackled the jack. Both disappeared from sight. Pent-up anger took over, and like a tsunami, the others simply overwhelmed the six jacks. Rev couldn’t make it through the mass of punching, kicking, and biting people as they tore the jacks apart. The zaps of the jack’s rods kept up for a few moments, and prisoners fell, but there was no defense. The pure mass of anger incarnate was too great to overcome. By the time Rev was able to push through to them, the jacks were no more than pulverized pieces of meat, and prisoners held their rods aloft as bloody trophies.

The people had given in to their primeval origins as they danced and hooted their victory. The people in the back, who still didn’t know what was going on, joined in as they found out. Rev tried to organize them, but they paid him no attention in their thirst for blood. The dam had been breached, and there was no getting the water back.

“I can’t control them, Punch. They’re not listening to me.”

<Use them then. Use their rage and guide them to your end.>

“Listen to me!” he shouted. “There’s more we need to do!”

A few people turned to him, but not many.

“We need to help the other barracks! There are more jacks there!”

That got some of their attention, but it took Rev, Valentyna, Niles, and Lizzie to get through to those near the door. Rev still wasn’t sure they’d quite caught on, other than there were more jacks to be killed, but they rushed out, pulling the rest of them in their wake.

The nearest barracks was empty, the people on their work shift. But Rev knew the next one should be full of sleepers. Two jacks were outside, probably alerted by the commotion. As soon as they spotted the mass of people charging in their direction, they took off at a dead run toward the complex. Several of Rev’s people gave chase, but the two had a pretty big head start.

“Well, there goes the element of surprise.”

It probably didn’t matter, anyway. Rev hadn’t seen it, but at least one of the jacks had hit their red patch, which might not give any details but would alert the noxes or hivers that something was up. Rev and Tomiko had hoped to at least secure the barracks before anyone inside the complex realized what was happening, but that had probably been too optimistic.

The prisoners started to enter the next occupied barracks. Hopefully, the people who’d been tasked with staying awake and helping to organize were doing their job.

Just before Rev entered, far down the rows of barracks, people started emerging from one of Tomiko’s buildings.

“Thank the Mother,” he said with relief.

Too many things could have gone wrong, but it looked like she’d prepared her first barracks.

He ducked inside where one of the people from his barracks was trying to rally the inhabitants. A jack was trying to reason with him, but without aggression, while two more stood to the side.

They didn’t have time for reasoning. “I’m Gunnery Sergeant Reverent Pelletier, Perseus Union Marine Corps. We’re in the middle of a rescue, but you have to act now, starting with your jacks.”

He rushed the first dumbfounded jack. Rev didn’t care if the man didn’t defend himself. That just made it easier. His first hit doubled the man over, and as he stood over him, baton raised for the killing blow, a prisoner dove between them.

“No! Hara’s a good one!” he shouted.

Several people grabbed at Rev’s arm. He could have overpowered them, but he was in shock.

“We have to take out the jacks,” he said. “We can’t allow them to seek revenge before the Marines come.”

“That may be true, but not Hara. He’s been protecting us. Kyle and Beeta, too,” one of the women holding his unresisting arm said.

Rev looked at the other two jacks, who were staring at him in horror as they backed away. As soon as he caught their eyes, they reached behind them to grab their batons . . . and immediately dropped them to the ground and raised their hands over their heads.

“Not Knut, that bastard,” another voice called out.

There were shouts in agreement, along with “Where is that fucker?”

The crowd had seemed confused, but the mention of this Knut seemed to galvanize them, and they turned around and started rushing to the rear of the building. Within moments, there were only twenty or thirty people, mostly from the first barracks, still standing around. Rev thought there wouldn’t be any of the second barracks there if it weren’t for the three jacks.

“We’ll let you go if you promise not to hurt Hara,” the woman said again.

Rev could easily have broken free and killed the jack, who was slowly trying to crawl away. His warrior self screamed at him to do just that. But he was here to rescue the humans at this site, and if they wanted to save the three jacks, that was on them.

Evidently, not all of the jacks, though. A voice cut through the hubbub. “There he is!”

Rev couldn’t see the target, only the mass of humans converging on something like a school of piranhas on a tapir. Rev saw some raised arms striking down, and he heard a bloodcurdling scream, which was suddenly cut off.

“They can live. Keep them in your custody,” Rev told them. Then to Niles, “Get them up to speed,”

Leaving the explanations to him, Rev ran out of the barracks with about a dozen people in tow. He still had two more barracks to engage.

But he could see that some of the jacks were not meekly standing by. A phalanx of fifteen appeared from behind one of the barracks, and with close to military precision, charged into the prisoners. Their batons rose and fell, and even from this distance, Rev could see that they were set to kill.

He broke into a sprint, ready to take on the entire group, but the mob was seemingly beyond caring, and revenge was clearly foremost in their minds. They converged on the jacks. First, one fell, then another, and the certainty that the jacks had turned to panic. Rev reached the back of the ravenous mob but turned away. He couldn’t push through them, and the end was a foregone conclusion.

For the next seventeen minutes, according to his timer, the barracks area was a killing field, with the prisoners reacting to each cry of discovery of another jack, shifting this way and then that. Thousands of individual minds were melded together in a common purpose. Rev was sure that most of them didn’t know what was going on, that rescue might be at hand. All they knew was that after years of subjugation, it was payback time.

Finally, as the easily found jacks were killed, the mob began to look for the next target. They turned toward the factories.

Phase 1 of their plan had gone off as well as any military plan he’d ever been part of, which was a minor—no major—miracle.

But they hadn’t faced any Naxli, or hivers, for that matter. With his small army, he started heading for the complex. That was where this battle was going to be decided.

* * *

Several thousand humans stood with Rev in front of one of the entrances to the complex. The mob was no longer in his control, if it had ever been since the first barracks. He was sure that most didn’t know who he was. All they knew was that they had an opportunity to strike back at their captors, and they were going to take it no matter the cost.

That concerned—no, frightened—him. He knew what the Naxli could do to trained soldiers, and while the prisoners had the numbers, this could turn bad quickly.

But first, they had to get inside. The doors were locked, keeping them out. Rev didn’t know what was happening inside the complex, but the fear was that the Naxli would already be cutting their losses and eliminating them.

He tried not to think of Tomiko, who was in there somewhere.

A group of twenty or so prisoners was working on the doors while the rest were chanting as self-appointed leaders and were stirring them up. Rev had no doubt that the moment the doors were opened, they’d charge through without regard for the consequences.

The Marine command had been concerned that the prisoners would be beaten down too far to be able to mount any sort of resistance. It looked to Rev, however, that they’d been beaten down so far that they didn’t care anymore, and that revenge might be even more important than freedom.

It served the overall picture. Rev feared the potential consequences, though. He tried to take charge, but very few people were listening to the big, ragged person standing among them. A few actually caught what he was saying, but most of his shouting was lost in the clamor.

With a crash, the doors fell inward. A cheer rose from the mob, and the crush of humanity pressed forward. Rev was caught up in the tsunami of human flesh.

People fell, only to be stomped on by hundreds of feet. Others fell over the bodies to add to the problem. Rev tried to pull up one person, but the press from behind pushed him along.

Four hivers and a jack rushed forward. They seemed to realize their mistake too late. Rev had a brief glimpse of them being overwhelmed.

Back when Rev was in secondary school, the Broker’s Neck area in Anastasia had been hit by a flood. The rain-swollen waters had picked up hovers and buses as if they were children’s toys and carried them along the torrent, knocking down trees, kiosks, and anything else that got in its way.

That’s what this was. Nothing could stop the mass rush until . . .

The front of the mob went down en masse as if they were dropped by a massive scythe. The next line went down, either tripping over the front or by the same thing. Shouts of anger turned to screams of terror. The middle of the mob, where Rev was, started to slow, but the pressure behind them kept pushing them forward.

A familiar and heart-dropping sound cut through the screams. A Naxli BFG was firing, the rounds tearing through human flesh.

The screams from in front began to reach those in the rear, and the forward momentum ground to a halt.

Then Rev spotted it. A single human-form Naxli was standing in the path of the mob, firing its weapon in steady bursts.

The Naxli had a sword strapped to its back, but evidently, mere human prisoners didn’t rate such an honorable death. Rev knew there was only one option.

He pushed through the side of the press of humans who were now trying to retreat. “Gnista!”

At first he didn’t think the Naxli heard him, but after another burst from its BFG that dropped another six or seven humans, it stopped and slowly turned to its right from where Rev was trying to reach it.

“Gnista!” Rev shouted once more, hefting his baton.

“Give me the words again, Punch!”

<I offer standard warrior gnist, without the “a” of “gnista.”>

“I offer standard warrior gnist,” he shouted.

Rev wasn’t sure if the Naxli understood Standard, but after a moment, it said, “What do you, human, know of gnist?”

Of course, it would speak Standard. Rev had gotten used to Naxli being unable to understand the main human language, but before that, all of the Naxli who’d attacked humans in human space had shown fluency in it.

“I have fought in gnist before.”

He wasn’t sure if he had the terminology correct, but the Naxli understood his meaning. “And yet you are standing here before me.”

Rev didn’t respond but took another step forward, going over a body. Around him, the same people who’d been trying to retreat seemed to get their nerve up again now that the Naxli wasn’t firing. Some started tentatively edging forward.

“No! This one is mine! Keep back,” Rev shouted, waving his left arm.

Rev couldn’t miss the look of disdain as the Naxli swept its gaze across the wall of people.

“I offer standard warrior gnist,” he challenged again.

The warrior glanced at the baton in Rev’s hand, then with one last warning glance at the other people, slid its rifle into the scabbard on its thigh and slowly drew its sword from the one on its back.

Once again, some of the prisoners started to edge forward, and Rev had to shout them back. The only thing keeping the warrior from slaughtering them right now was the challenge.

With the challenge evidently accepted, Rev tried to think back to his classes with Swordmaster Reggie, but that was a long time ago, and he hadn’t been actually keeping in practice. He hefted the baton a few times with his right arm, trying to get a better feel for its weight.

The baton was made of some synthetic material. He didn’t know how well it would stand up to the Naxli sword’s cutting edge.

I guess I’ll find out.

He started stalking forward, hoping to force the Naxli to react, but the warrior stood easy and relaxed as if it wasn’t concerned in the least, its sword held to the side and pointing down.

Arrogant bastard. I’m not some broken-down prisoner. I’ve beaten you shifters before, and I’ll do it again.

At ten meters, Rev broke into a rush, baton ready for a quick strike, when the Naxli touched its wrist, and fire exploded in Rev’s hand. His muscles went rigid, and he couldn’t breathe as he crashed face-first onto the floor at the Naxli’s feet.

His mind couldn’t comprehend what had happened. It was as if he was slammed into another plane of existence. All he knew was pain.

“Punch!” he cried out, or tried to. He couldn’t tell if he was able to subvocalize or not.

There was no answer.

And the fire stopped, but his body felt as if a Centaur paladin had run him over. He was in a million pieces, and nothing seemed to work.

As his vision began to come back, he saw the Naxli’s feet casually step closer. He couldn’t raise his head, but he let his anger focus on the thing’s boots, which looked surprisingly like any human boot.

“Hreetz,” he heard as if from kilometers away.

The boots turned out as if the Naxli had paused to look at the other humans to savor how easily it had taken Rev down.

“No!” he grunted. Or maybe he only thought it. All he knew was that he wasn’t going to die like this. He was a Marine, a warrior. If he was going to fall, he was going to go down fighting.

With an inhuman force of will, Rev reached for the baton with his prosthetic left hand and closed the fingers, seemingly undamaged, around the base. As if drawing strength from it, Rev struggled to his knees. He raised his head just as the Naxli turned back to him.

Rev could sense the thing’s surprise.

That’s right, asshole. I’m coming for you.

But the Naxli didn’t rush into a killing stroke. It seemed more curious than concerned as Rev managed to get his feet under him and stand.

“Punch, what’s the damage?”

His battle buddy remained quiet, and for the first time a jolt of fear replaced his anger. Not fear for himself but for Punch. Rev had been cut off from him once before, by the Omega Division, but this was different.

“You killed Punch!” he snarled as he felt rage give him strength and start to wash away whatever had been done to him.

“I’ve killed many humans. As I will kill you,” it said.

It still made no move to actually do that as it stood just five meters away.

Rev tried to focus on the Naxli’s neck. He could feel that he had some control, that he could give commands to his prosthetic arm, but he knew he’d have one shot. The question was if he was even able to connect, did he have enough power to do any damage.

There was only one way to find out. He took a step forward, and the Naxli seemed more bemused than anything else. Rev took a breath, then another step forward.

“Sometimes, you humans surprise me. You could be an honorable foe. But not today.”

It moved to touch its upper left wrist again. Rev steeled himself for the pain, determined to push through, but nothing happened. The Naxli gave a half-step back and hit the control on its wrist again.

And again, nothing happened. No fire. No paralysis.

“You stupid fuck!” Rev said as he realized what was going on. “It’s my prosthesis!”

Instead of raising its sword, instead of drawing its rifle, the Naxli wasted a precious few seconds trying to shock Rev, unaware that his prosthetic arm was absorbing whatever the baton did to human flesh. And that gave Rev the precious two seconds he needed. He closed the distance with two steps, and just as the Naxli realized its mistake and started to reach for its rifle, Rev, with the full power of his prosthetic arm unabated, smashed the baton into the base of the Naxli’s neck.

The force of the swing knocked Rev off of his unsteady feet, and he spun before falling to the ground. He hit hard but landed so that the limp body of the Naxli fell right into his field of view.

It wasn’t dead, and Rev knew he had to act. But his body was having problems obeying his commands.

He’d lost the baton, and he used his left arm to push up when his group of prisoners, who’d been watching in silence, broke into a primeval roar and surged forward. A few rushed to help him and pull him back, but the rest descended upon the barely moving Naxli. Rev lost sight of his opponent as it was swarmed and torn apart. The guttural growls made him shudder.

Several people helped him to his feet. He stumbled and almost fell down, but the same hands kept him upright. They were urging him forward, which was his plan. Tomiko and her prisoners would be somewhere within the complex, and he needed to consolidate everyone, both for safety and to facilitate the load out when it came.

His head was a little fuzzy, and he needed to make sure he was OK.

He tried again. “Punch, give me a status check.”

Nothing.

“Punch, status check,” he said aloud this time.

Still nothing.

Concern—no, a bit of panic started taking over.

“Punch? You there? Come to me, buddy.”

But there was nothing, and Rev was afraid. He couldn’t imagine life without him. He was groggy from getting zapped, but if he was alive and able to function, then how could Punch, who was made of crystal, be damaged?

He stood there trying to bring up his battle buddy while the prisoners swarmed around him and deeper into the factory complex. They jostled him as they rushed forward. Several shouted at him to go with them, but he put his hands over his ears. Punch connected via his auditory cortex, not his ears, but he tried to shut out the distractions. He tried to bring up table talk, but he didn’t know how to activate his mental keyboard. Punch always did that.

More sounds of gunfire and screams reached him. The Naxli were killing the other shifts, and his dwindling group of prisoners reacted, rushing into the next section. Rev needed Punch, but he had to act. He couldn’t let the prisoners do this alone.

Every minute helped Rev’s recovery, but he was still suffering the effects. That didn’t mean he could let up, though. He had to save as many people as he could. He kept up with his core group as they passed through the connecting tunnel into the next hall.

Four Naxli were standing over thirty or forty humans who’d been shot. A couple were groaning and struggling to crawl away as the Naxli moved among them with their swords and finished them off.

Rev’s prisoners screamed in fury at the sight and started charging, but they were too far away. Rev tried to force his legs to close the distance quicker as the Naxli saw them and raised their rifles. He threw his baton, hoping to distract them, when they opened fire.

The round hit Rev in the neck. He’d been shot many times before, but this time, he wasn’t in a PAL. He didn’t have any body armor. The round tore out the right side of his throat, taking part of his carotid with it.

Rev went down hard and slid a couple of meters. Bodies of his fellow humans fell around him. He tried to raise his right hand to his neck, but it refused to obey his commands.

His legs feebly tried to push him forward, but his knees kept slipping in something wet. It took him a few moments to realize the wetness was his blood.

Rev wasn’t panicking, which he thought was rather odd. He knew he was hurt badly. But it was almost an out-of-body experience, as if he was floating above himself, watching him bleed out.

First Punch, then me. That sucks.

He almost laughed at his usage of “sucks,” which was a vast understatement, but that started him coughing, which sent a torrent of blood out of his mouth.

Still, there was no panic. Just regret. Regret that Tomiko would be alone. Regret that he was leaving his family, that he wouldn’t be able to watch Kat as she went through her career. Regret that Punch was gone.

Even without Punch, he knew his medinanos would be rushing to the hole in his neck to try and repair the damage, but he’d seen enough death to know the damage was too much. If he could put pressure on it . . .

He tried, but even his prosthesis wasn’t obeying his commands.

His vision was getting blurry, but he could see the Naxli start to walk among them, finishing them off with their swords. Niles raised one arm and gave the finger to his executioner as the Naxli punched through the fatal blow.

Rev tried to muster the strength to do the same, but he was helpless.

That’s lying on the floor and helpless twice in ten minutes, Reverent. Only this time, I really don’t have an option.

The prisoner next to Rev looked to be dead already, but the Naxli moved to her and made sure with its sword. It withdrew the blade, which was dripping blood, and looked around for the next one. Rev thought it was probably going to be him, and he mentally braced himself.

The Naxli spun around, started to reach for its rifle, then raised its sword, which Rev thought was a rather odd procedure. He wondered if he was hallucinating, or maybe he was already dead, and this was the result of the last gasps of his synapses as life left.

Something small flew through the air, just missing the sword being raised, and hit the Naxli in the chest, knocking it back.

No, not something.

Someone.

Now Rev knew for sure he was hallucinating. It looked like Tomiko, but as an avenging angel, clad in white and shining with fire.

Almost out of his line of sight, the angel Tomiko spun around the Naxli, legs encircling the thing’s neck as she pounded on the head. Beside her, a mass of demons . . . angels . . . Rev couldn’t tell . . . rampaged.

I never thought death would be like this. Is this hell?

Whatever it was, Rev was sinking into it. His angel passed from his view, and his vision constricted. Things started to get fuzzy, as if he was surrounded by cotton. He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but something was pestering him, something annoying.

“Let me alone,” he tried to say.

“Rev!”

He just wanted peace and quiet, but he didn’t have the energy anymore to protest.

“Rev! You’re not going to leave me alone, you bastard. Wake the fuck up!”

That was weird, he thought before he faded away.

17

Rev came to to a gray nothingness, and panic started to set in. The complacency of a few moments before was gone. He struggled to move, only then realizing that his eyes were shut.

Glued shut, it seemed like. It took a concentrated effort to tear them open to a white light above his head.

“Am I dead?” he croaked out, his throat raw and constricted.

“Hell, no,” someone said as if it were off in the distance.

He tried to turn to the words, but that shot a dagger of pain through his neck.

“Easy, big boy,” the voice came back.

He became aware of someone holding his hand. “Miko?”

“The one and only, Rev.”

She stood and leaned over, moving into his field of view.

“What . . .” he said, or tried to. Talking sent waves of pain that threatened to explode out the top of his head.

“What happened to you? You forgot to duck. I had to come save your sorry ass,” she said.

Rev’s mind was muddled as if his thoughts were wading through quicksand with the risk of being dragged back under. But still, he could hear the pride in her voice mixed with concern over him.

She leaned closer and, in a softer voice, said, “It took out half of your neck, Rev. You bled out.”

Now Rev was more confused. Bled out? So, I did die, and now I’ve been resurrected?

“Zombie?” he managed to get out.

Tomiko laughed and said, “No, being resurrected is a lot more painful than what you’re feeling. Believe me. I know. But I got to you and put pressure on your neck long enough for your nanos to close off the major damage. You were close to buying the farm, Rev, but you’re a strong bastard, and you hung in there. One of the prisoners helped, too. He was a doctor before he was captured. Then it was just waiting for the cavalry.”

Rev knew it hadn’t been as easy as that. If he’d really bled out, or almost bled out, then he should be dead. His medinanos could inject artificial red blood cells to help with getting oxygen to his brain, but that assumed he had enough plasma to be pumped through his body. Even if there was a doctor, what could he have done without medical equipment? And their position at the site was low on the totem pole, so it had to have taken hours or even days for anyone else to reach them.

Without moving his neck, he used his eyes to glance down at her hands, but they weren’t covered in blood. They were clean, and it was only then that he realized he was in a set of Frisian Navy overalls.

“How long?”

He saw a flash of darkness cross past her eyes, and her voice sank a few notes. “Two days until the fries got there. Another half day to get you here onboard. Then you’ve been kept under for four more days so the doc could insert some synth blood vessels to tide you over.”

A . . . It took his muddled brain a moment to add that up. A week? What was Pu—

“Shit, Punch, you there?”

There was a delay that made Rev’s heart drop. How could I have forgotten?

Rev’s panic was rising before his battle buddy said, <I’m here.>

That was it. No elaboration. And while Punch had never uttered a word out loud, his “voice” was flat and toneless.

“What happened to you? Are you OK?” he asked, his urgency and the fact that he was subvocalizing overriding his difficulty in speaking aloud.

<I took some damage before my fail-safe kicked in and cut me off. Without that happening, there’s a high probability that I might have been irreparably damaged.>

“But you’re OK?”

He didn’t sound OK to Rev. He wasn’t the same, sometimes cynical, joke-telling battle buddy he’d come to depend on.

<I am functional, but there was some damage that is currently being repaired.>

Like all AIs, Punch had a limited degree of self-repair capabilities. But that didn’t sound good to Rev, not just the words but in the way Punch was stating it.

“Are you, you know, you?”

<I think I am. But I guess you can say I blew a fuse,> Punch said in table talk.

Rev felt a sudden wave of relief. The letters jiggled and flickered a bit, but the words sounded like Punch. The humor wasn’t good, but it was an attempt.

“Damn, I’m glad you’re still with me,” he said in table talk before switching to his normal subvocalization. “Keep me informed about your progress.”

<I will.>

“ . . . said you were about as close as you could come without going over the line,” Tomiko was saying.

“What?”

“Did you hear anything I was saying?” she asked, looking concerned.

Rev had long ago mastered the ability to converse with Punch while keeping track of what others were saying, something he couldn’t necessarily do with two people. He thought it had something to do with how closely he and Punch were connected. But either because his mind was still fuzzy or because he’d been so concerned about his battle buddy that he had no idea what Tomiko had just said.

“No. Sorry.”

She leaned over and put a hand on his forehead. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve been through a lot, baby. But you’ll be better. The fry doctor said you’re out of the woods now. All of this is temporary, but once we get you back to Safe Harbor, they’ll get you fixed up but good.”

She stroked his forehead a few times, and with a tender look on her face, said, “I’ve got to say, though, you really look like shit.”

It was so out of the blue that Rev laughed, which wasn’t the best of ideas. He started coughing, and a Frisian Navy nurse immediately stepped up and adjusted a machine next to his bed. Within moments, a warm flow of comfort enveloped him, and the coughing ceased.

Rev’s vision started to narrow, and Tomiko started to fade out as if a heavy mist had suddenly popped up around his bed. But this time, it seemed like a warm, comforting mist.

“You’re going to have to leave now, Staff Sergeant,” the nurse said. “He needs his rest.”

“No, I’ll just sit quietly,” Tomiko protested.

Her hand left his forehead, and Rev was about the slip away when an urgent question suddenly forced its way to the front.

He reached out and grabbed Tomiko’s arm, keeping her from stepping away. “Prisoners? How many?” he barely got out as the pain, though dulled, still broke through the drugs.

He could no longer make out her face, but he heard her say, “We saved over eight hundred, Rev. And overall, I’m hearing a hundred and eighty thousand. All off the planet and heading home.”

He tried to do the math, but he just wasn’t up to it, and he was fading fast. It took a tremendous force of will to keep conscious.

“Dead?”

“More than four hundred from our prisoners. We’re trying to get the numbers now,” she said quietly.

Or maybe she was speaking normally, and he was just slipping into unconsciousness. But there was one vital question that was keeping him going.

“Aida?” he managed to get out, barely a whisper.

But Tomiko heard, and she took his hand off of her arm and clasped it between her two hands. “We got her, Rev. She’s aboard, and we’ll get her home to her son.”

With that, Rev let go. It was a little thing, one victim among the tens of thousands of them. But to him, and more importantly, to Aida’s son back on Waha, it was both personal and vitally important.

Promises kept.

* * *

Rev examined himself in the mirror. He looked like he had a goiter on his neck. He never knew what a goiter was until a still-recovering Punch pulled up an image from centuries ago when the affliction was still a thing.

“This is gross,” he told Punch.

<It is only temporary. You’ll have surgery at the Naval Hospital, Anastasia,> his battle buddy said in the same, almost monotone he’d been using since Rev had regained consciousness.

He already knew he was heading for the hospital. But ever since his hyper-augments, he’d been slightly self-conscious about the changes to his body that gave him a somewhat lumpy appearance. This went above and beyond that.

The Frisian ship’s surgeon had stabilized the wound, completely removing a large section of his half-shredded left carotid artery and replacing it with an artificial one. Then, to protect it and support the destroyed musculature and connective tissue, he’d filled the area with mesh and support rods, then covered it with plastiderm.

After pumping Rev full of real and artificial plasma, blood thinners, and infection-fighting micronanos, he’d left Rev on his own with orders to keep quiet and not exert himself.

Rev reached up and fingered the edge of the plastiderm where it overlapped his real skin. Like a scab, he’d been worrying it. He knew he should leave it alone, but he couldn’t help himself. Punch had admonished him twice but had evidently given up trying to mother him.

Rev pinched the edge of the skin, which he’d worried free, and pulled back just a bit. Whatever the doc used to make it adhere to his real skin was pretty strong. Pulling slowly did nothing. The synthetic patch refused to give up its grasp.

Screw it.

He gave it a yank, ripping a good three centimeters free before he let go. The flap now bent over a tiny bit, hanging loosely. He grabbed the edges again and carefully pulled it back. A tiny bit of his ravaged flesh was visible, which was weirdly mesmerizing. But he couldn’t see much. And he wanted to see.

He pulled back a little more. The plastiderm wasn’t attached to the raw tissue, so it came free slightly easier.

<You are exposing your tissue to possible pathogens.>

“That’s why we have micronanos, Punch.”

He angled his head so the mirror light shined in at a better angle and eased it just a little more, and there it was, visible under the clear mesh support. The synthetic artery was a bright, traffic vest orange.

It both fascinated and repulsed him, which was odd as his body was chock full of synthetic materials. But to know that his blood was flowing through that bit of tubing and keeping him alive was disquieting. He could reach in with his fingers and pinch it off.

He probably wouldn’t die. His right carotid was undamaged, and the surgeon had shunted some of that blood flow to the left side of the brain, but blood thinners or not, he could still suffer some more brain damage on top of what he already had.

It wouldn’t be good, but for some perverse reason, he had an urge to do just that. Maybe that was the brain damage taking over because it sure wasn’t a rational thought.

“Leave it alone, Rev. It’s not a pimple to pop.”

Rev spun around, guilt burning inside him. Tomiko had just entered his little stateroom.

“I . . . I . . .” he croaked, the damage to his vocal cords limiting how much he could articulate.

At least with the pain blockers, he wasn’t tortured each time he tried to talk, but the mechanics of speech were off.

“You just couldn’t leave it alone, I know.” She took his chin in her hand and turned his head so she could see what he’d done as she frowned and shook her head.

“I saw . . . fake . . . artery.”

“Artery” sounded more like “arty,” but he knew she understood.

Her eyes lit up despite her trying to give him a disapproving look.

“You want?”

Her eyes lit up, and she moved closer. “Of course, I want to see.”

Rev half-knelt and leaned in closer to her. He pulled open the loose part of the plastiderm. She put her hands on his chest and positioned herself to see, then pushed back with a “Gross!”

But that didn’t stop her from looking again. “I can see the fake one. Holy crap! And that mesh stuff, is that what I have?”

All direct combat Marines had ballistic mesh implanted at various places in the body, including the neck. The surgeon had told Rev that his had contributed to saving his life. But this was the medical mesh to help protect the synthetic artery until he could get complete medical treatment.

“No. Just for this,” he said, waving his prosthesis to take in his entire neck.

“Oh, by the Mother, you don’t know how much I want to touch it,” she said.

Rev jerked back, but she added, “Don’t worry. I won’t. But this is uber-cool. But how do you feel now?” she asked as she stepped back.

It had been a day and a half since Rev had regained consciousness, and the difference was striking. He was still a little groggy, and he had trouble not only with the physical aspect of speaking but even recalling simple words. The doctor said that was normal given the TIAs, or “mini-strokes,” he called them, that he’d suffered. But he also assured Rev that the damage was repairable and that he should get all of his mental functions back.

“Good. Good,” he said.

He mimed flexing his bicep to show his strength was returning.

“And your leg?”

Rev hadn’t realized that he’d also taken a round to his right thigh. He wasn’t sure when that had happened. But it was a simple score along the epidermis, his subdermal spider web deflected it. The ship’s surgeon had cleaned it, then patched it up, leaving Rev’s nanos to knit the damage back together.

He gave her a thumbs-up. Then he paused for a moment. He really hadn’t had much time to talk to Tomiko since yesterday, and not just because of his problem speaking. He’d spent most of the day in the ship’s sickbay, while she’d been preparing her reports. At the surgeon’s insistence, he’d been given a private stateroom, and he’d slept for over ten hours during his sleep cycle.

But there was something he had to tell her.

“Thanks, Miko.”

“For what?”

“Saving me.”

Rev knew now that the body that had knocked the Naxli back was hers. Without a doubt, she’d saved his life.

Just under half of the Marines who’d inserted early had not survived the mission. Some were undergoing the resurrection process, but Punch was not able to search out their status. Thirteen were permanently dead. And with the amount of time they had to wait for the Frisians to appear, Rev would have made that number fourteen.

For a moment, she seemed embarrassed, and she tried to brush it off. “You’re my beau. What was I supposed to do?”

“Guess we’re even,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows at that, and the embarrassed Tomiko disappeared. “Even? You think you’re even?”

Rev was confused, and he said, “I thought . . . you know . . .”

“Yes, I know you dragged my frozen body around, and that’s worthy of a thanks, I guess. But I went full ninja for you and took on a fucking nox warrior with just these,” she said, holding up her hands.

What the . . .

But then he saw the twinkle in her eyes.

“Could have left you,” he said as he shrugged. “Just ice.”

“Little ole’ me? I mass, what, thirty kilos?”

“Sixty.”

“I’ve never weighed sixty kilos in my life. Maybe fifty, and that’s only because of my augments. And there’s another difference. I saved you! No dying. No months of resurrection therapy. I saved you from that torture. Yes, torture. What do you have to do? Get a piece of industrial tubing in your neck and a bad case of the mumps. Pfft. The doc said you’ll be good as new in a month.”

Rev wanted to come back with some quick repartee, but his mind was a little slow, and there was no way he could keep up with her prattle.

“No siree, Reverent, my boy, we are not even. Not even close. You get to be the hero all the time, but this time, I beat you. I’m the number one, A-OK, super-duper hero.”

She flexed both arms in her best beach pose.

Rev laughed, which shot a flash of pain through his neck that got past the blockers. He recoiled, and Tomiko’s teasing turned to concern.

“You OK?” she asked.

Rev stepped back and bent over at the waist for a moment before straightening. He pointed at his throat but didn’t bother to explain.

Tomiko reached up and tried to press the loose plastiderm back onto his skin. “Hell, Rev. I’m going to have to find some duct tape or something to close that back up,” she said, concern evident on her face and all jovial bluster gone.

The pain had already faded, and Rev pulled his fiancée in for a hug. “Thanks.”

She put her arms around his waist and gave him a surprisingly strong return hug. “OK, Rev. We’re even.”

18

Rev stepped onto the platform. It was good to be back at Camp Nguyen. He’d half-expected someone to meet him as he left the hospital, but for what? A ride back on the mag to the base’s main station, then the tram to Reyes?

He’d been at the hospital for eleven days. The surgeons there removed the temporary fix with his neck, then implanted a permanent carotid and repaired the damage. If he were a civilian, then they might have started growing a new carotid, but as a Marine—and a Marine who was already full of augments—the decision was made to go synthetic.

The synthetics Rev had refused were vocal cords. The flesh techs had planned to supplement his undamaged cords with artificial ones, but Rev had heard Marines who’d had that done, and to him, there was always an unnatural sound to their speech. He’d opted for them to grow his own cords, and in the meantime, he’d make do with what was left from his originals.

“She sells seashells,” he said as he stood on the platform.

He got a strange look from a private, but Rev didn’t care. The speech therapist had given him over fifty exercises, and he was going to make sure he kept up with them until his own cords were implanted. His voice was off, and some sounds tended to run together, but at least he could hold a full conversation.

The damage to his neck could have been addressed in two or three days, but the damage to his brain took longer. He’d undergone a series of cognitive tests, and his treatment was begun. But his medical team wanted to monitor him for a little longer before they cleared him for duty.

Rev felt he was fine, but he was forgetting some basic things. He didn’t mention that to the doctors, though, and he barely acknowledged it to himself.

The platform was midway between the brig and the Camp Reyes gate, a short two-minute walk away. The weather was crisp, and the air smelled of pines. After the stench of the prison barracks, then the sterile ship and hospital, he felt invigorated as he walked into the camp. Several people recognized him and waved, but most of the Marines, soldiers, Legionnaires, and others were new to him. Bundy had told him there were some new joins when he came to visit him at the hospital, but from the looks of things, the soon-to-be major had underplayed just how many.

Rev checked in to admin, letting them know he was back. He was entered into the log and told to report in to his company. But Rev had a detour to make first. He slipped behind the CP, walked across the industrial area, and scanned himself into the armory.

“Look who the cat dragged in,” Daryll said as he entered.

“What are you doing here?” Rev asked. “Slumming?” before he stepped over to the tech and gave him a back-slapping hug.

Daryll gave Rev a surprised look after hearing his voice. The long-time Sieben IBHU tech had been elevated to a company position before the combined force was formed, so Rev was surprised to see him back here in the brigade IBHU armory.

“Got my ass fired, so I’m hiding out.”

Filmore, the second tech, rolled his eyes and said, “He chose to come back. Took a pay cut, too, to do it. Idiot.”

Rev raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I’m not suited to sit at a desk. I asked to come back.”

“And about the cut in pay?”

He shrugged and then said, “You can only spend so much in life.”

“And I can spend a helluva lot,” Filmore said.

“We heard you took a nasty round,” Daryll said as he eyeballed the still-shiny skin graft on his neck.

It would remain that way until Rev’s own skin finished knitting under the graft matrix.

“Forgot to duck.”

“Staff Sergeant Reiser came in and told us. It sounded a little hairier than that,” Daryll said.

“I’m fine. My voice is a little screwed up, but it’ll mend.”

“No biggie. So, what can we do for you? Alpha’s coming back from the field tomorrow. Are you going out to join them?”

“No. I just came in to, you know, check on Pashu.”

Daryll gave a knowing smile and said, “Just hang out here for a sec, and I’ll get her for you.”

He punched in the command on his console, and the overhead rack whirled into motion. The IBHU armory had improved quite a bit since the beginning when no one really knew how to manage them. It had been learn as you go.

But now, the tracks on the ceiling started moving, and less than thirty seconds later, Rev’s IBHU was carried into the main workroom. He felt a rush of emotion, something he tried to hide. But it sure felt good to see her there.

“I gave her a one-oh-four last week. Everything’s in the ninety-nines,” Filmore said.

The “one-oh-four” was the full inspection, which had 104 different checks. “In the ninety-nines” meant that every test reached the ninety-nine percent readiness level.

Rev stepped up and gave Pashu a lover’s stroke. “Can I put her on?”

“She’s your IBHU,” Daryll said with a soft chuckle.

Rev reached up and fumbled a bit, disengaged his prosthesis, then handed it to Filmore.

“I thought you had one of those old-time metallic arms,” the tech said. “This is a really good model.”

Like most Marines and former Marines, Rev wore an older “social arm,” one with a shiny, metallic skin. It was almost a tribal custom, one that had given rise to their “Sibs in Steel” salute.

“Couldn’t fit in for the mission with that,” Rev mumbled, but his eyes were on Pashu. “I’ll put the Rycroft arm back on as soon as I can.”

The new conveyor system lifted the IBHU off of the rack and presented it to him. Rev turned and backed into place. Old habits drove him to adjust himself and slide in, but with this setup, it was best to remain still. The rack aligned the IBHU with his arm and snicked it in.

The connection flooded Rev’s senses.

“Here we go, Punch,” he said. “Run a check, please.”

Punch never quite seemed to approve of Pashu. It was almost as if he was jealous. But he complied as Rev put her through the motions, reveling in the sensations. It had been too long, and he hadn’t realized how much he had missed her.

Perhaps it was because he’d essentially been naked on the prison planet, but with her on his arm, he felt powerful again. He felt like he could take on all of the Naxli in the galaxy.

Punch confirmed what Filmore had told him, and Rev said, “She sure feels good.” He targeted the far side of the armory and drew on the locker there a few times. “Smooth, as always. I can’t wait to fire her.”

“On the range, I hope,” Daryll said.

“Of course! What do you think . . . oh, very funny, Daryll. Ha-fucking-ha.”

“Well, it looked like you were having an orgasm right there, so, you never know with you Marines.”

Filmore rolled his eyes, and Rev felt his face turn red. “I just wanted to check on her status. And now that I’ve done that, I’ll be getting to the company.”

“Hey, you can make love to her all afternoon if you want,” Filmore said.

“No, I’m done.”

He backed into the harness, and the autocarrier came down and removed her from his shoulder. He felt a small pang as she disconnected, and her display readings went dark.

* * *

Blue Master Lynthnic was in the company office when Rev entered. “Gunny! Good to see you back. We’ve heard . . . things!”

“From Staff Sergeant Reiser?”

“Mostly from Staff Sergeant Hussein.”

Rev perked up at that. Hussein had been at another objective, and they’d been on different ships during the lift back. He knew his old friend had survived the mission, but he was looking forward to hearing his account.

“What are you doing here, Lynthnic? I thought you’d punched your golden ticket back home.”

“Well, you know how it is, Gunny. Your Navy medicine is pretty darn good, and they’ve fixed me up. I’m almost ready to be combat certified again. And until then, I help man the office.”

Lynthnic had been hurt pretty badly, and Rev would have expected him to have been taken back to his home planet once the Naval Hospital had taken care of the more serious injuries.

There had been rumors that Lynthnic had hooked up with that Legionnaire in Fourth Platoon.

What was her name? Cay . . . Cu . . . Crap!

He hated that he was still having memory and recall problems.

“And this sudden rush of duty didn’t have anything to do with a certain Legionnaire, did it?”

His face flushed, and he said, “Caporal Cadieux is just a friend, Gunny.”

Rev stared at the Frisian, who couldn’t meet his eyes. “OK, you just keep saying that, and somebody might believe you.”

He laughed, then said, “Admin told me the company’s out in the field.”

“Coming in tomorrow,” the still-flustered Lynthnic said.

“Good enough. I’m going to my office for a few hours to try and catch up.”

“Sure thing. I’ll let you know if anything needs your attention.”

Rev started to leave the company office when the Frisian said, “Oh, we’ve got a new IBHU. Just checked in. Do you want to meet her?”

New IBHU?

Rev knew that they were still getting replacements, but he hadn’t heard of more IBHUs. Then again, he’d been a little out of the loop lately.

“Punch?”

<Corporal Micky Cocker.>

“Corporal? As in she earned it, or she got it for accepting an IBHU?”

<I don’t have that information available to me. But from her age, I would surmise the latter.>

Oh, great. Just what I need.

He sighed and told Lynthnic, “Yeah. Send her over.”

Rev hadn’t had much luck with the ready-made corporals. Their mortality rate had been high, and their effectiveness limited. He’d recommended that the program be stopped, or at least the new IBHUs be brought in as privates, just like every other Marine, and after their full training pipeline.

But with the urgent need for more IBHUs, some civilian, probably, thought an IBHUs firepower would make up for a lack of training and basic warrior aptitude.

Rev entered his office. The chair was pushed away from the desk, and that somehow made Rev feel violated. He knew Yancey had taken over the platoon while he was gone, but couldn’t he have at least put the chair back under the desk when he left?

He pulled the chair back and sat down. In some ways, it was as if he’d never left.

And . . .

Rev opened the top drawer, and there, right where he’d left it, was a pack of Draco Bars. Rev didn’t eat much geedunk—snack food—but he’d grown to like the chocolate and raspberry jelly bars. He’d meant to bring the six bars along with him on the ship going out, but in the quick onload, he’d forgotten and left them behind.

He reached in and pulled one out. The food in the hospital was good, but it wasn’t what he was necessarily in the mood for, and it certainly wasn’t geedunk. Rev snapped off the right side of the package and removed the bar. A puff of raspberry aroma—one of the company’s little tricks—filled the air.

Rev was going to just enjoy the smell for a few moments, but he couldn’t wait. With a quick bite, he took a third of the bar in his mouth, where the deep, slightly bitter chocolate and the sweet raspberry seemed to fight each other for precedence.

He took his time to savor the bite, letting his senses loose. He took another bite when there was a rap on the door.

Rev shoved the half-eaten candy bar in the drawer and slammed it closed, then guiltily shouted, “Enter.”

Punch hadn’t pulled up a holo of Corporal Cocker, so he didn’t have any mental image of what she looked like. But he knew he didn’t expect this.

The corporal was older than he’d expected. And more . . . grandmotherly. Somewhat on the short side, she didn’t exude a deadly fighter vibe. More like eccentric cat lady.

She centered herself on his desk, and at the position of attention, said, “Corporal Cocker, reporting to the platoon sergeant.”

“Uh . . . save that for the officers, Corporal,” Rev said while his mind screamed, What the hell? Just who are they accepting into the program?

She went to parade rest, and Rev said, “Stand easy. Uh . . . when did you report in?”

“This morning, sir. I mean, Gunnery Sergeant.”

He could sense that she was nervous and trying to make a good impression, so he stood, walked around the desk, and pointed to one of the two chairs along the wall before taking the other. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been thrust into the situation. His job was now to make sure she was trained up as much as she could be.

She was almost sitting at attention as Rev asked if she was getting settled in OK. He asked her about her background: from Oriway, where she’d lived all her life, an accountant, widowed but with three adult children and two grandchildren. He could have asked Punch for all of that, but he wanted to break the ice. She’d had one of the new, but still rare, autoimmune diseases, which had cost her her right arm (along with her right hip and hearing in one ear), and that qualified her for the IBHU.

Once he asked about her IBHU, her demeanor changed. A glow came over her face. “Chupacabra. Sweet peas,” she said, the “sweet peas” Rev vaguely remembered was a catchphrase from an old holovid series from decades ago.

“Chupacabra” was an interesting name for an IBHU, especially from a grandmother. Dark and foreboding with just the hint of evil.

She then dived into the IBHUs performance, using some technical terms that Rev wasn’t familiar with. Her enthusiasm rose as she went on until her eyes seemed to center on his I Love Me wall behind the desk. She suddenly stopped her praise of her IBHU and looked at Rev in obvious embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry. I just saw your holo there. That’s you with the other azris,” she said with an awkward laugh.

“What the heck is an azri?” he asked Punch.

<It refers to Azrael, the harvesters of souls. The term first appeared as a nickname for IBHU Marines in the holovid The Last Bastion.>

Rev was vaguely aware of the holovid, which came out just before their last mission, but he hadn’t realized IBHU Marines were featured. And he had never heard of using the term “azri” to refer to IBHUs. At least it was better than the stupid “oner” the MDS used.

“. . . didn’t know you had an IBHU, too. No one told me. My apologies,” Cocker continued.

Rev glanced at his social arm’s hand, which was clearly visible. He’d already switched back to his Rycroft, and the bright silver color should have clued her in. She might not know much about the Marine Corps yet, but certainly, they’d told the new IBHUs during their training that, as a culture, Marines went with the metallic-looking prostheses.

“Yes, I was the first IBHU.” He wasn’t going to use her nickname.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise and said, “Well, I guess they were right at ART when they said it’s possible that we can survive the war. Most of us thought that was a line of crap.”

Rev almost laughed at the way she said it. There was no doubt that she was scolding her Accelerated Recruit Training instructors.

Her nervousness was gone, and she took a moment to scan the rest of his wall. He didn’t have much on it, considering the amount of time he’d been a Marine and his accomplishments. But it would be rather difficult to miss the Gold Nova certificate, and he could see when her eyes locked on it.

It shouldn’t matter, but Rev felt a little bit of satisfaction that this new corporal understood that Rev was an accomplished Marine.

She looked back at him with an expression that he couldn’t quite place. It started out fine but then shifted. Was there even a bit of disapproval in the look?

What the hell? Why?

They chatted a bit more while Rev gave her the standard ooh-rah-he’s-expecting-great-things-from-her speech. All the time, she’d nod and give the “Yes, Gunny” response. But her eyes kept returning to him with that look. Rev was feeling defensive, and he was about to challenge her when she stood and moved in front of him.

“Stand up, Gunny,” she said.

No “Please stand up.” She’d just given him an order. A new insta-corporal, never having even been to real boot camp, giving him, a combat gunnery sergeant, an order. Something wasn’t right in the galaxy.

But to his surprise, he instinctively reacted before he could take issue. He stood before her.

She licked her thumb, then reached up to his face. Rev flinched, and she said, “Stand still.”

Not knowing what was going on, he froze, and she wiped the thumb just below the corner of his mouth, then looked at it. Then she held the thumb up for him to see.

“Strawberry or raspberry?”

Her thumb was streaked with red.

My Draco Bar!

“Uh, raspberry,” he said as he guiltily rubbed his sleeve across his face.

She pulled a small wipe out of her pocket, cleaned her thumb, then carefully folded the wipe several times before returning it.

She gave him a smile, and in a matronly tone, said, “That’s better.”

Corporal Cocker retook her seat and folded her hands across her lap. “I believe you were saying, Gunny?”

19

“Thanks for coming,” Rev said.

“You really don’t need a security blanket. You’ve done this before,” Tomiko answered.

“Not like this,” he said and pointed to his throat.

“It makes you sound sexy,” she said with a laugh.

Rev just rolled his eyes. He was pretty self-conscious about his voice. He was able to articulate all the sounds again, but as Hussein described it, he sounded like a “dying frog.” The flesh tech had already started growing a new set of vocal cords, but until then, this was what he was stuck with.

It wasn’t just his voice, although he hadn’t mentioned that to anyone else. It was the brain fog. He frequently forgot even common words. He’d slow down while his mind raced to recall the intended word, and often he’d have to substitute something else. No one remarked on his problems. Punch thought that was because they merely took that as him having issues with the physical act of talking, not the mental.

The two Marines walked up the steps and into the new public affairs building. The PA had previously been a small office in the division headquarters. Now, the staff had grown with a full colonel in charge, and they had their own building.

“Hearts and minds,” was all Bundy had said when he’d told Rev about the interviews.

Rev understood that, and part of him appreciated the attention the Marines—and particularly, the IBHU Marines—had been getting. After the initial resistance to the IBHUs, both in the press and in the general population—being called “gennies” had really bothered him—it seemed that they were being more accepted. And he was smart enough to realize that was largely because of the full-court press the Union and other governments were conducting to desensitize the public to hyper-augments. It had only been two centuries since the Corolla Wars where the Genesians and Deimers had come close to destroying humanity, and many in the public thought hyper-augments were too close to their old android enemies.

His ego had taken a nice boost when he’d been the face of the IBHUs in previous interviews. But now, he was afraid of not being able to give a good one.

And there was one more issue. Rev’s family had suffered because of him. The Naxli knew who he was, and they’d come after him and Tomiko. But it wasn’t just them. His brother had been killed, and Rev often wondered how much his local fifteen minutes of fame had to do with that. He’d asked a PA colonel if he was putting his family in danger by doing these interviews, and the colonel told him that all of the intel indicated that the Naxli had moved on.

They went to the main office and checked in. A moment later, a major entered, hand out. “So glad to finally meet you, Gunnery Sergeant. I’m Major Ligter, Assistant PA. I’ve seen some of your other interviews, and you’re a pro, so this should be easy.”

Rev took his hand and nodded. The major looked at Tomiko, the question in his eyes.

“I’m Staff Sergeant Reiser,” Tomiko said, extending her own hand. “I was the gunny’s partner during the mission, and as he wasn’t conscious for a good part of it, we thought I should tag along.”

That was the excuse the two had come up with. It might or might not work, but it was worth a try.

The major shook her hand and said, “Well, it’s the gunny the press wants access to. He was already somewhat of a local celeb, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have you available.” He seemed to think about it for a moment. “Yes, a firsthand account of how the gunny was wounded could add a little weight to this. Add to the hero status, am I right?”

They both said “Yes, sir” in unison, and Rev could see the major’s surprise.

“Is that your voice?” the major asked, clearly concerned.

Oh, hell, here it comes.

“I took damage to my throat,” he said, pointing at his neck.

“I knew you were shot, but I didn’t realize . . . Didn’t they give you a voice synthesizer?”

“I opted to have new vocal cords grown. They’re doing that now.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you take a seat for a moment? I’ll be right back.”

Rev and Tomiko exchanged looks as the major left them.

“Think they’re going to canc it?” Tomiko asked, sounding disappointed.

She wants to do this, he realized.

Tomiko might have “given in” when he asked her to come, saying he didn’t need her. But Tomiko had long had that chip on her shoulder that she wasn’t an IBHU, that she wasn’t the “hero” he, Kelly, Randigold, and the rest were being made out to be. Heck, the major had just referred to Rev as a hero.

Looking at her, he knew that she’d wanted to be in the holo, to be seen by others as a success. Maybe by her estranged family.

Miko, I would gladly give you the limelight. You are a hero to me.

“I don’t know. But you’re here. You can tell the people what happened, how you saved my ass and all.”

“Oh, they don’t want to interview me. The press requested you,” she said, but he could see her puff up the slightest bit.

They sat down, but the wait wasn’t long. The major came back in and said, “We’ve got a slight change, but I think it could work. Staff Sergeant . . .”

“Reiser, sir.”

“Staff Sergeant Reiser, have you had any press training?”

“I can handle it, sir,” which didn’t really answer the question.

But if the major realized that, he didn’t say anything. He seemed excited.

“We’re going to play up the sacrifice you made, Gunny. All for your fellow humans. And not even our own citizens. Fries and Confeds.”

“There were Union citizens there, sir,” Tomiko said, sounding excited as well.

“Yes, yes, they know that. But we’re pushing a narrative that we, as in the Union, are defending all mankind.”

That sounded like there was more to this than a simple press release. Something at a much, much higher level.

“Anyway, Gunny, you’re the focal point. You’re the example of what we can do and the sacrifice we’re making to do it. So, I’ll be making the introductions, you’ll say hello, but most of the answers will be given by you, Staff Sergeant.”

So, they’ll see I’ve been hurt, but they don’t want to keep hammering that there’s a cost to us. Smart.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he understood the thinking. It was a fine line they were trying to keep to.

The major spent the next five minutes giving them—mostly Tomiko—instructions, reminding her what the Corps wanted to say and what she was supposed to steer clear of—all the time stating that the Corps was being transparent and open with the public.

<So, why steer clear of anything if we’re being transparent?>

Punch still had mechanical—crystal?—issues, but his mind seemed to have recovered. He was a bit more cynical, if anything, but Rev was confident that he was Punch.

“Transparent for what the government wants the public to know.”

Finally, he led them down the main corridor to a room marked “Studio B.”

The studio would put any of the planetwide civilian studios to shame. It had what looked to Rev to be all of the latest equipment, and the side wall was a holo backdrop. At the moment, it showed a scene from Big Trees Provincial Park, but upon their entrance, a lance corporal changed that to the Marine Corps emblem over a stylized image of Safe Harbor floating in space.

“Go ahead and get our guest, Lance Corporal Watkins,” the major said.

As the Marine left, he spent a few moments going over the same things with Tomiko, who just nodded and added the occasional “Aye-aye, sir,” and “I understand, sir.”

Rev could see her excitement grow. And he was happy for her. She was a good Marine. A great Marine. Probably a better troop leader than he was, he had to admit. She just didn’t see it in herself.

The door opened, and Victoria Lansing walked in with Lance Corporal Watkins. It was just her. No holoman. The major had told the two of them that they’d be using Marine Corps equipment to record the interview.

If Rev was as cynical as Punch was becoming, he might wonder if that was so that the Corps retained control of the interview. But, of course, that would never be a consideration, right?

“Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier, it’s so nice to see you again,” the reporter said, hand extended and before the major could make introductions.

Ms. Lansing was certainly the most noted reporter on the continent, and one of the biggest faces on the planet. She’d been one of those who’d interviewed Rev before. She simply exuded personality plus.

“And this is Staff Sergeant ‘Reeser,’” the major said, mispronouncing Tomiko’s name. “She was the gunny’s partner in the last mission, and due to his wounds, she’ll be the focus of this interview.”

If Tomiko took offense to the mistake, she didn’t show it. Glancing at her, he could see she was so excited that she might have missed it.

Lansing obviously hadn’t been told of the change in plans, but she took it in stride, introducing herself to Tomiko, who seemed to be in a little celebrity moment. That didn’t surprise Rev about either one. The reporter was a pro, after all, and Tomiko . . . well, for as much as she usually derided popular culture and the trappings of so-called success, there was a little girl who wanted to belong.

The lance corporal brought up another low-back chair, and Rev and Tomiko took the two facing Lansing. The major moved behind the reporter where the two Marines could see him—and he could signal them if they stepped out of bounds.

“This will be easy,” the reporter said in a hushed voice as Watkins went back to the console. “Just be natural and say what’s on your mind. Our viewers already know what happened, for the most part. Now, we’re just looking for some local color to humanize the rescue.”

Watkins gave them a five-second countdown, and then Lansing said, “This is Victoria Lansing with SFJJ News. I’m here at Camp Nguyen outside of Cardiff with two of our own home-grown heroes, two Marines who participated in the wildly successful rescue of the human captives on NNN-671.

“You may recognize my first guest. I interviewed Gunnery Sergeant Reverent Pelletier six months ago after a combined mission with our alien allies. For those of you who might not remember, the Gunny”—she said his rank with a familiarity as if she were military herself, something like when other reporters switched to a foreign accent when using a foreign word—“is an IBHU Marine, or an ‘azri,’ as they are calling themselves now.”

We’re not calling ourselves that. Some newbies, maybe. But not the rest of us.

He knew she said that to prove her bonafides as someone in the know with the military, and he didn’t really blame her. That was her job. But that didn’t mean he had to accept what she was saying.

“So, Gunny, I have to ask you. What does it feel like to be home?”

That’s your question?

“I am happy to be back.”

What else am I going to say? I hate it? I guess that’s what they mean about softball questions.

“As you might be able to tell, Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier was wounded in the rescue, and he’s still suffering from the damage done to him. I’ve been assured that he is expected to make a full recovery, but for the moment, he’s still in therapy, and I wanted to stress how grateful I am that he’s agreed to come on Swansea Focus today to let everyone watching know what happened.

“We won’t be asking the gunny for long speeches today, but I’m also honored to be sitting here with another hero, Staff Sergeant Tomiko Reiser.”

I expected her to get that right.

“The staff sergeant was part of the gunny’s two-person team that infiltrated the planet, posing as prisoners to prepare them for the rescue attempt. Staff Sergeant Reiser, I’ll ask you the same question. After such a difficult mission, where your lives were on the line, how does it feel to be back home?”

“Thank you, Victoria, for spending the time to see us. And as a Marine, our very raison d'être is our fellow citizens, so I’m happy to be back home.”

“Raison d'être?” You go, girl.

“Home? Have you been able to spend time with your family since you’ve been back?”

Rev froze. Please don’t go off on them, Miko.

But keeping a pleasant voice, she said, “I haven’t had a chance to see them, but I hope they’re watching this interview.”

And Rev knew that was 100% true. She hoped they were watching, to show them that after all those years of abuse, she’d done well.

Tomiko and Lansing seemed to hit it off. That, or she was playing along to make a good interview. The two almost seemed to be having a casual conversation at times, moving beyond the rescue mission. Tomiko played to the party line of selfless service to all of humankind and rather skillfully interjected little tidbits that showed the danger. Rev, when he was brought into the conversation, kept his answers brief.

But while most of the interview was fluff, in his opinion, two things surfaced. The first was that all of those who’d been on the advance teams were being put in for Silver Novas. Rev hadn’t heard that, and from Tomiko’s reaction, neither had she. He wasn’t sure why he’d found out from a civilian reporter and not the chain of command, but he didn’t doubt what she’d said.

For most of his early career, Rev had been denied medals that he thought he’d deserved. He’d been put in for a Platinum Nova that had been quietly squashed for political reasons. But now, with a Gold Nova and a second Silver Nova, his “fruit salad,” to use an old term for his ribbons, was getting a little more impressive. After having his Platinum Nova pulled back, he’d convinced himself that medals were BS, but he still felt a little bit of a thrill to find out he was getting another.

The second thing wasn’t what was said but how it came about. In one of the few more pertinent questions, the reporter asked him what he thought of the Marines’ acceptance of Children of Angels into the Corps.

The question took Rev by surprise. He hadn’t known that the Corps was accepting the former enemies into its ranks. The Legion had been doing so for about a year, but this was new to him.

He glanced past the reporter’s shoulder to the major, but he was simply looking back at Rev without any signaling.

I guess it’s true.

“Well, we’re fighting an enemy that’s an . . .” His mind went blank.

He knew what he wanted to say, but whatever process that retrieved words was not working. In a panic, he coughed, then said, “Excuse me.” He looked up at Lansing, hoping that she’d go on to another question. But she was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“As I was saying, we’re fighting an enemy that’s an . . .” But his mind was still empty. It wasn’t working.

<Existential.>

“Existential threat,” he almost shouted. “So, uh, if the Angel Sh . . . Children of Angels will swear the oath of enlistment, then we need all of humanity to join the fight. The Naxli sure don’t care about our political affiliations.”

Oh, by the Mother!

He was breathing hard, and his right hand trembled. He dreaded her asking why he’d hesitated, but she’d returned to Tomiko.

“Thanks, Punch.”

<I knew what you wanted to say, so I gave you the prompt.>

“Well, you keep doing that. Please.”

<I will.>

“What a pair we are. I can’t speak, and you’re still full of glitches.”

<But together, we make a pretty good team.>

“That we do.”

Rev was still shaken. But if he’d relied upon Punch before, that had just gone up a few notches.

The interview didn’t last much longer. The final question was asked of Rev.

“Gunny, a little bird told me that the Marine Corps is a family affair with you. Your sister is a Marine, isn’t she?”

“Yes, Kat. My little sister. She’s with . . .” he started to say, then changed that. He shouldn’t be giving her unit out. The Naxli had already proven to have intelligence capabilities within human worlds. After what they’d done to Grover, Rev didn’t want to put anyone else in his family in danger.

“She’s deployed now, doing her duty to Safe Harbor. To all of humanity,” he hastily added.

Beyond the reporter, the major gave a slight nod of approval.

Lansing turned to one of the holo pickups. “And there you have it. Staff Sergeant Tomiko Reiser and Gunnery Sergeant Reverent Pelletier, just two of the Swanseans who are risking their lives to save humanity. And for Gunny Pelletier, it’s a family affair. After they suffered a horrendous loss to a Naxli terrorist, even his young sister has joined the fight.

“Dare I ask if others out there watching this interview might consider enlisting as well?”

She gave a long, soulful look into the holocam, then said, “This is Victoria Lansing, signing off from Camp Nguyen.”

“And cut!” Lance Corporal Watkins said.

The major rushed up and shook Lansing’s hand. “That was excellent, Victoria. Excellent. We’ll get this edited and over to your offices within the hour.”

From the look on her face, Lansing would rather take the raw footage, but she wasn’t going to argue. Rev didn’t care one way or the other. He was just glad it was over.

She turned to him and Tomiko and said, “Thank you so much for the interview. I think it went well.”

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out two old-fashioned physical cards. “If you ever need me, please give me a call.” She shook Rev’s hand, then reached for Tomiko’s. “And please, you give me a shout sometime, too. I’d love to hear your story. Maybe do a feature. Oh, with the major’s permission, of course,” she added, still holding onto Tomiko’s hand.

“That might be possible. Please work that through our office, though,” the major said.

Lansing turned back to Tomiko and said, “Really, though. I’d love to chat,” before finally dropping the shake.

The major escorted the reporter out, and the lance corporal started shutting things down.

“I think that went well,” Tomiko said as they left the building.

“You were a star, Miko,” Rev said.

“Oh, not really,” she said, but obviously agreeing from the proud tone in her voice. “You were the one who she came to see.”

“And you are the one she wants to see again. A feature!”

“As if.”

She was on cloud nine, something Rev had rarely seen with her. And it made him happy. She deserved anything good that came to her.

They walked in silence for a few moments, when Rev asked, “Now that you’re a star, would you stoop to having dinner at the SNCO Club with a mere peon?”

“If you’re buying with those big gunny bucks, then sure.”

“Hey, you’ll be getting paid as a gunny soon.”

“But not yet. So, are you buying?”

Rev laughed. “Yes, I’m buying.”

“Then let’s go, big boy,” she said, taking his hand.

20

“The GTC reading’s a little low,” the tech said as she looked at the readouts. We’re over by about thirty-six picoseconds.”

Rev frowned and said, “That doesn’t seem like much.”

“Well, to you and me, no. But to a crystal AI, it could be an indication of degradation. And that could increase exponentially, leading to a total failure.” She paused, then asked, “And you haven’t noticed any issues? Maybe with visuals? That’s where they usually appear first.”

“No. Punch is the same that he’s always been.”

He tried to look innocent, sure that the tech could see through his lies.

“I’m going back to the visual interface. Hold on.” She entered a code into her control. “OK, if you can close your eyes now, please? You’re going to see the same pattern as before. Watch closely.”

The test pattern—a series of shapes, one on top of the other, and of various colors—filled his vision as Punch inputted it directly into his visual cortex. With his eyes closed, this became his only source of “sight.”

“I’m going to start the progression. Please pay attention.”

The shapes started to move in a slow but intricate pattern. The colors shifted, and the brightness went up and down. This wasn’t the first time Rev had seen this test. It had been part of his initial synching to Punch. Ten minutes ago had been the second time, and this was the third.

The entire test was supposed to be a smooth function, but now, there were flickers, and for a brief instant, the entire scene froze.

Rev tried not to gulp. He didn’t know just what the tech could see with her instruments, and he couldn’t very well ask Punch. They knew Omega Division spied on them. Rev didn’t know if the tech could actually eavesdrop, but she’d almost assuredly be able to see if Punch was being active. And that was why they’d decided earlier that even their table talk would be avoided during the testing. He didn’t want to have to answer to what Punch was doing.

The test ended, and the tech asked, “How was that? Any issues?”

“Everything was fine. Just like before.”

She frowned, and Rev half-expected her to accuse him of lying. Instead, she leaned over, removed the connector from Rev’s jack, then snapped it back into place. “Let’s try again.”

Same test, same results. If anything, the glitches might have been slightly worse. Rev tried to act nonchalant, but he couldn’t help picking at his fingernails.

“That’s strange. I guess it could be the connector interfering. Jacks can get compromised for you infantry Marines.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s it. I’ve been out in some pretty dirty places.”

“You need to get them cleaned after every deployment.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” he said as he grasped at the lifeline.

“Still, this is an odd reading, especially with your T-belt running cold. I think we’ll be safer to replace the crystals.”

“No!” Rev shouted.

The tech jumped back, collected herself, and then warily said, “It’s not a big deal. You’ll be in and out in a day, and you’ll be back to full duty in another two or three days.”

“I can’t change my AI out. Uh . . .” he said as his mind raced for an excuse. “It took a long time for us to . . .”

<Synch>

“. . . synch in with my IBHU.”

Punch was getting almost seamless in his prompts, and Rev had barely faltered.

For the first time, the tech glanced at his prosthetic arm. She didn’t seem impressed. The AIs were made by LTQ Crystallines, a rival company to Sieben, which made the IBHUs. The AIs were also ubiquitous within the direct combat specialties, while there were fewer than eighty IBHU Marines. She’d probably never worked closely with an IBHU Marine, and maybe corporate rivalry colored her impression of the weapon.

She gave him a condescending look and said, “You don’t have to worry. We’re only switching out the crystal matrixes. Your AI will retain its full memories and function.”

But will it keep Punch?

Neither Rev nor Punch knew what made him unique. Maybe with new crystals, Punch would still be Punch. But maybe not. Maybe there was something in the crystals themselves that had allowed his battle buddy to gain sentience.

Rev couldn’t take the chance that he’d lose his friend if he allowed the LTQC team to get inside his brain. But what could he do?

His mind was going nowhere, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was still recovering or if that was pure panic.

“I won’t let you do that,” he said in a raised voice. At least, that’s what he thought he said.

“What? I didn’t understand that.”

He’d known that was a mistake the moment he opened his mouth. Never tell a civilian in any position of authority that they can’t do something. But evidently, his rough voice, coupled with his forcing it, had rendered what he said unintelligible.

He took a deep breath, then a possible solution hit him. “You said it might take four days to be back to full duty.”

“Three days. It’s no big deal. Just take a little break.”

“Worst case basis, five days,” he said, adding a day. “You do know my unit, right?”

She shrugged, then looked at her display. “Uh . . . right here. First Human Expeditionary Battalion.”

“And you know our mission.”

“Fight the noxes,” she said as if humoring him.

It was obvious that she really didn’t know the battalion from any other, which surprised Rev. If she worked with Direct Combat Marines and their battle buddies, shouldn’t she know the various units? Or at least their specialties?

He controlled his frustration. “Did you see ‘The Last Bastion?’”

She shook her head.

What is with her? Doesn’t she know anything about the Marines?

“Let me put it this way. First Human Expeditionary Battalion is the tip of the spear in the war. We can get called out at any time. In twelve hours, we have to be aboard ships and gone. Twelve hours. I can’t afford to be non-combat effective for six days.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure someone can cover for you. No one Marine is that important.”

“You don’t understand.” He raised his prosthesis. “I’m an IBHU. I’m a platoon sergeant. I am vital to the mission. I will not be taken out for a week just to fix something that isn’t broken.”

He’d just reminded himself not to give a civilian an absolute like that, but he was running out of options.

“I’ll take this up to the general if I have to.”

She impassively stared at him for a moment, then went back to her console. Rev felt a glimmer of hope, but then his wristcomp buzzed. He didn’t want to look, but old habits die hard. He glanced down and read the message.

He had an appointment with the AI clinic at 1400 on Thursday. Anger dueled with panic.

He turned to the tech, ready to beg, but she stood up and said, “In my professional expertise, I deem your current embedded AI to be compromised. As per our MOU, which was signed by your commandant, we have full authority in this matter.

“However, due to your obstinance, I will get this approved by my superior.”

With that, she turned and left the testing lab.

Rev wanted to discuss this with Punch. He needed to discuss this with him. But he was still hooked up, and he was afraid to remove the jack himself.

You blew that, Reverent.

He wasn’t going to take this lying down. He’d go to the commanding general, if need be, but he doubted that anything would be done. A Memorandum of Understanding between a corporation and the military was almost an iron-clad bible. Even if the general agreed with Rev, that might not be enough to get this overturned.

Rev sat and fretted, advancing from picking at his fingernails to chewing on them. If he lost Punch . . . well, he didn’t know what he’d do.

After a few days—although he could see only sixteen minutes had passed—the tech came back into the lab. She stood over him for a few long moments, saying nothing.

Finally, there was a buzz. Rev didn’t want to break contact with her glare, but he glanced down. There was a new message. The appointment was canceled.

He looked up in pure relief.

“You will not be getting your crystals replaced at this time. But you are to monitor your AI’s performance, and you are to note any discrepancies or issues. Is that understood?”

Rev removed the jack and stood. “Yes, of course. I’ll do that.”

She didn’t respond, so Rev took that as permission to leave.

As soon as he left the building, Punch popped up a table talk message. <That was close.>

“Too close, my friend. Too close.”

21

“Anyone know what this is about?” Yancey asked.

“Not me. We’ll find out soon enough,” Rev said.

But he was curious. This assembly hadn’t been on the training schedule. With a recent wave of new joins, training had been ramped up, and the battalion had been given priority to use Camp Nguyen’s ranges and facilities. This morning, they’d taken over the sims, and were scheduled for the entire day, but after only two hours, the exercises were shut down, and they were ordered into one of the auditoriums in the education center.

While they were entering the auditorium, one of the tank battalions was filing into the adjacent one.

“This isn’t a secure room, so it can’t be too important,” Kelly said. “And it isn’t NOFORN.”

Rev wasn’t so sure about the fact that this wasn’t a secure space. It had been in a similar classroom when they’d been told that their enlistments were being extended, way back when. And that had been more than important to those affected.

Still, he’d asked Punch to do a sweep of the net to see if there was anything going on. There was a lot, of course. But there wasn’t anything obvious that might affect the battalion, and if the tank battalion was going through the same thing, then this had to be either division or even Corps-wide.

“Attention on deck!” someone shouted, and the gathered troopers jumped to attention as Lieutenant Colonel Suk entered.

The CO had recently been selected for promotion to full bird. No surprise there. Just the fact that he’d been selected for command for both Second Combined Assault and now the First Human Expeditionary Battalion had been pretty strong indications that he was on the fast track to eventually earning his stars.

But what it did mean was that he’d be moving on soon. By commanding two subsequent battalions, he’d been Rev’s CO for longer than what was usual in the Corps. Rev wasn’t on particularly close terms with him—they ran in different circles, after all—but he respected the man. Things weren’t going to be the same when the new CO took over.

The colonel didn’t take the podium, though. He sat down in the front row and waited, just like the rest of them.

“I guess he’s in the dark, too,” Tomiko said.

They all turned around when the doors opened again, and a master sergeant and a civilian entered.

“False alarm,” Yancey said as they settled back down.

The two made their way to the front, and to Rev’s surprise, they walked up onto the stage. The low background noise of troopers talking to each other ceased, and all eyes locked on them.

“No officer?” Tomiko whispered. “The brass isn’t going to trust an enlisted swine if this is important.”

Tomiko was just being her usual cynical self, but it was a valid observation. If this was something big, they’d send a senior officer.

“Maybe they’re just gonna tell us the general’s delayed,” he whispered back.

The master sergeant spoke first.

“Colonel Suk, First Human Expeditionary Battalion, I’m Master Sergeant Dlamini, and before we begin, let me tell you it’s an honor to be here with you,” he said with a heavy Swazi accent. “As you can tell, I’m not Persean. Sawubona!”

There were a few chuckles in the crowd, but most of the troopers were probably wondering what was going on.

“Your achievements have made humanity proud, and as a foreigner who was allowed to enlist in the Corps, I am overjoyed to see troopers from across humanity in this auditorium. Together, fighting as one, we will prevail against the noxes.”

The man’s emotions were obvious, but what did that have to do with this assembly?

“But that’s neither here nor there. You’re gathered for some intel. It’s not classified, but please keep this among ourselves until tomorrow, when it becomes public knowledge.

“General Janivic felt that as Marines . . . and as all members of this battalion, no matter where you’re from,” he hastily added. “As the force facing the noxes, you deserved to know.”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Yancey asked.

Rev ignored him. They’d find out in a moment.

“And with that, I’d like to turn this over to CE-3 Annika Feung-Kopf.”

A CE-3 was the equivalent of a Marine captain. She wasn’t a heavy hitter, either, which made this all the more confusing.

“Colonel Suk, officers and troopers of the battalion, thank you for coming.”

“As if we had a choice,” Yancey said.

Rev waved a hand to shut him up. He loved Yancey, but if they’d been dragged out of training to listen to what this woman had to say, he didn’t want to miss anything because Yancey was yammering on in his ear.

The woman half turned to the giant screen behind her and touched her control. Immediately, the image of an alien appeared. Rev didn’t recognize it, but that wasn’t terribly surprising. As humanity learned more and more about the galaxy, it just became more and more evident that there was so much they didn’t know.

Beside the image was a silhouette of a human male to give the alien perspective. The alien was something like a praying mantis, but only superficially. It had a spindly body that rested on four legs, then an upright portion with four arm-like appendages. There was no distinct head. The upright portion sort of melded into a rounded upper limit where two surprisingly human-like, if rather large, eyes were situated.

The thing wasn’t wearing clothes or carrying anything, but that could be so that the troopers could see its physiology.

Rev wasn’t overly impressed, and if the mumblings around him were any indication, neither was anyone else.

His overall impression of the alien was of frailty. It looked like something that would lose an encounter with a kitten. The question was why this civilian was showing them this thing.

She waited for a few moments, then said, “This is the enemy.”

There was a moment of silence, then some laughter.

“My baby sister could take that thing!” someone yelled from the back.

“At ease,” the sergeant major growled.

It looked like the woman was expecting that. She waited for the laughter to die down and said, “This is a Naxli in its natural form.”

The laughter cut off as if by a knife.

What the hell is she saying?

“As you are aware, the Naxli are shifters of a sort. Not the werewolves of legend, but they’ve got the ability to change their bodies over a period of a month or two.”

“We know that,” Yancey whispered.

This time, Rev didn’t shush him.

“The question we’ve had was what is the real Naxli body? We’ve fought them in no fewer than eleven forms, some copied from beings that have been wiped out. But the clues were there, deep within their NDNA.”

Rev had heard about this project, which was studying the genetic makeup of what was dubbed “NDNA,” something loosely akin to DNA, if he understood the term. He’d never heard that anything had come of it, and to a large extent, except for curiosity, he didn’t care. He’d fight the Naxli in whatever form they’d take.

“Through regressive genetic modeling, we’ve come up with what you see before you. And we’ve confirmed this with a few of our current allies.

“A typical Naxli, in its natural form, stands about a meter and a half tall and masses forty kilograms. Musculature is minimal. In other words, they are hardly an imposing race when compared to the other warlike races we’ve encountered so far.”

Rev would have to agree. Unless they had surprising capabilities, a Niklith would tear one apart in seconds. Even a Uauii was more imposing.

“So, that’s why they change their bodies,” Tomiko said under her breath, but loud enough that Rev heard her.

“One prevailing theory, supported by an analysis of the physical form you see now, is that the noxes were a vulnerable, nocturnal species, hiding from more potent predators. They probably had to rely on their wits to survive on their home world.”

The woman was clearly getting excited. This was her bread and butter.

“So, what did they do? They started to evolve, to develop an ability to change their bodies to meet their environment. This is almost Lamarckian, something unique in our understanding.”

“Lamarckian?” Rev asked Punch.

<Jean-Baptiste Pierre Antoine de Monet, chevalier de Lamarck, a French biologist of the 18th and 19th Centuries and a proponent of transgenerational epigenetics. But given what she’s describing, I don’t think she’s being literal with the reference.>

Most of that went right over his head, and Rev didn’t bother to ask for an explanation.

A new image appeared. It was the same creature, but one that might have been hitting a gym a few times a week. The top part of the torso had risen in height, the eyes migrating higher as well. It still didn’t look like a dangerous foe, but it was certainly more robust.

“Why stop here?” she said, sounding pleased with herself. “Well, this transmogrification was, and is, extremely energy intensive. It takes a lot of food to power that change.”

Rev could relate. He wasn’t shifting his body at will, but the augments and hyper-augments done to him required a much larger caloric intake. He needed over 3700 calories per day just to maintain his bodily functions.

“With primitive agriculture, the noxes couldn’t afford to shift to four-meter-tall behemoths. So, this version of them, coupled with their technology, was enough to clear the planet of the most dangerous predators and ushered in what might have been an era of peace and prosperity.”

She paused, then shrugged. “Or it could have brought on constant civil war. We don’t know. What we do believe, though, is that the noxes continued to advance, and they created a technologically advanced civilization.

“But here, things get a little murkier. The Uauii tell us that the noxes were invaded by a race known as the Lo. Just as the Centaurs were with us, this was probably quite a surprise. But whereas we were already a space-faring people, the noxes were still locked onto their planet. Things evidently weren’t going well for them when they decided to shift into something close to the Lo, to level the playing field.”

There were a few murmurs from the gathered battalion.

“I know, I know,” she said, holding up a hand, palm outboard. “Here, we’re really guessing and relying on the Uauii legends. All we really know for sure is that about 12,000 years ago, the noxes started to rapidly change their body structure, going through waves of shifts that left their mark upon their NDNA.

“It could have been simply that with improvements in agriculture, they had more food and could afford the energy expenditures. Or they could be reacting to foreign pressure. We’ve interrogated nox prisoners . . .”

Rev and Tomiko exchanged knowing glances. There were very few Naxli ever taken, and it was reasonable to believe that humanity would interrogate them. But that wasn’t something that was common knowledge.

“. . . but none seem to have the historical perspective we’re seeking. The responses vary and seem more in line with mythology.”

The master sergeant stepped up to her and whispered something into her ear.

“Already?” she asked him, clearly audible to the troopers, almost all of whom had augmented hearing.

She looked out sheepishly to the battalion. “I guess I’ve rambled on, and I’ve got another session in a few minutes.”

She brought up the original image again. “Before I go, I just want to emphasize to you that this is our enemy. This is the vaunted Naxli fighter. I can assure you, they are not invincible.”

“What the fuck?” Tomiko asked. “Is that why we were brought in here? To give us a fucking pep talk?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Rev said, feeling rather insulted.

They were the elite of humanity. They’d paid the price in blood spilled. And someone thought they needed a little encouragement?

“Thank you for your time,” the civilian said, and she started to leave the stage when Lieutenant Colonel Suk stood up.

She hesitated a moment, then said. “I really don’t have time for questions, but maybe one, sir.”

“Will we ever face a nox that looks like that?” he asked, pointing to the image that was still being displayed.

“Well, no. Not that we believe, at least. There are no signs that this particular form exists anywhere.”

The CO chose to ignore her one-question limit. “Has this theory resulted in a military advantage in the war?”

“Ooh, dig. Theory,” Yancey said with a chuckle.

The xenobiologist was clearly flustered. She’d been so excited to brief the battalion, and she couldn’t have expected the reception.

“No, nothing tangible. But now that we understand their history, we will be better able—”

“With all due respect, CE-3 Feung-Kopf, when you do have something that will help us, please come back then to brief us.”

The entire battalion went quiet. The CO had clearly just dismissed her. Rev felt a little twinge of pity for the woman. She was just a messenger, and not a very high-level one at that. Despite the master sergeant invoking General Janivic’s name, for all they knew, this could be coming from someone even higher on the food chain.

The xenobiologist hesitated, and Rev could see a spark of a fire start to fan into a flame. She squared her shoulders to the colonel and opened her mouth when the master sergeant took her by the arm and pulled her to the steps at the edge of the stage. For a moment, it looked like she was going to fight him, but she evidently realized that arguing with a lieutenant colonel wasn’t going to do her any good.

The CO kept standing and watched the two make their way to the back and outside of the auditorium. Once the door closed behind them, he faced the battalion.

“I didn’t mean to be rude to her. And what she said was of interest. Someday, I’ll read the full reports. But not now.” He turned to the image and asked, “Can someone get rid of that? No, wait. I’ve got it.”

His eyes lost focus for a moment as he conferred with his battle buddy, and then the ancient Naxli image was replaced by a human-form Naxli.

“Forget that prehistoric image. I don’t want that in your mind. The noxes aren’t fighting Homo erectus, and we’re not fighting that thing.” He swept an arm to point at the displayed Naxli. “This is what we’re fighting.”

The image switched to a big head. “And that’s what we’re fighting.” A shorty popped up. “And that’s what we’re fighting.”

He swept his gaze across the auditorium. Every eye was locked back at him.

“And no matter what the esteemed xenobiologist implied, the noxes are a threat. They’re damned good fighters. But we’re better. And as long as we keep our heads in the game, as long as we know our enemy, we’re going to prevail.”

A lone ooh-rah snuck out from the back of the auditorium, quickly cut off with a few shushes.

“No, go ahead. Let me hear it!”

The entire place erupted in cheers. Rev was among the loudest.

In two short minutes, Lieutenant Colonel Suk had turned a waste-of-time lecture around. He’d pumped up his troopers.

The Naxli had better stand the hell by for the next time they tried to take them on.

22

Cricket opened the door. “Welcome, welcome!” he said, his face breaking out into a huge smile. “Come on in. Ten’s already here.”

With Udu and Cricket recalled into the Marines, the posse hadn’t gotten together in what seemed like forever. But this was one of those rare occasions when all of them were back at Nguyen at the same time. That was a good enough reason to gather for an impromptu burger bash.

Rev gave his old friend a hug, then stepped inside. He’d always liked Cricket and Udu’s house. It was almost 200 years old, a throwback to the revitalization era after the Corolla Wars, when everything looked bright for humanity. Small, with an open design and plenty of windows supplemented with E-tube lighting, it was bright and welcoming. And it helped that Cricket had a deft hand with decorating. Every piece of furniture, every piece of art, seemed to belong exactly where it was.

Cricket got his hugs from Tomiko and Yancey. “Everyone’s on the deck,” Cricket said, almost as if he wanted to shoo his three friends through the immaculate front room.

Only, it wasn’t quite immaculate. A unicorn was on the floor behind one of the chairs, and a toy Marine was on a side table. Rev remembered his house when Neesy, and then Kat, were little, and how it had been impossible to keep toys off of the floor, so with only two, Rev had to tip his hat to Cricket.

Except that if Leo and Ife were like any other kids, as soon as the adults left, then the room would revert to a playground.

They stepped through the kitchen and out onto the deck. Udu was fiddling with her grill while Ten was sitting in a chair, Malaika half sitting on the table behind her. Rev leaned over to give Ten a hug, then, with his old posse mate warily watching him, he went to his ex and gave her a hug—not as strong of one, but still a hug—too.

It had been a long time since he’d seen Malaika, and he still didn’t know how they should interact. Tomiko came to the rescue and gave his ex a much stronger embrace, then started chatting like old friends.

Damn, I love that woman.

He knew very well that she didn’t like Mala and never had. But she wasn’t going to let any tension spoil the afternoon.

The hugs weren’t done. Udu gave him a bone-crushing one, and then she called the two kids up from playing in the yard to say hello.

Leo was growing like a weed. Rev hadn’t seen the lad for over a year, but still . . .

“What are you doing, Udu? Putting EverGrow on his head?” he asked as he patted the boy’s head.

Leo puffed up his chest and smiled at the words, but little Ife shrieked, “Frog!” pointed, and laughed with delight.

Udu looked guilty and said, “I might have warned her that your voice was a little, um, off,”

Rev raised and eyebrow. “Frog?”

“Well, Miko said that’s what you guys were calling it.”

Rev glanced at Tomiko who was squatting next to Ten, already deep in conversation.

Maybe I don’t love her quite as much.

He turned to the little girl and croaked, “Ribbet!”

She squealed and started hopping around the porch, going, “Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet!”

“Sorry about that. She loves frogs,” Udu said.

Rev watched her antics for a few moments, then asked, “And she’s, uh . . . OK?”

With the recall, Udu had been implanted with OvuBlock like every other woman on active duty. But either she was newly pregnant, or as what sometimes happened, the pellet failed. Whatever the reason, Udu became pregnant, and as what was also the norm, her fetus was removed for a creche birth.

But little Ife had been exposed to the hormonal irregularities caused by the implant, and as was sometimes the case, her development was affected, and she was born with some milestone and health problems.

“She’s fine,” Cricket said as they watched her hop circles around them. “She’s in early intervention, and the team’s done wonders. You wouldn’t notice anything most of the time.”

Rev didn’t know what it was like when it wasn’t “most of the time,” and he didn’t ask.

She certainly looked normal as she hopped in a circle around them, but from what he’d heard, some of the issues had been pretty serious. It was good to hear that the child development on base was involved, and he hoped she was beyond them now.

The thought of Ife needing intervention brought up Ten, and he looked over at her, where she was in deep conversation with Tomiko. Both women had a stronger connection than they had with anyone else. Both had been killed in combat. Like the IBHUs’ “sibs in steel,” that was a bond that would forever connect them. But while Tomiko was hale and strong, Ten was still suffering. She was sitting now, but she was no longer confined to a chair. She was far from normal, though. Resurrection was a medical miracle, but it still wasn’t a perfect science.

“Let me go chat with Ten,” he told Cricket.

He gave Udu a quick pat on the shoulder as he passed her—she was too involved with her BBQ to acknowledge it—and walked up to Ten.

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “How’re you doing, Ten?”

“Same ole, same ole. You know how it is,” she said.

“Life treating you well?”

“The old body’s a little worse for wear, but I’m doing fine. How about you?”

“You know, same thing.”

“Ten’s got a job now,” Tomiko said.

“Really? That’s great. What are you doing?”

“I’ve got a paid position with the VGW. I’m a VSO at the district.”

“Really? A VSO? That’s pretty good.”

And it was probably appropriate. A Veterans Service Officer helped guide vets to make sure they received the care they’d earned during their service. If anyone knew the labyrinth of bureaucracy that had to be navigated to get care, it was her.

Malaika was standing beyond the two women. Rev caught her eye and nodded.

He didn’t have any animosity toward his ex, but he still felt awkward around her.

“You can talk to Mala, you know,” Tomiko said. “We’re all cool around here.”

Ten nodded her agreement, while Rev and Malaika turned red.

“Good to see you,” Rev said.

“Same, Rev.”

And that was it. His well was dry, so he turned back to Tomiko and Ten.

“So, my question is when are you going to put a ring on my girl here?” Ten asked.

Tomiko’s eyes sparkled with humor as she waited for Rev to answer.

“We’re going to, but the noxes . . . you know . . .”

“You’re letting the noxes get in the way of true happiness?” she asked as she raised her hand as if admiring the wedding band on her finger.

Tomiko came to the rescue. She stepped up to Rev’s side and put an arm around him. “I won’t let him, Ten. Not yet. I’m getting the real deal, a big wedding, with all of you here. I’m not going down to the kiosk at the courthouse and get hitched there. As soon as we take care of the noxes, then we’re going to have a huge blowout. We’re both celebrities now, in case you haven’t heard.”

She said that last facetiously, with the affected air of someone in high society.

“I saw that,” Malaika said, her voice rising in excitement. “You were so damned strong doing that.”

Tomiko perked up, and the three women started going over the details of the interview, so Rev wandered over to Yancey and Fyr, who were quietly sipping a beer and seemed deep in conversation. Yancey spotted him, grabbed another, twisted the top to cool it, then handed it to Rev.

The three hugged, and Fyr said, “Good to see you, Rev. It’s been a minute.”

With Fyr being a mech and Rev not only being infantry, but now also in the expeditionary battalion, their careers had taken divergent paths. Rev hadn’t seen his fellow posse member in over a year.

“Yeah, a minute. But it’s good to get together like this. We need to grab every opportunity that we can.”

“The only thing better would be to have Bundy here. Well, Orpho and Krissy, too,” Yancey said.

“Respect for the fallen,” Rev said, and they clinked their beers.

“He looked good today, though. That gold leaf is pretty impressive.” Yancey said.

“That young man is gonna get his stars someday,” Rev said.

“If his old bones hold out.”

They both laughed and took a sip in unison.

They’d been at Bundy’s promotion ceremony that morning. Rev had felt proud that his friend had made major. It would be nice if he were here now, but he had to take care of the admin tasks that went along with a promotion, then prepare for the wetting down.

Rev’s thoughts went back to Mount Motherfucker, when Bundy, then a middle-aged man, was struggling to make it up to the top. He’d barely survived the training, and now he was a major. Deservedly so.

“So, is this going to be you and Miko?” Yancey asked, using his beer as a pointer to encompass the yard where the two children were playing.

“Et, tu, Brute?”

Yancey gave him an uncomprehending look.

“You, too? Ten just asked me the same thing.”

Yancey shrugged. “Looks kinda nice to me.”

“So says the confirmed bachelor who cuts a swath through womankind.”

He stared at the two kids for a moment. “I don’t know. Sometimes . . .”

“Sometimes what?” Rev prompted.

Yancey opened his mouth, hesitated, then said, “Nothing. Never mind.”

Rev stared at his friend in amazed shock. He shifted his look to Fyr, who seemed equally surprised.

I can’t believe it. Yance? Getting domestic feelings? The universe is coming to an end.

Yancey was saved from anything further when Udu announced that the burgers were ready. The next three hours were spent in relaxed socializing. They talked about everything and nothing. The sun started to set, and Ife came to sit on her father’s lap, then fell asleep, head on his chest.

As Rev looked at his friends, it was hard to believe that humanity was at war, one for their very existence. Marines were fighting and dying. Kat was out there somewhere, doing her duty to defend humankind. But here, in Swansea, on a Saturday afternoon, everything was normal. The war was far, far away.

If only everywhere was like this.

He popped another beer, feeling the cold climb up the bottle. He didn’t really want it, but it felt better to have one in his hand.

“We need to go if we’re going to make it,” Tomiko finally whispered in his ear.

Rev checked the time, then stood up. “I hate to break up such a pleasant evening, but for those going, it’s time.”

It took a few minutes to get up, take their bottles and cans to the trash, and generally move to the door.

“I thought your mother-in-law could watch the kids,” Rev told Cricket as he stood at the doorway with Ife in his arms.

“Ah, it’s OK. Gives me some alone time with them. But give Bundy my congrats.”

“You got it.”

With five of them, they called a maxi autocab. Ten didn’t feel she was up for another party, and Malaika wasn’t part of the posse. As they waited for it to show up, Tomiko leaned into Rev.

“That was good,” she said.

Rev turned back to take in the house, with Cricket and the kids standing on the stoop and watching them. It was so . . . normal. He’d left normalcy ever since he stood on the yellow footprints a thousand years ago. His normal was the Marines, the deployments, the fighting. He almost couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a home like theirs, maybe a child or two. It was completely foreign to him but alluring, in its own way.

“Yes, Miko. It was good.”

* * *

“Some turnout,” Rev said.

“Not bad. Thanks for coming, though,” Bundy said. “I know this isn’t really your crowd.”

“Free booze?” Rev lifted his cider. “Of course, I’ll be here.” He paused. “And I guess the fact that we’ve been friends for a long time.”

This was an officer-heavy crowd, as was to be expected. Bundy had just been promoted into what was called a field grade officer, and pretty much all of the battalion’s officers were there. Not just the battalion. Some of his old tanker buddies and a full bird colonel Rev didn’t know had shown up.

A few of the foreign officers, like the Rangers or MDS, didn’t have the wetting down tradition, but that wasn’t stopping them from helping themselves to the bar at Bundy’s expense.

Rev and the other handful of SNCOs had staked out a table in the back of Leteeka’s, out of the way of the officers, but when Rev had gone to the head, Bundy had intercepted him.

“You talk to the CO yet?” Rev asked.

“Yeah, before the ceremony when he gave me the standard ‘You’re now a field grade’ pep speech. There’s a new company commander coming in. An IBHU.”

“Captain White Eagle?”

The IBHU population was so small that when a captain had entered the program, the word had gotten around pretty quickly.

“That’s the man.”

“I thought they’d send him to a Marine unit first before throwing him into the fray.”

“There aren’t enough of you guys, and the brass has to make sure you’re in the limelight.”

With anyone else, Rev would take that as a veiled insult, but he knew Bundy was just laying out what everyone knew.

“And until he gets here? That won’t be for another five months at least.”

“You’re stuck with me.”

“What about the three?”

Captain Nestor, who was with the Bravo Command as the S-3A when the Alpha Command was overrun, had moved up to temporarily take the operations officer position. He was slated to go to brigade as the training officer, and Bundy was going to slot into the position.

“That’s being pushed back. Fund’s staying with us until White Eagle gets here.” He paused a moment, then said, “And he’s not happy about it. His wife’s expecting.”

“What’s that? Six?”

Rev didn’t socialize with majors, but word was that he and his wife were baby factories.

“Five. And he’s missed every birth so far. He really wanted to be here for this one.”

“Ah, maybe he still will. We don’t have a deployment coming.”

Bundy simply raised an eyebrow, and Rev had to laugh. “OK, the way things go, we’ll probably be off fighting the noxes somewhere.”

“Tip of the spear,” Bundy said as he raised his bottle.

Rev clinked it. “Tip of the spear, Major.”

Bundy huffed, then said, “Major. It still seems weird to hear it.”

“But it’s deserved.”

Bundy gave a little dismissive shrug.

“I’m serious. You deserve it. Without trying to kiss your field grade ass, you’re one of the best officers I’ve been privileged to work with. One of the best Marines. And we’ve known that—all of us—since we were recruits.”

Bundy gave Rev a piercing stare before he said, “Thanks, Rev. Sometimes, I wonder. I know I’m just an old fart who put on a uniform to fight the tin asses. So, it’s good to hear that from you.”

“Always listen to your SNCOs, Major. They’re always right. So, if I say it . . .”

“Now it’s getting deep here. You’d better take those drinks back to your table, and I’d better make my rounds.”

“Congrats on the promotion,” Rev said as he started to hold out his hand, but it somehow turned into a hug.

Both men held onto each other a little too long, but neither cared.

“Just think of it this way. Captain Nestor might be pissed, but if we do get the call before White Eagle gets here, then you’ll have one more time out on an op as a company commander.”

Except for a few unique positions, Bundy’s days of leading Marines or troopers were almost at an end. A battalion commander might command Marines, but the close relationship born in combat was no longer there. They were just too far removed. All officers wanted to be promoted, but Rev had talked to enough of the retired ones at the VGW to know that they all considered their company commander tour to be the best billet of their career.

Bundy leaned in close and whispered, “I know I’m not supposed to say it, but I’m kind of hoping we do go out. I’d be honored to take the company out one last time.”

* * *

Bundy was going to get that last tour. Four days after the burgers at Udu and Cricket’s house and the major’s wetting down, the battalion was mobilized and put into Priority Alpha.

Far out toward the edge of human-controlled space, on an uninhabited planet, the Naxli had landed in force. No one knew why. There weren’t any humans, and the violent volcanic and tectonic activity made the planet a virtual hell.

But while the analysts couldn’t figure out why the Naxli were there, the Congress of Humanity had determined that they weren’t going to cede the planet to them.

Two of the three human expeditionary battalions were going to spearhead an assault to retake the planet. They’d be followed by two Marine Divisions, an MDS division, and assorted other units. Not only that, but a division-equivalent of Niklith was also part of the task force.

Second Human Expeditionary Battalion had worked with the Niklith over the past six months, but this would be the first major operation side by side with their prickly allies.

Rev didn’t know why they were undertaking such a major operation over a useless piece of real estate. Sure, he understood the pride factor. But the planet was barely within human space, had no people on it, and was far from the center of gravity for the war.

But no one was asking him. His job was to prepare his platoon for war. Once the clarion called, all he could do was answer.

23

“Give me a head count,” he told Yancey.

The last two weeks had been hectic but not as bad as they’d been sometimes in the past.

Maybe we’re getting used to it.

But still, the most important thing was making sure each trooper was on board. They were going to be a long way from Safe Harbor, and anyone missing movement was going to have to wait until they returned.

“What have I missed?” he asked Punch.

<Probably quite a few things. But there’s nothing that stands out to me now. I’m sure they’ll surface later.>

At least we have a good ship.

The PUNS Capetown was a Buenos Aires-class dreadnought. It was the most powerful ship in the Perseus Union Navy, well able to defend itself against most enemies.

Of course, as such a large ship, it was also a large target. If they got into a naval battle with the Naxli, they’d almost certainly prioritize this ship. And the 11,000-plus Safe Harbor Marines and the troopers from the First Human Expeditionary Battalion would simply become cargo, waiting in their berthing spaces without being able to affect the outcome.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. There were four of the big dreadnoughts assigned to the mission—more than any other Union task force since the days of the Corolla Wars. And that didn’t take into account the hundred or more other Union vessels, the MDS ships, and the Niklith ships.

With that many other ships, the Capetown should make it through. Should.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Rev opened the hatch and threw his assault pack onto the lower bunk. On a ship this size, a gunny didn’t rate a private stateroom. But at least he had only one roommate.

For now, though, the time for sleeping was a long way off. There were dining schedules, shower schedules, checking the armory, making sure there were enough racks for the troopers . . . it was a never-ending list. And all of that was before they even thought about their operations order.

He and Punch went over their post-boarding checklist. He’d be busy for hours while Lieutenant Marble worked with Bundy and the other platoon commanders on their operations order.

“Well, my friend, let’s start with the armory and try to get that out of the way. Then we can tackle the rest.”

* * *

“Who the heck wants that piece of hell?” Yancey asked as they watched the holovid.

He wasn’t just saying that. The planet’s name, Pakao, meant hell in one of the old, almost forgotten Earth languages.

The image showed a series of volcanoes, lava flowing down the slopes. Heavy smoke hung in the air like malevolent clouds.

“It does rain, but the high concentration of gasses makes a highly acidic wash. Your PALs are undergoing treatment to combat that, but we don’t know how effective it will be until we’re on the ground,” the battalion S-2 said.

“Oh, great,” Hussein said. “Our PALs are going to melt off of us.”

Rev nudged him to be quiet. This was their first intel brief, and they still didn’t know how much time they had before landing. If this was going to be their only one, then they needed to absorb as much of the data as possible.

Pakao was designated a “hostile environment,” and Rev could see why. If it wasn’t the volcanoes, it was the severe earthquakes that regularly shook the planet. If the earthquakes didn’t get you, then the extreme heat might.

Yancey had a good point, though. Why were the Naxli on the planet? It wasn’t occupied by humanity, after all. Two mining companies had charters over the years and had tried to commence unmanned operations, but the environment was too harsh for sustained activity, and the minerals extracted were not worth the tremendous cost to mine and ship them off planet. The last company abandoned Pakao 227 years ago.

After the Naxli invaded, human eyes turned back to it. There were some indications that the planet had been visited by ships since then, and possibly at a far greater frequency than anyone would have expected. The consensus was that they might have been tramp scavengers, hoping to get in and get out quickly with whatever they could find remaining from the previous operations. That wouldn’t be much given the harsh conditions and two centuries that had passed, but those types of scavengers sailed out of the space lanes and only needed small successes to keep going.

Rev was a provincial. Safe Harbor was not considered as civilized as the Founders, those worlds that had banded together to create the Perseus Union. Even so, he couldn’t imagine a scavenger’s lifestyle.

But a few tramps weren’t enough of a reason for the Naxli to invade. The xenos had determined that, like most of the aliens discovered so far, the Naxli survived in roughly the same “goldilocks” range of temperatures and had similar oxygen requirements.

Whatever the reason, the CoH had determined that they couldn’t allow such an intrusion into human space. And they’d demanded alien representation.

Of the fighting races, only the Niklith could survive for long on the planet as infantry. The conditions were too harsh for the Uauii—not that Rev minded that. His opinion of them was none too high. The Kanters had no mech nor enclosed armored suits. The Breel had been willing, but they would have to be heavily protected.

So, this was to be a human-Niklith operation, a joint effort to destroy the Naxli who’d dared to sneak into the far regions of human space.

Frankly, Rev was not alone in the opinion that they could ignore the incursion. This place had no strategic value. Ignore it. Or, at most, put a naval blockade around it and use the forces to further the war in more vital areas. They needed to push the Naxli back to their homeworld and then take care of business. That was the only way to win this war, not worry about every little piece of real estate in the galaxy.

Hop around them and go for the enemy’s jugular.

He didn’t make policy, though. They were going to conduct a huge landing, one of the largest opposed landings since the Corolla Wars. Back then, the humans had suffered significantly at the hands of the Genesians, taking huge casualties. The Naxli weren’t the Genesians by a long shot, but Rev knew he was going to lose troopers. And what he didn’t lose to the Naxli, he might lose to the planet itself. And for nothing.

“This whole mission is shit,” he muttered.

<Ours is not to question why. Ours is but to do and die.>

Rev grunted. Punch was still not up to 100%, no matter what he told the techs. But he seemed more attuned to Rev now.

“I don’t mind the doing, Punch. But I think too many of us will be dying.”

He shook his head and focused on the S-2. He needed to pay attention to the brief. His job was to make sure as few of his troopers died as possible, and he didn’t know which piece of intel he was getting might make a difference.

* * *

“It looks like there’s fighting on Pakao,” Bundy told the company leadership.

“What, the noxes trapped one of those scavengers? I don’t think they could put up much of a resistance,” Lieutenant Kongi, the Third Platoon commander said.

“Something more than that. We’ve got a few spysats in the system, and they’re picking up large energy blooms on the planet’s surface.”

“With all the volcanic and tectonic activity, wouldn’t some of that show up as blooms?” Tomiko asked.

Bundy shrugged. “I’m only passing on what I’ve been told. You know how bubble space comms are.”

Rev nodded. While in bubble space, even quantum-based comms had issues. The surest way to communicate was to drop out of bubble space. The second way was for a comm drone to receive messages, then enter bubble space and physically dock with the ship. That method was hardly reliable, and the connection was often missed, and even if it was, messages could get garbled.

If there had been any humans on the planet when the Naxli hit it, then they’d almost assuredly be killed or captured by now. Scavengers, by their very nature, were at far more risk than normal shipping, and some were known to stray into illegal activities when the opportunity presented itself. As such, they tended to be quite heavily armed. But no single ship, even the most advanced Hégémonie supercruiser, could stand up to a full Naxli invasion force.

“So, how does that affect us?” Bundy said in a tired voice.

Oh, crap. We’re changing the plan.

“Our ops order is now officially defunct.”

There were several groans in the small stateroom.

“We’ve only got eleven hours and some change before we enter the system,” Lieutenant Jaruwan, the new company executive officer, said.

“Which is why all officers are going to remain here with me. I expect a new operations order within the next half-hour. From the warning order, our objective has shifted. We’re now heading straight to the heaviest sign of fighting.

“If there are humans alive on the planet fighting the noxes, then that obviously is going to change things. Our priority will be to support them. If this is all a mistake, then stand by for another change, but we may have to get boots on the ground to check it out.”

Rev glanced at Lieutenant Marble. She’d just returned to the small stateroom she’d shared with the other platoon commanders after being up for over thirty hours working on the last operations order. She had to be dead on her feet. But he couldn’t see any sign that this set her back at all.

“Staff NCOs, get back to your troops. Keep the news close to your vest for now. Once we get in-system, we’ll have a better idea if there’s any meat to this. Until then, make sure everyone is getting sleep and preparing for what could be a long time inside our PALs.”

From the initial reports, humans could live outside their combat suits on the surface. But local conditions could make that extremely uncomfortable and even deadly due to concentrated volcanic gasses sweeping over them.

“Get everyone hydrated. Keep after them,” the first sergeant reminded them.

“Any questions?”

Yes, Rev had questions. A million of them. But he knew there weren’t any that Bundy could answer until he learned more.

“Then let’s get at them. Officers, grab some coffee or your beverage of choice. We may be here until we kick off. SNCOs, have at it.”

“No rest for the weary, I guess,” Bob said as they filed outside Bundy’s stateroom.

“Embrace the suck, Bob,” Rev said. “’Cause it’s coming, no matter what.”

24

Rev sat in the back of the landing craft as it bounced its way to the surface. He’d allowed Punch to convince him to take the antiemetics, but he was still queasy as the shuttle lurched this way and that.

He really, really, really didn’t want to puke all that good Navy pre-assault chow inside his helmet.

The arrival of the fleet hadn’t been uncontested. There’d been a short but fierce, battle as the landing force streaked to the planet. One of the dreadnaughts, the PUNS San Dimas, had been destroyed, with over twelve thousand Marines and sailors lost.

But now, hundreds—maybe thousands—of shuttles and landing craft were carrying the ground forces to the surface. Rev had never been part of such a large landing, but without knowing the strength of the Naxli, it was better overkill than under.

Right now, though, Rev’s mind wasn’t on the size of the force. He just wanted to get his feet on the ground.

He’d never had any positive opinions on the tramp scavengers that snuck around the edges of human space, but he had to admire them now for landing on planets such as this. It was bad enough in a landing craft, which was designed for traversing the gravity well of a planet. But those scavengers had landed space-going ships on the surface.

And now, somehow, they’d been able to hold off a Naxli assault so far. Rev didn’t know how, but as the ships entered the system, there were the signs of a battle. Residual readings indicated that the fighting had initially been more widespread. But for the moment, almost all of the fighting was in three specific areas on the planet’s surface. The best explanation for what was happening was that the scavengers were holed up in something easily defended, like a mine.

Yancey had shaken his head when they were told that. He was rather claustrophobic and needed help to be effective underground.

Rev wasn’t too happy about that, either. He’d fought for control of mines too many times over his career. If he’d never see another mine in his life, he’d be happy. But it might not come to that.

First Human Expeditionary Battalion was leading the assault. The intent was to engage the Naxli, relieving the pressure on the surviving humans. If things went according to plan, the Naxli would reorient on the battalion and engage. Then the follow-on forces would close in on the sides, and they’d pulverize the Naxli fighters between them.

But like in all battles since the dawn of time, the enemy had their own plans, and they rarely cooperated with you.

“Are you OK, Gunny?” Corporal Cocker asked as she sat directly across from him.

A particularly steep fall sent Rev’s stomach to his throat. He swallowed back the bile in his mouth.

“I’m fine.”

“Did you take your antiemetics,” she asked.

“Yes, Momsie. I did.”

Several of the other troopers had started to call her that, and Rev hoped that by using it himself for the first time, he might remind her of their respective positions.

But she just smiled and said, “Good.”

Rev shook his head and looked away. It wasn’t right that she didn’t seem bothered in the least bit by the descent.

He was curious to see how she performed in combat. His opinion of the instant IBHU corporals was extremely low, but so far, she’d performed well in garrison and in training. She wasn’t his equal in IBHU operations, but she was better than, say, Hochenspatter.

Which wasn’t saying much. Hochenspatter was, well, Hochenspatter.

“Training is one thing. Combat is another,” he muttered.

<Why do you denigrate Corporal Cocker? She’s met every training milestone.>

“You don’t understand, Punch.”

<Which is why I asked you the question. I don’t understand.>

“She didn’t earn those corporal’s stripes. They were given to her.”

<Which doesn’t mean she’s not capable.>

Rev was about to answer, but another sidewise lurch sent him into Corporal Weld, who was sitting beside him. He grabbed the edge of his seat and tried to hold his position.

“Let’s just leave it, Punch. I don’t want to argue. All I want now is to get on the ground in one piece.”

* * *

He wasn’t quite as sure that was all he wanted as he stepped out onto the planet’s surface. The heavier gravity wasn’t that big of a deal. At 1.22 Earth gravity, his augments and PAL were more than enough to compensate, and Pashu had already been calibrated for her twenty-millimeter gun.

The dark haze that filled the air gave the place a foreboding feel. And as if welcoming them, the ground shook with a ten-second earthquake. The morning temperature was 125/52—without their climate-controlled PALs, things would be rough. And it wasn’t just the temperature that was a killer. The atmosphere was 12.4% O2 at this elevation, so it could sustain human life. But the heavy volcanic activity spewed noxious gasses into the air. Humans could survive for short periods of time, but eventually, they’d be incapacitated.

In short, the planet sucked as a battleground, which made it all the stranger that the Naxli were even here.

The landing craft took off to bring in follow-on waves, leaving the two platoons on their own. Rev got First Platoon oriented with Second behind them. He had a quick glimpse of Tomiko doing the same before Lieutenant Marble gave the signal to step off. Bundy and the rest of the company should have landed about 320 meters to their planetary southwest. Their job now was to hook up with them before the entire company began the movement to their assembly area.

They couldn’t be complacent, though. The Naxli were on the planet, and while their comms should be completely blocked if the Navy EW monitors were doing their job, they probably knew where the landing craft had touched down. The two platoons could, and should, expect to be hit at any moment.

The jamming of Naxli comms was a good thing. The lack of human comms was a disappointment. The new Marine system had proven to be effective, even if somewhat sporadic. But in the ongoing battle of electromagnetic warfare, new developments and countermeasures were like a ping-pong game of serve and return. This time, though, there wasn’t even a hint of comms. Everything was completely and utterly blacked out.

Rev figured the ECC teams at the force level were working to counteract that, but he didn’t give it much hope. He’d fought before with jammed comms, and he knew how to do it.

The two platoons moved out in a company wedge—or, at least, they started to. They’d landed in a relatively open area, but the tortured terrain soon canalized them into a column. Columns diminished the amount of firepower a unit could amass forward, and so they were far more vulnerable to an ambush or a sudden face-to-face meeting with the enemy. But sometimes, terrain trumped tactics. They needed to link with the rest of the company as soon as possible.

It was Lieutenant Marble, as the senior commander of the two platoons, who decided to move to a column, and Rev agreed with that decision. That didn’t make him any less nervous as they moved through the narrow opening between the rocky crags. He could almost feel eyes on them, and his head was on a swivel as he pushed his PAL’s scanners to their max.

But no ambush opened fire, and they moved unopposed over the pathway through the crags. It was a good thing they had a map of the area. Rev’s inner navigation system seemed off.

“Check my nav,” he told Punch.

<I’m not able to do that.>

“Really? Why not?”

Rev tried to think back over the years if he’d ever asked to do so.

<That’s a genetic augment. I can reroute the results to your display if you need that, but I don’t have a way to check your hypothalamus itself.>

As he thought about it, that made sense. His navigational capabilities were not an implant. They were him, as much as his sense of smell was.

<I do have a theory, though, why your abilities might be off.>

“Hit me with it.”

<The last full survey was done 117 years ago. That might not make much of a difference this far away from the poles on a planet like Safe Harbor. But here, the extremely active nature of the planet makes it likely that the magnetic fields are constantly shifting. Even a single volcanic eruption could significantly change the local fields.>

Punch paused a moment, then said, <But I realize that could be a very polarizing theory.>

Rev almost stumbled, then regained his footing. He groaned and said, “I refuse to acknowledge that.”

<Your bios indicate you rather liked it.>

“Quiet. I need to be alert in case we’re hit.”

They reached the rendezvous point without incident. The company was arrayed in a defensive position, and First and Second moved inside the perimeter to where they’d step off to lead to the assembly area, the last covered and concealed position before they kicked off the assault.

That movement to contact was supposed to initiate immediately so that the battalion would arrive at the same time, but five minutes passed, then ten, and Bundy hadn’t given the order to move out.

Lieutenant Marble left to find the company commander while Rev made the rounds.

“You hanging in there, Hus-man?” he asked the First Squad leader.

“Ready to go. Any word on the nox situation?”

Rev shook his head. “The lieutenant’s gone to find the skipper. Maybe he’s got something.”

“Let me know if you hear anything.”

“Nah. I think I’ll keep you in the dark,” Rev said.

Hussein’s eyes went wide, and he said, “But we’ve got point!”

Sergent Archambault, newly promoted from caporal chef, who’d been listening in, said, “You’re so gullible, Staff Sergeant. Of course, he’ll keep you informed.”

Hussein looked from the sergent to Rev and then gave a sheepish grin. “OK, OK. You got me.”

Rev continued on his rounds. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. He tried not to wonder who wouldn’t be coming back, but no matter how long he’d been in the Corps and how many battles he’d fought, it was difficult not to do so.

Finally, Marble returned. “Five minutes,” she told him.

“What was the delay?”

“Q-phone’s down,” she said quietly.

Quantum phones were, by definition, never down. Except in bubble space, no matter what happened, all of the phones in a single clutch were connected to each other. However, while the brain of the phones always worked as long as they were whole, the phone itself had external parts such as the microphone, speaker, screen, and power supply. Those were pretty robust, but they could be damaged.

“It took that long to switch it out?” Rev asked.

Everyone issued a quantum phone carried a spare husk. The quantum core was simply removed from a broken one and inserted into a new one.

“He did, and that doesn’t work, either.”

Rev’s mouth dropped open. The chances that there’d be two dead husks like that were pretty small. As far as he knew, the only way a quantum phone wouldn’t work was if all of its fellow clones were destroyed.

“What went wrong?”

The lieutenant shook her head. “Damned if I know. But we’re moving out. We’ll link up with the rest of the battalion at the assembly area and see if they’re having the same problems.”

Quantum phones were one of the few things that always worked. To have one fail was disquieting, and Rev hoped that wasn’t a harbinger of things to come.

“Any theories?” he asked Punch as he got the platoon up and in position.

<There are many theories about what could cause quantum communications to fail. But there isn’t anything in my data banks that could definitively answer what’s wrong in this case.>

Worrying about that wasn’t going to help anyone. They were just going to have to make do with the situation. Luckily, the battalion was going to be maneuvering as a unit, so the lack of quantum comms might not matter that much. It was the communicating with higher headquarters . . .

Rev’s thoughts trailed off. There was something that was bothering him, and it took a moment for him to formulate the thought.

“Even with Q-phones, if we need supporting fires, they’re not going to work, right? I mean, with the changing magnetic lines.”

<That is correct. Without terminal guidance, artillery will be ineffective.>

“Dumb shells” had the targets locked in, and they used the magnetic lines to navigate to the target. Missiles and terminally guided shells had far more advanced tracking, from active seeking to terrain recognition. But those were more expensive, and an arty battalion carried fewer of them. Most of the indirect fire support would come from the 105 and 155 shells.

Which now could strike almost anywhere, including within friendly lines.

“This is just getting better and better with each passing minute,” Rev said as the order to move out was sent up to the platoon.

25

The narrow canyon opened up, and the platoon expanded to fill the space. Rev watched the squads fall into place.

Next was to check his IBHUs. It wasn’t enough that the squads were positioned correctly, but the IBHUs had to be as well.

Aside from himself, Rev had Randigold and Hochenspatter as seasoned vets, then Manning, Cocker, and Thiel as insta-corporals. He often regretted giving up Tsao and Božič-Mizaki to Second Platoon, but six IBHUs still represented a lot of firepower.

Randigold was his mainstay, but Manning and Cocker showed good promise. Rev went down the line: Randigold with the point team with clear lines of fire to the front. Cocker was shifting her position slightly to have both lines of fire to the flank and front. Hochenspatter . . .

Shit!

Rev bent over and picked up a baseball-sized rock, then threw it at Staff Sergeant Gantz. Strap was a good forty meters from him, but the rock pinged off his shoulder. He turned and Rev gave him the hand sign for “IBHU” and “alert.”

Strap turned and spotted his IBHU Marine, who was listlessly walking forward, two meters directly behind Red Apprentice Kzing, his IBHU’s muzzle pointed at the ground. If they were hit, Kzing would be right in Hochenspatter’s line of fire, and that assumed the Marine even noticed the Naxli.

Strap was in his PAL, but Rev could see the exasperation in the squad leader. Hochenspatter was an anchor around Strap’s neck—Rev’s, too. Rev had rarely seen a Marine who just existed like that—and never with an IBHU Marine. Even Ziegler had shown a little fire.

It wasn’t as if they could shitcan him, though. The IBHU would do what he was told. He’d performed well enough during the rescue of the hiver prisoners. And he represented a lot of firepower. It was just that he had no initiative.

Strap hurried over to his wayward Marine, grabbed him by his shoulders, and physically moved him into position. From Rev’s perspective, Hochenspatter barely noticed, but at least he raised his IBHU to the semi-ready.

Rev turned to see if the lieutenant had seen, and she was looking right at him.

Well, you could have corrected him, too, ma’am. You’re in command here.

The ground took that moment to start dancing again. The advance halted while troopers kept their balance, but as soon as the tremors stopped, they all started forward again.

I guess we’re getting used to this crap.

The sounds of intermittent fighting became noticeable. With the reports reflecting in the rocky terrain, it was difficult to tell just how far away it was, but they were getting closer. The defenders were around or on a hill just over seven klicks away. Without comms from the orbital eyes, they didn’t know their exact position, so they could be nearer.

Bundy evidently thought they were getting too close to the fight. He stopped the company well short of the assembly area and called the platoon commanders forward. Rev set in the platoon, then walked the line.

As he passed Hochenspatter, he said, “Keep your head out of your ass. We need you.”

“Will do, Gunny,” the corporal responded.

Then it was on to Gantz. “Come on, Strap. Keep on Hoch.”

Strap shook his head slowly and said, “You know how he is, Gunny. He’ll come through when the shit hits the fan.”

“He could have shot Kzing in the ass.”

“I know. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Rev knew that no one was going to turn Hochenspatter into a super Marine, but at least Strap would keep him on his toes.

With a sigh, he started back to his position when the lieutenant appeared.

“What’s going on, ma’am?”

“The skipper’s changed the plan. This is our assembly area.”

Assembly areas were, by SOP, the last concealed position before moving into the final advance to contact. This place—a couple of hundred meters of open space without vegetation—was not concealed.

But he wasn’t going to second guess Bundy. The man had proven himself time and time again as an astute tactician.

“So, what now?” he asked.

“Other than the new assembly area, nothing’s changed. We’re to initiate contact, and then, depending on where that is, the rest of the company’s going to maneuver to support.”

Which was the simplistic explanation. But the operations order had been thoroughly briefed, so she really wasn’t saying anything new.

“He sent out a couple of Dragonflies for a quick recon, but, you know . . .”

Yes, he knew. If their comms were out, then history would suggest that the drones would be useless. But it was worth a shot. Locating the Naxli forces prior to the engagement would be a huge benefit.

“How much time?”

“He’s giving the Dragonflies ten minutes. So, one way or the other, we move out in eight.”

“I’ll get them ready.”

He started off when she grabbed him by his IBHU. “What was that with Fourth Squad earlier?”

“Nothing, ma’am.”

“Clearly, it was something. You threw a damn rock at Staff Sergeant Gantz. What was Corporal Hochenspatter doing?”

If she couldn’t see the IBHU Marine was out of position, he wasn’t going to bring it up now when they were about to move into the assault.

“It was a SNCO thing, ma’am. Not your concern.”

She frowned, and he could see she wanted to press the issue, but she let it go.

He didn’t want to give her the opportunity to change her mind, so he turned to hurry away when something caught his attention high in the distance.

“What the hell?” he asked.

The lieutenant gave him a questioning look, and he pointed up at the sky. Far in the distance was a now-familiar sight. A lone Sia was slowly floating 800 or 900 meters over the ground.

“How the hell did that get here? And who told it about the operation?”

The lieutenant didn’t seem as concerned as Rev was. “Probably the Nikliths to answer both of your questions.”

“I don’t like it,” he said.

“There’s a lot I don’t like, Gunny. That singer is the least of that. Forget it and get the platoon ready to move out.”

Rev wasn’t the only one to notice. Several of the other troopers were pointing at the alien. He turned, and sure enough, Francique had seen the Sia and was kneeling, head bowed low.

Rev rolled his eyes. Private Nonu Francique was their Children of Angels Marine, newly out of boot camp and infantry training. And like all of them, he thought that the Sia were the long-expected advanced race who were supposed to lead humanity to the higher plane.

He was about to shout at him to get his head in the game, but the private rose back to his feet, hand on his chest, and focused his attention outboard again.

Rev disliked him. Unlike Cocker—who’d at least shown promise during training—Francique didn’t even have an IBHU to justify his position. Rev was adamant that the private shouldn’t be in the battalion at all, which was supposed to be elite. It was politics, pure and simple, and politics could get troopers killed.

Rev gave the Sia one last look, then called in the squad leaders. It only took a few moments to update them and send them back to their squads.

Four minutes later, the company was on the move. Things were about to get hot.

* * *

Cocker and Manning were singing to each other. The two had formed a bond during training—the older civilian without military training and the younger, former combat support sergeant—and now it was as if they’d been serving together for years.

As the two squads edged forward, first one fired a precise burst from her twenty, then the other answered with an equally precise burst. It was music to his ears. Or at least it would be if his situation wasn’t so precarious.

Meanwhile, Rev was trapped behind a small rock that barely gave him any cover. More of the top of the rock exploded as the Naxli rounds impacted, peppering him with chips. Dust settled around him.

Upon first contact with the Naxli, just short of Osprey, the company’s interim objective, Rev had pushed forward with Second Squad, anxious to take advantage of surprise. But the Naxli fighters had reacted surprisingly quickly, reorienting to their rear. Rev had taken a round off of Pashu and absorbed an energy blast before he’d reached cover, as small as that was.

The Naxli beamer had reduced his armor shielding to 72%, which was frightening as he’d been in the beam for only two-point-two seconds, according to Punch. That was a pretty good indication that the Naxli were fielding some powerful weapons.

Rev started to raise Pashu to fire blindly ahead, but he was instantaneously engaged. His IBHU was pretty robust, far more than his organic body, but she was not invulnerable. Long before her body gave out to the beam, her weapons would be knocked offline.

“Son of a bitch,” Rev said.

“What about a Moray? Is there enough distance for it to acquire the target?”

He could fire the Moray from behind the rock. The question was if it could hit the target.

<You’re within the minimum arming distance.>

The Moray was an excellent weapon against armor and bunkers, and it was decent against deployed infantry. But it was useless for anything under sixty-seven meters. As a safety measure, it took the missile flying that far before the warhead armed itself.

So, even if it could maneuver sharply enough to hit the target, it wouldn’t do any good. Rev would have retreated another ten or fifteen meters to give the missile the required distance, but he’d get cut down before he managed five.

He was helpless, something that made him angry. His warrior self was clamoring for attention. But if he let the berserker out, he’d be hit within seconds.

He craned his head. Just a few meters to his left, Randigold and Kata were almost on top of each other as they tried to keep out of the line of fire. He couldn’t see inside Randigold’s face shield from his angle, but he knew she was fuming.

Her right leg started to draw up.

“Eth! Stay put. Wait!” he shouted.

The leg paused, and she gave him a thumbs-up.

That’s all I need, Eth going rambo and getting herself killed.

He relied on Randigold more than he should. Cocker and Manning were holding their own at the moment, but Randigold had far more combat experience. As far as Hochenspatter and Thiel . . . well, it was what it was.

He looked back the other way. Sills was lying motionless on the ground where she’d fallen. Without the bios coming through, he couldn’t tell the lance corporal’s condition, but it didn’t look good.

Neary was beside her, equally as motionless, a chunk taken out of the side of his PAL. Blood had pooled on the rocky ground, but his right hand was clenched, the thumb raised. Rev hoped that meant he was still with them but playing possum.

Beyond the two, Over-Sergeant Rantz, the new Second Squad leader, was fuming. He still held onto the stock of his BIPAC, which had been shattered during the initial Naxli volley. His PAL was battered, and blood was smeared on the outside, but karnans were tough, and he wasn’t incapacitated.

He was probably blaming himself for being pinned down, but Rev couldn’t fault him. It had been a race for Osprey, which was a narrow pass in the rocks that led to the valley on the other side and Lark, the battalion objective. If the squad had been slightly quicker, they’d have reached the position first and would now have the advantage. But the Naxli had won the race and opened up from almost point-blank range.

Sometimes, the judgment was sound, but the other side just prevailed.

There was an explosion in front of Rev, sending more dust rolling over him.

If they’re using grenades, now . . .

“Come on, Lieutenant. We need some support!” he said to himself.

He could catch glimpses of the rest of the platoon maneuvering up through the rocks on either side, but the going was rough. Cocker and Manning were doing a yeoman’s job in suppressing the Naxli fire on their squads, but they only had so many rounds. The troopers had to get in position to take the Naxli under direct fire if Rev and Second Squad were going to be able to press forward.

What they really needed was for Weapons Platoon to be able to use their heavy weapons to blast the Naxli out of their position, but without comms, Rev couldn’t call for fire. He knew the other platoons would be moving up to the sound of guns, but the plan called for flanking maneuvers, not a direct assault. The Naxli couldn’t have picked a better spot to counteract that.

Rev pulled out one of his Gnats and snapped the tether into his PAL’s jack. “Download our positions, the noxes’, and the operations overlay.”

<Done.>

He hesitated, though. Punch had put in the current situation. That could change in a matter of minutes. But it was a chance he thought he had to take.

“Input Lieutenant DeHerra’s specs.”

<Done.>

“Sir, we can use some help here. Anything you’ve got would be appreciated,” he recorded. “It’s danger close. The lead trooper is about forty meters from the lead edge of the pass, and we’ve got more troopers maneuvering up along the sides.”

Rev released the Gnat, and let it go.

It’s not like anything’s guaranteed.

The small general-purpose drone relied on signals to find its target. But the electromagnetic spectrum was being blanked out. It had a backup, though. The little AI brain had a fairly robust recognition capability. Analyzing the company overlay and taking into account other factors, it could assess probabilities of where the Weapon’s Platoon commander might be, and if it spotted him, it should be able to recognize and make contact.

Something big hit the rock Rev was using as cover. It shook, and a crack appeared, but it held. Another hit like that, and Rev would be out of luck.

“I need to see just what we’re facing.”

He slid the Optisight out of his cargo holster, extended it, and raised it over the top of the rock. Immediately, the top was blown off, the force ripping the bottom out of his hands to go bouncing across the ground behind him.

“Damn. I’ve had that one since Armadillo.”

Forty-millimeter grenades started sporadically detonating up ahead. Archambault was First Squad’s grenadier. Assuming he was still alive, that would be him putting out rounds. But Rev didn’t have to see to know that with the Naxli’s position, Archambault wouldn’t be able to drop the grenades on their head until he got right over them.

Hopefully, though, the grenades got their attention.

Maybe they had. The firing around them seemed to slacken. But from Rev’s position, flat on his back in the kill zone, he could see the firing chase the troopers who were climbing the rocks.

It was an adage as old as time that the fighters who held the high ground had the advantage. And that was probably still true here. But while the troopers were protected by the rocks for now, as soon as they made it up another ten meters or so, they’d be exposed to the Naxli on the ground.

At that point, Rev and Second Squad were going to have to react. He waved his hand to get Rantz’s attention.

The squad leader wasn’t watching, and Rev finally yelled out, “Rantz!” The karnan turned to him, and Rev signaled “wait,” “on my command,” and “assault.” The karnan nodded and passed it on.

Rev twisted around slightly and gave the same signs to Heisō Kata, who was on the other side of him with Randigold. Kata gave him the “understand” sign and passed it on down to the last two troopers, Weld and Francique.

There was a shout, and Rev looked up just in time to see a body falling down the rocks, cartwheeling when his head hit a rock. The PAL landed hard, and the trooper inside didn’t move. Rev couldn’t tell if whoever it was had just fallen or had accidentally given the Naxli a clear shot.

The Naxli position was close to perfect. They had almost complete cover, yet they could engage the humans at will. First Platoon was completely pinned down. With the other platoons moving up, the company would eject the Naxli, but at what cost?

The whoosh overhead, so close he could hear the displaced air, made him duck. An instant later, the weapon exploded ahead of him. Rev looked back, and in the distance, close to the choke point along the route to the battalion CP, he could see a lone Moray II missileman from Weapons Platoon aim in another missile.

He fired almost at the same instant that his PAL broke into pieces, blown apart by return fire. But the missile, bigger and more powerful than the Moray I that Rev and the other IBHUs carried, was on its way. It looked huge as it raced toward Rev.

“Take cover!” he yelled, almost in unison with several others.

The second missile passed directly over Rev and detonated on the other side.

Rev had been waiting for the troopers on the rocks to engage the Naxli, but he knew this was his chance.

“Now, now, now!” he shouted before he rolled to his feet and started charging forward, spraying his twenty into the narrow choke point. His warrior self had taken over, and Rev let him. A wounded Naxli was crawling for cover, and Rev shifted his aim. The big rounds tore into the body, and it collapsed.

But not all the Naxli were down. Some had regained their composure and fired back. Rev took a glancing blow as he ran to close the distance.

From his side, a streak rushed forward, screaming, “Hail, Sia!”

PFC Francique darted in front of Rev—blocking his line of fire—while firing his M-51 indiscriminately.

A Naxli rose out of seemingly nowhere and fired a weapon Rev didn’t recognize. It had to be an energy beam of some sort, and Francique went down. But that cleared the line of fire, and Rev put a burst into the Naxli, sending it backward while blue blood sprayed into an arc.

And then the squad was into the position. Two Naxli were still in the fight. One unsheathed a sword at Rantz, but the big karnan, who was without a working BIPAC, was having none of it. He ducked under the slash, his gauntleted fist connecting with the Naxli’s chin. The enemy went down hard with Rantz on top of it, using the butt of his shattered BIPAC to wail away on the alien.

The last Naxli should have stayed in the hole that had protected it from the Moray II. But either its will broke or it wanted to face the humans like a warrior. It didn’t matter. As it tried to climb out, the remaining troopers riddled it.

The M-51 hypervelocity darts were not the best at penetrating the Naxli’s organic armor. They needed to hit at the right angle or find a crease. But five M-51s could together put out a couple of hundred darts in two seconds, and enough tore through or past the armor to drop the enemy fighter like a rag doll back into its spider hole.

Rev was breathing hard as he frantically looked for another target, but that was it. There were no living Naxli there.

Quickly suppressing his warrior self, he told Rantz to move his squad to the edge of the pass, where it looked down on their objective, and set up a defense. He stepped back to the near side and signaled Osprey—Lieutenant Colonel Suk sure had a preference for bird names for objectives—secure. Then, as the rest of the platoon started forward and back down the rocks, he surveyed the objective. He counted nine dead Naxli. He couldn’t be sure about the one in the spider hole, but all of the rest showed wounds from the Moray IIs.

He shook his head. Nine Naxli had held off a platoon? The Naxli weren’t slouches when it came to fighting, but it was obvious that this was a perfect point to defend. A platoon of combat engineers couldn’t have done much better if they’d built it. Without the sacrifice of the missileman from Weapons, Rev and the rest would still be stuck.

“Corpsman up!” someone shouted, and Doc Soon jumped down the last of the rocks to hurry over to where Francique was lying. Lieutenant Marble started up to meet him.

Rev waited for her, but there was one thought on his mind. These nine Naxli weren’t the extent of the force that had the humans at the objective under siege.

If these were all that were here, where were the rest of the Naxli?

26

“What are their chances?” Rev asked HM2 Soon.

“Sills and Careth? Pretty good, I think. If they can make it to the Relief. The facilities on her are gold.”

“What about Francique? He’s still alive.”

Doc shook her head. “The body’s alive, but the brain isn’t. They’ll do a full scan, but there’s really no hope. Too much damage. There’s no way they can restart life functions and keep them going on their own.”

“Then why . . .?” Rev started to ask but left it at that.

“A corpsman cannot stop treatment. That takes a licensed medical officer,” she said in a tired voice.

It made a degree of sense, but he didn’t have to like the idea that some medical officer on the hospital ship was just going to turn off life support for Francique. If he was still alive, then they had to try.

“I never thought I’d mourn an Angel Shit,” Rantz said. “But Francique was a good Marine.”

Hussein snorted at that, and Rev wasn’t so sure himself. Francique, like all Children of Angels, was a fanatic, and Rev still didn’t trust them. He’d give credit where it was due and acknowledge the guy’s bravery, as misplaced as it had been. And he hoped Doc was wrong and they’d be able to resurrect him. But he was still suspicious of the Children of Angels. When all of this was over, and they built their temples to the Sia or whatever new fad popped into their hearts, where would they stand with IBHUs, karnans, Rangers, and the others? They were avowed opponents of hyper-augments, after all. If they gained more influence within humanity, where would Rev and the rest be?

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say something, his comms came on with all indicators green.

“What the—”

A voice, as clear as day, if slightly tinny sounding, asked, “Military forces, who are you?”

“We’re—” Rev started, along with many others, before he was muted.

Not kicked off the suddenly alive net, but muted.

“I’m Major Aristotle Bundy, Perseus Union Marine Corps, currently serving with the First Human Expeditionary Battalion, Congress of Humanity. Who are you?”

There were several long seconds of silence, and then the voice said, “You need to leave now.”

“We’re humans. We’ve repelled the Naxli force that was assaulting you.”

“We thank you for that. Now, leave.”

Rev and Hussein exchanged looks, the over-sergeant raising his hands in the “huh?” gesture.

“There are continued Naxli operations on the planet,” Bundy said. “It isn’t safe to leave you.”

“We will be fine. Now, go.”

“Who are you?” Bundy asked again, and again, there was no answer to that.

“This is weird,” Hussein said.

Yancey walked over to the two and asked, “What the hell’s going on? Who is that?”

Rev waved a hand to shush him. He didn’t want to miss anything.

“I’m just a company commander. I’m not authorized to order a withdrawal. I just tried to contact my commanding officer, and I’m still blocked from them. I take it you’re responsible for the jamming and not the Naxli?” Bundy asked.

Rev hadn’t thought to try and contact anyone outside of the company. But that’s why Bundy was such a great leader. His mind was always questing, taking nothing for granted.

There was another pause, then “Where is your commanding officer located?”

“Approximately 600 hundred meters to our northeast,” Bundy said.

“Tell them you need to withdraw now.”

Rev looked at his helmet display. The comms icons were green.

He connected to the P2P network and pulled up Top Olyn from the Three Shop.

“You there, Top?”

There was silence. “No comms,” he muttered.

<Master Sergeant Olyn is with the Bravo Command.>

Duh!

The top wasn’t with the Alpha Command. He was with Captain Nestor in the Bravo Command, the shadow command structure that was ready to take over if something happened to the Alpha Command, they were otherwise displacing, or they were sleeping. By SOP, the Bravo Command wouldn’t be co-located with the Alpha, so if this guy was somehow opening comms to 600 meters northeast, then it probably wouldn’t encompass the top and the rest.

He wondered who else he could try and contact, but left it alone. He didn’t want to miss anything.

It took longer than he’d expected before Bundy said, “Colonel Suk can’t seem to connect with you. He wants you to know that we’re human, and we mean you no harm. We’re here to protect you. But he’d like to know who you are.”

Yeah, who are you to be able to jam comms at will. That doesn’t sound like a tramp scavenger to me.

“Tell your commanding officer that all forces must evacuate this area and then leave the planet. If you stay, we will consider that an act of war, and we’ll take any and all appropriate action to defend ourselves.”

“I can assure you that we’re not your en—” Bundy said before comms was lost again.

“Lieutenant, are you there?” he asked his platoon commander over the P2P. His display said the comms were out, but it didn’t hurt to try.

Over-Sergeant Rantz walked over to join Rev and the other two squad leaders. “What the hell was that?” he asked.

“Damned if I know. But I’m sure going to try and find out,” Rev said. “Yance, keep digging in while I see what’s going on.”

“Is that a good idea? Digging in? You heard what they told us about leaving,” Yancey said.

“Yeah, I heard. But what are they going to do? Come out of their hole in the ground and attack us? Besides, we only won one battle. There could be a shitload of noxes coming down our throats, and we know that’s a threat. Dig in and prepare for that, and let the skipper worry about our hostile friends here.”

Yancey nodded, and the other two squad leaders started back to their troopers.

“Doc, check everyone out. These guys could be missing a leg, and they wouldn’t tell us.”

“Roger that. I’m on it,” she said.

Rev gave one last look around at the platoon. He probably should stay with them and just let the lieutenant find out what was going on, but he had to be in the know, too.

This was decidedly weird, and someone had to make some sense to it.

* * *

Seven hours later, none of them knew much more. Battalion had been ordered to send a multinational team forward to contact the defenders, led by the XO, but they’d been greeted by beamer fire that scorched the ground just meters in front of them, so that had put the kibosh on that.

Comms were still out. Battalion was communicating with adjacent units with messenger drones and with higher headquarters via encoded lasers aimed at relays which in turn sent the messages to the command ship.

Quantum comms were still down, which was probably panicking a lot of people. It had been taken for granted that they could not be jammed, but evidently, the people hiding out on the planet had figured out a way to do so. That advanced level of technological capability had spurred rumors as to who they were, and no one thought they were scavengers anymore.

Higher headquarters had ordered the battalion to remain in place, orient to the northwest, and set in the defense. Their original orders had been to join in other efforts upon rescuing the people (natives, residents, visitors, whatever they were), but this had changed things, and the command wanted them to remain in the area should the need arise.

At the platoon level, Rev and the rest didn’t know what was going on across the rest of the planet. They could see the trails of various spacecraft breaking through the ever-present smoke during the daylight, and now that it was night, it was difficult to tell what was the glow of active volcanoes and what were signs of battle.

But from what did leak through, their battle might be the only one that was over. The rest of the task force was still engaged. Most of them were in open battle, with Naxli and human units maneuvering to gain an advantage, but at least two more units were around what was probably more of the humans who had demanded that the battalion leave.

For the moment, at least, the battalion was standing down, going to a fifty-percent alert status. All of them were still on their initial boost, but if they could catch some rest here and there, that could extend their ability to remain combat effective.

“So, Omega Division?” Kelly asked.

Rev shook his head. “This is too big for them.”

If they weren’t scavengers, the big question that was being bandied about was just who the people were. Within the platoon, the consensus was that they were part of some secret government research effort. A few accusations were thrust back and forth between the troopers, but no one nation probably had that capability. It was either the CoH or a non-official entity like the Guild or even the Children of Angels.

“If they told us who they are, they’d have to kill us,” Randigold had quipped earlier, but that got a lot of people thinking.

“You haven’t said who you think they are, Miko,” Bob said.

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter who they are. They fired upon the XO’s delegation. They don’t want us here, and if holding off the noxes and being able to turn on and off our comms at will is any indication, then maybe we should do what they said and leave.”

“But we saved their asses,” Hussein said.

“They were still holding out and doing a pretty good job of it, I might add.”

Rev thought Tomiko was taking it a bit too far, but she was right. The people had held off a significant Naxli force. How much longer they could have held out was open to debate, but they weren’t defenseless civilians.

Punch went through the vast vault of knowledge locked in his crystal brain, but there was nothing there that could hint as to the people’s identity, nor was there anything in the science that could explain what happened with the quantum communications.

Then again, if they were some super-secret organization, their presence would have been scrubbed.

“It has to be CoH,” Bob said. “That would explain their sudden insistence that we retake the planet.”

“But if that’s the case, would they invite the scorps?” Rev asked. “Wouldn’t that open this super-duper group to discovery by an alien race?”

“Well, you notice that they aren’t here, right? It’s only the Mother’s children here.”

Rev snorted. “Twenty clicks away, my fry friend. The scorps could be here in an hour and a half if they wanted.”

The ground took that moment to shake, and the five of them spread their legs and held out their arms to steady themselves. Hussein had been caught mid-stride during the last shake and was knocked on his ass, and no one wanted a repeat of that.

There was a crash in the distance as a rock was sheared off. With all the earthquakes, Rev wasn’t sure how any loose rock was still attached.

After fifteen seconds, the shaking subsided. Everyone stood still, waiting for a last gasp, but the ground was mercifully still.

“I’m not going to miss this crap once we get out of here,” Tomiko said.

“Miko!” Kelly said.

Tomiko rolled her eyes. There was a tradition among many Marines, soldiers, Legionnaires, and the rest of not speaking of leaving a battle zone. It was considered bad juju and taunting the gods of war. But Tomiko not only gave that no credence, she sometimes flaunted it.

“Well, it’s true. Every time this damn planet decides to dance . . . I’m just getting sick of it. That’s all.”

“I second that,” Hussein said.

“That’s because you can’t even keep on your feet, Hus-man,” Kelly said as she gave him a little shove.

“Speaking of being on your feet, it’s about time you woke Yance up. See if you can get some sleep,” Rev told him.

“I could sleep if this planet could give the shaking a rest,” he said.

“And I’d better go wake up Horse,” Kelly added. “Not that I need my beauty sleep.”

She tilted her head and acted as if she was flicking her hair—which was a mean feat while inside a PAL.

Bob gave Rev a questioning look as Hussein and Kelly left to wake up their reliefs.

“I’m letting her sleep. She’s been going at it hard since before the landing, and she could use the downtime.”

“Kiss ass,” Tomiko said.

“I’d rather have the lieutenant functioning at full capacity if she’s gonna be giving the platoon orders. ’Sides, I’m not really tired.”

“Says the guy who fell asleep at Bundy’s wetting down,” Tomiko reminded him.

“Ah, that was just because those officers bored me to tears. They’d put anyone to sleep.”

27

“So, we just sit here?” Hussein asked.

“The CO wants us to keep an eye on our friends,” Rev said. “But that doesn’t mean we’re out of the fight. The lieutenant wants us on full alert until the situation starts to gel.”

Alpha Company had reverted to the reserve. Bundy had taken Second, Third, and Weapons Platoon and formed a temporary CP about five hundred meters back, right at the edge of the open terrain he’d designated the assembly area earlier. The battalion CP was another klick to the northeast, with the other companies forming a defense protecting it.

There were a few indications—what kind, Rev didn’t know—that some Naxli were moving into the area. They might be coming to renew the fight against the local humans, but more likely, they were reacting to the battalion’s presence, in which case, there’d be another battle.

The battalion was in a holding pattern, but Rev didn’t think that would be for long. More than likely, it had to do with the fact that with communications being ferried by STG (Space to Ground) messenger drones, orders were taking time to be disseminated. First Human Expeditionary Battalion was basically intact, and the CG wouldn’t be wasting that amount of firepower and capability.

They didn’t know how the fight was going on elsewhere around the planet. There’d been three major centers of gravity, but that could and probably had changed since their landing.

Bravo had a brief firefight with a small unit of Naxli, but other than that, this sector was quiet. The lull before the storm. The question was where that storm would form. Rev didn’t care, but he hoped that the human forces would be the cause of it. They’d take the initiative and keep the Naxli backpedaling.

“And if we see anything?” Hussein asked.

First Squad had the initial watch, and four of the squad’s troopers, including Hussein, were on a two-hour shift, keeping low but observing the area below. Four more of the squad would replace them, and in four hours, Over-Sergeant Rantz and Second Squad would take over for the next shift.

“Record it and grab me. I’ll be just below you. But whatever you do, don’t make contact.”

“You’re the expert in making contact. Not me. How many times have you done that now?”

Rev ignored the question. “None of us are supposed to make contact. You saw what they did to Major Synne’s party. We don’t need to have a fight break out between humans.”

“Roger, dodger, three bags full,” Hussein said. “We’ll keep our eyes peeled and do nothing at all. That’s the Marine Corps way.”

“You are one strange dude, Hus-man.”

Both turned in unison as the Navy landing craft took off behind them, and Rev sighed with relief.

“Doc was on the ball with that,” Hussein said.

“Sure was.”

But I should have thought of it.

During the brief lull when comms were open, Doc Soon had taken the initiative to call in a CASEVAC. It hadn’t been confirmed when the comms were closed again, but five minutes ago, while Rev and First Squad were getting into position, the bird had come in low and fast. Now, maybe Sills and Careth had a chance of resurrection.

“Remind me to put Doc in for an Achievement Medal. She might have just saved their lives.”

<Noted.>

The two Marines watched as the landing craft shot for space and safety. But then, it was time for the mission at hand.

Rev took another look at the local’s position. They were perched high on the rocks above the valley below. Eight hundred meters away was the hill, or more specifically, the volcanic tube that formed the local’s natural fort. Rising over fifty meters into the sky, the sheer sides went straight down into the ground. An immense amount of rubble and scree littered around the base—he couldn’t tell how much of that was from the constant earthquakes and how much had been from Naxli weapons.

The rubble provided quite a bit of cover that could hide several companies of Marines, but the consensus was that the locals were in tunnels built into the massive chimney.

There were several hundred meters of open ground around Lark with very little, if any, cover. It was a vast killing ground.

The natural fort explained how the locals had been able to stand off the Naxli. Groups of Naxli bodies still littered the ground. But it wasn’t just a fort. It was also a prison. The humans there were trapped, and if a large enough Naxli force assaulted it, there could only be one end result.

Rev had to give it to them, though. They’d done well. But now the Naxli had to be thrown off the planet, and that was a task for the professionals.

He patted Hussein on the shoulder, then slid down through the rocks to a small ledge where he could stretch out. They were still on full alert, but at least he could relax a bit and let his mind take a break.

Things would get exciting again soon enough.

* * *

“What do you call a joke without a punchline?”

<Silence. And that’s twenty-three to four.>

Crap. I thought I might have had him that time.

Twenty-three times Punch had answered the punchline. Rev had only answered four. Rev knew he couldn’t beat his battle buddy in this dumb contest, but he’d like to at least stump him once.

“OK, your turn.”

<What do you call a canine magician?>

Rev thought he might have heard this one before, and he racked his brain trying to pull it up. He knew it was right there, but as with a lot of things lately, his mental recall process was a little lacking.

“Uh . . . woofman?”

<If I said a weredog, I might give that to you. But, no.>

“It’s close, though, right?”

<No. And you’ve got eighteen more seconds.>

Some stupid answers popped up that made no sense, but he kept them unsaid. And when Punch made an obnoxious buzzer sound in his head, he sighed and said, “OK, what is a dog magician called?”

<A labracadabrador.>

Rev groaned, and not only because he had heard it but just hadn’t been able to pull it up. “That’s a kindergartener’s joke, Punch.”

<Which is, by definition, still a joke.>

He gave in. It wouldn’t do any good to argue with his battle buddy on the intricacies of joke contest rules.

“OK, give me a moment,” he said as he tried to come up with something Punch wouldn’t know.

<You do understand that this is folly, right? I’ve got more than a million jokes in my data banks. I can easily look up the response to any what-do-you-call lead in. Your meat brain simply can’t compete with that.>

And my meat brain’s still a little scrambled. I’m not going to give up, though. I’ll get one that’s new to you.

“But if I can make one up, then you won’t know it.”

<Do you really think you can come up with something the trillions of humans hadn’t already done so?>

Rev was saved by answering when Randigold hissed, “Gunny! We’ve got movement!”

He looked up to where she was leaning over her perch, looking down at him. She should be telling Rantz, not him, and he made a note to bring that up with her. Rantz was her squad leader, not him, and just because the two were IBHU Marines didn’t mean she should ignore the chain of command, even with Rantz being a karnan.

But he was also curious. “What do you see?”

She shook her head, and in an unsure voice, said, “I think you’d better see for yourself.”

Rev scowled and said, “Just tell me, Eth.”

“I’m . . . I’m not sure how to, Gunny.”

I swear, Eth, you can drive me insane sometimes.

He thought about crabbing over to where Rantz was sitting, but it would be easier to go straight up, then call up the karnan if need be. He climbed to join her. Corporal Weld had out his monocular and was locked into the area below, but König was watching him, and Rev could see the look of shock through his face shield.

“Now, what’s the big deal?” he asked.

The planet chose that moment to do her dance, but that was old hat by now, and the five troopers simply grabbed onto the nearest handhold and secured themselves until the shaking stopped.

As the last tremor faded away, Randigold just pointed down the hill and toward the fort.

Rev’s eyesight was augmented, of course, and his face shield could somewhat magnify what he was seeing, but the base of the position was still 800 meters away, so some of the details were lacking. Still, he could see several people moving around the rubble on the bottom. They were in some sort of a combat suit, from the look of things, but with that metallic gleam, they had to be pretty ancient.

The PAL’s shell was made from a tri-carbon marage, which was a metallic/ceramic hybrid material, but even without the active camouflage powered up, the skin absorbed light, not reflected it. This was standard among almost all of humanity’s body armor, combat suits, and mechs.

The local defenders were easily discerned as the sunlight reflected off of their armor.

If the locals were some sort of scavengers, then that might make sense. An ancient cache of combat suits would be far cheaper than something more modern, and they should be enough to defend against most bandits.

“What have they been doing?” Rev asked.

“I think you need to get a closer look.”

Rev had already been reaching for his monocle before she said that, and he raised it to his face shield. A small patch of black smoke drifted between them, but it blew past, and the human figures snapped into much greater detail.

Rev gasped. He immediately recognized the figures. How could he not? There had been over 200 years of holovids, books, and school classes depicting the horrors that were sauntering around the rubble as if they hadn’t a care in the galaxy.

His mind screamed that it was impossible, but his eyes told him otherwise.

He was looking at three Genesians, the long-dead enemies of humankind.

28

“What are you staring at, Eth?”

“Nothing.”

“I can feel your eyes digging into me.”

“It’s just, you know. Like they say. Nexus of Chaos, Gunny.”

“Oh, give it a break. You were the one who spotted them first.”

“Well, Weld was, to be accurate. But you’re here, just like you are every time some galaxy-wide seismic shift happens. I wasn’t sure about the rumors at first, but here you are again. I say that with all due respect, of course.”

“You don’t respect shit, Eth.” He paused for a moment. “Rumors? Does everyone know about that name?”

She nodded. “It’s kinda embedded in the company. Most of us like it, you know.”

Rev didn’t know how to take it. He hated the nickname, and he damned General Echo, the former commandant and the one who’d started using it, in his thoughts every time he heard it. He was a nexus of absolutely jack shit. It was just pure luck that he’d been there at certain points in history.

The question he kept asking himself was if it was good luck or bad luck.

“Gunny?” König said, pointing back down the hill. Rev turned. Bundy, followed by an angry-looking Lieutenant Marble, was climbing up the rocks to them.

He’d mentally scolded Randigold for coming to him and not Rantz, but here he’d done the same thing. But he was down to one message drone, and he hadn’t wanted to waste it to get a message to the company commander.

Of course, he could have sent Weld down to brief her, or he could have let her message Bundy, but she wasn’t Union.

There it was. For all the kumbaya in the joint unit, he wasn’t taking it upon himself to spread this around. Having living—if you could say they were actually alive in the biological sense—Genesians on the planet was going to reverberate throughout humanity. There will be people, raised on centuries of propaganda who would consider a Genesian threat more dangerous than that of the Naxli.

Humankind was genetically programmed to fear spiders or cockroaches, and most people stepped on them given a chance. The Genesians had not been around that long, but the same instincts were there. They could not be allowed to exist alongside human beings.

Their presence was going to become known, and not just within the Union. Til König already knew, and he was Tau Ceti. At least they were close allies of the Union. More would find out, but Rev was not taking it upon himself to spread the word. That would be something way, way, way over his head.

He hadn’t even told Rantz, instead dismissing him and the other three troopers and telling them to rejoin the platoon.

He’ll be pissed at that when he finds out.

All MDS soldiers could be prickly at best, and the karnans were even more so.

“König, Weld, shift over and give the major some room.” He couldn’t have been more obvious that he wanted to give the major space without others overhearing anything. “You, too, Eth.”

She frowned, but she joined the others in moving farther away.

“OK, I’m here. Tell me this isn’t one of your pranks,” Bundy said, his voice hard as steel.

Over his shoulder, Marble was staring at him. If she were a kaiju, Rev knew that lasers would be shooting out of her eyes to incinerate him on the spot. He knew she had every reason to be angry at him, so he refused to meet those eyes.

“I wish it was a prank, sir. But it isn’t.”

Bundy looked down at the chimney. “I don’t see anything.”

“They went back inside a few minutes ago.”

Bundy’s face was impassive as he turned back to Rev. This wasn’t Bundy, his old friend. This was Major Bundy, his company commander.

Rev held out a docking cable. One end was already jacked into his PAL.

“You’re sure about this? There’s no chance you’re mistaken?”

“I’m sure. Punch says that they aren’t exactly the same. There’re some changes to their shells. But yes, sir. I’m sure. It’s them.”

Bundy reached out and took the free end of the cable and inserted it into his jack.

“Run it, Punch.”

For the next couple of minutes, the recording played. He still didn’t know what the Genesians were doing. They seemed to be aimlessly wandering around the rubble. But it didn’t really matter what they were doing—what mattered was that they were doing it. That they existed.

Finally, Bundy raised a hand. “Push that to me.”

Punch didn’t wait for Rev to tell him. <It’s done.>

Bundy slowly removed the cable from his jack. “Who knows?”

“The four of us. You. And the lieutenant.”

“For the time being, let’s leave it at that. You and I’ll be taking this to the CO and let him decide what’s next.”

He turned to the lieutenant.

“I’ll stay up here with these three, sir,” she said.

“No, you need to be with the company. It may be quiet at the moment, but we’re still in a war zone. Leave the platoon with Staff Sergeant del Rio for now and head to the company CP.”

He motioned Randigold over. “You’re here for the duration, I’m afraid. No one else comes up to your position until further word. Record all sightings, but unless they sally forth to fight, you tell no one.”

“Aye-aye, sir. We can handle it.”

“I know you can.” He looked at the two leaders of the platoon and said, “Shall we?”

As the three started back down the rocks, the lieutenant leaned close to Rev and hissed, “When this is over, we will have words.”

“Yes, ma’am.” There was really nothing else he could say.

29

Rev waited outside the LESS. The battalion CP was a somewhat clear area in what was almost an open bowl, protected by the raised ridges that were the norm in the region. Those ridges and gullies gave the CP protection from direct-fire weapons, even if they wouldn’t do much against indirect fire. Around him, the forty or fifty Marines were busy with the bustle of running the battalion.

Bundy stuck his head outside the LESS and motioned for Rev to enter. He’d never been in one of the Lightweight Expeditionary Secure Structures. The Marines didn’t have them. It was a new service item developed on Paxus, and they’d provided it to the brigade. Stepping inside, he could be in any more permanent CP in the Union, yet this one massed just over 300 kgs and could be erected in eight minutes, start to finish.

The LESS was over-pressured, so the air was clean. Bundy took off his helmet, and Rev gratefully took off his as well.

“The CO’s waiting for his principal staff, so just stand by.”

Bundy had briefed the colonel alone, and now it was evidently time to bring more into the picture.

Within a few minutes, the principal staff, the sergeant major, the Intel Chief, and their civilian advisor had arrived. Of the principals, only the XO was missing, as he was with the Bravo Command. Four of them there were not Union Marines, so the issue of keeping this in-house was OBE.

The colonel signaled everyone to move to the far side of the LESS, and then a door closed, giving them a soundproof and secure area for the brief.

“We’ve got a situation here,” Lieutenant Colonel Suk said. “One that beggars belief. I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around it. In fact, I didn’t believe it at first.”

The staff officers looked around at each other in confusion.

Oh, just wait. You’re gonna be a lot more confused in a few moments.

“Instead of telling you, I’m just going to show you what Major Bundy showed me.”

He nodded at Bundy, who jacked into a central console. A 2D screen lowered, and the recording Rev had made appeared on it. It hadn’t been edited, so it took a moment to center in on the base of the chimney and the three Genesians.

There was a collective gasp and several shouts as recognition kicked in. Rev was watching the staff, not the screen, and he couldn’t help but notice that the civilian didn’t seem surprised. Either this wasn’t a surprise to her, or she was good at hiding her emotions.

“Is this real?” Major Ma asked as they watched the figures move in the rubble.

It was a valid question. There had always been reports of Genesians floating around, reports that were never confirmed. During the fifty or so years after the end of the Corolla Wars, the reports were so numerous that the Genesians were often referred to as “Sasquatches.” Deepfakes appeared that convinced some of the masses, and many governments went along with it, willing to use the fakes to keep military spending high.

But governments and NGOs started debunking all of the sightings. Not one passed muster, and since then, the sightings had been sporadic and rare.

The CO turned to Rev. “I’ll let the gunny answer that.”

Rev cleared his throat. “That recording is mine. I can assure you that is what I observed.”

“Of course, it would be the gunny,” someone whispered.

“It’s a hologram,” Captain Vioux, the S-4, said. “It has to be.”

“That may very well be,” the CO said, which took Rev by surprise.

He’d never even considered that.

“And I’m about to send a copy of this up for analysis. But until this is refuted, we have to assume it’s authentic, and what we’re seeing now is a hidden population of gennies.”

He let that sink in.

“And if it is some sort of elaborate fake, then why? What’s the purpose?”

“They already warned us to stay away, sir,” Major Ma said. “And you saw what they did to the XO when he tried to initiate contact. Maybe they’re trying to keep us at arm’s length because they don’t want us to find out what they’re even doing here.”

“If that’s the case, then they’d have to know that posing as gennies would bring down the wrath of the Mother on their heads. If they want to stay under the radar—”

Bundy paused as the earth shuddered. This was a light one, though, barely more than five seconds in duration. “If they want to stay under the radar, then that’s not the way to do it.”

Major Ma looked like he wanted to argue, but Bundy had a good point.

“Looking at the big picture, this is probably more important now than the mission itself. But on the battalion level, if there is a colony of gennies hiding out here, they may be our biggest threat.”

Rev raised his eyebrows. That was another thing he hadn’t considered. Despite their warning, he should have. The Genesians were humanity’s sworn enemies, after all.

Suddenly, Rev wanted to be back with the platoon, not here as Exhibit A in the LESS.

“So, now what’s our course of action?” the CO asked.

Rev hadn’t spent time in the CP and observed how the CO ran things, but that had the sound of a rhetorical question. Even if it wasn’t, he wasn’t going to jump up with suggestions.

“Before you do anything else, Tae, I want this recording on a message drone. I’ll work something up, but we’ve got to get it on its way to the command ship.”

“Tae” was Lieutenant Geer, the communications officer.

“I want it ready for my message in twenty minutes.”

“You’ll have it, sir.”

He turned to his operations officer. “Three, let’s work out a contingency plan if the gennies decide to go on the offensive. I don’t want to be caught between two belligerent forces.”

He paused as if a new thought hit him. “Four, get the gunner to look up the specs on the genny shells. See if we might need to adjust any of our weapons systems to be more effective against them. It’s been two hundred years since we’ve fought them, and our weapons have been optimized for different enemies in the meantime.”

“Gunner” was Chief Warrant Officer Three Porter, the battalion armorer. Except for the IBHUs, the gunner was the expert on all weapons.

The CO turned to Bundy. “Major, you’re going to be our first line of defense against the gennies. I’m not making you the point of main effort while the noxes are still out there, but you need to be ready for anything. Consider this your warning order.”

He turned back to Major Ma. “Let’s think about shifting Charlie farther around to the west so they can react to either threat.”

“They’ve got a good position right now, sir. If they shift, then they’ll be in those gullies.”

“I’m just thinking out loud, Three. Get your staff together, and I’ll join you as soon as the drone’s launched.”

“Aye-aye, sir. But what do I tell them about the, you know?” he asked, hooking a thumb at the still deployed screen.

“This can’t get out. It’ll cause panic.” He looked over at Bundy. “How many people know about this?”

Bundy, in turn, looked at Rev, passing it on. “Six from Alpha, sir. Three troopers, Major Bundy, Lieutenant Marble, and me.”

“Keep it that way, Major. If you need to supplement that to be able to keep an eye on them, use your discretion. As to my staff, you’re it. No one else unless it’s cleared with me or the Four. And to answer your original question, Major, tell them that there might be a threat from that direction. Let them make their own assumptions.”

“And Gunner?” Captain Vioux asked.

The CO gave a short, barking laugh. “That wily coot will figure it out. Yes, go ahead and tell him.”

He paused for a moment. “Any other questions?”

Rev still didn’t know what was going on, but that would come. The CO had just given them their warning order, nothing else. A frag order would be coming down the pike, which should have much more in the details.

“Like I said, I couldn’t believe this when I found out. I still can’t understand what happened. But we’re the elite of the elite, and we can pivot to whatever is thrown at us. Just remember that. Genny or nox, no one can stand up to us.”

There were several ooh-rahs, and then the CO said, “Let’s get at it.”

As the staff started to go to their workstations, the CO said, “Three, Major Bundy, hold on a moment.”

Rev didn’t know what he should do, so he stuck around.

“Make sure the Bravo Command is brought up to speed,” he told Major Ma. “The noxes are still the primary threat here, so until the gennies show something more than hiding out, they are a secondary consideration.

“But that doesn’t mean Alpha takes it easy. The gennies are your threat,” he told Bundy. “Be ready to react to a concerted nox advance, but I want you oriented toward the gennies. You’re at Lark, right?”

“First Platoon’s just short of it, sir.”

The CO contemplated that for a moment. “Just short is probably a good thing for now. If your team on the high ground spots anything, they can move into position easily enough. But I’m concerned about here.”

He turned to the screen, and an orbital photo of the area appeared that covered the battalion CP, each of the companies’ CPs, and the genny position. Lark and other positions were notated.

“This ridgeline is an effective barrier between Osprey and us, with Lark being the main objective. But if the gennies move here . . .”

An arrow moved from the chimney to a point along the ridge about two klicks to the northwest.

“. . . there is a slight saddle here. Those bastards are nothing if not mobile, and if they decide to—”

The door into the LESS opened, and Senior Lieutenant Nising, the headquarters commandant, rushed in. With the door opened, Rev could hear the sounds of distant fighting.

“Colonel, Bravo’s being hit,” the Tigana officer said.

Major Ma rushed out the door to where his staff was reacting. A moment later, the wall started to retract, revealing a rush of activity.

“Major Bundy, get back to your company and stand by,” the CO said as he ran over to join the S-3.

Bundy opened his mouth but then closed it. That wasn’t much of an order, but from the sounds making their way into the LESS, this wasn’t just a probe, and the CO was a little occupied.

“Let’s go, Rev,” he said.

The two friends ran out of the LESS and started a full-out sprint back to the company area.

30

“Was that another earthquake?” E-Spec 3 Hvarser asked Yancey after a tremor rolled under their feet.

“No. That was a weapon. A big one.”

“Ours or theirs?”

Yancey caught Rev’s eye.

“It could be orbital,” Rev said. “But it’s probably nox.”

Hvaser nodded, then looked back toward the fighting.

Rev didn’t know what was going on, but from all indications, this was a major nox offensive. And it was getting closer. One way or the other, he knew they were going to be in the fight soon. The question was how and under what conditions.

“Status check.”

<All systems green. Full combat load, power at ninety-eight-point-two.>

Rev had slapped in a new powerpack after he and Bundy had returned. He’d been at sixty-four percent, but better safe than sorry.

“Shielding?”

<Seventy-eight percent.>

Punch had managed to regain about seven percent of the PAL’s shielding, but whatever damage he’d taken earlier would take a full armory to repair.

Hopefully, that shielding wouldn’t be tested.

Except for Randigold, who was still up on the rocks observing the Genesians, he’d made sure all of the IBHUs had been topped off in power and rounds. There were still a few twenty-millimeter cases left that could be used, but for the most part, this was it. Any more resupply would have to come from external sources.

Rev was nervous. He was always nervous before a battle, but that was usually the nerves of getting ready for a flipball game. In that case, it was excited nerves. This was a more foreboding nervousness, and that was troubling. His instincts told him the situation was bad.

But still, the company waited in position, out of the fight, while their fellow troopers sounded like they were in deep shit, just two or three klicks away.

An explosion hit the rocks behind him, and he spun around. Debris rained down from under Randigold’s team’s position. A few moments later, König leaned out and waved his arm.

Rev let out a sigh of relief. That round wasn’t followed by another, so it must have been a stray, like others that were landing in the area. This was the closest any of them had come to the platoon, though.

“Where do you think that round came from?”

Punch brought up the overhead view of the area and highlighted a section that included Charlie Company and beyond. The edge of it came close to the battalion CP. His battle buddy couldn’t tell range, of course, but by analyzing the topography, he could narrow down the potential azimuths to the POO, or Point of Origin.

That was also a likely avenue of approach to Alpha’s position as well. The ground was convoluted and tortured, making it impassible to armor, but ground troops could make it through, and infantry were the Naxli’s preferred units.

“Platoon commanders, up!” came the call, each trooper repeating it down the line.

Rev craned his head around and saw the lieutenant get up and head to the CP.

She hadn’t had time to talk to him about going over her head yet. Rev hoped that, if anything, the coming fight would delay it enough so that she’d calm down and let it slide.

Then the thought made him chuckle. Getting chewed out was the least of his problems. If that was the price to ensure they both made it through the fighting, he was up with that. No problem at all

“What do you think that’s about?” Yancey asked Rev.

“We’re gonna do something. Bundy’s not one to just sit and let the noxes dictate the fight.”

Frankly, Rev was surprised that the company commander hadn’t already done something. Of course, he wasn’t privy to any messages Bundy had received, so there was that.

“Get everyone ready to move out. Pass that down,” he told Yancey, on his left, and Nezev, on his right.

There was a stirring of heightened expectations as the troopers got mentally ready to go.

“Where is—” Rev started to ask Punch when a gargantuan explosion filled the air, followed by a shock wave that bounced Rev a couple of centimeters into the air. Chunks sheared off the rocks to crash to the ground. Something big landed ten meters behind him. Debris shot into the air to mix with the black smoke of the planet.

“Take cover!” Rev shouted. He went facedown, right arm over his head, as the debris started to fall back to the ground. Small rocks peppered his prone body, but his PAL protected him.

“Where was that?” Rev asked Punch. But he already knew.

<That was in at least close proximity to the battalion CP.>

Shit!

Whatever Bundy wanted the platoon commander for, Rev had a feeling that was OBE. If the battalion was being hit, they couldn’t just stand by.

Sure enough, two minutes later, Lieutenant Marble came running back, screaming, “On your feet, First. We’re moving out. Platoon wedge, Third on point. Second Squad, tie in with Second Platoon.”

There was a mad scramble as troopers stood and rushed into position.

Rev turned and blasted on max power, “Randigold, get down here.”

All three troopers popped their heads out to look at him.

“We’re moving out. Catch up!”

Randigold gave a thumbs-up, and the three started scrambling down the rocks.

“Move out!” the lieutenant shouted before the platoon was formed. “Guide on me. We’re going to tie into the CP defense on the left.”

Which meant they’d be behind Charlie Company’s position. Which could mean that was going to be their consolidated strong point. Or, it could mean that Charlie was no longer effective.

Rev ran up and down the length of the platoon as they started forward at a slow jog. Initially, it was easy, although they were exposed to direct and indirect fire. The first 400 meters, while surrounded on two sides by the hills, was open.

But at 400 meters, there was a choke point before they could proceed onto the CP, which had been designated Wren. The higher rocks on each side came together to a single, four-meter-wide path before it opened up like a river delta leading into the CP. All of Alpha had to funnel through that choke point.

Troopers emerged and crowded through. A single artillery round or air strike would devastate them, but somehow, the mass of troopers made it through and into the maze of gullies on the other side.

Keeping any sort of formational integrity beyond the choke was almost impossible as they moved through the convoluted terrain. It was more of a series of five or six infiltration routes, each done at the run.

Rev tried to keep to the higher ground, hopping from ridge to boulder the best he could, so he could keep his eyes on as many of the troopers as possible. He’d lost sight of the lieutenant, though, and had to trust that they were all together.

To his right, he could see troopers from Second Platoon darting in and out of his line of sight. He didn’t catch Tomiko, but he knew she would be doing the same thing as he was.

This was a cluster without much in the way of tactics. They were rushing forward to plug the gaps in the CP’s defense. He prayed that there would be some sort of organization once they reached the position.

Being on this side of Wren exposed them to the Naxli, though. Rounds started falling. Rev, as he tried to keep to the highest vantage points, was at risk, but the same gullies that were canalizing the company were also protecting the bulk of the troopers.

This was one of those times where a Marine just had to put his life into the gods of war and trust the big ground, little bullet theory. There was no maneuver in a situation like this. Get through the killing fields as quickly as possible and close in with the enemy where their supporting fires would be ineffectual.

<Of course, you could get down in the gullies and not make yourself such a target.>

“And then I don’t know what’s happening.”

He jumped from one side of a gully to another as Hvarser and Günther ran beneath him. As he landed, an explosion hit behind, and the shock wave sent him tumbling down into the gully. He landed on his head and rotated over to slam onto a jagged rock.

“You OK, Gunny?” Hvarser asked, rushing to help him up.

“Punch?”

<All systems green. But the next time, you might not be so lucky.>

He got to his feet and said, “Keep going!”

Another round landed, this time right where he’d jumped. Debris pelted him.

<They had you targeted.>

Rev knew Punch was right, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that. Maybe staying down would be a good idea.

He ran with the team from Third Squad, closing the distance to the CP. The fighting was getting more intense, but he didn’t know what they were getting into. They were moving blind.

This was once where they really, really needed their comms. Hopefully, the lieutenant knew what they were doing because Rev sure didn’t.

The ridges started getting lower, and heavy dust and smoke—it looked like both the normal black smoke mixed with that of the fighting—hung in the air just ahead.

Rev took a chance and scrambled up the sides for a moment before jumping down into the next gully. Punch took a snapshot of what he’d seen.

Ahead of them, the LESS was gone, just a twisted pile of torn junk. The supply shelter was half-destroyed as well. Bodies littered the area. There were troopers fighting back, though. He hadn’t spotted any Naxli, but he could tell they were close.

He sprinted ahead to where the ridges started to disappear into the bowl that the CP had occupied, then shouted at the platoon’s troopers to take cover. The lieutenant beat him by a few seconds as she emerged into the open area, and started running back and forth across the platoon’s frontage, getting the troopers set and delivering fire into the ridges on the far side of the CP.

“Get that base of fire going, Gunny,” she shouted as she spotted him.

“Got it!”

She ran past, yelling at Rantz to take control of his squad, when she was cut off mid-word. She tumbled face-first onto the rocky ground. Her left shoulder was gone, her Ranger Vis-44 combat suit shredded. Blood poured out, impossibly quick, and flowed over the ground, the dust absorbing the red.

“Shit!” Rev said aloud.

He was in charge now, but he didn’t know what Bundy’s plan was. Everything had happened so quickly that he was still in the dark.

But they were taking more fire, and he knew that was his immediate concern.

“Give me a base of fire on the far side of the CP!” he shouted at maximum volume.

The light, intermittent outgoing fire began to coalesce into a steady wall of death as the squad leaders took over and began directing their troopers. And not just from First Platoon. Farther down the line, Second Platoon was getting involved.

One of the headquarters troopers looked back, spotted them, screamed, “Don’t shoot me!” and sprinted back to Second Platoon. Rev didn’t see if he made it, but he hoped so.

Rev spotted his first Naxli in the fight, but just as it was shot and fell. Then another appeared, its head barely visible in a far gully. He fired a quick burst from his twenty, and the head disappeared.

The biggest obstacle wasn’t necessarily the Naxli, but rather the visibility. Smoke and dust filled the air, moving around in little eddies that opened a line of sight and closed it within seconds. That meant there were a lot of rounds going back and forth without specific targets. Rounds were zinging past Rev’s head and slamming into the ground and ridges.

“Switch to heat filter,” he told Punch.

Immediately, his view changed. But while there were a few faint readings, the smoldering fires that fought to remain alive in the low oxygen and the smoke were making that ineffective. Rev tried three more filters that were even worse before going back to normal vision.

There was a shout of pain from his left, then a low moaning.

“Corpsman up!” someone else shouted.

Rev’s instincts tore at him to go render aid, but he was the platoon commander now. He had to trust his troopers and corpsmen to take care of it.

The wind swirled into the open area as a dust devil, opening up the visibility and revealing about a dozen Naxli who were hunched over and advancing. Rev might be the platoon commander, but he was still an IBHU. He opened up with Pashu, along with Cocker and half of his platoon.

The Naxli were cut down within seconds, and an optimistic thrill raced through Rev’s body.

Maybe we can do this!

He kept his ear open. Three long siren blasts were the standard SOP for an assault. He didn’t think Bundy would risk that, at least not now, but if the order came down, the entire company had to commit or those who did assault would be decimated.

Chips of rock blasted across Rev’s front, and it took a moment to realize the significance of that.

“We’re being flanked!” he shouted before he stepped out into the open area and sprinted to his left twenty meters before diving in to cover.

“Strap!” he shouted.

“Here, Gunny.”

“Refuse the flank. They’re coming!”

“Got it.”

Strap started giving orders, and the squad started pivoting to face the new direction. A trooper went down. It looked like Varneit, but Rev couldn’t be sure.

Hochenspatter almost casually went over the top of the ridge and came down in the gully next to Rev.

He grabbed his fellow IBHU by his organic arm.

“Hoch, I’m counting on you. We need your firepower. Don’t hold back.”

“Got it, Gunny,” he said before Strap started calling his name. The IBHU Marine shrugged, then said, “Gotta go.”

He hopped over the next ridge and into the adjoining gully. To Rev, his lack of almost any emotion was a bad sign.

You’d better not screw up, Hoch.

With Fourth Squad oriented to the northwest, that left a gap between it and Second Squad. Rev spent the next two minutes adjusting the troopers’ positions. Once he was somewhat satisfied, he grabbed Moria.

“I need you to get word to the skipper. He needs to know that the noxes are flanking us on the left. Can you do that?”

“No problem, Gunny. I can do it.”

Rev watched him scurry off for a moment, hoping he hadn’t just sent the specialist to his death.

A trooper in a PAL came out of one of the far-side gullies and into the CP area. He almost immediately went down, but Rev couldn’t tell if from friendly fire or the Naxli.

“Identify your targets!” Rev screamed. “There’re still the other companies out there!”

The next ten minutes settled down into a slugfest, each side pouring fire into the other. Rev sent off his last Gnat to take a quick circuit to the flanks to try and get a visual on what was happening there, but the drone never returned. Instead, he popped up twice to try and spot something.

Punch was able to discern a handful of Naxli approaching, but nothing more.

All the time, the opposing fire started building, and the sounds of fighting in the distance began to diminish. That could mean that the other companies had pushed back the Naxli assault, but if that was the case, then the opposing fire here should logically slacken. That fact that it wasn’t was not a good sign.

If the Naxli had prevailed, Alpha Company wasn’t in a good position. With the Naxli facing them across the CP fixing them in place, the flanking force enemy could move up the left side, keeping right up against the higher range, and then encircle them. If that happened, the company could hold out for quite some time, forcing the Naxli to come into the gullies after them.

But if the enemy had the numbers, then the end would be a foregone conclusion. Rev knew they couldn’t stay here, but he didn’t have the full picture, and it wasn’t his call.

A heavier cloud of smoke and haze settled over the bowl, blocking the far side from sight. Fire from both sides lessened to where they were just reminding the others they were still there. Rev went through his filters again, but he couldn’t see anything.

A shape emerged from the smoke, and someone shouted, “Hold your fire.” The shape coalesced into a PAL, and the human joined First Squad. Rev could hear her say she was from supply and had been playing dead until she had the concealment from the smoke.

Rev could feel the tension in his bones. Something was going down. He fired a short burst with his twenty into the smoke, but there was no returning fire.

“Strap! Keep alert!” he shouted.

A breeze kicked up, swirling in the open area, but revealed nothing.

“What’s going on here,” he muttered.

Another burst from a twenty sounded to his right, followed by Randigold screaming, “Die, motherfuckers!”

He’d already figured by her firing pattern that she’d caught up to the platoon, but he was glad to hear her voice, even if it was in frustration.

A stronger breeze kicked up, and through the smoke . . .

“Open fire!” Rev shouted as he let loose a Moray.

Coming across the open bowl were more than a hundred Naxli, all silently rushing forward. They spied the humans at the same time, and both sides opened up with all they had.

The first rank of Naxli was scythed down where they stood. Rev’s Moray detonated above the heads of the first rank, blowing a hole in it, then his twenties cut through more. Around him, troopers with their M-51s and M101s, karnans with their BIPACs, and the IBHU Marines let loose. Rev could hear the Jackhammers down the line add to the onslaught. It was a slaughterhouse.

But the Naxli didn’t stop. Those behind ran over the dead bodies of their comrades. As the air cleared even more, Rev switched to his beamer and sliced through more of the enemy.

They weren’t just advancing. An unbelievable fusillade of incoming swept the humans. A much larger force was providing the base of fire; even with the partial cover of the gullies, troopers were falling. Rev knew this was unsustainable.

And then, cutting through the din, four long blasts of the siren sounded—the signal for a retreat. That was followed by a single blast.

Bundy had made a decision. The single blast meant their last position: Osprey.

It was the only choice. A mere nine Naxli had almost held off the company there the day before, after all. But first, they had to get there, and the Naxli were swarming.

“First Platoon, hold in place. Cover the rest of the company!” Rev shouted.

The most dangerous part of a retreat was breaking contact. While the retreating force was reorienting and starting the movement, they were particularly vulnerable to an aggressive assaulting force. And whatever else he could say about the Naxli, not being aggressive was not in their nature.

Someone had to hold them off while the rest of the company pulled off the line. Rev had decided that someone was First Platoon. They had the most IBHUs of any platoon. He’d like to have the Jackhammers, but this was the best he could do.

There was also the almost assured risk of a traffic jam at the choke point if the entire company tried to go through at the same time. They had to spread it out.

“All we have to do is keep them occupied until the company gets through. How long do you think that will be?”

<Given the distance, as quickly as two minutes. As long as twelve.>

“Let’s hope it’s two.”

Rev started to fire measured, twelve-round bursts, interspaced by his beamer. The other IBHUs joined him, and the M-103 grenadiers were plopping out their forty-millimeter shells. The carnage was something Rev had never seen before, but the Naxli pressed forward, using dead bodies as shields. A few were waving their swords, but the rest were firing on the move.

To his far right, the welcome sound of a Jackhammer team chattering as they sang together told Rev that First Platoon was not alone. At least someone else had stayed to cover the company.

Rev was aware of the rest of the company pulling back. And after a few moments, the Naxli were aware as well. With a shout that seemed to erupt from every throat, they started to surge forward to the middle of the human line. But with interlocking fires, the platoon and the Jackhammer team mowed them down. There was a pause in the mass of Naxli as they realized their mistake and reoriented on the two sources of death that were sweeping them.

Three minutes had passed. There was no way they could last twelve. It was time to get some of the riflemen moving back.

“Every other M-51 move back. Take your wounded and retreat. IBHU and karnans stand fast.”

He’d used max power on his speakers, but with the noise of the battle, he wasn’t sure if he’d been heard. The troopers closest to him repeated it down the line, though, so his order was promulgated.

His ammo count display flashed. He’d just passed the 1000-round mark. He’d used over half of his twenties.

“Engage burst limit to eight rounds.”

<Done.>

Now, each time he fired a burst, it would only be eight rounds until he triggered another burst.

His beamer was still in guillotine mode, and it was still effective, but the capacitor was taking longer to recharge each time.

Just to his right, Thiel was firing fifteen and twenty-round bursts. He had to be running low. “Watch your usage, Thiel.”

The corporal didn’t answer, but his next burst was only ten rounds.

“All riflemen, pull off the line!” he shouted.

White-master Orantus, who was in the same gully as Rev, spun around to retreat, but he straightened up too high, and a round took off the top of his head. The body bounced off the rocky ground and then went still.

“Heads down!” Rev shouted as he fired another Moray at a clump of Naxli.

He tried to clean up with his beamer, but a cloud of dust kicked up, diffusing the beam. He couldn’t tell if the targets were taken out or had just dived for cover.

An energy beam kissed him. There was nowhere for Rev to go, but the beam was cut off after only a second.

<Shielding is at fifty-six-point-five percent.>

“Three more of those, and that’s all she wrote.”

<Then don’t get hit.>

“Easy for you to say.”

<But impossible for me to do anything about it.>

Rev couldn’t see the choke point to know when he could pull the rest of the platoon back.

Hopefully, the company is there.

To his far right, there was a concerted effort by the Naxli to charge forward. Rev couldn’t lean out to take a look without exposing himself, but he had to guess they were charging the Jackhammers, which were still putting rounds downrange. However, first one gun failed to answer, then the other was cut off after only a couple of rounds. Rev tried to will hearing them again, but there was nothing.

“Respect for the fallen.”

With the Jackhammers taken out, that now meant all of the enemy forces could focus on what was left of First Platoon. There was no more time.

“IBHUs, stand fast. Everyone else, get the hell out of here.”

One of the karnans fired two more BIPAC rounds, and the rest started running back down the gullies.

The six IBHUs stood steady. There was a full platoon’s worth of firepower there, and they were slaughtering the Naxli. But there were a lot of the bastards, and they weren’t backing down.

A rocket flew over the heads of the Naxli, who were now a scant fifty meters away. The rocket slammed into Rev’s right, and Thiel’s twenty went silent.

“Thiel? You with me?”

There was nothing.

Just a few seconds later, Manning called out, “Bambi’s done!”

Bambi was the sergeant’s IBHU. Rev didn’t know if it had been hit or was out of ammo and power. It didn’t matter.

“Pull back, Manning.”

Now that he was down to four IBHUs, the Naxli seemed to smell their advantage growing. More rounds slammed into the rocks around Rev.

This was it. If they stayed, they had twenty, maybe thirty seconds. It was time to go.

“All hands, pull back. If you can hear me, retreat!”

He fired one last burst, then keeping his head low, he left his covered position, grabbed Orantus’s dead man’s handle on the fly, and ran back until the curvature of the gully put him in defilade to direct fire weapons.

He could hear the guttural cries of victory behind him as the Naxli rushed forward. Now it was just a footrace. If they could get to the other side of the choke point, they might be able to hold the Naxli off longer. It was narrower, that was for sure, which would make it easier.

It would also make it easier for the enemy to concentrate their fire, but Rev would take that tradeoff.

The gullies started to converge as they neared the choke point. Rev almost crashed into Cocker as his gully merged with hers. She slipped in behind Rev to cover him and Orantus.

They finally reached the choke point. Second Platoon was there, and he spotted Tomiko three meters up the left-hand rock face, looking downrange and directing fire. Hochenspatter and Randigold had beaten them there and were turning to face the oncoming Naxli.

“Go, Miko!” Rev said. “We’re the last ones.”

“We’ll cover you,” she said.

She had most of Second Platoon there. “Most of” meant only Kelly and Božič-Mizaki of the four IBHUs. Rommer and Zadeh hadn’t made it. But the choke point was too small for them to use everyone. There just wasn’t enough room, so they had to maximize the firepower with the number of bodies that could fit.

“I’ve got our IBHUs,” he said.

“And we’re here, too,” Kelly said. “You go.”

“Where’s Lieutenant T’Borr?” he asked. He could reason with him.

“KIA,” Tomiko said.

So, they were both acting platoon commanders. But Rev was senior.

“Where’s Bundy?”

Tomiko hooked a thumb back toward Osprey.

“Then I’m in charge. Go. And take the rest of First Platoon.”

“I’m staying,” Kelly said.

“And me,” Božič-Mizaki added.

He wasn’t going to argue. “Fine. But the rest go now.”

Tomiko looked like she was going to argue, and at that moment, a blast hit the rock two meters above her head, knocking her down.

Rev ran over as Tomiko struggled to get back up.

“Tiwari,” he shouted, “take her back.”

“Now, Per!” he said as the older man hesitated. Rev knew the Dalit Marine would stay and fight, but for what? His lone M-51 wouldn’t add much to the effort.

Tiwari jumped forward, helped Tomiko to her feet, and with her arm around his neck, they started to retreat to Osprey.

Kelly said, “Go,” and the rest of Second, then First, followed.

Behind Rev, Cocker fired a burst through the choke point.

“They’re here,” she said as the six effective IBHUs scrambled for position.

Cocker had downed two Naxli from where they’d emerged about fifteen or sixteen meters from the choke point itself. The enemy often sent one or two fighters forward, probably to trigger ambushes or mines. So, now, they’d know just where the humans had set up a defense. Things were shaping up to be a brawl.

Three more Naxli emerged at a run, their weapons blazing. The IBHU Marines were ready and much, much quicker. All three went down.

A missile of some kind flew into the choke point and over their heads. The warhead detonated behind them, and Rev heard the call for a medic. He didn’t bother to look. Tomiko would have it in hand, and he wanted his full attention on the gullies leading to the choke point.

He was surprised by the next rush. Instead of emerging from the gullies, a dozen were charging from on top of the ridges. Rev and the others reacted quickly, but several of the Naxli managed to fire rounds into the crowded defenders before they themselves were knocked down. Rev, Kelly, and Božič-Mizaki were hit, with the latter going to one knee.

“You OK, BM?” Rev asked, not taking his eyes away from the front.

“That rang my bell, but I’m still in it.”

He wished he had the bio readouts. She’d have her legs blown off and still insist she was combat capable.

The Naxli had barely aimed, but with the six of them so concentrated together, they’d been easy targets. Rev knew they needed to get better dispersion, but there just wasn’t that much room in which to spread out.

That issue was partially taken care of when Cocker shouted, “I’m out of twenties.”

She still had her beamer, and at this short distance, it would be effective. But Rev didn’t know how many of the four Third Platoon IBHUs had survived, and the company was going to need as many as possible if Osprey was going to be their stand.

“Momsie, back to the company.”

“I can still fight.”

“The major needs you there. And we’ve got a reload waiting for you.”

She snapped off a blast of her beamer at a target Rev didn’t see.

“Now, Momsie. That’s an order.”

He could feel her eyes burn into him, but she complied. He saw her spin around in his peripheral vision and disappear.

Rev didn’t have to tell the others. With Cocker gone, they shifted their position to spread out a little more.

Božič-Mizaki, who was in the middle of the choke point, staggered but stayed on her feet.

“BM, you with me?” Rev shouted as he fired another burst.

“Shield’s almost gone, Gunny,” she said.

“Shift with me,” he said, crabbing in front of her.

There was a sudden lull in the incoming fire. He knew they hadn’t given up, so it had to be something else. He risked a glance behind them. The lead elements of Second Platoon had reached Osprey, and Bundy was directing them into position.

One huge blast after the other hit the walls of the choke point, sending a cascade of rubble down upon the defenders. Rounds impacted over their heads.

“Get away from the walls,” he shouted at Kelly on one side, Hochenspatter on the other. Wherever the big guns were, they didn’t have the angle to hit them. But it looked like they were trying to bring down the walls and bury the five IBHUs.

The rocks, although getting their surfaces pulverized, held firm. And as the last round impacted, a mass of Naxli poured through from each gully.

And a mass was cut down. Beamers and twenties chewed them up, and by the time the Naxli realized that their bombardment hadn’t broken the Marines, at least a hundred of them were dead or grievously wounded.

One Naxli looked like it was missing half of its torso, but it still tried to crawl forward, loosely grasping a sword. A single twenty-millimeter shot ended that.

“Status?” Rev shouted.

Kelly was down to twenty-three rounds and was at 14%. Božič-Mizaki had essentially no shields and had forty-one rounds left.

Rev wasn’t much better. He’d taken two hits in that last push, one to Pashu that had set his alarms flashing.

Punch was already rerouting, but another such hit could put his IBHU out of commission.

Four siren blasts sounded from behind them. Rev turned again, and he could see Bundy waving his arms for them to retreat back to Osprey. They’d done their job, holding back the Naxli until the company could reach cover.

But that didn’t explain how the five of them could get back. Once they started, even with the company giving them cover, the Naxli would advance into the choke point and cut them down.

“What are our chances if we sprint?” he asked Punch.

<I can’t give a meaningful answer to that.>

“Best guess, then?”

<Bad, unless there’s a way to slow down the Naxli as they push through again.>

There is a way, a voice in the back of his mind offered.

Rev tried to block the voice, but he knew it was right.

More Naxli charged forward, tried to vault over the dead bodies, and were dropped by the Marines.

If we kill more, the bodies will act as a barricade.

But he knew that was wishful thinking. He could hear the sounds of Naxli working around to the side. The bastards were going to hit them from three directions at once.

He looked at the other four Marines. All were looking ahead toward the enemy, but he could sense they were waiting on him to just say it. They knew as well as he did what had to happen.

But they don’t have to make the decision.

There were another four siren blasts.

“Someone has to slow them down,” he announced, bringing into the open what each of them already knew.

But who? Rev’s first instinct was to stay back himself and cover the others. He knew that was the wrong choice, though. Kelly, with her low ammo and power, was out. So was Božič-Mizaki. That left Randigold and Hochenspatter.

Both were on his right, and he swung toward them. It had to be one of them. They knew it, too.

Rev’s mind suddenly slowed down as if buried in molasses. How could he make that decision?

Both Randigold and Hochenspatter were staring at him, waiting for the order. He could see Randigold take a deep breath, expecting the inevitable.

And she was the logical choice. She was a far better IBHU Marine than Hochenspatter. And she’d have a better chance to make it back to Osprey. But did she have any chance at all, really? There weren’t the gullies on the other side to give cover. It would be a full-out sprint to cross the open four hundred meters to Osprey and cover, all while the Naxli swarmed forward.

Several more Naxli appeared and snapped him out of his paralysis. He swung his beamer around, slicing through two as the others fired.

Time’s up, Reverent. Do it.

Before he could second guess himself, he said, “Hoch, it’s you.”

Hochenspatter grunted, and Randigold took a half-step back.

“Sorry, Hoch. Hold them the best you can, and then haul ass. We’ll cover you.”

Rev couldn’t help but throw in that last. He knew it was bullshit. Hochenspatter knew it was bullshit. The same situation that allowed the five of them to hold back the Naxli so far meant that all the covering fire from Osprey would be ineffective. His chances were next to zero.

“You had to pick your lamb, Gunny. I get it,” the Marine said.

“Hoch!”

But the corporal had already turned away, and begun edging to the side where he could at least minimize his profile.

“You’d better go.”

Rev stood there, frozen. He’d just waved his magic wand and decided who would live and who would die, and he hated himself for it.

For a moment, he decided he’d stay anyway and send Hoch back, but Kelly said, “Rev. Time to go.”

Rev turned to look at her, his face twisted in anguish.

“There’s no more time,” she said softly.

He spun back to Hochenspatter, whose back was toward them, as he fired his beamer.

<You need to go.>

With a half-sob, Rev started running, the other three at his side. They pelted across the open area while Hochenspatter switched to his twenty and went full auto, fifty, a hundred rounds in the burst.

Rev listened, fearing the worst, but the corporal kept firing. It was as if he had a never-ending belt feeding his IBHU.

Marines at Osprey were frantically signaling them through the choke point. They were still fifty meters away when Rev blasted the signal for Hochenspatter to follow. But the Marine kept up his fire until he ran out of ammunition.

Instead of going through the choke point, Rev, along with Kelly and Randigold, stopped, spun back around, and joined the base of fire that was trying to cover Hochenspatter. They could see the IBHU Marine fire one more time before he turned and sprinted toward them.

He’d barely made it a third of the way before the first Naxli appeared. Rev engaged them with Kelly, Randigold, and the rest of the troopers joining in. He may have hit the first ones, or they may have just gone down to take cover. He couldn’t tell.

“Come on, Hoch!” he muttered as he poured more fire, now with the other troopers adding their fire.

But the Naxli were firing, too, and more were pushing forward.

Rounds were hitting the ground in front and to the sides of Hochenspatter. Other rounds were striking the rock walls around Osprey. But still, the corporal was charging ahead.

“Come on, Hoch, you bastard! You’ve got it,” Randigold shouted.

Her twenties ran out, and she fired a Moray up at the Naxli.

Hochenspatter was halfway to safety, and Rev started to feel a surge of hope. Just another 200 meters.

And just like that, it was over. There was no theatrical flailing of the arms. No staggering. No dying soliloquy. One moment, Hochenspatter was running, and the next, he was falling. His body bounced twice before coming to a twisted stop.

“No!” Randigold screamed as she fired two more missiles in quick succession.

Kelly grabbed her IBHU and lowered it to keep her from firing her last missile, while Rev stared in shock at Hochenspatter’s body, just 150 meters away.

Oh, Hoch. I’m so sorry.

He stood there, guilt-ridden and motionless while, without the running IBHU Marine as a target, more Naxli were firing at the rest of them.

“Rev, get your ass into cover,” Bundy’s voice cut through the din.

Rev shook his head, then turned and ran through the choke point and into the other side.

31

“And that’s it. I’m out,” Rev told Yancey.

“Your beamer, too?”

“No, I’ve still got forty percent. But with that stuff . . .”

The relatively clear air of an hour ago had disappeared to be replaced by smoke from both the volcanoes and the fighting. Rev couldn’t believe that a little dust in the air could impede energy weapons so much. He understood the schoolbook physics, but it didn’t feel right in his gut. A tiny airborne particle, even millions of them together, shouldn’t have that much effect.

The battle has turned into a stalemate. But for how long?

Initially, it had been the Naxli on one side of the choke point, the humans on the other side of Osprey. A lot of rounds were fired at each side without much effect. Snipers on either side scored kills, but the ground situation hadn’t changed.

But then, a concerted rush through the choke point had succeeded for the Naxli. Hundreds had been cut down, but some had reached the rocky ridge through which the pass cut. Those were making their way forward along the rocks, firing down at the humans when they could.

Their suppression, as well as the main body over at the choke point, meant that more Naxli could get through, and that meant more suppression, and that meant more Naxli . . .

The tipping point had been reached, and the conclusion was inevitable. Alpha Company’s and the stragglers who had joined them’s only hope was that they could hold out long enough for the cavalry to come to the rescue. Human or Niklith didn’t matter. Just someone.

Rev had hoped that with the news of the Genesians reaching them, the overall command would react right away. But the longer it took without any reaction, the more he thought that Colonel Suk hadn’t gotten out the drone before they were overrun. As of the moment, only six—no, five now—humans knew who was down at Lark.

Rev glanced back. The chimney was barely visible in the distance as it rose ghostlike through the smoke. They were now the most important thing about the operation. All else paled in comparison—although Rev had a vested interest in how this particular fight turned out.

There was a burst of fighting from the rocks above. Both Marines paused to listen for a moment until the firing stopped.

Bundy wasn’t ceding the high ground. He’d sent troopers up there, and there had been several clashes in among the rocks. And there’d be other clashes as more Naxli pushed forward.

“Gunny!”

Per Tiwari was crabbing along the backside of the rocky ridge, coming toward him.

“What duyah got, Per?”

“The CO wants to see you.”

Rev frowned. Tiwari was in Second Platoon, where Tomiko was the acting commander. Why was the Samaran the one to fetch him?

“You’re the major’s runner now?”

Tiwari shrugged. “I’m whatever. The platoons don’t seem to be that important now, na?”

Rev didn’t like that. Yes, casualties had been heavy, but even if a platoon was down to squad-sized, the organization of command structure was still valuable.

“You’ve got it, Yance,” he told his second in command.

“To do what? Sit and wait?”

“Pretty much so.” Then to Tiwari, he said, “Lead on.”

The front side of the ridgeline was more severe and shear, rising up thirty or forty meters from ground level. On the back side, where the bulk of the humans were, the slope wasn’t as abrupt, but it was much longer, falling at least a hundred meters down to the valley that stretched out to the hills on the horizon.

Rev followed Tiwari, picking his way through the rocks. Another tremor hit, but Rev was so used to them that he didn’t hesitate.

Bundy had taken a small flat spot in the slope that was protected by an overhang as his CP. It had a visual to the pass and could be easily reached if needed. He was sitting, back against the rocks, with Sergeant Brant at his side as Rev approached. He motioned for Rev to sit beside him.

“I’m out of twenties,” he said.

Bundy looked at Brant. “Do we have any more?”

The sergeant shook his head. “I gave out the last to Staff Sergeant O’Donnell.”

This wasn’t news to Rev. He’d been the one to tell Kelly to take the last rounds.

“Maybe it won’t matter,” Bundy said, more to himself than to the others.

Won’t matter? When the noxes finally come, it will.

“You were with me at the CP, Rev. Remember what the CO was saying about the northern pass?”

<He didn’t actually say it was a pass.>

“It isn’t a pass. Just someplace where the noxes could cross.”

Bundy waved off the technicality. “But they could use it.”

Rev stared off to the north. He couldn’t identify the exact spot from this vantage, but yes, the Naxli could send fighters into the valley from there.

“They haven’t done it yet.”

“No, they haven’t,” Bundy agreed. “But they could. And that leads me to ask why the ones here are only playing grab-ass with us.”

“We still have our defense. When they come, we’ll hurt them.”

“So, why wait? Could it be because they’re just fixing us in place while a larger force comes around and hits us from the rear?”

Damn. Yeah. That’s what we’d do.

“They don’t always show such restraint, but sure, it’s possible.”

Surrounding an enemy was usually a good bet, and the valley was large enough to have many ways into it. It was only at this particular spot where the pass was necessary for large-scale movement of troops into it.

Rev had been aware of that, of course. But with the distances involved, he hadn’t given it much thought.

“They’d be stuck in the open,” he said.

Which was true. There was minimal cover down on the valley floor until you reached the Genesian fort.

“And if we oriented to an advancing force down there, then what about our friends up here? What are they going to do?”

What Bundy was getting at clicked into place. If they did hit the troopers from two directions, the humans would have to split their defense, weakening it. And if they concentrated on the Naxli in the valley, the ones up here would push forward. And vice versa.

We are well and truly fucked.

“Maybe one of the other battalions will come. Or the scorps,” he said, looking for a way out.

“Sure. Maybe. But I’d rather take matters into my own hands.”

Rev thought this was coming. He understood Bundy’s thinking. Choosing Osprey to defend had been the most logical option, but now, it was more of a trap than anything else.

They couldn’t very well go down into the valley. Not only would they have to deal with the Genesians, who’d already warned them that they considered them staying was an act of war. They’d also be sitting ducks for when the Naxli pushed into the pass.

That left taking the fight to the enemy. Go on the offensive. Given the numbers of Naxli, it might be a fool’s errand, but if they failed, they’d have at least gone out on their own terms.

“When are we doing this?” Rev asked.

“We? What are you talking about?”

“Taking the offense. Attacking the noxes.”

“Where did you get that idea? No, I’m talking about getting other allies.”

“Other allies? Who . . .”

Rev slowly looked over to the chimney. “You don’t mean . . .”

“Who else?”

“They’ve already warned us to stay away.”

“But they didn’t kill the XO, right?”

Rev glanced at Brant for backup, the sergeant studiously studying his PAL boot. He was listening, though.

“No, but that was the warning.”

“Look, Rev. They’re still human.”

“Human? Bullshit! Sir.”

“What’s their brain? Human. What’re the neural connections? Human. No matter what, they’re part of the family. And they are not nox. And if that’s not good enough, it’s enemy of my enemy and all.”

“But we wiped them out.”

“Evidently, not all of them.”

Rev stopped to absorb what Bundy was saying. He respected his friend. The guy was smart, that was for sure. And he’d proven himself before. But this was beyond the ken. To think Genesians would help was ludicrous.

“What’s he thinking, Punch? They’re our sworn enemies. They almost wiped us out.”

<They never came close to eliminating humans, nor was there any reason for them to do so.>

“But the war? All the death.”

<The war was their reaction to being outlawed and the attempt to wipe them out.>

Rev didn’t understand what Punch was saying. He wasn’t a huge student of the Corolla Wars, but he knew what had happened. The first fight was on Julian, where the—

“What about the Deimers? They wanted to kill all humans.”

<The Genesians are not the Deimers.”

“Rev?” Bundy asked.

“Oh, sorry. I’m here.”

“Are you OK? This isn’t one of your, you know.”

Rev had told Bundy about his memory problems. Now he wished he hadn’t. Bundy made too much of it.

“I’m fine. I was just wondering if we could trust the gennies.”

“Probably not. But it’s worth a shot.”

Rev grudgingly agreed. It beat rushing out against the Naxli a la the Charge of the Light Brigade.

“So, how are you going to do this?” he asked.

“I’m not going to do it.”

“Then, who? Oh . . .”

“Yes, ‘Oh.’ You’re the one with experience, Gunnery Sergeant Nexus of Chaos.”

This was the first time Bundy had ever used that nickname in front of him, and that didn’t make it any better.

“There’re a lot of people who might be better.”

Bundy’s eyes pointedly drifted down to Pashu.

Now it was even more clear.

“Because of my IBHU. Birds of a feather.”

Bundy shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

“I’m not a Genesian.”

“You’re more than I am.”

A larger blast than normal rocked them, and both snapped their attention to the pass. But after a flurry of outgoing and incoming fire, activity fell back again.

Rev considered his company commander. He hated being compared to the Genesians with a passion. That had been part of his anger when he’d beat up the thugs after Mr. Oliva was assaulted what seemed like decades ago.

But even with that, he knew Bundy was right. Even a little thing like his IBHU could make a difference.

“What do you want me to say?” he said, surrendering to the inevitable.

“That their presence has been reported, that—”

“We don’t know that. And if we’re wiped out, their presence may never be known.”

“Which they don’t have to know. And if the other two objectives are full of gennies, too, then this is going to get out, with or without us. So, tell them that since their presence is now common knowledge, that it might be goodwill to ensure they won’t be fighting against the full might of humanity. And on a more urgent scale, the Naxli are coming for them. They weren’t able to defeat them before, but with our help, we might be able to do that.”

All of that made sense. To him, at least. But would it sway the Genesians? Rev didn’t think so. But he had to try.

“When do you want me to go?”

“There’s no use waiting, don’t you think?”

Rev sighed. “You’re right.”

He stood up and stared at Lark for a moment, trying to get his thoughts together. He didn’t think his IBHU was going to make the Genesians suddenly think they were brothers. They knew about combat suits, after all, from back during the war. Was an IBHU really that much different? It was just another . . .

“Oh, shit,” he said.

“What? What’s the matter?” Bundy asked.

“I can’t go. Not like this.”

“What do you mean, Rev?”

“Like this,” he said, sweeping his body with his organic arm. “I’m just some guy in a PAL. I need to get out of it.”

“But . . .” Bundy started before he realized what Rev was saying. “I see what you mean.”

In any other circumstances, Rev would have enjoyed thinking of something Bundy had missed. Right now, he wished he wasn’t correct and that Bundy would argue him out of it.

“Let’s figure this out,” Bundy said. “There’s enough O2 to keep you alive, but the gasses.”

“I’ve got the emergency breathing mask.”

“Which is good for an hour. Maybe forty minutes for you hyper-augments.”

“As far as the other stuff, I’ll just bear with it.”

Bundy nodded. “It’ll have to do.”

Rev stood and started to take off Pashu. He’d have to remove her first, then his PAL, then put her back on again.

“Sergeant Brant, help . . .” Bundy said before he realized the sergeant wasn’t there. “Where did he go?”

Rev hadn’t noticed the sergeant take off either. But it didn’t matter. “Can you help me?”

“Sure.”

Bundy stood beside Rev, and as he made the disconnections, Bundy helped lower Pashu to the ground. Getting it off wasn’t the main problem. Getting her lined up to be reconnected would be more difficult.

With Pashu gone, Rev first deployed the breathing mask, then started the molting procedure to get out of his PAL. The moment the back cracked, heat rushed in. Rev hadn’t realized just how hot it was. Inside his PAL, the temperature was only a number. With the hot air surrounding him, it was as if he’d stepped into an oven.

He wiggled his way out, taking care not to touch the skin of his PAL with his organic hand. The soles of his long johns were temperature resistant, but his hand might burn.

He adjusted his mask, then pointed at Pashu. “I need you to lift her.”

Bundy squatted and brought her up, but as he was trying to line up the connectors, a voice shouted, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Tomiko was running over to them with Cocker, Randigold, Hussein, and Kelly in tow. Behind them was Sergeant Brant.

“Fuck,” Bundy muttered.

Tomiko wasn’t going to be denied. “What is going on? Gennies? Here? Actual gennies, and you’re just going to waltz on down and talk to them stark naked?”

“I’m not naked. I’ve got my long johns.”

Bundy glared at Brant and said, “It’s happening, Miko. Help me get his IBHU connected.”

She stepped up to help, still complaining, so Bundy gave her the low down as Pashu was seated and the connections made again.

“I don’t like it. Gennies? And when were we going to find out about them?” She shot Rev a look that let him know that if they ever got out of here, they’d be having a talk.

“I don’t like it, either,” Bundy said. “But it’s got to be done.”

She wasn’t mollified, but she was a Marine, and Bundy was her commander.

“If he’s going, then I’m going with him.”

“No, Miko,” Rev said. “You don’t have an IBHU.”

“Don’t give me that IBHU crap. You’re not going there to fight.”

“He means that you don’t have any mechanical parts, ma’am,” Cocker said. “But I can go with him.”

“I’m going alone,” Rev insisted.

Cocker dismissed that. “Sweet peas, but you’re a big strapping Marine. Even in your long johns, you look like a damn warrior. I’d shoot you on sight myself. But I’m an old, helpless granny.”

“Helpless,” Tomiko scoffed.

“And I’m more of a genny than any of you,” Randigold said, slapping one of her prosthetic legs. “One look at me, and they’ll welcome me like a long-lost sister.”

Rev’s skin was cooking, and he was tired of being talked about as if he wasn’t there.

“No one’s coming with me. It’s too dangerous,” he said before realizing that probably wasn’t the best thing to say around Tomiko.

He looked to Bundy for support, but the company commander seemed to be actually considering it.

“I think they have a point.” He looked at both Cocker and Randigold for a moment before saying, “Randigold. Get out of your PAL.”

Rev didn’t like the order, but Bundy was his commander, too. And a small part of him was happy that he wouldn’t be alone.

Four minutes later, Rev and Randigold looked down the slope to the gennies’ fort. His skin was already burning, and now an itch had crept up.

“You ready, Eth?”

“Ready, Gunny.”

With the sounds of battle behind them, they started down to the valley.

* * *

From the high ground, the fort looked a lot closer. But down on the ground, it was a long, long walk.

Of course, the brutal heat and biting wind might have something to do with it. His long johns gave him some protection from the wind, but the back of his head, neck, and right hand were getting flayed. He imagined the skin peeling away to reveal scorched bones underneath.

And while the mask kept the air reasonably pure, tiny wisps snuck in, and he had to control his need to cough. All he needed now was to break the seal loose even more.

“Why do I feel a big target on my chest?” Randigold asked.

“Probably because half of the weapons up there are aimed at it. The other half are on me.”

“Is this what it’s always like?”

“Always?” Rev asked.

“This is my first time. Where for you, this is old hat. You’re always marching up to the enemy.”

There was a slight pause, and Rev knew what was coming next.

“Don’t even say it, Corporal.”

“What? Nexus of Chaos? OK, I won’t.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Even if it fits.”

“Focus on the mission, Eth.”

There was no sign of movement ahead. He knew they had to be observing them, but they hadn’t revealed themselves. Which might be a good thing. He half-expected the Genesians to cut the two of them down once it became clear that they were coming.

The closer they got, the more the rubble at the bottom of the chimney looked like there was a pattern to it. Some looked like normal rockfall, but the rest looked to be purposefully placed.

Which was just like Osprey. The pass looked natural, but it was almost too perfect a position to defend. Rev was tempted to take a look at the pass from this vantage, but he didn’t want to tear his eyes from the Genesian position.

“Do we walk right on up?” Randigold asked as they closed to within fifty meters.

Rev hadn’t thought it out that far, but stepping on the rubble might be too much of an invasion. So, at twenty meters, he brought the two of them to a halt.

Still, there was nothing.

Here goes.

“Genesians, I’ve come to parlay!” he shouted out.

Nothing.

One minute passed, then two. Behind them, there was a momentary rise in the sounds of battle.

“Brothers, we face a mutual enemy. I wish to parlay with you.”

Once again, they were met by silence.

“Maybe you should have said sisters,” Randigold whispered.

“And maybe I should have brought Momsie with me.”

They stood there, side by side, waiting.

“How long do we do this?” Randigold asked. “They don’t look like they’re coming out.”

Rev opened his mouth to shout again when he saw the two Genesians standing quietly in the rubble. One moment, there was nothing. The next, the two were there as if they’d appeared out of thin air.

“Speak,” one of them—and Rev couldn’t tell which one—said.

He’d been rehearsing what he was going to say, but their sudden appearance and proximity wiped his mind.

Rev had seen plenty of images of Genesians before, both actual and those born from the imagination of holovid engineers. Now, from this close, while they looked like the images, there was something more . . . menacing about them. Rumor was their shell was specifically designed to impart fear among humans. Rev wasn’t sure he bought that, but they were disquieting.

At exactly two meters tall and one hundred kilograms, their humanoid bodies were slightly smaller than Rev, for example, but they somehow seemed bigger.

“Gunny,” Randigold whispered.

“I am here to request an alliance against our mutual enemies,” Rev spit out.

“Humans are our enemies.”

“In the past. Humanity has often fought among ourselves, but against an alien threat, we band together.”

“We are not part of humanity, as you meats have made it very clear.”

“But you are. Just as I am,” Rev said, holding Pashu aloft in emphasis. “We are the same.”

That might have been too far. For the first time, the two Genesians seemed to focus on his IBHU.

“That does not make us the same.”

“But our brains are. We share the same brain.”

I hope.

The original Genesians were people whose bodies had been badly damaged. They were an experiment in trying to keep those people alive until technology advanced far enough to grow them a complete body. Later, some people made the choice to have a shell, and then the Genesians started reproducing, but without the full corporeal form, developing creche babies of the brain, nerves, and a few glands that were put into “baby shells.”

But that was 200 years ago. Who knows how they existed now?

The speaker didn’t deny it, though. Instead, it asked, “Why should we help you?”

“The Naxli are coming. And they don’t care who you are. They only want to kill you.”

“We have held off their attacks.”

“But for how long? How many were here? Because however many that was, there are many, many more coming.”

The Genesian didn’t respond to that.

Rev took a chance. “You must have communications with your fellows in other locations. What’s happened to them?”

The Genesians didn’t say anything or act differently, but Rev was sure he’d scored on that one.

“Even if these invaders were a threat, why should we align ourselves with you, our proven enemy? You have suffered greatly under their assaults. How long can you even hold out?”

Which meant they had eyes on what was going on, as Rev expected. And he already had an answer to that.

“We have defeated them time and time again in battle. And you can see the toll we’re taking on them. But we weren’t prepared for their numbers.

“Together, though, we believe that we can defeat them. Apart, I’m afraid we both will fall.”

“And the floater?”

Floater?

Rev looked up, and unnoticed, a single Sia was high in the air over them, higher than Rev had known they would go.

“They are immaterial. They will not fight, and they’re not a threat.”

There was yet another pause before the Genesian said, “This parlay is over. Go now.”

“What can I tell my commander?” Rev asked.

“Go, meat.”

It sounded slightly different, and Rev was sure that whichever one was talking first, this was the other.

“This isn’t meat!” Randigold said, slapping first one, then the other prosthetic leg with her IBHU.

“Go, now,” the first Genesian said.

With a few brief movements, the two were gone. It was as if a secret door had suddenly swallowed them up, which was more evidence that the rubble had some sort of rhyme and reason to it.

“Bastards,” Randigold said. “Meat? I’ll give them meat.”

“Easy, killer.”

“They blew us off. They’re going to let us be cannon fodder and absorb all the damage before they step in.”

Rev had already considered that, and she could very well be right. It was sound tactics. Rev thought it was the wrong course of action and that together would be better, but it did make its own kind of sense.

“I’ve got about eight minutes left, Eth. Let’s get back before I have to breathe this shit.”

She was still muttering as they headed for the company. After two minutes, they broke out into a jog. Rev was breathing harder, and their bodies were creating more heat, but both of them were anxious to get out of the environment.

Rev was at less than a minute of air when he arrived at the CP.

“What happened?”

“They didn’t agree,” Rev said as he dropped his IBHU onto the ground and dove for his PAL.

With the urgency of a child reaching the toilet under extreme duress, he writhed and squirmed his way into the combat suit. His skin was on fire as he wormed into position.

He ordered the emergency mask to retract even before the back of the suit was closed, only to burst into fits of coughing.

<Your PAL needed to be purged before you ditched the mask.>

“Now, you tell me,” he said as he doubled over.

Blessedly cool air helped mitigate the burning throat.

<I’m initiating a nano sweep,> Punch said.

Rev’s medinanos had a lot of capabilities, but his PAL had more. Hopefully, Punch could get it to cook up something to lessen that pain.

Bundy waited until he stopped coughing before asking, “What exactly did they say?”

“Go, meat.” Then he added, “They didn’t say yes. They didn’t say no. They wanted to know why they should cooperate.”

“What did you say?”

“I told them we’d kick their asses if they didn’t. What the hell did you think I said?” he snapped before realizing who he was talking to. “Sorry, my body’s on fire. Do you want to jack in and take a look?”

Bundy shook his head. “No. Not now. Things are getting hotter here.”

Rev had been so wrapped up in his pain that he hadn’t noticed the increased tempo.

“Is this the assault?” he asked, the platoon sergeant/commander kicking in.

“Could be. Or they could be making sure we’re fixed in place.”

Rev looked to the north along the backside of the range. He couldn’t see any Naxli pouring into the valley.

“Can you fight?” Bundy asked.

“Try and stop me.”

“I want you in the pass. If they’re coming, I need you IBHUs there.”

“Aye-aye, sir. But can you help me with Pashu first? I kinda need her if I’m gonna fight.”

His IBHU was where he’d dropped her.

“Sure thing, Rev. And thanks for trying.”

“It was worth a shot.”

* * *

Rev fired a pencil shot as a Naxli jumped over a boulder and tried to get into cover again. It didn’t make it. His beamer was at just over twenty percent, and the pencil shots used less power.

Alien bodies littered the open area leading to the pass, but the Naxli had adjusted, using the range to the left and the rocks to the right to give them some cover. But so many were advancing that they got in each other’s way, and it was becoming a turkey shoot.

Unfortunately, there were an awful lot of turkeys.

One mass rush would overrun what was left of the company, but that first wave would pay the price.

Cocker, who was hugging the bottom of the shear wall on the left of the pass, was the only one with any twenty-millimeter ammo left, and she was down to single shots. Manning might have rounds in her magazine, but she’d been killed fifteen minutes ago.

Rev’s alarms went off as he was hit by a side lobe. Acting instinctively, he rolled and fired up high into the range. Energy beams crackled with mini-lightning as they collided, something he’d never seen before. Human technology, with a little boost from the Centaurs, won out, and the Naxli fell to bounce out of sight.

His shields were down to eleven percent. If that had been a direct hit, he’d probably be dead now.

Rev, along with most of the troopers, had seen the writing on the wall. Without reinforcement, there was no way out of the mess. But no landing craft were appearing out of the smoky skies. No Niklith were charging through the choke point, rolling up Naxli as they came.

And no Genesians were emerging from their fort. It looked like Tomiko had been right. They were letting the humans bleed the Naxli before they acted, killing two birds with one stone.

Rev risked a look back. The chimney was a silent watcher to the drama unfolding here.

Someone out of sight in the rocks above Randigold kept softly calling for a medic. But with Doc Soon dead, there was no one to respond. And the intensity of the fire kept anyone else from trying to reach the trooper.

Rev prayed that whoever it was had an easy passing. That was about the best he could do.

“When are the bastards coming?” Tiwari asked from where he was hunkered down, a meter from Rev.

The man had always been as cool as a cucumber since Rev had met him on Samara, but he was nervous now. The waiting for the inevitable was cracking his composure.

“Soon enough, Per. You’ll get your chance to kill noxes soon enough,” Rev said, purposefully misunderstanding him.

Rev understood the feeling. The Naxli had massed enough people within assault range to kick it off, so why wait? Maybe Bundy was right in that another force was going to try and get behind them.

Rev kept wondering if they shouldn’t try a breakout or a retreat through the rocky range after all. The company wouldn’t survive, but possibly a few troopers would slip through and hide out for when and if additional forces ever did arise.

He’d even broached the subject with the commander, but Bundy had decided that their best shot was to hold out until help arrived.

At the moment, that looked like a bad bet.

And a minute later, it looked even worse. A voice cried out from the heights. “Enemy to the north!”

Of course, they’re to the north. They’ve been advancing for the last hour along the base of the range. I’ve been pinging them every time they got their noses too close.

But then he realized that the shout sounded like it was coming from the backside of the range, facing the valley.

“Son of a bitch. Bundy was right,” he muttered. Then to Punch, “Remind me to congratulate him.”

<Noted. When we get back, it’s the first thing I’ll do.>

Within moments, explosions were bursting everywhere on the backside. The Naxli didn’t seem to favor artillery shells, so these had to be rockets. Rev and Tiwari were in defilade to the force, but those troopers in the high ground would be sitting targets. One of them would be Tomiko, who’d taken ten troopers up there.

Bundy dashed by behind Rev, exposed to the rockets, as he yelled out orders. But they were really beyond fighting as a company now. They had no real options, and too many were already lost. This was about to devolve into pockets of troopers fighting until they were overrun.

As soon as the rockets started impacting, a chorus of shrill shouts erupted from the Naxli to the front.

“Get ready,” Rev told Tiwari. “They’ll be coming.”

Only they didn’t charge. One rose to wave a sword, its warbling cry as clear as day . . . until Rev shut it up with a shot to the forehead.

“They’re going to let the others bear the brunt of the fight. So much for their vaunted warrior spirit.”

“Eth,” he shouted across the pass. “Keep their heads down.”

She nodded as she fired her beamer again.

Rev kept low and backed up, and Tiwari followed. Tomiko and her troopers had managed to keep the Naxli on the heights away from the pass itself, so he was safe from them for the moment. By keeping on his belly, he was able to reach the back of the pass just as a rocket slammed into it.

The concussion lifted him off the rock and slammed him back down, sending shooting pain through his body. The nanos Punch had initiated had numbed his skin, but this shock punched right through that.

He gasped for a moment, then continued.

From the back of the pass, he could see along the west side of the range. Hundreds of Naxli were pouring down the slope to the valley floor about two klicks to the north.

Rev was out of Morays and twenties, and there was a lot of smoke and dust that would attenuate his beamer, so he didn’t engage. Three lights flashed in the distance, and those flashes turned into rockets that sped toward them. Rev didn’t even pull back as they slammed into the hills. What looked to be another launcher was being pulled farther out into the valley, which would give those rockets a better angle into the pass.

“Shoot right on through and hit your buddies,” he told the Naxli.

He turned to Tiwari. “This is what we call a target-rich environment.”

“And this is what we toh call a first class dal.”

“Fair enough. Which ones do you want? Back or front?”

Tiwari looked down into the valley and said, “Let’s take those guys. Easier shooting, na?”

The two took cover the best they could. Twice they were hit with shrapnel and rock debris from near misses, but their PALs held firm. Tiwari took a few shots, but while the hypervelocity darts could be effective at closer range, over this distance, they lost too much velocity to do much unless it was an extremely lucky seeing-eye shot.

It had been thousands of years since medieval armies marched toward each other to clash. During the Twenty-First and Twenty-Second Centuries, drones and standoff weapons came to the fore, making death at a distance the norm. But improvements in countermeasures and the realities of fighting in a gravity well had brought land warfare almost back in a circle.

“I toh feel like the English at Agincourt, watching the French advance,” Tiwari said.

“Let’s hope this battle ends the same way, then.”

Another rocket blasted away a chunk of rock that bounced down the slope to the bottom of the valley.

<The French didn’t have artillery at Agincourt.>

“Thanks for bringing that up, Punch.”

There was another series of flashes from a launcher, but this time, the rockets were aimed at the Genesian position.

Four fewer aimed at us.

Then Rev noticed a tiny but subtle shift in the Naxli. He couldn’t quite understand what they were doing now.

Turning his body around, he looked back through the pass, wondering if the point of main effort was about to shift to those Naxli when Tiwari said, “What the hell? Look at that.”

Rev spun back around. Figures were emerging from the back side of Lark.

“What kind of combat suit are they wearing?”

“It’s not a combat suit, Per.”

“Then what is it?”

“Those are gennies. They’re joining the battle.”

32

“Gennies? Like as in Genesians?” Tiwari asked.

The Dalit was taking this surprisingly well.

“Yes. Genesians.”

“Whose side are they on, na?”

“I hope ours.”

More of the Naxli shifted to face the Genesians, and there was a sense of panic that Rev could see, even from two klicks away. He was sure that the Naxli knew exactly who they were and knew they were a greater threat than the remnants of Alpha Company.

Ten, twenty, thirty of the ancient enemy emerged into sight. With Agincourt on his mind, they reminded him of knights in heavy armor riding into the fray.

Explosions erupted within the mass of Naxli, sending bodies into the air. Rev didn’t know what was causing that: big guns of some sort from their position, the charging Genesians, or even mines. But the results were obvious as holes were torn into the Naxli lines.

A swarm of what looked like gnats rose from the chimney and spread out across the sky. Large numbers were swept away by an energy cannon that crackled with power.

“I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

Rev locked in his last Moray, the one he’d been saving, and fired. The Naxli energy weapons were effective in knocking down Morays, but maybe because they were oriented at the Genesians, Rev’s missile made it through, slamming into the Naxli weapon. There was a bright explosion, and bolts of lightning reached up into the sky.

The remaining gnats streaked to the Naxli. Some were destroyed, but without the big beamer, large numbers made it and fired what looked to be small rockets or assisted rounds. Swaths of Naxli fell.

The troopers on this side of the pass watched, their weapons quiet. While Rev and a couple of others knew what was happening, the appearance of the Genesians had to take everyone else by surprise. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t recognize who they were.

“Only engage Naxli! Only the noxes! No one else!” Bundy was screaming over his loudspeakers.

Thirty-three Genesians emerged from their fort. That was a pitifully small number, Rev thought. There were just too many Naxli.

And that number dropped almost immediately. Two of the Genesians were hit with something big, one after the other. They were torn apart by the impact.

But then they hit the Naxli line. The Genesian shell was a weapon in and of itself. They could direct huge amounts of energy almost in a sphere around them, and they didn’t seem to have the same problem as human beamers did with recharging. The sphere was like the personal force fields that were so common in science fiction holovids, but with an offensive capability to kill their foes.

Despite the gnat things—which were new to Rev—the Genesians weren’t big on long-distance weapons, but they were deadly close in. During the Corolla Wars, there were documented accounts of a single Genesian fighter taking out over ninety soldiers before being overwhelmed.

Rev had never really accepted those numbers, figuring them to be touched by a bit of fearmongering propaganda, but he could see the Genesians devastate the Naxli. Three more of them were killed, but Naxli were falling in much greater numbers.

And the humans just watched. A few 40 mm grenades were fired, but they were mostly out of weapons that would make a difference. Rev had told the Genesians that they could fight together to defeat the Naxli, but at the moment, at least as far as the valley was concerned, the Genesians were doing all the heavy lifting.

The flow of Naxli coming down the slope slowed, stopped, then reversed. Those that weren’t engaged were retreating, which was somewhat shocking. Rev had seen them try and use gnista to gain an advantage, but he’d never seen them retreat when a battle was still in doubt.

Or maybe, they’d already had enough contact with the Genesians to believe there was no doubt. Which begged the question as to why they’d even entered the valley in their fight against Alpha Company and risked engaging them.

A flurry of fire broke out behind him. Rev had almost forgotten that they were still engaged with the Naxli on the other side of the pass. There was nothing he could really do to contribute on this side, but there was still a fight going on.

“Come on, Per,” he said, grabbing the Marine by the dead man’s handle and turning him around.

They both got down low and started crawling across the pass.

“How long have you known about the gennies?” Tiwari asked.

“Since yesterday.”

“It might have been better to give the rest of us a heads-up, na. That’s going to shock a lot of troopers.”

The two slipped back into their previous positions. There seemed to be a bit of urgency in the Naxli, but that could be Rev’s imagination. They may or may not know what was happening to the rest of their force.

The voice calling for a medic was weaker, and it killed Rev to ignore it, but he’d do no one any good trying to climb up there and expose himself.

“Hang in there,” he said quietly, which was the best he could do.

Rev fired five more times, getting at least two sure kills, but the Naxli were doing a better job of staying behind cover. If he had any more grenades, he could flush a few. But then again, if he had a Shrike fighter, he could strafe them.

He kept waiting for the final assault, sure it was imminent. The Naxli had to know by now that their advantage was slipping away, and if they wanted a victory, they had to gain the pass. No matter how effective an individual Genesian was as a fighter, they’d be hard-pressed to climb the slope into a concentrated Naxli defense.

But the next shift in the battle was not from in front of him.

“Do not engage! They’re our allies!” Bundy’s voice echoed through the pass.

“Go look,” he told Tiwari as he fired at another Naxli who’d exposed himself just a little too much.

The Marine scrambled back and a minute later, returned. “The gennies are coming here at a run. Are you sure they’re on our side?”

“No, they’re on no one’s side. But the major said don’t engage them.”

I hope you’re right, Bundy.

Rev started blasting over his loudspeaker. “We’ve got help coming through the pass. Do not engage them! Pass that on. I repeat, do not engage our allies.”

A few others passed the word, but not many. Rev hoped that wasn’t a reflection of the number of surviving troopers.

He was also aware that as this was a human planet, some of the Naxli might understand Standard, and he could have just given them a warning. But that was a risk he had to take.

Two minutes later, the first Genesian reached the edge of the pass. Rev turned to his back as ten more followed at a dead run. Rev tensed. It was hard to see the figures of his childhood nightmares running at him and not feel in danger.

But they didn’t seem to give him even a glance, and as they passed him, he got to his feet and shouted, “Krakens! Attack!” as he rushed to join them.

Rev expected to be hit. In his PAL, he was a larger target, after all, but most of the Naxli attention must have been on the apparitions that had just appeared.

The Naxli were scrambling, rising from cover to engage, and one of the Genesians stumbled and went down, causing Rev to vault over the shell.

But the Naxli were falling like flies. Energy waves were shot out, and Rev winced as the air crackled around him, but the beams could evidently discern, if not friends, then non-foes from foes.

And Rev was in the midst of it all. With the attention on the Genesians, it was as if he was on the range shooting at paper targets. Tiwari was at his side, sending waves of darts into the enemy.

And it wasn’t just those two. Troopers were joining him. Randigold was standing tall, screaming like a banshee as she fanned the rocks. Years of training were swept away, years of how to fight, and the frustration destroyed tactical discipline. Troopers became berserker killing machines.

Rev’s warrior had taken over, this time assisted by Punch. His battle buddy kept a continual stream of prioritized targets displayed on his face shield, and his warrior self took them out.

He was vaguely aware of Naxli slipping through the far choke point and of others scrambling away along the range. But not all of the Naxli were retreating. Others were standing firm.

Another Genesian fell, then a trooper. A Naxli charged a Genesian with a sword raised. It hit the force field and recoiled as if kicked by a mule to lie still on the ground.

Rev was riding a warrior high. Targets were becoming fewer, and he felt a rage build that there weren’t any more.

The Genesians suddenly stopped their assault, and it wasn’t until a handful of troopers rushed the far choke point that Rev snapped back.

“Cease fire, cease fire,” he shouted over and over.

Other troopers had also been swept up in the frenzy, but enough were in control to start repeating the order. It took almost a minute before things settled down.

Rev stood still, breathing heavily as the thrill of victory swept through him. There were hundreds of dead and wounded Naxli littering the area.

Eight Genesians were in a circle, oriented outward, and the sense of victory vanished. They still thought of humans as their enemies, and one wrong move by troopers who had hate for them ingrained, and they’d continue the fight.

“Cease fire!” Rev bellowed again. “These are our allies!”

He lowered Pashu and slowly walked up to them, extremely aware that he was about to push into their force fields.

Mother protect me, he prayed as he plunged in.

He was still alive.

He came to a stop in front of the nearest one.

“You are wrong,” the Genesian said. “We are not your allies.”

“But for today, at least, we are not your enemies.”

The Genesian made a very human-sounding grunt. “Very well. For today, Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier.”

Troopers were slowly gathering around, silently staring at the ancient enemies. During the fight, adrenaline would have been pumping, the attention on the Naxli. But now, the enormity of what was standing in front of them was sinking in. Several were nervously fingering their weapons.

“We will now recover our casualties,” the Genesian said.

“Respect for the fallen,” Rev said automatically.

The Genesians went to each of their three companions and removed the heads, leaving what was left of the shells in place. One of the heads was mangled, but the other two seemed relatively undamaged.

“Can they just put a brain in another shell?” he asked Punch.

<We don’t have accurate data on that. But theoretically, yes, it might be possible.>

One of the Genesians walked up to Rev. “As I said, we are not allies. But given our mutual efforts here, we grant you one day to care for your dead. Tomorrow, however, you must leave. If you stay, we will consider that an act of aggression.”

Rev didn’t know what that would entail. And he didn’t know if that meant out of this area or off the planet.

But he said, “I understand.”

With that, the eight walked through the pass and started down to the valley below.

Rev followed thirty seconds behind, intending to see what had happened on that side of the pass. As he reached the position he and Tiwari had occupied, he stopped, feeling like he’d forgotten something.

He hated when his mind did this. But it didn’t take long this time to figure out what it was.

He went to the side of the pass and climbed. Fifteen meters up, in a small crevice, he found the silent trooper. He turned the body over. Corporal Kuntz, one of the headquarters survivors who’d joined Alpha, stirred and opened his eyes.

“Did we win?” he whispered in the same voice that had been calling for a medic.

Rev looked around. From his vantage point, he could see below where the battle was over. Eleven Genesians were making their way back to their fort, leaving scattered shells behind them. The eight who had fought here were still walking down the slope.

Bundy was below him, just entering the pass, and when Rev turned, he could see Tomiko jumping down from the last rock.

Three Genesian shells were on this battleground, along with at least a dozen troopers and a hundred Naxli.

A sudden thought hit him, and he looked up to search the skies. Sure enough, as he’d expected, a Sia floated high over the area. He still didn’t know what to make of them, but whatever they were doing, it didn’t have anything to do with Kuntz’s question.

He turned back to the corporal. “Yes, we won.”

33

The landing craft took off in the distance, and Rev came to attention and rendered a salute. Lieutenant Colonel Suk’s body would be on that, the last lift of battalion dead. Not just him, but traditionally, a commander would be the last to be taken.

He held the salute for a few moments until his P2P came on.

“Where are you?” Bundy asked.

“At the scorp camp.”

“Get on back here. We’re getting our lift in just over four hours. I need you to honcho it.”

“Four hours? That’s not much time. To where?”

With the battalion so devastated, rumor had it that they might be decommissioned, with the survivors being absorbed by the Second Human Expeditionary Battalion over at the third objective.

“Off Pakao. We’re going home.”

“Home? Really?”

“Yes, really. We’re all pulling out. Get back here, and I’ll bring you up to speed.”

“Roger that. I’m on my way.”

He wondered why Bundy couldn’t just tell him over the net, but he’d find out soon enough.

“I need to get back to my CP,” he told his Niklith counterpart.

“To prepare to leave this planet?” Ost asked.

How does he know that?

“I’ll find out,” Rev said, not willing to affirm anything.

“We will be gone as well by tomorrow.”

Rev wondered if that was only for this sector. Despite comms suddenly coming back online two days ago, he knew nothing of what was happening at the other objectives. As the acting XO, maybe Bundy did, but if so, he wasn’t sharing that with anyone.

It had been difficult enough to figure out what had happened here.

When Rev had carried Corporal Kuntz out of the rocks after the battle, Tomiko approached him.

“I watched you with the Genesians,” she said.

“Don’t say it.”

“Don’t say what?”

Rev just scowled. He knew she was aching to call him by his nickname. “You’ve got two arms. Help me with Kuntz here. And then let’s get a handle on who we have left.”

Which turned into something easier said than done. With the troopers scattered on both sides of the pass and up into the higher ground, it had taken hours to search the area and gather the casualties. A Bravo Company trooper showed up from where she’d been holed up four hours later, just as the company was stepping off. And back at the old battalion CP, twelve more made their way to them.

When Rev had told Bundy about the Genesian ultimatum, Bundy decided to withdraw to the battalion CP. It was removed from the valley, and he hoped that would signal to the Genesians that he had no aggressive intentions. It might have been that, or it might have been something else, but early the next morning, comms were suddenly re-established.

While most of the forty-six survivors were involved with recovery in the CP, that allowed Bundy to both contact the Bravo Command and send out OPs to watch for Naxli.

Major Synne, the XO, became the acting CO, and he brought his command post to the CP as well. Not what was left of the other rifle companies, though. They had a separate camp. Rev figured that was to keep the presence of the Genesians from being common knowledge for now.

The OPs never saw any sign of living Naxli. They’d vanished.

With comms back, a full report was sent to the command ship. Rev wasn’t privy to any of that, but they’d sent the equivalent of two Niklith companies to provide security with strict orders to avoid the Genesians. And now, it looked like they’d decided to evacuate the area.

Rev left the Nikliths and returned back to the camp. It was still a mangled mess, but some order had been restored. The neat line of bodies that had been there before he left was now gone. Most of the dead were beyond resurrection. But Chief Wasserman, who’d been with the Bravo Command, thought that some of the more recently killed had a chance. He’d done his magic, and those had been the first to be lifted off the planet.

“Gunny!”

Rev turned to see Yancey hurrying up to him.

“We’ve got orders to—”

Yancey didn’t let him finish. “I’ve recalled the patrols. I don’t know what gear is leaving, but I’ve got Hus-man staging it. I’ll have all of the troopers staged in sticks thirty minutes prior. You’re on Stick Four. As soon as we get the go-ahead, we’re on.”

Rev smiled, then tried to hide it. Yancey—happy-go-lucky, but at the same time, cynical Yancey—was turning into a fine administrator. He’d make a good company gunny someday.

“Is that all?”

“I’ve got a few more things on my list. Oh, they’re sending down some sort of tech, too. Everyone’s getting an injection or something before we board.”

“An injection? For what?”

“Hell if I know.”

Rev frowned. He didn’t like to get anything put into his body that he didn’t know. He knew it was ironic, considering all the foreign DNA and items inside of him now. Yancey didn’t seem concerned, but he was, well, Yancey.

I guess I’ll find out what it is soon enough.

Despite Yancey’s organizational skills, there were still many things that had to get done. Embarking a company on short notice, even one so small and with so little gear left, was no mean feat. But four hours later, Rev was with his stick, ready to go, as the shuttle landed.

The back hatch lowered, and two people came out: a tech and a Navy lieutenant. The lieutenant motioned for the stick to gather closer.

“Listen up. I’m Lieutenant Sienna. All of you here have been exposed to a significant revelation.”

No shit.

“While the CoH, with full support to the Union”—she paused as if remembering this was a joint unit—“of all your governments, has decided to keep this knowledge classified for now.”

There were murmurs from the troopers, and she held up a hand to quiet them down.

“This is a temporary measure. The public will be informed, but in a manner that will best keep unrest at a minimum.”

“Unrest? She means panic,” Yancey whispered, his cynical side making a reappearance.

“So, to that end, everything about this operation is now classified as One A-SA.”

Rev grunted. One A-Special Access was the highest level of security. The irony wasn’t lost on him that while no one here had that level of clearance, they were all carrying the knowledge that Genesians were alive and well in human space.

“With all the troopers here, try keeping that secret. Not to mention the scorps. They know,” Yancey said.

Rev looked around. It really wasn’t that many people who knew. Maybe sixty, tops. But that was still a lot. Someone would slip up. Or maybe reveal it on purpose. Despite having the Genesians just save their asses, there was still a lot of deep-rooted hate for them.

“Now, to enforce the security, we’ll be inserting a monitor before you board the shuttle.”

What?

The murmurs turned to shouts, and the lieutenant held up her hand again and waited for the troopers to quiet down.

“This is a temporary and reversible measure for use until we can come up with a more permanent solution. And it won’t be spying on you.”

“Bullshit. That’s exactly what it’s doing,” Hus-man said.

“All it will do is alert on certain keywords. If you say, write, or otherwise communicate with any of those keywords, an alert will be triggered, and what you said reviewed. If the usage is in casual conversation, the alert will be canceled. However, if you are attempting to reveal what’s happened here . . . well, you don’t want to do that.”

Breaking One A-SA security could be punished by death, so that was an understatement.

The troopers were decidedly upset, and they were yelling at the lieutenant, who seemed nonplussed.

“What gives you the right?” someone shouted.

She smiled and said, “Special Order C03-303-14-444A gives us the right.”

“And if we refuse?”

“Then you stay here on the planet,” she said matter-of-factly.

It was only then that Rev really noticed the gun on top of the shuttle, pointing aft. And that might explain the order to palletize the weapons.

Rev didn’t think they’d open fire on them if they refused, but . . .

This was serious stuff.

“But if we—” Hussein started.

“Hus-man!” Rev shouted, silencing the stick.

“This isn’t the time,” he said in a quieter voice.

“But—”

“But nothing. You heard the lieutenant.”

He wished he knew how Bundy had handled this on Stick 2. But this was on him, and while he hated the idea, he didn’t see that they had much choice.

“You can start with me, ma’am,” he said as he stepped forward.

“Very good, Gunny.”

She pointed at the tech, who had a program box strapped to his side. He pulled out a jack cord, and Rev froze.

“This is going via battle buddy?”

<That’s the most logical method.>

“Are you going to be OK?”

<I don’t know,> Punch said via table talk.

In regular speech, he said, <It won’t affect me.>

The tech raised his eyebrows, and with a huge effort of will, Rev stepped forward. He closed his eyes as the tech jacked into his PAL.

Rev didn’t feel anything, and the tech said, “Next.”

“Are you OK? Is this going to change anything?”

<I’m fine. It’s an external alert. It won’t detect the real me.>

Rev could sense Punch’s relief, even through table talk.

“Thank the Mother.” He looked up the ramp and into the shuttle. “Then let’s get off this hellhole of a planet.”

34

“Commanders, take charge of your companies and carry out the remainder of the training schedule,” Colonel James Caplan, the new battalion commanding officer, ordered, his mic’d voice reverberating across the parade deck.

Bundy saluted, then performed an about-face.

“First Sergeant!”

Rev left his position behind the company—which looked more like a platoon—and marched up to center himself on his friend.

Bundy hadn’t been part of the medal ceremony. Word was that he’d been put in for both a Union Platinum Nova and a CoH Star of of Terra, but those awards took time and could be political, something Rev knew very well.

“Looks good, Rev,” he said, nodding at the Gold Nova hanging on Rev’s chest, his second.

“Yours will look better.”

Bundy shrugged. Most Marines denied wanting medals, but in Bundy’s case, he really might not care.

“Make sure you, Cocker, and Samaya stick around for the press. They want to talk to you.”

“This should be a treat. Momsie’s gonna tell them to straighten up their shirts or hold a tissue to their noses and tell them to blow.”

Bundy gave a half-smile and said, “I don’t doubt it,” before he reverted to his command voice and said, “First Sergeant, dismiss the company.”

Rev saluted and received Bundy’s in return, and then the company commander marched off. Immediately, Kongi and Albetras, the only two surviving lieutenants, left their positions. Tomiko and Yancey, as acting platoon commanders, remained in place, while Bob and Horovitz moved into position in front of their platoons.

Rev had planned to address the company, but they’d been standing there for a long time. The battalion had been awarded its battle streamer, a Union Distinguished Unit streamer, and a CoH Streamer of Valor. Then, there had been eight Gold Novas awarded, with the citation read for each one.

Thank the Mother the Silver Novas and below were awarded this morning and not here. My back would be killing me. I’m just gonna dismiss them all and get on with it.

“The awards reception starts in fifteen minutes in the Fordyce Gym. It is not a required event, but you’re encouraged to attend. However, there’ll be a lot of brass there. A lot. The governor and the CoH administrator are there. So, watch your drinking, and do NOT cause a scene. Cocker and Samaya, you two hold up. The press wants a word with you over at the press tent.”

“Momsie!” someone shouted, a chorus of “ooh-rahs” following.

“Pipe down unless you want to stand here for another hour.”

The shouts cut off as if by a light switch.

“Colonel Caplan has authorized a semi-ninety-six. After the reception is over, you’re all free until Tuesday formation at thirteen-hundred. Be there, aloha!”

This time, the ooh-rahs were louder. A moment later, Bravo Company erupted as well, then the others as they found out about the surprise ninety-six. Or, in this case, it was really about a ninety-three-hour pass, but what was a few hours between friends?

Rev came to attention, then shouted out, “Krakens, dis . . . MISSED!”

Each trooper performed an about-face, then let off yet another “Ooh-rah Krakens” or “Hup-hup Krakens” by the MDS soldiers, then stepped off, pounding each other’s backs at their newfound ninety-six, or maybe just to celebrate being alive.

Tomiko walked up to him. “Are you feeling the power seep through your bones, First Sergeant?”

“Sure do. Now, I’m seeking galaxy-wide domination,” he said with an evil leer as he rubbed his hands together.

“Don’t get too used to it,” she said. “They’ll have someone else coming in soon enough, and you’ll be back to being a mere platoon sergeant.”

“Ah, so all the more reason to put my nefarious plans into motion now.”

She laughed and took his arm. “Are you free, or do you have to go with Momsie and Samaya?”

“Yeah, they want to talk to me, too.”

“Figured as much. I’ll wait.”

“That Silver Nova looks great, you know.”

She’d been presented the medal only a few hours ago, and the ribbon was already on her chest.

She shrugged, nodded at the medal hanging off his uniform, and said, “A girl likes gold most of all, though”

What? Is that a hint? Is she talking about a wedding ring?

They rarely spoke about a wedding. With the war going on, it kept fading into the background. Tomiko wanted the full monty with guests and the entire works, and that was just too difficult to plan when they could be gone at a moment’s notice.

Had she changed her mind? Maybe it was time to at least discuss it. But not now, as they walked to the media tent.

“Look at them. They’re like sharks at a feeding frenzy,” Tomiko said casually, which made Rev wonder if he’d just read too much into her gold statement.

But she was right. There had to be at least thirty members of the press gathered. One of the Rangers from Charlie was already there, looking lost as they swarmed him. He’d taken out eight Naxli while carrying his wounded platoon commander to safety, yet a bunch of reporters had him looking like he was about to bolt for safety.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . .” Rev said.

“You’re the one who decided to be a hero again.”

This time, there wasn’t any bite to her statement. He knew she still wanted to be an IBHU Marine, but saving his life and now having two Silver Novas had done wonders for her self-confidence.

“And there goes Momsie. Better let her take the lead, Rev. She’ll have them in line in no time.”

Ahead of them, Corporal Cocker waded into the tent, Samaya in tow. Reporters turned to her as she began to hold court.

“Hard to believe I thought she was some meek-mannered grandmother when I first met her.”

Tomiko snorted. “Momsie? Meek-mannered?”

“Yeah, I know. My bust on that.”

“Well, are you ready?”

“Let’s do it,” Rev said as he entered the fray.

35

“Gunny, the CO wants to see you,” Sergeant Brant said.

Rev looked up from his pad where he was trying to make sense of the inventory. The numbers were due to the S-4 by COB, and not only did he have the platoon’s numbers to get straight, but until a new company gunny was assigned, he had to compile the company figures as well.

Bundy knew he was up to his armpit in this, so why was he bothering him?

This was the worst thing about being a SNCO. The recent fighting, coupled with the extreme environmental conditions on Pakao, had wreaked havoc on the company’s equipment. Losses and damage were bad enough in more normal situations, but this had been far more devastating on the inventory.

And now, the full extent of the lost and deadlined gear had to be tallied before replacements could be issued. Some of this was automatic with the embedded scantags—they’d had those figures almost as soon as they’d returned to Nguyen. But there was so much more that a unit needed to be combat-ready. And everything, from med kits to combat rations, had to be inventoried and inspected for serviceability. And by SOP, that had to be done with actual eyeballs on the items.

“OK, I’m on my way,” Rev said as Brant stepped back from the door.

He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get it done in time. He had even come in on Sunday to try and get a leg up on the process, but while Colonel Caplan giving the battalion a ninety-six had been welcomed, it had taken away the squad leaders and manpower Rev had needed to actually get anything done.

He took a moment to check his messages. There was nothing from the other platoons. He was close to being finished with First, but he needed the rest before he could configure the company report.

“Give me Miko,” he told his pad.

“I know, I know. I’m still working at it,” she said the moment her image popped up.

Her short hair was mussed, and she had the harried look of a dog with twelve pups.

“I didn’t even say what I wanted yet.”

“What else would it be?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been summoned by King Bundy. He’s probably getting shit from the Four on this, and I wanted to be able to tell him where we are on the numbers.”

“It’s going to be another three or four hours at least. Sorry, Rev. The G-gear is taking forever.”

Rev grimaced. G-gear was a catch-all term for all the little, non-vital, and non-serialized equipment a trooper uses. Things like ammo pouches, parachute cord, and cleaner. None of them had scantags, but they had to be inspected and counted all the same. He understood why it was taking so long, but if it took Second Platoon four hours, he wasn’t going to have time to compile the company figures before they were due.

“Come on, Miko. I’ve got to get the report to the Four by COB. You’re not making that easy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And I’m the only one still out there? Are your platoon numbers done?”

“No,” he admitted. “Not yet.”

“So, you’re on my ass why?”

“Just trying to get a feel so I can tell Bundy.”

Her face softened, and she said, “Just think. You get this done, and you’ll be all set when they make you the company gunny for real.”

Rev held up his two forefingers—one organic, one prosthetic—in the form of a cross and shoved it into his pad’s visual pickup.

“Back, back, I say, you spawn of hell. I will not listen to such blasphemy!”

Tomiko just laughed. “I’m telling you, that’s what’s going to happen. You’re the logical choice.”

“Oh, by the Mother, I hope not. Getting stuck in this kind of crap every day would kill me.”

He didn’t say it considering Tomiko’s desire to be an IBHU, but he was hoping that being one himself, the new company commander, who was supposedly inbound, would decide he would be better utilized staying in the platoon.

“Oh, don’t whine. Go see Bundy, and let me get back to the grind if you want to see my numbers anytime soon.”

She cut the connection.

Rev considered calling up the other platoon sergeants, but he knew it would be more of the same, so he got up and crossed to the company office to face the music. The outer office was empty, so he crossed to the company commander’s office and rapped on the sill.

“You wanted to see me?”

Bundy looked up from his own pad with an annoyed expression on his face. “See you? No.”

Rev was confused. “Brant said you wanted to see me.”

“Well, Brant was wrong. And I’m kind of busy here?” he said, pointing at his pad.

“OK, sorry, sir. I’ll leave you.”

He wasn’t sure how Brant had screwed up, but if he didn’t have to get his ass chewed, all the better.

He let the door close behind him as he scurried to the sanctuary of his own office. Before he reached it, though, he saw Sergeant Brant coming down the passage.

“Brant, what the hell? Why’d you tell me to see the major?”

The sergeant wrinkled his brows together as he kept coming. “The major?”

“Yes, Major Bundy. As in our commander. The guy who sits in the office with you every day.”

“I didn’t tell you to see Major Bundy. I told you the CO wants to see you.”

Rev started to reply when he realized what Brant was saying. “CO” stood for “commanding officer.” Bundy wasn’t a CO. He was a company commander. There was a difference, but one that was sometimes ignored in casual conversation. A company commander might be referred to as a CO, even if the term was technically incorrect for one.

Rev knew Bundy would be anxious to get the reports done and turned in, and he might have been getting pressure from the S-4. Couple that with the fact that he couldn’t imagine why Lieutenant Colonel Caplan would want to see him, and he’d just assumed it was Bundy who wanted him.

For a moment, he wanted to scold Brant for not being clearer, but he knew it was his mistake. He just harrumphed and headed to the exit, leaving Brant standing there.

“What does he want me for? Have I missed something I was supposed to do?”

<No. Nothing.>

“Another interview?”

Rev’s interview after the medal ceremony had gone reasonably well. Corporal Cocker had been the center of attention—no surprise there—but there was a chance that someone wanted a follow-up.

<You’ve had interviews before. Was Lieutenant Colonel Suk ever the one to inform you of that?>

“Well, no. But maybe with the new monument?”

The Safe Harbor government, with significant corporate financial assistance, was erecting a huge monument in Anastasia dedicated to all of those in uniform who’d lost their lives fighting since the Centaur invasion.

Safe Harbor had long been a backwater province of the Union; its Marines considered second-class units. The advent of the IBHUs had changed the dynamic, and as Second Combined Assault and First Human Expeditionary had been formed, the center of gravity had shifted somewhat.

And with that, planetary pride. The citizens generally reveled in their new position, and so the idea of a massive monument had been raised by a secondary school, of all places. But within a whirlwind time after a newscast on the school’s efforts, the government had jumped on board.

Construction was already underway, with completion scheduled for another few weeks.

<I don’t see the connection to the memorial. At least not now.>

“Well, it has to be something.”

<Which I surmise you’ll find out soon enough.>

Smart ass.

Rev entered the battalion CP and made his way to the CO’s office.

“I was told the colonel wanted to see me?” he said to the clerk, a new join he didn’t recognize.

But the corporal recognized him, all right. “Yes, Gunny Pelletier. He’s in with someone else right now, but if you’ll take a seat?”

“Do you know what this is about?” Rev asked as he sat down.

“Not a clue, Gunny. They don’t tell me much around here.”

This would be the first time Rev would have any real contact with the CO. He’d briefly spoken to the man after the medal reception, but he hadn’t gotten a feel for him then.

He had the normal augments of a Direct Combat Marine, of course, but whipcord lean, he could pass as a normal human. He had a good reputation as a Marine, but more than that, he was a student of history. His previous position was as a professor at the Command and Staff College, something rare for a mid-level officer.

There was a little apprehension about the CO among some of the battalion officers. A few had openly wondered if this was simply his command ticket punch before he returned to a teaching position, but Rev wasn’t really buying that. There were plenty of battalions for him to get that done without sending him to the highly visible First Human Expeditionary.

Bundy thought highly of the man, and that was something. But all told, Rev wished he was back in his office and not here.

Rev sat and waited . . . and waited. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, but that hadn’t stopped the Omega Division from putting him in prison. He hadn’t had any contact with Agent Wolf, who seemed like his own personal nemesis, for over a year now, but with them, it was impossible to tell when they were going to rear their ugly faces.

“You haven’t figured out anything yet?” he asked Punch.

<Nothing.>

But would he say it if it was Omega?

“Is that the truth, or just something you didn’t want to say?” he asked in table talk.

<That’s the truth. I can’t determine anything that might have precipitated this.>

Rev started biting his fingernails. With only one organic arm, it didn’t take him long to get them down to the quick.

Finally, the door into the CO’s office opened. Lieutenant Colonel Caplan stepped out, accompanied by a major and a civilian.

“Thank you for coming,” the colonel said. “It’s been enlightening. I’ll get back to you by close of business.”

The major looked at Rev, but his glance slid right off. The civilian, however, seemed to take more of an interest in him. Rev felt his hackles rise as it seemed as if the woman was dissecting him on the spot.

She didn’t say anything, though, as the two filed off.

The CO started back into his office when the corporal said, “Sir? Gunny Pelletier’s here to see you.”

The colonel turned around and spotted Rev. “Ah, Gunny. Come on in.”

Rev followed him in and moved to center himself on the CO’s desk, but the colonel waved at a chair and told him to sit. He then went behind his desk, but instead of sitting there, he pulled the chair out to the side so the desk wasn’t between them, then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. He probably meant to present a friendlier appearance, but to Rev, he was reminded of a vulture perching on a branch, waiting for the deer to die.

“Thank you for coming, Gunny,” he said with more intensity than might be normal for the phrase.

Bundy had mentioned that the CO was intense, but it was slightly unsettling to see it in person.

“How’s the post-deployment paperwork coming along?” he asked.

“Busy, sir. I’m working on the inventory numbers for my platoon now. For the company, that is.”

“Ah, yes. You’re the acting gunny for Alpha. And I’m keeping you from your duties,” he said with a smile.

Only the smile was more in line with that vulture waiting for his meal.

“It’s OK, sir. I’ll get it in on time.”

He almost bit his tongue after saying that. He was on record now.

“This shouldn’t take long, and you can get back to it.” He paused a moment and then said, “I’ve been looking at your record, Gunny. You always seem to be in the thick of things.”

Oh, great. Another Nexus of Chaos comment.

“I knew some of the big ones, of course. Earth. Armadillo. Wie’s World.”

“They called me from the unit for Wie’s World. I had nothing to do with being ordered to meet the clickers.”

“You were given those orders because of Mistworld. You were the most experienced asset available to the CG. But disregard that for the moment. There were other times when you were involved with, shall we say, pivotal moments? Like killing the hiver queen, thereby putting an end to the fighting. Or like on Asteroid 6-067-442, when you kept from starting a firefight with the Frisians.”

The man’s eyes were blazing now, and Rev was surprised that he’d had the number memorized. Rev could never keep that straight himself.

“I was arrested for that, sir.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “And later released. What interests me, though, is that no matter what was thrown at you, whether it was by chance or by intention, you always came up with the right course of action. If you’d selected the path not taken, then things would not only have turned out far worse, but each decision advanced the Union or human cause.”

Rev frowned. He hadn’t really thought of it that way. He’d always been scrambling not to let things go to hell in a handbasket, trying to stay ahead of disaster.

What the colonel was saying didn’t sound right. Rev had failed lots of times. And even when he hadn’t, it had sometimes been by pure luck. On Syron III, it was a Centaur riever that had saved his ass. On the prison planet, it was Tomiko keeping him alive.

“Do you know how rare that is? Very few Marines who’ve served as long as you have can boast such an unblemished string of correct decisions.”

“Sir, I don’t think you understand. I’ve made mistakes. Lots of them.”

“Tell me,” he commanded.

“Uh . . . I led my patrol into an ambush. On Betel 3.”

“And what did you do then?”

“Well, we assaulted through, sir. We killed the five noxes.”

“So, it was a success. Give me another.”

Rev was getting stressed, and his mind was racing. He knew there were other failures, but he couldn’t think of them.

He was about to ask Punch for help when the CO said, “I do understand. I’ve made a career of studying the military mind. And I know that you’ve got an instinct of making the right decision when the stakes are high.”

Rev didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t say anything. He just wished he knew where this was going.

“I think you’re being wasted in your present position.”

“Sir?”

He sure wasn’t expecting that.

“As a SNCO.”

“Sir, I’m proud of that.”

There was another dismissive wave, and the colonel said, “As you should be. But you’ve reached the end of your fighting career. You’ll be a company gunny soon enough. After that, a first sergeant. Do you think you’ll be in combat then? Do you think you’ll be making those kinds of decisions?”

Rev knew that very well. But what were the alternatives? Get drunk and insult the CG’s husband so he could get busted down a few ranks? With the shortage of IBHU Marines, they weren’t going to kick him out, so it would be back to being a squad leader.

Which wasn’t a horrible end result.

“I could move you to the Three Shop, where you can help with developing our operations orders.”

Rev felt a moment of panic. He did NOT want to be stuck behind a desk every day, far from the Marines and troopers.

“Sir,” he started, his voice cracking. He made an effort to control it and said, “I’m an IBHU Marine. I need to be in the fighting where I can . . .”

<Contribute,> Punch prompted.

“Contribute.”

That might not have been the exact word Rev had been trying to recall, but he was getting used to just accepting whatever Punch suggested when he was having his word recall problems.

“Sometimes, the best contribution is where you’re not in the thick of things, Gunny. But yes, your IBHU is an important asset, and that’s where I think we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Rev perked up. He’d be willing to consider anything if it kept him out of the Three Shop.

“You know there are only four IBHU officers.”

It was a statement, not a question. And Rev did know that. There had been nineteen officers who’d become IBHU Marines. Only four were still alive.

So, what’s your point?

“Have you considered putting in for a commission?”

The question floored him. Tomiko teased him sometimes about that, but she wasn’t serious. And he hadn’t considered that himself. It was just . . . impossible.

“I don’t have a degree, sir.”

The dismissive hand came out again. “That’s not important. You know about mustangs, right.”

Of course, Rev knew about mustangs. Bundy was one. But he had a degree, earned years ago.

“You can be commissioned if you get a positive recommendation from the CG. And I can assure you that would be forthcoming. If you wanted to make it past major, you’d probably have to earn your degree, but that would be sixteen, seventeen years from now.”

Rev was agog. “Uh, I never did that well in school, sir.”

“The Marine Corps doesn’t need you to be able to pontificate on Italian Renaissance art, Gunny. They need what’s up here,” he said, tapping on the side of his head. “Your judgment. We’ve been through this before, and there are plenty of correspondence courses where we can, shall we say, ease some of our officers through.”

You mean the dumb-as-a-rock Marines, like me.

Rev thought it was ironic that it was the CO who was talking about what was basically pulling someone through a degree program. Everyone in the battalion knew that the man had not only one but two Ph.D.s.

“I shouldn’t have to point out that if you did accept a commission, you could be back here in six months as a platoon commander, still in the field with your troopers.”

Rev grunted. It was a valid point. And the thought did have a degree of attraction about it.

The colonel’s comp buzzed, and the corporal said, “Sir, your fifteen hundred is here.”

“Damn. I’ve got to take this. Look, Gunny. I know I rather blindsided you with this. I don’t need an answer just now. Go back and think about it. Talk to your family. Talk to whichever Marines you trust. The ultimate decision is yours, but consider the needs of the Corps.”

He stood up and offered Rev his hand. Numb, Rev took it.

“You can get back to me with your decision at any time.”

The hatch to the office opened, and the Three and the Four entered along with an MDS and Confederation officer that Rev recognized as being on the brigade staff.

Rev waited until they were inside the office and the CO was greeting them before he stepped around the officers. But he didn’t get off scot-free.

“Gunny, I need those inventory numbers by COB,” Captain Ellis, the new S-4, said.

“I’m on it, ma’am,” Rev said over his shoulder as he scooted beyond the outer office.

* * *

“So, what are you going to do?” Tomiko asked.

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Oh, no. You’re not going to pass this off onto me, Reverent Pelletier. This is your decision and no one else’s.”

Rev had stopped by Tomiko’s office to tell her what the CO had said. He needed a sounding board, and he trusted her opinion.

“But I’d like to know what you think.” He changed tack. “I mean, is it OK for us to get married if I’m an officer?”

“Tell the CO it’s a package deal. Two for one. We both get commissioned.”

Rev looked at her in surprise before he saw the twinkle in her eye.

“Ha-ha. Very funny. But really, what would you do?”

“Rev, I don’t know what I’d do. And I don’t think I’d have to. No one is breaking down my door asking me.” She let that sink in before asking, “Have you talked to Bundy?”

Rev shook his head. “I want to know what you feel about it.”

She sighed. “Maybe he’d be better for this? You know, him being an officer and all.”

“But I’m not marrying Bundy.”

She reached over and brushed the back of her hand across his cheek. “Whatever you decide, I’m here to support you.”

He knew that, too. But he wished she would tell him how she felt about the possibility.

“Look, Rev. We’ll talk about it later. Work out the pros and cons. Maybe that’ll help. But you called me forty minutes ago, jumping on my ass about the numbers. Those are still due. So, why don’t you get back to your crunching, and I’ll have mine in half an hour.”

She was right. The colonel hadn’t given him a deadline, but the S-4 sure had.

He stood, and Tomiko said, “SNCO Club tonight? Get a good meal, then maybe go sit in the park to talk about it?”

“Sounds like a plan. And thanks.”

“Thanks for what? I didn’t tell you anything.”

“Yes, you did. You said you’d support me no matter what.”

To his surprise, Tomiko blushed and looked down at her pad. “Go on. Git. I’ve got work to do. The company gunny’s a real asshole, you know?”

“So I’ve heard,” Rev said as he left the office.

He was just about to enter his when Lieutenant Grayson rushed in and almost sprinted to his office. Grayson was a Combat Support Marine who’d come down from brigade to temporarily command the platoon. Rev had bristled a bit when he’d received the news—probably part of his Direct Combat sense of superiority, as Tomiko had accused him, but with all the work that had to be done, now he was grateful that the lieutenant could take a lot of that onto his shoulders.

Rev felt like he could talk to Bundy easier, but the lieutenant was still his platoon commander and the first officer in his chain of command.

Might as well.

He walked over and knocked on the sill.

“Come in, Gunny,” the lieutenant said without looking up as he frantically scanned some memory sticks into his pad.

“Do you have a few minutes, sir?”

He looked up at him then. He grimaced and said, “Not really. I’ve got a ton of shit to do and not much time to do it. Is it something vital?”

He could see that the platoon commander was really hoping he’d say no.

“Ah, it’s nothing, sir. I can come back later.”

“I’d appreciate that. It’s going to be a long night for me, so check back in the morning, if that works.”

“Sure, sir. That would work.”

As he started back to his office, the lieutenant’s shout followed him. “And get that damn report in. The major’s been on my ass about that, and I don’t need it hanging over me!”

“Got it, sir!” he shouted back as he entered his tiny office.

He sat down at his desk and didn’t move for a good few minutes as he let everything sink in. He had a decision to make.

The colonel had said that when push came to shove, Rev always made the right decision. He hoped that was true because he wasn’t sure about anything at the moment.

He brought his pad back out of sleep mode, then scanned in. No magical elves had snuck into the inventory and finished it while he was gone.

Commission or not, the paperwork was not going to be denied. With a sigh, he got back to his crunching.

36

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Tomiko asked. “I can, you know.”

“No, it’s all right. I just need a little time on my own.”

He could see she was disappointed, but he was telling her the truth. He needed to get off the base and away from everything.

The last few days had been rough. He’d vacillated back and forth on the commission thing, leaning one way, then the other.

Bundy hadn’t been that much of a help. Rev had talked to him that morning while his friend was packing up his personal items from the office. Captain White Eagle had arrived on station, and Bundy would be turning over the company at formation tomorrow morning.

Bundy was excited by the prospect, and his advice was to jump on the opportunity. That was all well and good, but while he was telling Rev what a great opportunity this was, he was bitching about leaving the company and going to take over as the new S-3.

His friend was good, and he’d probably get command of a battalion in time, but that wasn’t a guarantee for most Marines. After commanding a company, the vast majority of officers would fly a desk for the rest of their careers, and that wasn’t a prospect that thrilled Rev.

Top Olyn hadn’t been much help, either. While Rev could still remain at the company level as a first sergeant and then be involved with the enlisted as a sergeant major, the top hadn’t given him a warm and fuzzy about his chances for staying out of desk jobs as he served longer.

No matter what choice he made, his future seemed tied to a desk. His saving grace was that as an IBHU, that could change, at least to a degree.

Maybe.

That’s what he kept telling himself, at least.

He pulled Tomiko in and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just give me a shout when you get back.”

“Will do.”

Several people said hello as he walked out the gate to the tram stop, then rode that to Gate 4 and the station. Six minutes later, he was on the maglev to Anastasia.

The car was mostly empty, with only four other passengers, and that suited him. He sat in the back and looked out the window as the landscape flashed by. Punch played him music, but he was lost in his thoughts.

The colonel was wrong when he described Rev’s decision-making ability. Here he was, lost in limbo, not knowing what to do. That wasn’t the sign of a decisive leader of Marines.

Part of him was proud that he’d been given the offer. It was good for his ego that he was being recognized for his career.

But the other part of him wished the offer had never come. He’d be sitting back at Nguyen now, having a drink with Tomiko and the others, with his only worry being getting the new joins up to speed.

The sun was setting as they crossed the top of Eicher Pass. The clouds were brilliant in purples and oranges, and Rev momentarily forgot about making a decision. He was content to just sit there and watch. He felt a sudden sense of belonging. Safe Harbor was his home. Whatever he decided, it had to be how he’d best be able to help keep the planet safe.

The maglev started the long descent into Anastasia, and Rev sighed.

Punch, who’d largely been quiet while Rev wrestled with his decision, said, out of the blue, <Centuries ago, during one of the old Earth wars, a commanding officer was rushing back to his frontline battalion with the new operations order when his HUMVEE—>

“What’s a HUMVEE, Punch?”

<A wheeled vehicle, and in this case, the driver had slipped off the road, and the HUMVEE was stuck. The lieutenant colonel knew he had to get back to his CP with the new orders, or they wouldn’t be able to move into the assault on time.>

“I’m guessing comms didn’t work back then, either.”

<Just listen. The lieutenant colonel knew he was running out of time, so he got out of the HUMVEE and tried to push it while the driver attempted to free the vehicle. He was knee-deep in the mud, and with the wheels spinning, he was soon covered.

<A gunny passed by in another HUMVEE. He had his own mission, but he couldn’t pass two Marines in such a predicament. He stopped, got out, and said, “I see you got your HUMVEE stuck.”

<The lieutenant colonel looked at the gunny’s vehicle, wiped the mud off of his silver oak leaves, and said, “No, we got your HUMVEE stuck.”>

It took a moment, but then Rev gave a soft chuckle. “What are you trying to tell me, Punch? I should join the dark side, where the mission is what matters? Or should I stay enlisted and take care of the troops?”

<I was just telling you a slightly humorous story to fill the time. I wouldn’t assume to tell you anything.>

Oh, sure. That’s why you just happened to tell me that story right now.

Neither one said anything else as the train entered the city and pulled into the station. Rev stepped off the train and onto the platform.

“Thanks for your service, Marine,” a middle-aged man said.

Rev looked up to thank the man. The woman standing with him glanced down at his prostheses, shiny in the platform’s lights. The slight scowl on her face took Rev aback.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, hurrying past them.

He didn’t know why the woman had looked at him like that. Did she know that his prosthetic arm meant he was an IBHU? Did she recognize him? He’d been on the news often enough.

He looked back as he reached the exit out of the station. The two were still watching him—the man with admiration and the woman with something else entirely.

He’d seen that look before. There were many people who hated the regular augments, much less the hyper-augments. Rev had gotten used to the adulation he’d received lately, but her look hit home that there were still people who did not approve of him and others like him.

What would you think if you knew the gennies are still here?

No word that the Genesians still existed had leaked out to the public yet. Among those in the company who knew, an unspoken rule had emerged not to mention them at all, even among each other.

Rev gave them a half-salute, both in appreciation of the man and as a screw you to the woman, then stepped through the exit and out onto the street.

And he realized he didn’t know where he was going.

“Give me a location, Punch.”

His battle buddy displayed the position, and Rev locked it into his navigation.

Farther than I thought.

He considered getting an autocab, but the night was warm, and the walk would do him good. He started down a broad, tree-lined street. Cicadas were singing in the trees.

Some people complained about the insects, wondering why they’d been introduced way back during the seeding. But Rev loved their singing. They’d all be dead in a day or two, but for now, they were making their presence known to one and all.

Kind of like Marines going on a mission.

People were out and about, enjoying the evening. It was all so . . . normal. Humanity was at war, but you’d never know that with the screeching of children, the couples strolling arm in arm, the folks out walking their dogs.

Marines weren’t as common in Anastasia as they were in Swansea—this was more of a Navy town—and he got more than a few “Thank you for your services.”

One older gent was sitting on a swing in his front yard, but when he saw Rev, he hurried over to intercept him. The man wanted to tell Rev about his experiences almost a century ago as a Marine. Rev politely listened for five minutes before gently extracting himself.

He picked up the pace. Tomorrow was going to be a full day, and he wanted to get at least a modicum of sleep before reveille.

He reached the park after an hour’s walk and started across. A few couples were lying out on blankets, arms draped across each other as they discussed whatever couples did. For a moment, Rev wished he’d asked Tomiko to come. They could use a break together, out from the bustle of training the company back up, just a normal man and woman.

But that wasn’t why he’d come. He made his way between the lovers and headed to the hill in the back of the park.

The construction lights would have guided him to the spot even if he didn’t have it located on his inner navigation. Several crews were laying down parking and what looked to be a visitors’ center or something. Rev ignored them and kept climbing until the giant trees opened up to the main structure.

He stopped to take it in for a moment. Later, it would be lit, but now it was dark. Rev’s eyesight had no problem making it out, though. He started forward when he noticed a man leaning up against a tree as he stared ahead.

Rev hesitated. The man did not look like he was seeking company, but something called to him.

He slowly made his way, clearing his throat before he got too close. The man startled and spun around, but he relaxed when he saw Rev’s uniform. He didn’t say a word but slowly turned back to stare ahead again.

Rev almost left then, but instead, he made his way forward until he was standing beside the man, who had otherwise not acknowledged his presence.

“It’s something,” Rev said, finally breaking the silence.

“Yayuh,” the man agreed.

Rev already knew the specs. The circular wall was forty-two meters in diameter. With a five-meter opening into the center, the circle represented a harbor. The top of the wall proper was five meters high, but jagged spires rose along the top, the tips soaring another twenty-two meters above the ground level. Jet black, the stones seemed to suck in the light, designed to do that even in direct sunlight.

Rev hadn’t been sure of the design when he’d seen the holovids, but in person, in the dark of the summer night, it worked. It was impressive and respectful.

The silence between the two men lengthened, making Rev feel like an interloper. He was about to leave when it struck him.

“Do you have someone there?” he asked softly.

“Yayuh,” the man said, grief filling his voice.

Rev felt guilty. He was trespassing on the man’s emotions.

“I’m so sorry,” he said as he started to slip away.

“PFC Natalia Grant,” the man said. “My daughter.”

Rev stopped, unsure if he should leave the man.

“She was killed on Carpathia.”

Rev stepped back up beside the man. “Respect for the fallen.”

The Battle for Carpathia had been early in the war with the Centaurs before humanity had learned how to fight them. Marines, mostly reserves, from Safe Harbor had marched into the shuttles to marching bands and cheering crowds, sure of their invincibility in their righteous cause.

It was a slaughterhouse. The Centaurs had swept through the four Marine divisions, including Safe Harbor’s own Tenth Provincial. Over 14,000 in the division never made it home, with similar numbers for the other three divisions. It was the first of many horrible defeats until humankind’s perseverance and adaptability started to turn the tide.

The Tenth Safe Harbor Provincial Marine Division’s colors were never recovered, and the division, what was left of it, was disbanded. It still existed only in history.

They stood in silence again, but this time Rev didn’t feel like he was intruding. He was standing with the man, not just next to him.

“She was nineteen,” he finally said, his voice cracking. “Volunteered and eager to do her duty.”

What do I say to that?

“Ah, but that’s the past. What about you?”

Rev didn’t want to say he’d been conscripted. This man’s daughter had volunteered, and it had cost her her life. So, he just gave his unit.

“I’m with the First Human Expeditionary Battalion over at Camp Nguyen.”

The man grunted. “I heard of them. Elite and stuff. You served with the aliens?”

“Yes, sir.”

There was a pause, and then the man said, “I hate aliens. Took my Natalia.”

Rev stared at the monument. From here, he could see how big it was. On it were the names of every Safe Harbor Marine and sailor who’d died since the beginning of the Centaur War. The massive size sunk home to him how many had died.

“So many dead,” Rev said, almost under his breath.

“She’s not dead,” the man said.

“Sir?”

Rev was confused. Maybe he’d misunderstood, and this man’s daughter had made it back and was out there in the city now, married and with kids.

“My Natalia. She’s not dead. Oh, the bastards killed her, all right. But as long as she’s here,” he said, touching a finger to his temple, “and here,” he added, moving his hand to over his heart, “she’s not dead. And when I’m gone, when there’s no one left in the family, as long as her name is engraved on that monument, then she’s not dead. She can’t be forgotten.”

There was a longing in the man’s voice, the longing of a man grasping for something to hang on to. Rev’s heart broke. Rev knew death. He’d seen it too often. But hearing the man’s bare emotions, the cost of what he’d experienced hit him like being run over by a truck.

Rev had come to the memorial to clear his head and try to come to a decision. He hadn’t really considered what the memorial represented. He hadn’t specifically thought about the names engraved on the wall.

Suddenly, he wanted to see those names.

“I’m going down there, sir.”

“They won’t let you. It’s not open yet,” he said with a trace of bitterness.

Rev stared at the huge wall. A security guard was at the far end. Rev didn’t care, though.

“I’m still going.”

“Suit yourself. I’ve tried it often enough.”

“Take care of yourself, sir,” Rev said as he started down the knoll and to the monument.

The closer he got, the more impact it had. The curve was calculated to do that, to raise a sense of awe. And it worked.

The ground within the curve was made of white granite from the Klingman Range on the main continent, and as soon as Rev stepped on it, the security guard came running over. Rev turned to face the man, ready for anything. He just didn’t know how far he’d go to be able to get closer.

“Hey, you can’t be here. The memorial’s not open yet!”

The guard shined his flashlight on Rev. “Oh, you’re a Marine. Sorry, but the memorial won’t open until next wee . . . shit, I know you. I seen you on the holo. You’re that sergeant who kicks ass.”

Rev just stood there.

“That is you, right?” the man asked.

“Yes. I’m Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier.”

“Oh, by the Mother. Wait until I tell my wife about this!” He stopped and looked back as if to see if someone else was around.

“Hell, if anyone was to get an early tour, it should be you, right? Not those damned politicians who were here earlier.”

Rev relaxed. Things were looking better.

“That’s what I think . . . uh, what’s your name?”

“Ferg. Ferg Anton.”

“Ferg, would you like a selfie?”

The man’s face lit up more. “You mean you and me?”

“Of course. You’re doing a good job here.”

“Damn right, I want one.”

He rushed over to Rev, programmed his comp, and stood next to Rev, arm around his back as the comp hovered in front of them and snapped several holos.

“Oh, man. Thank you so much. And, you know,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “about this place? Well, you just go ahead. I’ll head back to my post to make sure no one else comes.”

“Thank you, Ferg. I appreciate it. Uh . . . if I want to find someone’s name, how do I do it?”

Ferg’s face fell. “You can’t. I mean, it’s all in the databases, but the search function isn’t hooked up yet. Not until next week.”

<I can take care of that.>

Rev hadn’t even thought of asking Punch,

“That’s OK, Ferg. I’ll manage.”

“The bios don’t work, either, sir. Right now, it’s just the names. But when the database is hooked up, you’ll be able to touch-activate them, and a holo will appear with their full names, hometowns, units, when they fell . . . all of that. Pretty neat, right?”

Rev nodded, but that wouldn’t be necessary. All of that data was embedded in his heart.

“Well, uh . . . I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, just give me a holler an’ I’ll come running.”

He waited until Ferg was well on his way back to his station.

“Let’s do it, Punch.”

<Who first?>

Rev took a moment, then said, “Let’s start at the beginning. Staff Sergeant Montez.”

Valorie Montez had been a goddess to Private Reverent Pelletier, and in his memory, she was still the finest Marine he’d ever known. She was the epitome of a SNCO, one who Rev had tried to emulate throughout his career. He’d be dead now if not for her sacrifice on Roher-104, cut down as a boot private.

A soft purple arrow appeared, pointing to a spot on the right side of the wall, about two meters off the ground.

“You’re not somehow accessing the search function, are you?”

<Just inputting it into your visual cortex. No one else can see it.>

“OK, then. Let’s go pay our respects.”

* * *

“Ling, Feda,” the engraving said.

Rev was kneeling in front of the name. He reached out and traced his fingers over it.

“Respect for the fallen, Feda. You were a good Marine.”

He rose to his feet.

<Who now?>

Rev had spent the last two-and-a-half hours moving along the inner wall. He’d started in the Centaur War Section, moved to the war with the MDS (“Civil Operations” in large letters above the section), and was now in the Naxli War section. Farther to his right was a good quarter of the wall blank, a sad forecast of more names being engraved upon it before all of this was over.

If it ever was.

After an hour, Ferg had been relieved. Another guard came over to watch Rev for a few minutes before she turned and went back to her station without speaking to him.

There’d been so many names, some he’d forgotten, only to have them pop up as he moved along.

Klein, Lourdes. Jones, Hansen. Kensington, Emille. Tanuwijaya, Bintang.

Oh, Tanu. I miss you, buddy.

Sjberic, Greenie, Lupe, Ter. Lim, Cujo. Ballesteri, Lena,

Singh, Sachdeep.

Is that Doc Singh?

Without the bios working, he couldn’t tell. But he was among others that had fallen on Kinshasa, so it probably was.

Dean-Ballester, Kel. Charoensuk, Nui. Neung, Tessara.

Orlo, Regis. Rev didn’t really know the man, but here, he wasn’t a colonel. There was no rank by his name, no eagle. He was simply a Marine, surrounded by his fellow fallen.

As it should be.

“Ziegler,” Rev told Punch.

<She’s not here.>

“Why the hell not? She was killed. Twice, in fact. She was resurrected before she got her IBHU.”

<She wasn’t a Safe Harbor Citizen. She was from New Mars.>

“That sucks,” he muttered.

He already knew that the troopers from Tau Ceti, the Frisian Host, the MDS, and the rest who’d served with them but weren’t Marines weren’t listed in the memorial. But Ziegler was a Marine. Her name would be entered into the database at the Hall of the Fallen at HQMC, but it wasn’t the same. She deployed from Camp Nguyen, and that was enough for him.

And that meant Captain San Denis, and the other IBHUs from off-planet wouldn’t be there as well. Heck, if Tsao or Pierson had fallen, even with their Platinum Novas and living on Safe Harbor for the last eight years, they wouldn’t be on the wall, either.

More names kept coming. Some were close to him: Doc Kennsington, Rancine, Saeueng, Lieutenant Mason, John Lian. Some were more distant: Mikhailov, Wen, Lyons.

And some stopped him in his tracks and brought tears to his eyes. Orpheus Talamage and Krissy Regis, members of his posse with whom he’d never share drinks at the VGW as old vets recounting their war stories.

But all were his brothers and sisters, and he paused over each one.

Where his memory was screwing up with simple things, it was as clear as day here. Each name was there, ready to be acknowledged.

There was one name he’d been avoiding until now, though. All of those who’d died were important to him. But there was one death that still haunted him, that still kept him awake sometimes while sleep evaded him.

Corporal Richard Hochenspatter.

He’d sentenced Hochenspatter to death the moment he’d told him to stay behind and cover their retreat during the mission on Pakao.

Tactically, it was the right decision. And because of Hochenspatter’s sacrifice, the rest of the platoon had survived until the Genesians broke out of their fort. Tomiko told him it was the right decision. Bundy told him that.

But why him? He could have chosen Randigold. He could have chosen anyone. But it had been Hochenspatter, the IBHU Marine he’d never warmed up to. The one who just did enough to get by.

He’d tried to justify it to himself that he needed Randigold and the others for what he knew would be the final battle. He’d almost convinced himself of that. But the nagging voice in the back of his head kept whispering it was because he didn’t like the corporal, certainly not as much as he did Randigold, Tsao, Božič-Mizaki, or Cocker.

You have to face him, Reverent. Just do it.

“Hochenspatter.”

Punch created an arrow to point to the name, just a few steps to Rev’s right. It was up near the top, a good two and a half meters above the ground. He stood there, silently, looking at it, when suddenly, the tears started flowing.

Rev had kept it together, even for Orpho and Krissy. But now, he couldn’t hold it in. Sobs wracked his body. He tried to reach up to touch Hochenspatter’s name, but he couldn’t. Pain lanced through his belly, doubling him over. He sank to his knees and put his hands on the ground as hot tears flowed.

It took minutes, maybe hours—Rev lost track of the time—before the sobs started to fade away. Slowly, he rose to his feet, reached up, and stroked Hochenspatter’s name.

“I’m so sorry, Hoch. You didn’t deserve it.”

An image came to his mind. Rev had just ordered Hochenspatter to cover their retreat. Rev hadn’t told him to sacrifice himself. There had been the patina that he could follow, but that half-smile told Rev that the corporal knew this was a one-way mission.

And he’d gone willingly, like a real Marine.

Anger began to build in Rev as he kept his fingers on the name. Anger that so many Marines had died. But also that he’d been forced to make that decision on who would live and who would die.

It wasn’t right. He was a platoon sergeant, and as he’d told his Marines, his job was to get all of them back in one piece. Officers might make the big decisions, ordering units into battle knowing that Marines would pay the price. But his job was to save them, not kill them.

He froze as it all clicked into place.

That was simplistic, Rev knew, and really not fair. Officers might make those decisions, but only with the goal of accomplishing the mission with the least loss of life. The sacrifice of the few for the good of the many.

That’s what being a Marine was about, after all. Protecting and dying, if necessary, to save their people.

But Rev was the one who tried to save everyone. Little Kat, when she was rigged as a suicide bomb on Alafia. Carrying Tomiko when it risked Yancey and him getting off Tahiti. Going back for Randigold and Lynthnic on the hiver planet.

None of those were the “correct” decision that the CO had lauded. None were textbook. But Rev could live with the consequences where he couldn’t live if he hadn’t tried.

His job was to save lives, not take them.

Right then, his decision was made. He was not going to accept the commission. Not now, at least. Maybe not as a company gunny, but as a first sergeant and hopefully a sergeant major, he could still fight for the troops.

Let the Bundys of the Corps develop the mission orders, the plans that would result in Marines being killed. And he could do his damndest to try and limit that number.

A huge weight was lifted off his shoulders.

“Thanks, Hoch,” he said, giving the name one last pat before turning around to go back to Nguyen and Tomiko.

He started up the slope to the parking lot when he saw the grieving father still standing by the same tree. He must have been standing there all this time, watching him through the opening to the memorial.

Rev had been heading to the station, but he switched directions and walked up to the man.

“What’s your name, sir?” he asked as he reached him.

“Guy. Guy Grant.”

“I know what you were saying now.”

“About what?” he asked, maybe a bit warily as if wondering where this was going.

“About dying. As long as we keep them in our hearts. As long as you remember your daughter. As long as I remember all of those who’ve fallen beside me, they’ll never die.”

He paused to point back at the memorial. “That there’s for eternity, but it’s here that matters,” he said, tapping the man’s chest just above his heart.

Rev was breathing hard. He’d let his emotions get the best of him. But he could see the tears form in the man’s eyes.

He’d said that he was the last of his family, so he probably didn’t have many people to talk to about his loss. That was why he came up here at night to look down at the memorial, even when he couldn’t enter it.

“Guy, do you want to go see Natalia?” he asked.

The man took a quick intake of air.

“I can’t. It’s not open. They let you in because you’re in uniform, but they won’t let a civilian.”

But there was a slight hint of hope in his voice.

“You know what I say? Screw them. Who else deserves it more than those left behind?”

“Do you think they’ll let me? I mean, see my Natty?”

“Let them try and stop us.”

Guy didn’t need to be told twice. Together, both men marched down the knoll to visit his fallen daughter.

EPILOGUE

I looked into his dark gray eyes, willing him to say the words. I was sure he wanted to, but what was holding him back? If his feelings for me were even half of what my feelings were for him, he’d take me in his arms and—

The words cut off, leaving Premier-maître Mirabelle Bodin, Hégémonie Liberté Navy, feeling as if her world had just been cut off.

<Fifteen minutes until insertion, Mirabelle.>

“Oh, by the Mother. Can’t I just finish the chapter?”

Gordon, her battle buddy, said, <SOP. You need to prepare.>

Mirabelle frowned. Gordon, a crystal AI developed by the Perseus Union and only recently released to limited Hégémonie personnel during the war against the Naxli, was an amazing step up from her old Piquer class scout’s AI. His personality alone, so close to human, was a godsend for the long-range scout pilot as she plied deep space. But her previous AI would never naysay her like that.

Which is a good thing, I guess, she told herself with a sigh.

“Mark that spot. I want to pick it up the minute we leave the system.”

<It’s about to get hot. Are you sure you’re ready?>

Mirabelle felt her face flush, which was stupid. She’d played with Gordon’s personality quotient, finally deciding on something flirty, but her battle buddy was still an AI, only reacting as he was programmed.

You’re the one who decided on a faux lover, Belle, to while away the dark.

She shook her head, then studied her display. Gordon’s personality was a plus, as was his extensive library of holovids, books, and music, but he was a military AI, fully capable of controlling Le Lapin, her scout.

And now it was time to earn her salary.

“What do we know about this one?”

<The same as the others. Next to nothing. There is a minuscule chance that it is our objective, but we have to go through the process of elimination.>

Mirabelle grunted as she went through her checklist. Dropping out of bubble space was a fully automatic evolution, but she was in the Navy, and the Navy loved their procedures.

NP-1033 was her fifth system on this trip. The first four had been blanks. Only one had been inhabited by an uncatalogued race, but with the Centaur-based stealth upgrades to La Lapin, she’d gotten in and out without being detected.

She’d enlisted in the Navy during the Centaur War and became a warrant officer pilot just as that war ended. It seemed decidedly weird to her that she was now relying on Centaur technology to remain invisible as she popped in and out of various systems.

Next thing you know, and we’ll be adopting MDS tech, too. It’s a crazy time.

She focused on her checklist and finished it with seven minutes to spare. As expected, everything was proceeding smoothly. She’d have been surprised had it been otherwise.

“How do you think the others are doing?”

<Given the number of potential targets, they are probably doing the same thing as we are.>

“There are more than a thousand of us, Gordon. All out in the deep black on the same mission.”

<Even with prioritizing, there are over a hundred thousand potential targets.>

“You know how to give a girl hope,” she said with a scowl.

Her heart started to flutter as the clock counted down. Mirabelle had dropped out of bubble space 1,414 times during her career. That was a lot, but not nearly a record. Each time, she was nervous. Big capital ships almost never failed to drop out. Long-range scouts, like La Lapin, however, sometimes failed to return.

But given the nature of their missions, no one usually knew why. Even with quantum comms, they remained a mystery.

And now, this far from human space, the quantum comms were acting wonky. The backup was the new, tiny message torps, but if she failed to drop out, then both the comms and the torps would be useless.

<Your pulse rate is rising, and as I don’t think that’s because of me, may I offer you some music?>

Mirabelle laughed. She might have set his PQ, but he could still be pretty corny.

“Yes, sing me in.”

Gordon played an old love song, one she hadn’t heard before. But it was soothing, and it helped as the clock ticked down until . . . they were out.

“One thousand, four hundred, and fifteen,” she muttered, making the sign of the cross. “Now, let’s look around. Gordon, confirm our position.”

<NP-1033. K-dwarf, eight planets, twenty-one moons.>

“Then let’s swing in for a closer look.”

Mirabelle took control of her scout. Gordon could fly her, but if she was a pilot, then she was going to pilot. The optimum flight path to cover the most likely targets flashed on her display. She’d follow it, let her passive scanners do their thing, then chart a course for her next system.

Six more, and she could go home and get out of her scout.

Like most pilots, she had a love-hate relationship with her ship. The scout had kept her alive as she explored the black, but being stuck inside one for up to three months at a time was more than most people could stand. Tiny, at only four meters long, the cockpit was barely long enough for her to stretch out. And there wasn’t a lot of her to stretch. She stood 1.5 meters in bare feet.

There were no two-meter-tall scout pilots. They just wouldn’t fit.

Early in the scout program, pilots would be drugged to help with the confinement, but that proved to put them at risk. So, now, each candidate had their minds pulled apart and examined by the psychs to see if they could handle the solitude. Only a small percentage could.

They’d always had extensive entertainment options, but with the persie battle buddies, things were much, much better. It was like having a fellow pilot aboard.

“We’ll just scoot through and see if there’s anything here,” she told Gordon. She checked the navigational track. “We can be in and out in about eight hours.”

<Do you want to get back to Elise and Daniel?>

Mirabelle was tempted, but she was more disciplined than that. She was on duty now. “No. They’ll wait.”

And she was glad she did. Less than two minutes later, her first scans started recording. The system was inhabited, and by Naxli. Their electromagnetic signatures were everywhere.

“Thank the mother for the tin-ass stealth tech,” she said as the data started coming in.

<Stealth tech doesn’t make us invisible. It just makes us harder to detect.>

“Don’t tell me you want me to break it off.”

<No. We don’t have enough data gathered yet. But I just wanted to remind you that we can still be picked up.>

As if the gods of war were playing a cruel trick on them, the La Lapin’s alarms went off right then. Mirabelle’s heart jumped into her throat.

“What do we have, Gordon? Tell me!”

<We’re being painted by a high-energy beam. Likely by a picket satellite.>

“Can they detect us?”

<I have no way of knowing.>

This was Mirabelle’s second mission with Gordon, and she’d gotten used to him being able to answer any question. She had to remind herself that no matter how high-tech, he wasn’t an omniscient god. He was just a program embedded inside her brain.

She hesitated. She could abort the mission and get the hell out of there. No one would fault her. But what did she know? Only that there were Naxli in the system.

“Try the comms,” she told Gordon.

<There’s no connection.>

Quantum comms should work no matter where the repeaters are. But the small Hégémonie q-communicators were iffy even in the best of times, and this deep into the galaxy, they had still more problems.

What do you do, Belle? Go on?

There wasn’t really a question. She was a scout.

“We’re keeping on our track.”

For the next hour, she flew on, approaching the Goldilocks zone. It was obvious that this was a fairly large settlement. But was it their objective? She couldn’t tell.

“Are the torps ready?”

<Ready to launch. They just need the upload. Should I start one?>

Mirabelle gave it a moment’s thought. She had three of the tiny message torpedoes. Each one barely massed two kilograms, but they were fully functioning spacefaring craft with extreme stealth tech.

And they were robust. They used an advanced mechanical data coding. Even a powerful EMP blast wouldn’t affect its memory. They were the surest way to transmit data known to humanity—and once again, thanks to Centaur tech.

But she only had three of them. And what did she know? The Naxli were there, and they had some sort of early warning on the fringes of the system.

“Wait until we have more.”

La Lapin streaked through the dark, silent and almost invisible.

“Almost,” being the keyword.

The enemy squadron appeared out of nowhere. One moment, space was empty. The next, twenty-two ships were there.

“Putain! I guess we’re not the only ones with stealth!” she said. “Do they see us?”

That question was answered when they were hit with an energy beam.

Mirabelle broke out of her track and tried to angle away from the Naxli ships. She poured power into her shields.

It was a tricky proposition. Powering her shields took away from the acceleration that she needed to enter bubble space. But if her shields failed, it wouldn’t matter.

For such a tiny, weaponless craft, her shields were robust, and she was fast.

The question was if they were strong enough and she was fast enough to escape.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

La Lapin might be fast, but the Naxli ships were gaining on her.

<Shields at seventy percent.>

Then, fifteen seconds later, <Shields at sixty percent.>

“Are we going to make it? Give me a projection.”

<It will be close.>

“Merde.”

Mirabelle’s adrenaline was pumping, and she felt like she had to act, but doing what? La Lapin was on the most efficient course to get away, and she was already locked on for bubble space. But would that be enough?

<Shields at fifty percent.>

Mirabelle watched the projection. Where a moment ago, it showed the scout entering bubble space almost at the same time as the shields failed, and now a gap was beginning to grow.

We’re not going to make it, she thought, calmer than she would have imagined she’d be.

“Load up the torps with everything we’ve gathered.”

<What destinations?>

The message torps were the best that humanity could make, but they weren’t indestructible. That’s why she had three of them. And SOP was to send them through bubble space on different routes.

“Yamoussoukro, of course.”

Sending one to the Hégémonie capital was a no-brainer.

“Titan.”

Also a no-brainer. This was a Hégémonie mission, but if this actually was the Naxli home system, then the CoH needed to know.

<The third one?>

Where?

Then, in deference to the nation that gave her Gordon, she said, “New Mars.”

<This will take thirty seconds.>

Unlike normal memories, the mechanical ones took a bit longer to load, and Mirabelle wondered if she’d waited too long.

<Shields are at thirty percent.>

And then, <Shields are at twenty percent> before he said, <The torps are loaded. But we can’t fire them with the shields up.>

Which she knew. She just hadn’t wanted to say that aloud.

She checked her projection again. The gap was bigger if anything. She glared at the icons on her display.

“Bâtardes!”

Every gram of her wanted to fight, to rend and kill the Naxli. But how? It was a lost cause.

“If we drop the shields, will the torps survive?”

<I can’t say for sure. The enemy is pouring heavy fire on us. But I can say for certain that if we wait for the shields to fail, then the torps will not launch and will be destroyed.>

It was the answer she expected. That didn’t make it any more palatable.

“Play that love song again.”

Music filled her senses.

“I’ll never know if Daniel got up the nerve to take Elise.”

<Shields at ten percent.>

She switched her display to visual. The system’s sun was bright, and she could see three of the gas giants. This was why she was a pilot. She felt complete.

“Drop the shields and launch the torps.”

<Oui, mon amour.>

* * *

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Rev will return in NEXUS OF CHAOS, available on Amazon.

GLOSSARY

AGMS: Anti-G Straining Maneuvers

AIW: Association of Independent Worlds

AO: Area of Operations

ASAP: As Soon As Possible

BC: the digital currency for most nations

BFG: generic term for “Big Fucking Gun”

BIPAC: A heavy weapon used by MDS soldiers

BOCT: Benevolent Order of Crystal Technicians

Breel: ally to humans. Vegetative-type race. Called “ents.”

Bronze Nova: the third-highest medal in the Union military

CASEVAC: Casualty Evacuation

CCR-32 Didactic Interface: the AI implanted into the Marines’ heads.

Cerrocrete: a very strong futuristic concrete

CG: Commanding General

CO: Commanding Officer

COH: Congress of Humanity, the highest authority of mankind

Corolla Wars: a series of wars approximately 200 years before the events in these books. The wars pitted humans against several android and augmented groups.

CP: Command Post

CST: Combat Simulation Trainer

Camp Seong-Matris: One of the three camps on Eceladus housing the Home Guard’s Second Brigade

D-5 Cord: an explosive-saturated cord

Dalit: residents of Samara. They came from the Dalit caste, sometimes known as the “Untouchables.”

DC/Direct Combat: Marines such as infantry, recon mech combat engineers, who will face the enemy in direct combat.

Deca: an MDS unit about the size of a battalion

Deimers: a group of androids dedicated to eliminating humans. Defeated during the Corolla Wars

DI: Drill Instructor

Dykstra: a heavy sniper rifle

E-Club: Enlisted Club where the lowest three ranks can hang out, drink, and eat.

ECR: Effective Casualty Radius. The radius from a detonation within which will produce 50% casualties

EMP: Electro-magnetic Pulse. Will shut down all electronics within range

EOE: End of Enlistment

ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival

Eunuch Regiments: an extreme group an opponent of humanity during the Corolla Wars

EVA: Extravehicular Activity

FEPM-K: A combined electromagnetic pulse shell that is followed by a kinetic missile.

Frag Order/FRAGO: Fragmentary Order. A modified and abbreviated version of an operation order to modify or issue a follow-on mission

FSCL: Fire Support Coordination Line. A control measure beyond which fires into the area must be coordinated.

FTL: Faster Than Light, a starship drive

G-Loc: G-force induced loss of consciousness

Genesians: human/machine constructs and opponent during the Corolla Wars

Gnista: a formalized Naxli method of combat by champion

Gold Nova: the second highest medal in the Union military forces

Groundpounders: slang for infantry

HE: High Explosive

Hellborer: a man-packed beamer

Hiver: nickname for Naxli-subjugated race

Host: the military arm of the Frisian Mantle, a sometime ally/enemy of the Perseus Union

Hreetz: derogatory Naxli term roughly akin to coward

HSPEY: High Speed Planetary Extraction System

IBHU: Integrated Bionic Hopological Unit

Kanter: a small, furry, human ally. They attack in mass. Called “lemmings.”

Karnan: Nickname for the hyper-augmented soldiers from the MDS

KIA: Killed in Action

Leaches: Military slang for civilians

LOD: Line of Departure

LZ: Landing Zone

M-102 Nellis: the Marine Corps’ main sniper rifle

M-103: a 40mm grenade launcher attachment to the M-49 and M-51

M-133: a heavy weapon fired by mech Marines

M-305 Jackhammer: a crew-served 40mm grenade launcher

M-49 Assault Rifle: the standard weapon of the Union Marines. It fires a 2mm high-velocity dart.

M-51: a modified version of the M-49. Bigger barrel to fire a heavier dart that has tiny warheads in the tip that can help burn through body armor.

MF-30: a standard issue handgun

MM-37 Mantis II: a man-packed launcher for the Mantis II missile

MDS: Manifest Destiny Sphere

MilDes: Military Designator

MilDes Ninety-nine/Ninety-nine: essentially indentured servants in uniform

MMCS: Marine Mechanical Combat Suit

MoV: Medal of Valor, a Home Guard award. Runs from third class to first class.

MP: Military Police

MPT: Military Placement Test

Na: Hinglish word often tacked onto the end of a sentence

Naxli: “shifter” race and enemy of humankind. Called “nox” by Marines and “gaunts” by most other humans.

NCO: Non-commissioned Officer. The middle two ranks of enlisted Marines

NCOIC: Non-commissioned Officer in Charge

Niklith: human ally. Fierce fighter with electrogenesis capability. Nicknamed “scorps.”

NM: Neuro-mapping

Nox: nickname for Naxli

NVD: Night Vision Device

OBE: Overcome By Events

Omega Division/OD: the secret police and spy agency of the Union

OP: Observation Post

Optisight: a flexible optical tube

Order of Saint Bome: a fraternal/political elite organization within the MDS military

PAL-3: Personal Armor, Light 3: the standard body armor for an infantry Marine

PAL-5: Personal Armor, Light 5. The standard body armor of recon Marines and Raiders.

PAL-H: new and improved heavier PAL

PAL-HX: PAL-H version designed for IBHU Marines

Paladin: a large Centaur heavy mech unit, similar to a light tank

PFC: Private First Class

Phoenix MG-3 Incendiary Mine: a small grenade that can burn through most substances

Plastiderm: a synthetic skin that is used in medical procedures

PN: Platinum Nova the highest military award in the Perseus Union military

POO: Point of Origin. From where an incoming round was fired.

Poolee: someone who is committed to the Corps but who is not yet been sworn in as a recruit

PQ: Personality Quotient. Used to determine the human characteristics of some AIs

PS-40 “Viber:” an unpowered ground sensor

PUNS: Perseus Union Naval Ship

Raider: part of Recon, but with more combat-focused missions instead of surveillance

Recon: Reconnaissance Marine

Riever: a smaller Centaur mech unit, similar to a Marine Raider or reconnaissance Marine.

Rodan: Mezame hyperaugment. Can fly.

RP: Rally Point

S-1: staff section that deals with administrative matters.

S-2: staff section that deals with intelligence

S-3: staff section that deals with operations

S-4: staff section that deals with logistics

S-5: staff section that deals with technology and information

Safe Harbor: Rev’s homeworld

Secdrones: Security drones used by the police

SFC: Sergeant First Class, the equal to a Marine gunnery sergeant

Shrike: Union Navy fighter aircraft, capable of atmospheric and vacuum operations

Sia: etheral, floating race. Human ally. Called “singers.”

SNCO: Staff Non-commissioned Officer. The highest three ranks among enlisted Marines.

SOP: Standard Operating Procedure

Syksky: a deep-fried bread stuffed with spiced meat and vegetables

T/E: Table of Equipment. This is the document that identifies all the equipment of a unit.

T/O: Table of Organization. This is the document that identifies all the members of a unit.

Toan: human ally. Not very militaristic, but technologically advanced. Nicknamed “radishes.”

Toanphone: nickname for a commercial Toan-made communicator that is resistant to Naxli jamming

Toh: Hinglish word without a real meaning.

Torinth Accords: a treaty governing the rules of war

VGW: Veterans of Galactic Wars

Uauii: tripedal human ally. Called “clickers.”

WIA: Wounded in Action

Weislen’s Syndrome: A cancer-like disease affecting those who have had their bodies augmented. Known as the “rot.”

XM-554: a more powerful missile designed to have more punch

XO: Executive Officer, the #2 person in the unit.

Yellowjacket: a shoulder-launched missile

Yellowshirt: a Navy sailor charged with moving people and goods around a flight line.

NATIONS, INDEPENDENT WORLDS, AND POLITICAL ENTITIES WITHIN THE CONGRESS OF HUMANITY

Bugatti’s World

Association of Independent Worlds

Enclave of Humanity (Home System)

Federation of Independent States

Freedom Confederation

Frisian Mantle

Hégémonie Liberté

Manifest Destiny Sphere

Mezame Concordate

Nowhere

Osnovnoy Alyanz

Paxus

Perseus Union

Rigel Cluster

Samsara

Sunberry Group

Synergy Alliance

Tau Ceti

Tigana 3

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Second Brigade, Congress of Humanity Home Guard

Colonel Levin-Tell

Second Battalion

Lieutenant Colonel Semes

Major Djanka

Fox Company

Major Nona Yves

First Sergeant Glorious Weinstein

Corporal White

First Platoon

Second Lieutenant Aristotle Bundy

Master Sergeant Tina Barber

First Squad, First Platoon

1st Squad SFC Delila Gamay (Rigel Cluster Legion)

Staff Sergeant Ting-a-ling Tjivyrtzlin (Frisian Mantle)

Staff Sergeant Reverent Pelletier (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union)

Sergeant Refever Lines (Nowhere)

Sergeant Mylar Racine-Okan

Corporal Charles Akkeke (Millsap, AIW)

Corporal Manuela Acevedo

Corporal Taula La’ei (Uafua)

Corporal Henri Larson

PFC Jasmine Wahid (Sirocco)

PFC Jebediah Gingham (Moxigill)

PFC Uram Keung

Second Squad

SFC Lev Arsenyev (Osnovnoy Alyanz)

Staff Sergeant Lincoln Kvat (MDS)

Staff Sergeant Tomiko Reiser (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union Marine)

Staff Sergeant Rice Unifora (Paxus)

Sergeant Tims

PFC Suki Tun

Third Squad

SFC Moba

Staff Sergeant “Dog” San Martin

Staff Sergeant Toshi Gant (Mezame, Hégémonie Liberté)

Sergeant Moli Pinkerton (Nowhere, AIW)

Second Platoon

Captain Chokra (Revelation)

Master Sergeant Reston Fitzwater

Staff Sergeant Liam Patrice

Sergeant Crocker (Barclay)

PFC Minnie Rasta

Lance Corporal Ethereal Randigold (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union)

Sergeant Crocker (Barclay)

Staff Sergeant Rice Unifora (Paxus)

Corporal Wymont (MDS)

Third Platoon

Sergeant Tesler Sign of Respect (Rebirth, Perseus Union)

Other Notable Military Personnel

General Ibsen: Commanding General of the Home Guard (Planters)

Brigadier General Platte: senior Perseus Union Marine on Enceladus

Major Liege: Senior IBHU Marine in the Home Guard

Sergeant Major Pute (MDS) Third Battalion’s sergeant major

First Lieutenant Milei Macek: Golf Company. Senior IBHU Marine in Second of the Chief Wimox: (Paxus) Shuttle pilot

Cali Hu (Safe Harbor) Augmented Marine who contracts the rot

Yancey Del Rio (Safe Harbor) Marine, a member of Rev’s posse

Sergeant Tumeric Tsao (Safe Harbor) IBHU Marine assigned to Titan, Platinum Nova holder.

Notable Civilians

Daryll Begay (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union) Head Sieben technician for the IBHU on Enceladus

Zacharia Filmore (Perseus Union) Sieben technician for the IBHU

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

In remembrance of Micky Cocker, a great beta reader and a true friend to Jonathan and his family. She was a joy to all and a shining light that was snuffed out too early.

Kelly O'Donnell

James Caplan

Christie Strahler

Neil Rubenking

Tracy Beattie

Sharon Mendez

Mike Belanger

Eliss Wiltshire

Matthew Lewis Titus

Bill and Konnie Kampfer

Geoffrey Morse

Joshua Hopkins

Mike Belanger

Elissa Wiltshire

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ABOUT THE AUTHORS

J. N. Chaney is a two time Dragon Award nominee and 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.

* * *

Jonathan P. Brazee is a retired Marine colonel now living in Colorado Springs with his wife Kiwi and twin baby girls, Danika Dawn and Darika Marie. He was born in Oakland, CA, but has lived throughout the US and the world, and has traveled to over 100 countries.

He has more than eighty-five titles to his name in six different languages. He is a two-time Nebula Award and two-time Dragon Award finalist as well as a USA Today bestseller. Find out more by visiting his website at http://jonathanbrazee.com.