Peace Talks

Adventures of the Starship Satori Book 12

Kevin McLaughlin

Exclusive free story for fans of Kevin McLaughlin’s science fiction! Learn the story of how John found the alien ship on the moon, launching the adventure which spans the stars and saves all of humanity!

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One

Owen observed his new friend and mentor. Their relationship was still fresh, and he had a lot to learn about Garul before he would feel comfortable with this fresh course his life was taking. If anyone had told him a year ago that he'd be essentially squired to one of these lizard aliens, he'd have laughed in their face. No, he'd probably have punched them in the face, he admitted. His anger toward the aliens had been that intense, that overwhelming.

Funny how quickly things could change.

But combat could do that to someone. All his life Owen hated the Naga for what they’d done to his parents, but fighting alongside them against the Bugs changed everything. At first, he was willing to side with his old enemy only because they were a better option than the alternative. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that happy horse-shit. But over the course of the battle Owen came to respect Garul’s sense of honor and raw courage.

They’d won the day together, but only at incredible cost. All told, just two dozen Naga had survived the attack on their ship by the Bugs, out of ten times that number who'd originally set out for Earth. It was a devastating blow to Garul; Owen could see that much in his eyes. It was funny how the Naga facial expressions were not that different from those humans wore. Sure, body language wasn't precisely the same between the two species. Humans lacked tails, for one thing. A Naga swishing his tail back and forth might be irritated, excited, or just curious. They reminded Owen of cats, able to tell so much about how they felt through slight movements of their tail.

The Naga ship was finally in orbit around Earth, as safe a harbor as anywhere for the moment. Human crews were hard at work on repairs. The battle to retake the vessel from the Kkiktchikut had taken a significant toll on the vessel. They'd all but wrecked the engine room, for starters. Owen couldn't help but smile at the memory. He'd been in the thick of it all, fighting in his Armor to kill the Bugs and save the Naga. The race that had killed his parents.

That errant thought brought up a brief flare of intense fury again. It was damned hard to let go of that rage, now that he had nowhere safe to direct it. How could he hate the Naga now that he'd fought by their side? In so many ways, they were just like humans. Complete with all the human failings Owen was all-too familiar with.

“What bothers you?” Garul asked. He'd spotted the tension, just like he always did.

“Bad memories.”

The Naga captain nodded. “I have those, too. All warriors who survive long enough acquire them. But you do not allow them to master you, which is good. That is the sign of a true fighter.”

Owen sighed. Once he had allowed that anger to take control. He'd hurt people without meaning to. It would take him a long time to get past that. But maybe working with Garul would give him a chance to try. That didn't mean it was going to be easy. There was a long road ahead. He changed the subject. “We're entering the atmosphere soon.”

“Yes. I've been looking forward to seeing your homeworld again for a long time,” Garul said.

The shuttle rumbled around them as it hit the upper reaches of air, beginning a controlled descent toward the surface far below. Owen wondered just what other folks would make of the new arrivals. Garul and his Naga weren't here trying to conquer or destroy the Earth this time. They'd arrived to firm up an alliance with humanity against an existential threat for both species. But that didn't mean everyone on Earth would be glad to see them. Quite the contrary, if his own experiences were any measure. Owen hadn't just been angry at the Naga; he'd hated them with a burning passion for the deaths they'd caused. A lot of families lost people in the Naga attack on Earth. They demolished entire cities with bombardment from orbit. Millions of people perished.

Now they were friends, and Owen could at last see this as a good thing. The Bugs were a far more serious danger to humanity than the Naga could ever be. He'd fought alongside the lizard-like aliens against their former overlords, and there was no doubt which side he wanted to be on. The Kkiktchikut were deadly antagonists. Their tech was superior to anything humans or Naga had. Worse, there seemed to be little or no way of communicating with the Bugs. Owen didn't think humanity even knew why the Bugs were attacking human ships. Garul said they were a frightened, even paranoid race. As far as Owen was concerned they looked too scary to be afraid of anything.

The shuttle rocked again as it hit a patch of bad turbulence. They were headed home. Well, his new home, anyway. They would host Garul at the Armor training grounds. The Naga were especially curious about that human innovation after seeing it in action. Garul wanted to see if the mechanized robot shells were something he could adapt for his people. It would also keep the Naga out of the public eye, at least for the time being. The last thing they wanted was some hotheaded human showing up and causing an interstellar incident.

Owen shook his head. So damned much had changed. He fingered the token pinned to his uniform. It rested where his rank would have been, had he still been with the human military. Garul took him on as an apprentice, making him part of the Naga force. That left him unsure whether he was still a member of Colonel Foster's Armor unit or not. It wasn't an unprecedented state of affairs. The US armed forces had embedded personnel in other nations' militaries before. Something told Owen that his case was different, though.

Garul acted like the bond he'd offered meant much more than just working with him. When Owen accepted the old warrior’s offer, he hadn’t entirely understood what he was taking on. In a lot of ways, things weren’t that much more clear a day later. This was apparently some aspect of Naga culture which was so deeply engrained that the aliens all simply understood it without having to ask.

The whole thing left Owen feeling more than a little lost and confused. Everything in his life had changed over the course of about forty-eight hours. That left him wondering where he fit in, now. Not to mention who he was and what he might become.

As if he could sense where Owen's thoughts were going, Garul turned and rested a clawed hand on Owen's shoulder. “Don't worry, young one. No matter where your future leads you, you have my support.”

“Mind reading?” Owen asked. The Naga sometimes used Cyanauts, small slug like sentient beings with telepathic powers, to translate for them. But Garul didn't need one for English. He'd taken the time to learn the human language so he could better cooperate with Earth.

Garul shook his head and clicked his tongue, a Naga laugh. “No. Just the look on your face. You stare down at your homeworld and wonder if it is still home to you. It is. It will be. Even after you've walked a score of other worlds, something deep inside you will call you back here.”

“You ever have that same feeling?”

“Yes. I miss my home,” Garul said. “I fear for her as well. The enemy could arrive at any time and destroy everything.”

It wasn't hyperbole. The Kkiktchikut had a massive super-dreadnought with a main gun capable of destroying entire planets. It was a technology that neither the humans nor the Naga understood or could replicate. The amount of energy required for that had to be incredible. How did they manage it? Worse, if they came calling, how could they be stopped?

“But I choose to believe we will find a way to survive. Because hope is what keeps a warrior's heart burning bright.” Garul removed his hand, grabbing the rail beside his seat as the shuttle rocked again. “That, and inertial stabilizers. We need to teach your people how to make better ones. This trip down should not be so bumpy. Now, if it was a combat drop?”

The Naga showed his sharp teeth. “That would be another matter.”

“We'll be doing that soon enough, I think,” Owen replied. They might be in the midst of a brief pause in the fighting, but he knew better than to believe it would last long.

“So we will, young warrior. So we will.”

Two

General Hereford ran his fingers through what remained of his steadily thinning hair. Funny, he used to have a lot more up there. The last year or so had been especially rough and the toll it was taking on his body was becoming more noticeable.

Some of his peers in various services opted to call it quits and take retirement. War was different now. The threats were no longer limited to some backwater nation making trouble, where landing a bunch of troops could rapidly put the house in order. These days generals had to deal with crap like alien invasions and weapons capable of blowing up entire planets. He wasn’t shocked that it was just too big for some people to handle and didn’t fault them for it. That road wasn’t for Hereford, though.

Retire? Now? Never. There was too much to do. Trusting the future of humanity to someone else simply wasn't in his nature. “Hell, handing over control of the coffee maker is tough enough,” Hereford muttered.

He allowed himself a small grin at the self-deprecating joke. True, he'd always been something of a control nut. One would think his rank would have cured him of the problem long ago, but there it was. In some ways, a person's nature just didn't change. Human beings stayed pretty much who they were. Oh, they could change a few things about how they acted, sure. But the core, the essence of who they were as a person? In Hereford's experience that rarely shifted much.

That had worked in his favor when it came to young McInness. Hereford had seen something in the boy, despite all the pain he wore day to day. The core was still good. He took it upon himself to chisel away at the hard shell trauma had placed around the young man, digging down to who he really was beneath. It had worked beyond his wildest expectations. Owen McInness hadn't just found it in himself to work with the Naga despite what they'd done to his parents. He'd befriended them and been accepted by them as one of their own. Hereford shook his head, wondering at it. The boy gave him hope for humanity's future. Because if he could rise above himself to show his best nature, then maybe they all could.

The elevator stopped at the top level of Base One. That was what Colonel Foster had named the central command building of McClellan Space Force Base, home to her blossoming Armor brigade. Base One towered over the rest of the complex. It gave Hereford a good vantage point to see the source of his latest headache. From the roof, one could see most of the facility, even as far as the main gate. He stepped from the elevator and strode purposefully toward one side of the roof, joining a small security detail who also kept watch.

“Sir! We weren't expecting you!”

Hereford waved a salute to the sergeant in charge. “At ease, men. What's the situation?”

“No change, sir. We've got personnel standing by in case of any trouble, but so far they're just holding position. The numbers keep trickling in, though. More every hour.”

Hereford peered over the edge of the building toward the base's main gate. The sergeant was right. The numbers were definitely climbing. Had to be at least a thousand protestors outside McClellan now, and it had only been half that at daybreak. So far the protest remained peaceful, if you could say that of a thousand people screaming at the gate guards. They hadn't tried to approach the gate, nor had any violence been done. That was something, at least. The squad of heavily armed security troops minding the base entrance had probably helped in that regard, but Hereford worried anyway. It wouldn't take much to escalate the mess out there into a riot. The last thing he wanted was his troops firing on civilians. But he couldn't allow them onto the base, regardless the cost.

How they'd even heard about the Naga delegation remained a mystery Hereford was determined to unravel. The entire operation was need-to-know. It should have been under a tight wrap. Instead he had a growing crowd out there, complete with several news crews. This was the top news bite being broadcast by every network in the country. Those broadcasts in turn drew in a larger group of civilians by the hour. Sooner or later the mob out there could hit critical mass, at which point things might get nasty.

He understood their point of view. Hell, a short while ago he'd have agreed with them! The Naga had almost struck Earth with a pair of rocks big enough to wipe out all life on the surface. If even one of the kinetic strikes had impacted, it would have been the end of humanity. Only a daring counterattack had saved his world.

But it hadn't saved everyone. The Naga had done enormous damage during their attack. Millions died in the carnage. Countless people lost family members or friends. They were angry, ready to lash out, and who could blame any of them?

But the world had changed since then. They'd come across an even greater threat than the Naga, one which appeared determined to wipe out both species. Humanity came to the Naga's aid; together they'd won an important victory against the Kkiktchikut. The Bugs hadn't attacked since, but Hereford was certain that it was only a matter of time. They'd be back. Humanity and Naga alike needed to be ready for that day. This delegation was the first time Naga had ever visited Earth in peace. The talks had to go on as planned.

A bright light in the sky drew his attention away from the protest. Sunlight glinted off metal and red plumes of energy blasted from the shuttle as it descended toward the base. They were right on time. He nodded to the sergeant in charge of overwatch. “Keep a close eye on that mess over there. I need to be informed the moment anything changes.

“Yes, sir!” the young man replied.

Hereford made his way back to the elevator. It wouldn't do to keep his guests waiting. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. It was a damned strange world he was living in, but it was a hell of a lot more interesting than retirement. They could pry this command from his cold, dead fingers. While he was breathing, he'd keep on fighting to keep his species in one piece. Hereford wasn't above using every asset available to make that happen.

Even former enemies.

If the crude truce they had with the Naga could be turned into a true alliance it would improve the odds of both species making it through this fight for survival. Nothing was more important than that.

Three

Garul took a step down the shuttle ramp into the open air. Bright sunlight streamed down. The shade was wrong. His own star was yellow too, but something about the light didn't feel correct. The smells were all off from what he was used to, as well. His homeworld was hot, humid, and full of wildlife. This place was still hot, but dry. And Earth was dominated by mammals, of all things! There were mammals on his homeworld, small creatures that lived in tunnels and mostly came out at night to forage. These humans, he reminded himself, were a very different breed.

The scent of sun-baked tarmac reached his nostrils as he sniffed, then inhaled more deeply. New worlds always brought him joy. Exploring was part of who he was. Nothing made him happier than venturing where no Naga had traveled before. But this visit was not merely for exploration and pleasure. This trip was about survival, as his brush with death aboard his ship had demonstrated. The Kkiktchikut had not simply vanished back into hiding, as some Naga prayed for. They'd ambushed his battle cruiser while it was in hyperspace. If it hadn't been for the assistance of human warriors, everyone aboard his ship would have died under their claws.

Even with the arrival of help, the casualties had been a catastrophe. He clenched sharp teeth together at the thought. He would avenge their deaths, if it was the last thing he did.

A dozen humans waited at the bottom of the ramp. Garul paused for just a moment to assess them, but it was clearly a welcoming party. He strode forward to meet them. Most seemed like regular troops, weapons close at hand. They were carefully not pointing their armaments at the Naga, for which Garul was grateful. The last time he’d been on Earth, it was as a prisoner. Now he’d returned as a diplomat. With luck this trip would be more productive than the last.

He nodded to the grey-haired man standing in the middle. That one, he knew on sight. They’d spoken many times while he was in human custody and then even more often after he’d been freed to return home.

“General Hereford. It is good to see you again,” Garul said, speaking the words slowly. English was still new to him. Wrapping his mouth and tongue around the words was sometimes a challenge, and he wanted to make a good first impression.

Apparently, it worked. Hereford's eyebrows shot up in what Garul had come to recognize was a reaction of surprise. He held up a little electronic box. “You speak our language very well. I've brought a translating device, but maybe you won't need it?

“I've been practicing, but my warriors are not fluent yet. It would be good to have it nearby,” Garul replied. “Thank you for thinking of it.”

Shouting caught the Naga's attention, drawing his eyes across the airfield to a metal fence. Beyond it were a vast number of humans. Garul squinted, trying to get a better look at them. Many of them were holding signs in their hands, but he didn't think they were welcoming the Naga to Earth. Quite the opposite, if he understood their tone correctly.

“Not everyone is happy to see us here,” Garul rumbled.

“No,” Hereford replied. “Did you think they would be? Your people did attack us. Many humans died.”

Garul opened his mouth to speak, unsure what words he should say. He believed in this truce and hoped for a real alliance between their worlds. His impression had been that Hereford felt the same. Was he so wrong?

Before he could say a word, Hereford gestured dismissively at the crowd of protesters. “Don't worry about them. They're fools. We need each other.”

Hereford reached out his hand. Garul only stared at it for a moment before recalling the human custom. He reached out with his own clawed digits and carefully took the general's hand into his. Their eyes met. Garul saw understanding there, along with a fierceness that reminded him of the Naga. These humans were so like his people. Never was that more clear than in moments like this.

“I'm glad you feel that way, General Hereford. Would it help if I spoke to them? Assured your people that we are here to help, not hurt?”

Hereford looked startled again, then thoughtful. He rubbed his chin before shaking his head. “No. It's a good idea, but I don't think now is the right time. I'm concerned about how they knew you were coming in the first place. In fact-”

A loud crack interrupted him. Something slammed hard into Garul's shoulder. He grunted under the impact as it turned him sideways, but he managed to keep his feet. Pain blossomed a moment later. Gunfire. He'd been shot! Was this some sort of treachery? Garul took a step away from the general and his men, but that wasn't where the gunfire had come from. It was fired from someplace else, someplace distant.

“Get down!” Hereford shouted. He rushed forward and pulled Garul down, using his body to shelter the Naga while his security force turned and faced outward, guns up.

These humans were risking their lives for him. But there was at least one human out there who'd prefer it if Garul was dead. Unsurprising, really. He checked his shoulder. The armor he wore stopped the bullet, but the scales beneath were tender. He'd be sore for a few days, but the wound would mend quickly enough.

“Are you all right? Can you move?” Hereford was shouting in his ear.

“I'm fine. Should we retreat into the shuttle?” Garul asked.

“Better plan. Armored car is on its way here. See?” Hereford pointed at a heavily plated vehicle roaring across the runway toward them.

The car screeched to a halt in front of them, blocking the direction the bullet had come from. A door on the side of the vehicle slammed open and a human stepped out, shouting. “Move, people! Let's get the ambassador to safety!”

Hereford's security pushed in close around Garul, ushering him forward into the car. But his protege! Garul half turned. “Owen!”

“He's right behind you,” Hereford snapped. “Move!”

Owen McInness was indeed just a step behind the general. Garul heaved a sigh of relief at seeing him. Taking the boy on had been a rash act. Also one he didn't regret for an instant. Small things like the bond he was creating with the young man might turn out to be the glue which held their two worlds together, in the long run. Garul was convinced that separately they were all doomed. Together they might have a chance.

But that still left him feeling responsible for McInness. That, too, was part of the bond between master and apprentice. He wasn’t going to lose the young warrior so soon, not if he could do anything to prevent it!

“Garul, you’re bleeding,” McInness said.

The Naga looked down at his shoulder. Sure enough, a trickle of blood flowed down his arm, leaking out from between two of his armored plates. The body armor he wore had absorbed most of the impact, but apparently not all of it. The wound was painful, but he could still move the arm.

“I’ll take care of it once were safely inside. This small flesh wound isn’t going to slow me down,” Garul replied.

He slid into the welcome shelter of the armored car, then beckoned for Owen to join him. But the young man hesitated, pushing General Hereford inside ahead of him. Only when both were safe did Owen step inside.

Garul approved. Owen had courage to spare. So long as it didn’t get him killed, it would likely enable him to become a great warrior, in time.

“Drive!” Hereford snapped.

The armored car spun into sudden motion as the driver accelerated off the airfield toward the safety of the base buildings. Not the best new beginning for diplomatic relations between their worlds, he had to admit. Clearly not all humans were interested in making peace.

He would need to find a way to win them over. Too much was riding on this mission for Garul to allow it to fail.

Four

“Iwant those people cleared out, sergeant. Make it happen,” Hereford said. He’d gotten Garul and McInness off the tarmac and into the relative safety of the central tower on the base. It was as secure a place as he had available. But the best way to deal with a threat was head-on. Hiding in the tower wasn’t a solution. If someone outside wanted to cause harm, there were myriad ways to do so.

The hapless NCO bolted away to get the task accomplished. If he'd only ordered that sooner, maybe the attack wouldn't have taken place at all. But he was trying to balance his duties to the newly minted Space Force with placating an already frightened public. Hindsight was only useful to inform future decisions, he reminded himself.

Hereford was furious. An attack on a crucial diplomat. On a base under his command. On his watch, so to speak. It was mortifying.

But it could have been so much worse. Garul seemed to be all right, at least. The armor he wore must have soaked up most of the bullet’s energy. As Hereford watched, the Naga stripped off the damaged shoulder plate, revealing the wound beneath. Hereford knew bullet wounds. He’d seen enough of them to know this one was going to require medical attention.

“The slug is still in there. We’ll get you to the base hospital where they can take it out,” Hereford said.

Garul glanced over at the general and smiled. It was still unnerving to see a Naga smile. Something about all those sharp teeth made the primitive parts of a human brain chitter with ancient fear. Hereford shoved such thoughts aside without much effort. He’d seen scarier shit.

The Naga commander took a device from his belt and applied it to his wound. “No need. I brought a healing tool down with me.”

“You thought something like this might happen?” Hereford asked, surprised.

“Not this incident in particular, no,” Garul replied. “But it never hurts to be prepared, yes?”

“Very true.”

“Besides,” the Naga went on, “this device has been reprogrammed to better interact with human physiology as well as my own. I hoped we might have a chance to test the programming at some point.”

Hereford watched with interest as Garul ran the tool over his injury. The broken flesh knit itself back together with more speed than he would have believed possible. Just before the wound closed entirely there was a soft pop as the bullet was pushed out of his skin. It pinged against the floor when it fell.

“Is that the device you used on Colonel Wynn?” Hereford asked.

“The same,” Garul replied. “But where it caused Wynn much pain, this new program should account accurately for the differences between humans and Naga.”

Hereford eyed the small box Garul held with a mixture of hope and skepticism. He'd read the briefing Dan Wynn had written about his brief captivity with the Naga. They'd tortured Dan for information, hoping to learn the whereabouts of his homeworld and how his species had come by a wormhole drive, technology the Naga believed to be lost until the Satori showed up. It was Garul who'd overseen Dan's captivity and questioning. After each round of pain they inflicted, the Naga used the healing device to repair the damage Dan had sustained. The device caused enormous pain as it healed, something about their biologies only being semi-compatible.

But the device hadn't just healed the injuries the Naga inflicted. It had also repaired older damage to Wynn's spine. The Air Force's best doctors had sworn Wynn would never walk again, yet he was out there not only walking but running once more. That was thanks to the Naga's healing tech. If they could truly adapt it for human beings, it could be a game-changer for all of humanity. If the thing could repair a shattered spine, what else could it do?

“You programmed it for humans?” Hereford asked.

Garul stood and nodded. “As a gesture of goodwill. I hope to find someone willing to try it while I am here. If it works, I will leave the device with you. We can send more as well.”

“That's incredibly generous.”

The Naga flashed his teeth. “No. It is good sense. We fight a common enemy, but we must build trust between us or our alliance is doomed before it begins. This is one small step. Whoever that was out there today, the shooter? They were likely not alone in their feelings. It is that sense of hatred we must overcome.”

Hereford raised his eyebrows. It was much the same way he felt, and he had to say he was relieved to hear it. Not long ago he'd been preparing Earth for another devastating attack by Naga battlecruisers. Everything had changed, but not all the people involved had changed with the situation. “It's a good plan. Come, I need to bring you to meet some people.”

“Not warriors like you, I am guessing?” Garul asked.

Hereford chuckled. “No. Politicians. Not my favorite people to talk to, but they are the ones you will have to reach an accord with. Damned politicians have been a pain in my ass for so long it feels like forever. But they have their uses.”

“I will go have words with these politicians, then. But General Hereford, I want to say this. It is you and your people I trust. It is you and your warriors who have won the respect of the Naga.”

Hereford sucked in a deep breath. “I hope we can be worthy of that trust and respect.”

A knock at the infirmary door broke into their conversation. Hereford glanced at Garul. The Naga already had his armor back in place. Good enough, but neither of them were armed. That was something he’d need to rectify. He had guards posted outside the door, of course, but he’d feel better with a sidearm on his belt. These were dangerous times, if he was considering himself unsafe without a weapon on his own damned base!

“Enter,” Hereford said. The door opened and he relaxed as McInness stepped in. The general’s eyebrows shot up. Seeing the young man gave him an idea. “Garul, mind if I borrow your protege for a special mission?”

“Not at all. He is your soldier as well as my student.”

“Good enough. McInness, I’ve got a job for you.”

The kid straightened his spine and stared into Hereford’s eyes without blinking. “I’m ready, sir.”

“My men should be clearing that little protest from the gate, but I doubt that will stop our shooter. Whoever took that shot was a damned fine marksman. That was no amateur, not at that range.” Hereford frowned and rubbed his chin. “Someone is very unhappy about the Naga delegation arriving on Earth. Mad enough to kill over it. I think you’re the ideal man to find out who that might be.”

“Me, sir?” McInness looked surprised.

“You. You’re my secret weapon now. Far as the rest of the world knows, you still hate the Naga with every fiber of your being, right?” Hereford hoped the kid could handle this. It wasn’t going to be an easy assignment or a safe one. But he needed to get someone he could trust on this. McInness fit the bill better than anyone else he could think of.

“But that’s not me anymore.”

“No, it’s not. You know that. I know that. So does Garul. But you didn’t exactly make your dislike of the Naga a secret, did you?” Hereford asked.

McInness looked down at his combat boots. “No, sir. I did not.”

“Which is exactly what we need,” Hereford said. The kid glanced up at him, confused. He was ashamed of how he’d acted before, which was a damned good thing. Hereford had bet on McInness being able to learn, and that gamble was paying solid dividends. But now he needed the old McInness back, or at least the appearance of that. “I want you to go into town. Chat people up. The protesters will probably stick around. So will our shooter. If anyone here can win their trust, it’s you. I need eyes in their camp. Find out who was behind this attack and what they will do next.”

“Understood, sir,” McInness said. His eyes looked sharp again. Hereford could see the gears turning in there, the kid’s quick intellect already thinking up ways to accomplish what he’d asked of him.

“Be careful. This will be dangerous. They find out you’re spying on them, they could easily try to kill you, too. Report back the minute you hear anything worthwhile,” Hereford said.

“I won’t let you down, General. Or you, Garul.”

“We know you will not. Here, take this,” Garul said. He handed something the size of a pen to McInness. Hereford wasn’t sure what it was, but the kid - no, young man, Hereford reminded himself - seemed to recognize it. His eyes got wide as he took the thing and slipped it into a pocket. “Be careful. Be cunning. Be safe.”

McInness nodded, then turned and left.

Hereford breathed out a sigh. “He makes me feel old.”

“We are old, you and I,” Garul said with a chuckle. “And with luck we will live to be older still. Probably thanks to young warriors like him.”

“True enough. But we won’t survive much longer if we keep the political guys waiting. Let’s go introduce you,” Hereford replied.

Garul laughed and rose from his seat. “Oh, I think we could still handle a couple of toothless old mammals, you and I. But let us get this done. We have much to accomplish, and I am certain the Kkiktchikut will give us less time than we would like.”

The words sent a chill down Hereford’s spine. He hoped they weren’t true, and knew in his gut they almost certainly were.

Five

Owen went straight to his barracks room. It felt strange being back on the base where he’d been training to fight in the Armor unit. His class had been ‘graduated’ early for an emergency, leaving him to wonder if he was going to go back into more training or remain on combat status. Would he fight with the human forces or the Naga troops, now? So damned many questions left unanswered. There wasn’t any time to dig into those problems, either.

He supposed that was life: always handing you new things to deal with before you were really done with the last bunch. Like this mission General Hereford dropped in his lap. Hereford handed him the job because he was the best person for it, and Owen couldn’t disagree. He was pretty sure no one else on the base had his background of vocal hatred toward the Naga. If he went out there and told the protesters he was on their side, Owen was pretty sure he could get them to believe him.

The problem was he didn’t feel that way anymore. In fact, he was ashamed of how he’s behaved. Oh, he wasn’t sorry for killing the Naga who’d killed his parents. He’d do it again if he had to. Just thinking about that day got his blood boiling again. The hot anger brought a flush to his face.

But there was a difference between fury toward someone who’d hurt him and hatred for an entire race. The former he felt pretty justified over. The latter wasn’t something he was at all proud he’d felt.

He was going to have to dig deep into those old emotions in order to pull this off, too. That was a dark part of himself, one he wanted to leave locked up. Going back into those thoughts and feelings was just wrong. He gritted his teeth as he stripped off his uniform and grabbed some jeans and a t-shirt. He’d just have to deal with it and worry about the fallout later. Hereford and Garul were counting on him to do the job. Someone had shot Garul. Could have killed him. If Owen didn’t find out who was responsible, they might well succeed next time. His personal feelings didn’t hold a candle next to that heavy responsibility.

Owen snagged a light jacket from his wardrobe to finish the look. It was good enough. No one would mistake him for a civilian with his haircut and bearing, but he wanted to be in civvies so as not to spook the protesters. There were a couple of off-base bars nearby. It was a good bet at least some of the crowd would be hanging out at a watering hole, drowning their frustrations. That’s where he’d find the sort of person he needed to meet. The sort of person he used to be.

He went outside and walked over to his bike, a Honda. It was an older model without a ton of horsepower, but it would get him into town and back safely. Owen tossed on his jacket and a helmet and kicked the motorcycle into motion. The gate was only half a mile away. He slowed as he approached it and nodded in appreciation at all the extra security in place. They usually had two guys pulling security there. Tonight, there were twelve. That might have been overkill, but given the shooting Owen was happy to see it.

A sergeant on gate duty called out to Owen as he slowed the bike. “Heading out? You heard we have some trouble earlier, right? Not sure it’s a good idea...”

Owen flipped the visor up on his helmet. “I’m on a special assignment, Sergeant. Be back as soon as I can, and I’ll watch my six.”

“You want someone to come with you?”

“No,” Owen shook his head. “I wish I could. Backup is always good. But this needs to be just me. Orders.”

“All right, son. Be careful. You’ve got the base security number?”

“I say four words and my phone will make the call,” Owen assured him.

Two other troops had already opened the gate to let Owen pass. He nodded to the NCO again, slapped the visor back down, and accelerated out of the base into the fading afternoon light. It felt good to be back on Earth, even though the difference between this and the life-and-death battle in space jarred him to the core. Part of him was expecting a damned Bug to pop out at him any moment. He hoped that in time he’d learn to balance the awareness needed to stay alive in combat with turning that off, or at least dialing it down a bit, when he didn’t need it.

Although it might come in handy out there tonight. At least one of these ‘peaceful protesters’ wasn’t feeling very peaceful. If that person got wind of what Owen was really doing, he might decide to put a bullet into a human instead of a Naga. He’d just have to be careful, that’s all. If things really did hit the fan, at least he wasn’t without some protection. Owen patted his jacket pocket, feeling the slender lump inside. He was pretty sure Garul wasn’t supposed to have had that with him at all, and doubly sure Hereford had no idea what it was. But the canny old Naga had shown Owen how to use it while they were still in space. If worst came to worst, he wasn’t entirely unarmed.

With luck it wouldn’t come to that.

The Starlight Bar was just ahead. Owen pulled his motorcycle into the lot and kicked out the kickstand. He left the helmet on the handlebars. There were about a dozen other bikes all lined up in front of the bar, plus twenty assorted cars and pickup trucks. It was a bustling place. Since Owen knew damned well that the base personnel weren’t out partying, that made it a likely spot to find the sort of person he sought. The kind of person he used to be.

He stepped inside the building. Instantly the warmth of the place hit him in the face, along with all the smells of a dive bar. The aroma of spilled beer mixed with sweat and the faintest trace of human piss created a slightly sweet but also vaguely nauseating smell that was impossible to miss. Owen ignored it as best he could. He’d only just turned twenty-two a month earlier, but he’d been sneaking into bars like this for longer. He knew the sort of folks who generally hung out there and tonight he saw them in abundance.

But they weren’t locals, at least not mostly. Owen noticed a table off to one side with a bunch of people huddled together chatting. At least two of those were regulars in this place. He’d seen them before. That meant the table was probably all folks who lived near the base. Any other night they would have been hanging out at the pool tables, but tonight that area was occupied by dozens of strangers. Those would be the protesters.

Owen went up to the bar. “Hey, Terry.”

The big man flashed him a concerned smile in response. “Owen. How’s it going?”

“Been busy. Looks like you are, too?”

Terry glanced at the new crowd. “Yeah. Well, no trouble from them, not yet anyway. But you might want to grab a drink someplace else tonight, if you know what I mean. Not all of ‘em sound friendly toward you military types.”

“I gotcha. I’ll be cool. Promise. Grab me a Molson?” Owen asked.

“You got it.” Terry snagged a mug and set it down under one of the taps, filling the glass with foamy yellow beer.

Owen wasn’t planning on drinking that much tonight, but it would look strange if he was in a bar without drinking. Better to blend in as best he could. He slapped a ten down on the counter and told Terry to keep the change. The bartender smiled as he accepted the bill. Owen always tipped. His Dad had taught him that was how you got to be welcome someplace. Tip well, smile, treat the staff with respect, and you’ll always find the door open with the folks inside happy to see you. It was a good lesson.

He felt a sharp pang of pain at the memory. Damn it, but he still missed his parents. His mind’s eye played back the moments of their death for him again. He couldn’t help it; those memories were a part of him. But it was his call whether they would rule him or not. He wasn’t going to be a victim of his past, not anymore.

But those memories and the pain they carried might just win him some friends on this place. He picked up the beer and headed over toward the pool tables to join the crowd chatting there.

Six

Eric sipped his whiskey and took in the scene around him. It was good, hanging with all these other people. They wanted the same thing he did: no aliens on Earth! Some of ‘em were even willing to take a little direct action. Most of them were sign-wavers, though. Useless folks who thought standing around chanting slogans at bored gate guards was going to get anything done. Not him.

No, he’d brought out a 30-30 with a good scope and put a slug right into that lizard scum. For a moment Eric even thought he’d killed the thing and he’d wanted to whoop for joy. A sense of raw power unlike anything he’d felt before rushed through him. He was invincible. He’d take them all down, one after the other, until there weren’t any lizards left.

But no, he’d only winged the invader. Eric knew the shot hit. He’d seen the bastard reel back with the impact. But the lizard was wearing some sort of body armor. It must have soaked too much force, because the creature didn’t go down. A few seconds later an armored car put itself between his scope and the target, and that was that. He vacated the little hilltop he’d used as a shooting platform as quickly as possible. Waiting around would’ve been stupid. The military wasn’t going to let him get another crack at their pet lizard, and they’d probably already scrambled troops to find him.

He’d got away clean. The rifle was still outside in his pickup, along with a bunch of other gear he’d brought along for this mission. That’s what it was. He was on a mission to save the world from these invading creatures. Eric just wasn’t sure how to go about it. What should be the next step? He’d already talked to most of the guys in this bar. A few of them were sympathetic about taking serious action, but most balked at the idea of going toe-to-toe with armed soldiers. Eric shrugged. Some guys had what it took. Others? Well, he didn’t want that man watching his six anyway.

He let his eyes slide over the crowd. They were all getting slowly hammered, chatting with each other and smiling. He frowned at the sight. There wasn’t anything to smile about, not while even one damned lizard was still walking around Earth. Once they’d all been sent packing, then he’d let himself grin.

It didn’t make sense, the US government letting them come back. He’d read the news about some sort of peace treaty and knew damned well it was bullshit. They’d come as invaders before. They killed how many people in that attack? Eric hadn’t been home. He’d been out of town on a business trip. When he got back home, it wasn’t there anymore. The lizards had burned his house and everything around it to the ground.

Eric’s hand went involuntarily to the locket hanging around his neck, just like they always did when his thoughts wandered down that road. The pictures inside were all he had left of them. Nothing was more precious to him. Except maybe getting revenge.

Some new guy was chatting up a few of the protesters. Eric’s eyes narrowed as he took the kid in. If he didn’t know better he’d swear the guy was military. Short haircuts were all over, but there was something about his bearing that said he’d been to Basic, and he was too damned young to be a vet. Eric crooked his finger at Jeff, calling his friend over to the table.

Jeff leaned in close. “What’s up?”

“Who’s the kid?”

“That guy? Dunno him. You wanna talk to him?”

Jeff lived nearby and had been an awesome help in meeting the folks protesting the aliens. If Jeff said he didn’t recognize the kid, maybe he wasn’t a soldier after all. But it was hard to tell for sure. “What’s he talking about?”

“Says he heard about the protest and came over to ask about joining tomorrow. Some folks aren’t planning on going back, but most of the folks here will be at the gate again tomorrow,” Jeff said. “I told him he’s welcome to join us. You want to check him out first?”

“Yeah, I think I ought to. Send him over.”

Jeff went off to get the kid while Eric continued to size him up. He didn’t see a firearm, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t armed. Concealed carry weapons could be pretty small. He could be a cop, too, although he didn’t smell like bacon. Didn’t have that all-too-serious feel to him that most cops had. Jeff got the kid’s attention and they talked for a second before Jeff gestured over to the table where Eric was sitting. They came over together.

“Names Eric Benson,” he said, rising from his seat and offering a hand.

“Owen McInness,” the kid replied. He gave a firm handshake, anyway.

“Have a seat. Jeff tells me you wanna get out there and join the protest?”

The kid slipped into the booth across from Eric. His eyes darted side to side, nervous-like. That gave Eric pause. What was the kid so worried about? His hackles went up. If the kid was a plant...

“If I can. But I need to be careful. You see, I work there,” Owen said.

“You’re a soldier on the base?” Eric asked.

Owen nodded. “But I don’t like seeing aliens get a warm welcome any more than you do. There’s a lot of us on base who feel the same way. Most of them don’t want to do anything about it, but I sure as hell do.”

There was a heat, almost a hatred, in the kid’s words that made Eric blink. This Owen sounded almost as furious with the Naga as he was. “What’s your beef with them? You could get court-martialed for demonstrating, you know.”

“I know. But it’s worth it. They...”

The kid looked down at his hands. Eric saw they were shaking. Rage or fear? He waited for the kid to spit out what he wanted to say.

“They killed my parents. When they attacked. Strafed my whole neighborhood, but one of them shot my mom and dad right in front of me.”

Eric looked the kid straight in the eyes and saw the pain there clear as day. Holy shit, he was for real! No way some youngster was faking that kind of hurt. It was right on his face, the kind of pain that went straight to the bone. Eric understood. He felt that same agony every day himself.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Eric said, feeling every word. “We’ll find a way to make them pay for what they did.”

“I already made that one pay.” Owen looked up and met his eyes.

“Oh?”

“My Dad has his pistol with him. After he went down, my Mom rushed over to his side, but the Naga shot her, too. I probably would’ve been next, but I picked up my father’s handgun and...”

The kid’s voice trailed off, but he didn’t have to say anything more. Eric was impressed. The kid took down a Naga by himself, without any backup? That’s more than most pro military men could say. Yeah, he wanted this guy on his side. Not that he wouldn’t take precautions, mind. A little background check to verify his bona fides made sense.

“What did you say your name was?” Eric asked.

“Owen. Owen McInness.”

“Well, Owen, I think we can maybe help each other out. I’m gonna go make a few phone calls. Wait here. When I come back, we’ll talk more about how to make ourselves some new lizard-skin boots. Sound good?”

Owen nodded at Eric as he rose from the table. He flipped his cell phone out of his pocket as he stepped away from the table and went outside. Yeah, he’d check the kid out. Make sure he was who he said he was. If everything looked OK, this kid might be just what he needed to screw up a few lizards.

Of course, if he was just some military guy trying to pump protesters for info? Well, there were ways of dealing with that problem, too. Permanent ones.

Seven

Garul's curious eyes flickered over the great hall, taking in everything as he followed Hereford toward the room where he would meet these politicians. He wasn't especially looking forward to this event. Anyone Hereford held in such low regard likely wasn't worth his time. Why would a race that had bred warriors such as those he'd fought against and alongside allow itself to be led by weaker specimens? It made no sense to him at all.

Among the Naga, Garul was a warlord. A leader of troops. He acquired the right to lead through a lifetime of success. Other Naga followed his word because of his reputation and abilities. When the council of warlords decided to send an emissary to Earth, Garul was the logical choice. He was neither the most successful nor the highest ranked among the leaders, and therefore expendable; but he also had extensive experience in dealing with humanity. That experience might well spell the difference between success and failure here.

His people needed this alliance and Garul would do everything he could to bring it about. But he wondered just what sort of beings the humans would have on their side of the negotiating table. From what Hereford said, they would not be warrior-leaders like the general or Garul. He wasn’t sure just what to make of that.

But for the moment he found himself distracted by the heaps of vegetation hanging from the walls. Vines of the stuff wreathed its way up pillars. Rings of green plants festooned the walls. It was everywhere he looked. But the plants didn't seem to have soil attached to them. Were they somehow surviving on moisture from the air alone? He wondered if this was some technological marvel the humans had invented.

“General, can you explain the vegetation? Is this something you keep around for food? Or is it a decoration?” Garul asked.

Hereford stopped in his tracks and turned back, first glancing at the Naga and then at the walls where Garul was staring. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again before saying a word. A small chuckle escaped his lips. Whatever had sparked this little burst of humor? Was it something he'd said?

“I completely forgot the season. They must have just put up the decorations over the last day or so, because I missed seeing them. Been too busy,” Hereford said.

“They are decorations, then,” Garul said. He'd thought that might be the case. The season? He mulled over the word. He knew English well enough to know that many words in the language had multiple meanings. “It is winter in your part of the world, correct? The cold time?”

“Yes, although it doesn't get very cold in Southern California. But this season is about a holiday. Many holidays, actually,” Hereford replied. “We humans have a wide variety of faiths. Religions. Do the Naga have such a thing? Belief in a life after death, or some sort of higher power?”

“We do indeed. These decorations are for your faith, then?”

“More or less. We have many faiths. Used to be, humans warred with each other over them all the time. Still do, sometimes,” Hereford mused. “But we've come to respect each others' beliefs a bit better these days. In this month, December, there are so many different faiths with special days that we tend to refer to the time of year as a 'holiday season.”

The general waved his hands at the decorations. “Those wreaths and garlands - the plants you see? They represent some faiths here. Not all human religions use the same symbols or decorations, but in our culture these have come to be mostly universal. This is a time of year for coming together. Families gather. Truces are made. There's even a story about a Great War we had, over a century ago. On Christmas Day, one of those special days, all the warriors on both sides of the battlefield called for a truce. For that short period, they celebrated together.”

“But then they went back to fighting, after?” Garul asked.

“The very next day they were killing each other again, yes.”

“We have stories like those as well. If one honors a foe, then taking food with them is a sign of respect and admiration. For us, those are the best sorts of enemies. Opponents we can give honor to earn us honor in return,” Garul said. He paused, then went on. “Ironic, then, that we come together to make a truce at this time of year.”

“That was why I chuckled,” Hereford agreed. “Also because there's an old song called 'Christmas At Ground Zero'. One of the rocks your people tried to plow into our planet would have landed not far from here, which pretty much makes this 'ground zero'. Let's hope that our Christmas this year is a good one.”

Garul gazed at the display. Little lights winked on and off in the midst of the green boughs. Here and there he spied bits of red ribbon which had been tied to the garlands and wreaths. It was beautiful, he realized. It was also a summary of a very human trait that he'd come to value: hope.

Back on his homeworld, every Naga who could work was doing all they could to prepare for the attack they all knew was coming. They worked in factories to build new ships and weapons. They worked in stockyards to raise animals for food and process them into stored goods against coming emergencies. All of his people were in survival mode. Everything that could be done to preserve their race was underway.

But at what cost?

Here, on the humans' Earth, they faced no less of a threat. Utter annihilation was certainly a possibility. The Kkiktchikut had weapons capable of wiping all life from the surface of this planet. The humans had even fewer defenses than the Naga. Yet even in the midst of such a crisis the humans had found the time to place decorations on their walls. Even in the midst of a military base, they thought to celebrate life.

Hope was one of the strongest assets humanity had. Garul wasn't even certain they were aware of it themselves. Hope had sent the Satori's crew in to rescue one of their own from captivity more than once. Hope had allowed them to defeat the Kkiktchikut in space more than once. Hope for a better future - that human belief that they could find a way to prevail - was one of the things Garul admired most about them.

Some of his people argued against an alliance with humanity. What do humans offer, they asked. And it was true that his people had far greater technology than humans. True that one on one, humans were generally smaller and weaker. This element of hope was, as much as anything else, what Garul hoped to bring back to his people.

Without hope, even the strongest animal might simply lay down and give up. Without the sense that they could overcome whatever obstacles they face, no species could survive, let alone thrive. The Naga were too close to this enemy. It was a nightmare told to threaten their children. Dan had called the Kkiktchikut the Naga “boogeyman”. Garul hadn’t understood what the word meant, at the time. Now that he did, the description was all too apt. His people were terrified by this ancient enemy and already half convinced they couldn’t win.

But humans had no such barriers holding them back. Humanity faced the Kkiktchikut as just one more threat in a long succession of them. Even the name the humans have given their enemy spoke of how they thought: “Bugs”, named after small, mostly harmless arthropods native to Earth.

The Naga called the same species Kkiktchikut, which literally meant ‘Living Death’.

His people needed Earth as much as Earth needed them. Garul only hoped that he could convince the leaders of both worlds to work together as a true alliance before it was too late.

“I hope so as well,” Garul told Hereford. “May our Christmas be the best either of our races has ever had.”

Eight

Owen sweated a bit, sitting there waiting for Eric to return. The guy had to be checking up on him. That was the only reason he would have left right when he did and been gone so long. The good news was that Owen’s background was solidly anti-alien. It wouldn’t be difficult to find his social media posts and see how he felt. The bad news was that the longer Eric was gone, the more thorough his investigation was going to be. After ten minutes had passed, Owen started wondering if he was in trouble. After twenty had gone by with no sign of Eric, he was just about ready to jump out the door.

This guy was capable of violence. It was in his eyes. Owen wasn’t sure if he’d been the person who fired the shot earlier that day, but if he wasn’t, he certainly could have been. He was definitely a security risk. A quick call to base and Owen could have a team down to the bar to nab Eric for questioning. But if he wasn’t the shooter that would leave the gunman still at large. Blowing his cover with the protesters would make it nearly impossible for Owen to figure out who else might be a risk.

Sitting tight was nerve-wracking, but it was the best option.

Owen’s watch said Eric had been gone twenty-two minutes before the man came stalking back over to the table. He reached down toward Owen, hand outstretched. “Sorry that took so long, man. We’ve just got to be sure, y’know? Government would love to get their claws into our movement.”

Owen took the offered hand and shook it as he rose from his seat. He’d passed their test, then. That was a relief. “Totally understand. I take it I checked out?”

“Sure did. Flying colors. Got some boys who want to meet you.”

“When?” Owen asked.

“Tonight. Things are moving fast. With your help, maybe even faster.”

“Sounds good to me. We heading out now?” Owen asked.

Eric nodded and led the way to the door. “You got a vehicle?”

“Just my motorcycle.”

“You OK leaving it here? I’ll bring you back once we’re done.”

No, Owen wasn’t at all thrilled about losing his means of making a quick getaway. But he couldn’t say that, not if he wanted to get in with these people. Instead he just smiled. “Sure.”

He piled into the passenger side of a beat-up red Ford pickup, but not before noting the large rifle set into a gun rack behind him. Owen couldn’t tell what model it was in the near-darkness, but there was a scope mounted on the weapon. Was it the weapon used to shoot Garul earlier? There was no way to be certain without a ballistics test.

Owen reminded himself that having a rifle in one’s pickup didn’t mean that person was a terrorist. It was a common practice in more rural areas. But it raised his suspicions another notch.

Eric started the truck up and they roared off into the night. They’d only gone a mile on the main road before Eric took the truck off-road, out into the desert. Owen’s eyebrows shot up at that. If Eric was looking to kill him and dump the body someplace remote, this would be a good way to start. He fingered the little object in his pocket, making sure it was still there. He might need it after all.

“Where are we going?” Owen asked. Anything to break the uncomfortable silence.

“You’ll see. Not far now,” Eric replied.

A bit of light caught Owen’s eye from somewhere ahead. That had to be their destination. He glanced back the way they’d come. No light from the bar. Whoever it was out there, they were far enough from the road that no one would find them easily without some sort of aerial surveillance. The light turned out to be lanterns hanging from a big camper. Several smaller pop-up campers were nearby, most of them still hitched to a pickup truck. The smoky remains of a small campfire smoldered in the middle of the vehicles.

“Here we are,” Eric said. “Pop out, I’ll introduce you around.”

Owen stepped down from the truck and was almost run over by a pair of small kids racing through the camp, laughing and playing. A woman near the lit-up RV called out to them, yelling at them to slow down. Two other men were standing in the shadows near her. A few other folks wandered about the small campground.

Owen wasn’t sure just what he’d been expecting to find, but this wasn’t it! It looked more like a family camping trip than a group of dangerous terrorists. One of the kids ran whooping past him a second time and banged into his side.

“Sorry, mister!” the boy hollered as he scampered on.

“No worries,” Owen replied to the kid’s back, bemused.

“Ethan, you get right back here and give a proper apology!” The woman stepped away from the RV, wielding a spoon like a battle-axe. The kids paid her no mind, continuing their romp around the camp. She sighed, exasperated, and turned toward Owen. “I am so sorry. Usually those rascals have a bit more manners.”

“It’s no worry, ma’am,” Owen replied. The manners came quick and easy for him. He’d been raised by a military family. Polite speech and proper manners were drilled into him from an early age. He shrugged. “Kids will be kids. I probably did much the same at that age, and turned out more or less all right.”

She smiled and offered her hand. “I’m Katrina. Eric bring you back with him?”

Owen took the proffered hand and shook it. “He did. I’m Owen McInness. Nice to meet you. You’re Eric’s family?”

“No.” She frowned and looked down. “He didn't tell you? He lost them. In the alien attack. I'm James's wife. And mom to his two hellions.”

Eric had wandered over to the RV. He stood there with the other two men, their voices low as if they wanted to keep whatever they were discussing to themselves. Hearing his name, Eric stepped into the lamplight. “What’s up, Kat?”

“You’ve left your guest all by himself. Almost got mowed down by wild animals just a moment ago,” Katrina said.

Eric laughed, a deep belly laugh that startled Owen and then brought a smile to his lips. He hadn’t seen this side of the man before. Back in the bar he’d seemed menacing and gloomy. But out there with his friends it was like he was an entirely different person!

“Sorry about the youngsters,” Eric said. He beckoned Owen over. “Let me introduce you to the rest of my friends, eh?”

“James Lamell,” the older man said.

“Neil Smith,” added the other.

Both reached out their hands in welcoming gestures. Owen shook, and replied. “Owen McInness. Good to meet you both.”

“I ran into Owen over at Starlight. He was chatting with some of the other protesters there. Sat down and had a conversation. He’d like to help us out. Turns out the kid works on the base,” Eric jabbed a thumb in Owen’s direction.

“Does he, now?” James replied. He rubbed the scraggly beard on his chin. “That could be an opportunity. Or a problem.”

“I checked him out good before I brought him,” Eric protested. “He’s clean. Even killed a Naga himself.”

“Oh?” James asked. His eyes bored into Owen’s, challenging.

Owen felt the old, familiar anger flare up again. This time he didn’t try to tamp it down. He let it come burning out of him. “Yes. With my father’s pistol. Right after the Naga killed both of my parents, I killed it. Listen, if you guys aren’t serious about doing something, maybe I’m in the wrong place.”

Owen turned halfway toward the truck like he was getting ready to leave. But James spoke before he was more than partway around. “Not so hasty, young man. That’s quite a feat. We’re glad to have a real fighter with us. We have to be sure, you understand? Some elements of the government are working with the aliens. Can’t take the risk of letting in a spy.”

“I get it,” Owen spat out. Oh, did he ever. After all, that’s what he was. But the anger he’d just demonstrated wasn’t an act. It was still there, just under the surface, ready to explode at any time.

He’d hoped that he was all better. That the anger wouldn’t come back now that he had fought side by side with Garul. He should have known better. It wasn’t going to leave him, was it? That burning pit in his stomach was going to be his constant companion forever. Maybe he was more like these people than he’d thought.

Nine

Garul clicked his tongue against his teeth. They’d been at this for hours. It was already late in the evening. His protege hadn’t radioed in yet, which was a constant niggling worry in the back of the Naga’s mind. But worse was the fact that Hereford had been right about the ‘politicians’. Garul had never met such a worthless heap of flesh in all his life.

They wanted to talk, talk, talk. He understood there was a point to that, but...they took it to an extreme that he first found amusing and rapidly transitioned into ‘annoying’. The Naga culture was based on action. Those with power had it because they had a history of getting things done and the other Naga respected them. If they stopped getting things done, some other Naga would replace them. It was the way of things.

This was one of the strengths of the Naga, Garul realized, seeing it for the first time in contrast to the way humans ruled themselves. The Naga way got things done quickly and directly, without much fuss. If a matter was a priority, it was done. There wasn’t much in the way of debate about it. These humans wanted to quibble over every tiny bit like it was actually crucial — even the parts that were ultimately irrelevant to surviving their mutual foe.

The woman Hereford introduced as Lucinda Bell, the ‘Secretary of State’, was speaking. “We’d want to negotiate a free trade arrangement between our peoples, of course. Is that something you have experience negotiating?”

“Madame Secretary,” Garul said. “I hope you can forgive me, but what good are trade negotiations going to be if one or both of our planets cease to exist tomorrow?”

She blinked, mouth open like she was going to reply, but then she closed it without speaking.

“We face an enemy who can annihilate a planet. Wipe out every single living thing with one blast from a single super-dreadnought. Mutual defense should be our absolute priority,” Garul went on.

“I see what you mean,” Bell said at last. “I - we’re used to doing things a certain way here. But I can definitely forward those concerns to the Secretary of Defense.”

Garul looked around. “Where is he? Shouldn’t he be here for this discussion?”

“He’s arriving tomorrow,” Hereford drawled. He’d been watching the whole thing unfold with an amused expression on his face. Damn the man, he was enjoying Garul’s discomfort! The Naga flashed a toothy smile at the general.

“Is he? Then perhaps we should continue this discussion when he arrives,” Garul said.

“Of course. I’m so sorry. You must be tired from travel. And you had a battle on the way here, I was told. Please, consider yourself our honored guest. General Hereford will make any accommodation you request available,” Bell said. She turned off the tablet she’d been using and stood. “We’ll continue this after breakfast in the morning.”

With that dismissal, Bell and her aides stepped out of the room, leaving Hereford and Garul alone again for the first time in hours. Garul leaned back heavily against his seat as best he could. Human chairs were not made for beings with tails! He’d made do, but wished he had thought to bring seats down with him from the battle cruiser in orbit. Something he could rectify before the morning, perhaps.

Garul glanced over at the general’s amused eyes. “My dear Hereford, I believe you’ve been enjoying this, yes?”

“Yes,” Hereford replied. He chuckled, then let loose with a full laugh. “Oh, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do some of what you just did. You certainly controlled the conversation here today.”

“Did I? I felt rather swept along by the tide of words. Do all your people speak for so long about nothing?”

“Mostly just the politicians. Maybe writers, too. But definitely politicians,” Hereford said. “No, you did good. You kept them more on track than I ever would have been able to manage.”

“I find that somewhat hard to believe.”

“Technically, they’re my bosses. Or my boss’s cohort, something like that. I always hate having to deal with cabinet level people. They tend to think too much of themselves. We got some good progress going today, though,” Hereford said.

Garul glanced down at his tablet, staring at the notes he’d written during the conference. True enough, they had done quite a bit. But he’d hoped for so much more. “We’re running out of time.”

“I know.” Hereford’s voice was grim. “This is the down side of our society. We’re incredibly good at some things, but unless a problem is directly in front of us we tend to ignore it.”

“With luck your Secretary of Defense will be a wiser man.”

“Bill Lawson? Yeah. He’s ex-Army. Used to be a general himself, before he retired. He’ll take the threat seriously enough, that’s for sure. But these are only the people from the United States you’re dealing with today. Wait until the UN gets a hold of you.”

Garul blinked. “UN?”

“United Nations. Reps from almost two hundred nations around the world. You think this is rough, wait until you have to face that mess,” Hereford said.

Earth wasn’t governed by anything approaching the unity the Naga had. Garul had already known that coming into these negotiations. The United States was powerful, but didn’t rule the world. He’d picked this place to start because he already had contacts within the USA. But the enormity of the task in front of him was beginning to dawn on the Naga. Almost two hundred nations? Multiple days of negotiations with each?

“We don’t have time for this,” Garul said.

“You won’t need to work with each nation individually. Not right away, anyway. We’ll get you to meet with a few of the major players, and the rest will fall in line. Don’t worry, we can do this.”

Garul grumbled. He didn’t want to do this. He’d rather be out there in space hunting down his enemies or defending his home. Instead he was off playing diplomat. This wasn’t his specialty, but he’d been ordered to try anyway because he knew the language and already knew some of the heroes of Earth. He’d do his best, but shards of egg, it wasn’t going to be easy keeping his temper!

Time to change the subject. “Have you heard from Owen?”

Hereford frowned. “No, and I think we should have. I’ll check with security and see if he’s called in yet.” The general glanced at his watch. “Getting late.”

It was late in the day. Darkness had already fallen. If their enemy was going to strike it would probably be under the cover of night, or perhaps at daybreak. Owen was a good warrior and fully capable of caring for himself, but Garul couldn’t help worrying some regardless. Someone outside the fences of the base was willing to kill for his beliefs. Would he stop with killing Naga? Or would he be willing to murder one of his own kind as well, if he deemed it necessary?

“Let us go see if he has reached out. If not, I will assume it’s good news, that he has infiltrated a group successfully and cannot contact us without being discovered,” Garul said. He hoped he was right. If Owen was harmed, nothing on Earth would stop him from exacting vengeance upon whoever harmed his protege.

Ten

Owen struggled with his temper. It took more effort than he liked to get it back under control again. He hated that part of himself, now. But he couldn’t help it. As senseless as he knew his fury was, he seemed to be stuck with it. Several deep breaths later, he had control of himself again.

“Sorry,” Owen told the men standing with him.

“No, we understand,” Neil said. “Some of us have lost someone too, you know. Others...well, we all at least know someone directly affected by the day the aliens invaded. Most people do, I figure. Just some more than others.”

Owen grimaced. “Not all of them have it boil out of them uncontrolled like I do.”

“Most of them haven’t seen or done what you did either, son,” James replied. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You might be able to do us a favor, and change things for the better. Interested?”

“Absolutely.” This was why he’d come. These people, this odd little cluster of humanity, was planning to take some sort of action against the base. What, Owen didn’t know yet. But if he could find out he might be able to prevent a lot of lives lost on both sides. Not to mention stop an interstellar incident from taking place if one of them did get lucky and kill Garul.

“Good! That’s a man,” Eric said, clapping Owen on the back.

“We’re planning to attack the base,” James said, lowering his voice as he spoke.

“Attack it? The place is crawling with troops,” Owen replied in a hushed tone.

“Well, not attack, maybe. Think of it more like a surgical strike. Get in, kill the alien, get out. If we do it right nobody will know we’re even there until we’re gone,” James replied. “Think you can help us?”

Owen looked from one man to the next as they all watched him expectantly. They were for real. This was their great plan? It was going to get the bunch of them killed for nothing. No way they would penetrate the security Hereford had in place. They’d be wiped out. In a way that made things a little easier for Owen. If the attack planned was ineffective, the risk to Garul would be minimal to none at all. His friend was safe.

But these people were not. It wasn’t going to be pretty. The base security wouldn’t be pulling punches after the shooting on the runway. They’d kill anyone who breached the fence. Those two little kids running around would lose at least one parent. Owen didn’t have a ton of sympathy for people too stupid to stop digging their own graves, but he felt some toward the kids who hadn’t done anything wrong. These grownup idiots might belong locked up in a cell, but he knew firsthand what it was like to lose a parent. Owen wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

“How are you planning to get in?” Owen asked.

James looked at Neil, who stared at Eric. Eric shrugged and mimed a scissoring motion with his hands. “Cut our way through the fence, for starters.”

“Where?” Owen asked. “Which part of the fence? And once you’re inside, where do you go next? Do you have any idea where the Naga is being housed?”

Eric shrugged again. “We figured we’d creep along the fence until we found a place that looked unguarded. Snip, snip, we’d be inside. Then it’s just a matter of finding the right building.”

Owen wanted to roll his eyes but stopped himself. Making fun of these people and their naivety wasn’t going to win points with them. He needed to win their trust if he was going to save them from themselves. But that had to be the dumbest idea he’d heard of for a battle strategy in a long time. Like, since childhood.

“I’m guessing none of you have military experience?” Owen asked.

“I do,” Eric replied with a sharp voice. “So does James. We were both in for two years, Marines.”

Two and out. The minimum time you could serve. They’d done their couple of years and jumped ship. Owen felt like he could respect that, but a couple of years would only have given them a couple of promotions. Neither of the men had ever learned how to lead or what was involved in planning out a battle. Whereas Owen had done quite a lot of that in the Air Force Academy, before he’d been kicked out. Time to put all that theory to use.

“OK. There are a few issues with your plan as it stands. First, there are no unsecured areas of the perimeter fence,” Owen said.

“But we’ve seen a few spots without guards...” James began to say.

Owen cut in gently. “Which have cameras watching them at all times, along with motion-sensors that’ll trip if anything bigger than a dog goes near them. Getting in is going to be harder than you might think, especially now that they’re on their guard, what with that shooting earlier.”

“I told you that was a bad idea,” Neil barked.

“I hit the thing, didn't I?” Eric all but snarled back.

Owen did his best to still his reaction to their words, but he was grateful for the near-darkness hiding the look that must have been on his face. So these were the people behind the shooting, after all. Owen had begun to wonder. What sort of terrorist nuts would bring their children with them? Apparently, these people had thought it was a good idea. He couldn't understand what they had been thinking. What if the military tracked them to this place? What if they came in shooting? This was no place for children, damn it.

That was going to complicate the hell out of any sort of attack General Hereford's people might make on this camp. Which was perhaps the point. No, the best way to deal with these people would be to somehow pull the combatants away from the noncombatants. If Owen could get the violent members of this group separated, they could be taken down with little risk to their children.

Owen raised a hand in the argument stopped, at least for the moment. All three men stood staring at him. “I have an idea. Getting in won't be easy, but if you're willing to take some chances, I might just be able to get us inside the fence.”

“And then what?” Neil asked.

“That's up to you,” Owen replied. “I can get us in. But you're going to need a plan for what happens after. I'll help any way I can.”

The three men began a heated discussion again, but this time the debate was around objectives, weapons, and targets for their raid. Any indecision the trio might've felt before vanished the moment Owen opened the door for them. He provided them the means to achieve their goal. Did that make him complicit? Would they have actually attacked, if he hadn't offered his assistance?

There was no way to know for certain. But at the same time, he couldn't afford to take the chance. Too much was riding on this peace conference and the treaty which might come out of it. Besides, Eric had already fired a shot. He was ignorant and full of anger. Owen saw a lot of himself in the older man. Or the person he had been before, anyway.

He wouldn't allow himself to be like that. Not ever again.

Eleven

It was well after midnight by the time the band got themselves together enough to launch their attack.

They'd brought in more people, two more men and a woman. All of them brought their own guns. In fact, now that the children were long since asleep, the camp was beginning to look more like an informal gun show. The only place Owen had seen this much ordnance was in a military operation. These people might be civilians, but they were armed to the teeth and loaded for bear.

In addition to a selection of automatic pistols, the picnic bench was now home to three shotguns, one scoped rifle, four other rifles, an old but apparently still serviceable machine-gun, and a small pile of home-made explosives. Owen glanced at those last bits warily. He knew next to nothing about explosive ordnance, but to his eyes those things looked incredibly unsafe.

“Are you sure those things aren’t going to blow up in our faces?” Owen asked, still eyeing the bombs speculatively.

The woman laughed. “You must be new. Yeah, my babies aren't gonna blow your hands off. Not if you treat 'em right, anyway.”

“Yeah, I'm the new guy. Name's Owen.”

“Larissa. Hey, you the soldier-boy Eric was talking about?”

“That would be me,” Owen admitted. He shrugged like it was no big deal and tried hard not to blush. Not that she'd see it in the dark, but she was cute. And played with explosives. He had to admit, that was a dangerous combination in more than one way.

“So how're you gonna get us in there?” Larissa asked. “Eric says you've got a plan, and the rest of these guys seem to have faith in you, but I ain't seen shit yet. What's the story?”

“Second-oldest one in the book, actually,” Owen grinned at her. He'd had plenty of time to figure out how to get these folks into a position where they could be taken down easily and ideally without too many casualties on either side. “I'm going to call a buddy at the north gate and tell him I'm drunk as a skunk and don't want to catch flak for it. He'll go take a leak for long enough to let me in so I don't end up on report.”

She laughed. “OK, that's a good one. What if he doesn't cooperate?”

“Well, I've got a backup plan that involves a distraction and those little firecrackers you made, but I hope it won't come to that. Better if we get in silently.”

She nodded. “Hey, you said that's the second oldest trick. What's the oldest one?”

“A girl, instead of too much drink.”

Larissa smirked wide enough that Owen saw it even in the shadows. “Better not start getting ideas...”

“Nope. Wasn't on my mind,” Owen lied.

Eric's voice broke into their chat. “Psst! You two! Come on. We're arming up. Get ready to roll.”

Owen and Larissa went over to the table where the other raiders had gathered. They were all picking up weapons, getting themselves prepared for the coming fight. When he'd first come up with this idea Owen hadn't known how well armed they all were. This was going to be tricky. Oh, the base could handle the attack. Even one Armor unit would make mincemeat of this whole lot. But Owen hoped to keep the carnage to a minimum. If he could.

“You got a gun?” Eric asked. He'd picked up a pair of pistols and the scoped rifle.

Owen thought about the Naga gadget tucked in his jacket pocket. “No. Couldn't bring a weapon out of that place. Firearms are locked down six ways from Sunday.”

“Take this, then,” Eric handed him a Colt .45. “You know how to use it?”

Owen pulled back on the slide just far enough to see the round already seated in the firing chamber. The safety was still on, though. “Yeah, I've fired weapons like it enough times before.”

“Good enough. Now, about getting in?”

“Like I was telling Larissa,” Owen said. The rest of the group hushed as soon as he started speaking. “There's two ways to do this. One is silent. The other is loud as hell. I'd prefer option one. You all know they have enough firepower on that base to hold off a small army. They get wind of what we're doing and it's over before it starts.”

“All right, what's the quiet way?” James asked.

Owen pulled out his cell phone. “I make a call to a gate where a buddy of mine is posted right now. Tell him I got drunk at the bar. He'll leave the post for a couple of minutes so I don't have to go on report. We get in while he's gone.”

“You're calling the base?” James asked, his eyes narrowing. “How do we know you're not just gonna tell them what we're up to?”

“The kid's been solid so far,” Eric said, surprising Owen with his quick defense. “Give him a break. Either we trust our fellow humans or we don't, right?”

There was a general murmur of assent, and James took a step back, still scowling. Owen felt a pang of guilt at tricking Eric. The man clearly believed in him, felt like they were kindred spirits or something. But he had to be stopped. Owen just hoped he could stop them all without killing them.

“James, you can stand right next to me when I make the call. Then you'll know every word I'm saying. Sound OK?” Owen asked. He hoped that would be enough to satisfy them, anyway.

“Sure. That's fine.” James seemed a little embarrassed, which strangely made Owen feel even worse. Damn it, these were the bad guys! He needed to get his head on straight.

“If we're ready to head out, I should make the call now. Much later and I won't be able to say the bars just closed.” When no one protested, Owen dialed a number on the cell.

It wasn't to the north gate or any other gate. But no one listening to him talk was going to have any idea who he was actually speaking with.

“Yeah, ish me - Owen,” he said, slurring his words to sound drunk. “Can ya do me a favor? I had a little to drink - yes, again, dude - and I need you to sneak me into the base. You're at the north gate tonight, right?”

Owen paused for a moment to see if the person on the other end had any instructions for him, but nothing came through the line. Damn it, this was Hereford's personal cell number. Or it had better be. If he screwed up putting it into his phone he was in a pile of shit. No choice but to continue the ruse, anyway. “Can you do me a solid, buddy?”

“McInness, you still sound sober,” Hereford's voice came back to him at last. “You need extraction?”

Owen's knees buckled a little in relief. “Nah. No fights tonight. Mebbe later, right? Never know. Got to get into my bunk before I'm missed, though. Can you sneak me in?”

“You've found the shooter? Does he have company?” Hereford asked.

How to answer the question? Ah, he had an idea. “Yeah. Only had six...maybe seven drinks. Don't call me a lightweight! C'mon, man. Help a buddy out.”

That ought to let Hereford know what he was dealing with. There were at least six people in this camp heading out on the raid. Owen wasn't sure if the woman he'd met on arriving was coming or not, so it might be seven.

“We'll have the welcome wagon laid out. Watch yourself,” Hereford said. He chuckled. “Garul will kill me if you get hurt. Literally, I think.”

Owen stifled a chuckle of his own. “OK, what is a good time for you to step away so I can sneak in?”

There was a pause. Hereford was probably speaking to someone else, off the phone. Then his voice came back. “We can be ready in half an hour. That work?”

“That's awesome, man. Thanks. I owe ya,” Owen said. As he spoke the words, his mind was racing. How to tell Hereford that these were regular people, not some sort of crazed terrorist network? Non-lethal munitions ought to be enough, but Hereford might go full-bore and bring in heavy guns just to make sure he nailed the shooter. He had an idea. “Oh, I saw your girl out with another guy tonight. Sorry, man. Just remember, don't kill the messenger, right?”

Another pause. “You're suggesting non-lethal actions? Yes or no will do,” Hereford said.

“Yup. See you soon.” Owen cut off the call and put the phone back in his pocket. He looked around at the crowd gathered near the picnic bench. Had they bought it?

James clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job, son. So we hit the base in half an hour?”

They believed him. A look at the faces of the other raiders told him they all felt the same. He was worried about adding that last bit. It didn't match the rest of the narrative. But it was worth the risk if it kept these people's stupidity from getting them killed.

“That's the plan,” Owen said. “About twenty-nine minutes now. We need to motor if we're going to make it on time. He won't give me a second chance.”

Eric chambered a round into his rifle. “Load up. We'll take my truck.”

Twelve

Hereford placed his phone carefully down on the table in front of him. McInness was taking some serious chances, first with the call and then with setting up what was clearly an ambush for the terrorist group. Why Owen wanted them taken alive, he had no idea. It was enough that he did. Hereford trusted the kid had a good reason. Maybe there were more of them out there and they'd need to question this group.

It shouldn't be too hard to take them down without casualties. Six or seven hostiles wouldn't be any serious threat, especially since they were forewarned. The hardest part might be getting McInness out in one piece. If he got caught in a crossfire between their forces he could get cut down, best intentions aside.

“Was that our prodigal warrior?” Garul asked. He was seated across the desk from Hereford. They'd been going over plans for the meetings the next day and swapping war stories. But truly, they'd both have called it a night hours before if McInness hadn't been out there somewhere. They were both worried about the kid.

“Yes. He's found our shooter. Apparently there's a little band of terrorists and he's going to help us round them all up,” Hereford replied. He picked up the cell phone again and dialed base security. A few minutes later he'd filled them in on everything he knew about the situation and how he wanted it dealt with. “Take them alive if at all possible, Captain. We want prisoners, not bodies.”

“Yes, sir. Understood,” the man on the other end of the line replied.

Hereford shut down the call and looked up. Garul was standing, stretching his muscles. Oh, shit. The Naga was going to want to be out there for this, wasn't he? Hereford closed his eyes and tried to will away his growing headache. “You shouldn't be anywhere near this fight and you know it. You're too important to this treaty.”

“There are more Naga up in space on my ship who can take over if I am killed. General, I am a warrior first and foremost. Not a 'politician'. You cannot truly expect me to sit on the side while my student is in danger,” Garul rumbled.

“No, I shouldn't think you would. I know you better than that. All right, come with me,” Hereford said.

He left the office at a brisk pace, Garul following close in his wake. A glance at his watch said there was still time. He'd need to hurry, but they could still make it to the gate before the fight broke out. He took the stairs two at a time on the way down to the armory, which was buried in the basement of Base One. He might be an old general on the verge of retirement, but Hereford was far from toothless!

An entire platoon of security was arming up as he arrived. Captain Jenkins was in charge of the men. Most of them were already wearing body armor and carrying the strange-looking Naga rifles they'd...acquired...from some of their early engagements with their former foes. Those rifles were something he hoped he could get more of as part of this pact. They fired little pellets of raw energy - somehow. Hereford didn't understand the tech. Hell, nobody on Earth had been able to replicate the tech yet, and they'd been trying like hell. But as few of the weapons as they had, they were perfect for this fight. They could be set to fire big, soft pellets that would bruise and knock a target out - or smaller, harder rounds that would pierce armor and skin just like a bullet.

Garul caught his eye and flashed his teeth. “Showing off? How did you acquire so many of our weapons?”

Hereford laughed. “Two captured battlecruisers, remember? Both of them were well stocked. Don't worry, we've been putting them to good use.”

“I'm sure you have,” Garul replied. He stepped up to the armory door. “One for me as well, please.”

The sergeant inside the room blinked rapidly several times. He wasn't expecting to see a Naga at his door. Hereford sighed and waved at the man. “Just give him one, sergeant. He's already checked out on the weapon, trust me.”

“Before this one was born, I suspect,” Garul said as the arms room sergeant handed him the weapon.

“You get yourself killed, I'm going to be mighty pissed at you,” Hereford said. He walked up to the arms room door and motioned to the men working inside.

“Please! A few disorganized humans shouldn't be that much trouble.”

“That's what your people probably said when they ran into the Satori, too,” Hereford remarked.

He had to admit, he enjoyed the banter. It had been quite a while since many people were willing to speak to him like this. Garul respected him and his rank, but he didn't let it get in his way even for a moment. It was like a breath of fresh air. The sergeant came back over holding another Naga rifle and an armored vest.

“Thank you,” Hereford said, taking the equipment. He slung the body armor on with practiced ease. It might have been a while since he'd last worn the stuff, but it was like riding the proverbial bicycle. All the old muscle memories were kicking in. He buckled the straps into place on the vest, then checked out the rifle. Full charge. One advantage to these Naga guns - you never had to bring extra ammo with you. They were powered from within. Hereford turned and saw Garul staring at him.

“General, are you sure you should be putting yourself in harm's way?” Garul asked.

Captain Jenkins chimed in from beside the Naga. “I'm with him, sir. Frankly, you're a liability out there, not an asset. How long since you've been in the field?”

“Oh, a few years,” Hereford said. Then he snapped the Naga rifle up to his shoulder with a practiced ease that made even him smile. “But I think I've still got a little fight in me. This is my base, Captain. At least while Colonel Foster is away. Someone tried to kill a guest of mine. I'm not sitting this one out.”

Jenkins didn't look happy, but he'd worked with Hereford for a year now. He knew better than to push back on this. He simply nodded. “Very well, sir. Just don't get shot. It'll look shitty on my next review.”

“Noted,” Hereford said. He glanced around the room. The entire platoon was suited up and ready to rock. But this wasn't his operation to call the shots. Hereford knew damned well that Jenkins was the right person to be in charge of his men. All Hereford would do if he started issuing orders was mess up the chain of command. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes. Not a lot of time to set up an ambush.

But Jenkins was aware of the time crunch. “Move out, troops! Double time.”

The security force rushed up the stairs two abreast. Garul and Hereford followed in their wake. They set a damned good pace. Hereford found himself huffing a little by the time they were all outside, but he kept his legs pounding the pavement anyway. He'd signed up for this. It wouldn't look too good if he suddenly showed he wasn't capable of keeping up after all. He just ground his teeth together and told his protesting knees to shut the hell up and do what they were told.

He'd pay for that, later. Tomorrow was going to suck. But he wasn't missing this bit of action. Song lyrics came to mind, something about being ‘not as good as I once was, but as good once as I ever was’. He felt that familiar fire burning in his veins as they moved out to combat. It had been a long time, but not that long.

The gate was dead ahead. Hereford watched Jenkins slot his people into hidden positions along the road. These were experienced soldiers. They all knew their jobs well and needed little instruction, but Jenkins was there giving just enough guidance. Hereford had no doubt these men and women would be able to stop the incursion. He only hoped they could do so with minimal loss of life.

When he'd finished going down the line, Captain Jenkins returned to crouch beside Hereford and Garul. “Sirs, I want you to take up a position back there with Sergeant Dean.”

He pointed at a place a short distance up the road where a soldier hid behind a pair of concrete barriers. It was a good, safe position. He couldn't fault the man for not wanting a senior officer anywhere that he was likely to get shot. It would do.

“Come on,” Hereford told Garul. “We need to get into position.”

The Naga hesitated only a moment before taking off toward the barrier at a fast, loping pace Hereford couldn't help but envy.

Thirteen

Owen hopped out of the back of the pickup, tucking his knees to absorb the impact as he hit the ground. They'd parked only a few hundred meters from the gate, but it was far enough that he doubted anyone inside would have heard the engine noise. He scanned the sky, pretty sure there would be eyes up there. Hereford would have sent up drones, at least, maybe more. But he didn't see signs of anything. Wherever they were, they were keeping quiet.

That was for the best. If they wanted to take this entire band at once, they needed to sweep them up quickly where they couldn't flee. Out in the open like this there would be too many opportunities for one or two to slip away. Once they were inside the base it would be a very different story. That's where Owen was betting Hereford would lay his trap.

That didn't keep him from sweating bullets even in the cool night air. If this went badly he was going to be in the shit, deep. Worst case, he'd be a hostage for these people to use. Best case, he'd be dead. It's never a good day when you figure the best-case scenario was one where you were pushing up daisies, but he couldn't allow these people to use him as a weapon against his friends. Owen had a feeling Garul wouldn't hesitate to surrender himself if it would save him. He couldn't allow that to happen.

A tap on his shoulder got Owen's attention.

“You good?” Eric whispered.

Owen gave a thumbs-up signal and checked his pistol for what felt like the hundredth time. Not that he was planning to use the thing if he could help it. The little surprise Garul handed him was still safe in his pocket. It was a much better tool for this sort of fighting.

Once everyone was out of the truck Eric raised a hand and pointed toward the base. They all took off at a light jog. It was open terrain, but a moonless night, which meant they were nearly invisible in their dark clothes. Owen raised a hand in a fist, hoping at least some of the group would understand military hand-and-arm signals. He exhaled a long gust of air when they stopped moving forward and gathered around him. It wasn't quite what he had in mind; that raised fist meant “freeze”. But it would do.

“I need to go in first once we reach the gate,” Owen whispered. “The rest of you hide by those stones just outside.”

He pointed at a pile of rocks that had once been some sort of memorial. The base was only recently back in military hands, and it was nowhere near fully operational yet. That spot would keep them obscured from view well enough for a few moments.

“Why you?” Larissa asked.

“Because I'm the only one of us who's supposed to be in there,” Owen said, pointing at the gate. “If the guard is still there, I won't cause an alarm. But if all of you walk up to the gate...”

“We get it. Signal us when it's clear?” Eric asked.

Owen pulled out his phone. “I'll flash the flashlight. Come quickly when you see the light.”

He escorted the group to the rocks. Once they were well-hidden, Owen stood up and started ambling toward the gate like he didn't have a care in the world. A breeze rushed against his face, chilling the beads of sweat on his brow. He let his eyes dance from one side of the road to the other, looking for any sign of the soldiers he knew had to be out there. If they were, they were nearly invisible. He couldn't see any sign of them.

“You'd better be out there,” Owen whispered to himself.

His phone buzzed. Owen pulled it from his pocket and held it close to his chest so the light didn't show. It was a text message from Hereford.

Bring them in. We're here and ready.

He might be ready, but Owen felt anything but. He swallowed hard and kept walking until he reached the gate shack with it's railroad-style barrier dropped across the road. Owen peeked inside the little wood hut. Three soldiers huddled inside, each of them armed with Naga rifles. That helped him relax a bit. Hereford had taken him seriously when he'd asked for non-lethal measures. The Naga weapons would knock their targets out, not kill them. They'd wake up bruised and sore, but alive.

Owen turned toward where the gang of wannabe terrorists were waiting. Moment of truth time. He held up his phone and flashed the light.

They came in at a slow run. Just slow enough to remain mostly silent, but fast enough that they would reach the gate shack in under a minute. Owen still had the pistol holstered at his side, but he didn't want to kill these people. He couldn't imagine leaving those kids back in the camp without parents. Both their mother and father were out there. If there was anything he could do that would keep those kids from becoming orphans, he would.

But that didn't mean he was unarmed. Owen slid the pen-shaped object Garul had given him out of his jacket. He checked the device over again to be certain it was still in operational condition. A tiny green tell-tale light flashed for him on the butt of the little weapon. It would fire. He wouldn't have many shots, but this thing was a shrunk-down version of the Naga rifle these soldiers carried. This one had relatively little charge, and the energy pellets it fired were only the low-power stunning type. It was useless against an armored opponent and wouldn't kill at all. That made it perfect for his purposes. He palmed the weapon in his hand, thumb ready on the firing stud.

All hell was about to break loose. Owen's could feet his heart actually slowing down as the adrenaline kicked in. He took deep, controlled breaths. It was always worst just before the action started, for him at least. Once a fight had begun he found a calm space in the center of himself every time. But the moments just before were terrifying every time.

The band was close enough now that the ambush would probably work out OK. Owen could just dive into the guard shack for cover, or even sprint to the concrete barriers twenty meters away. Those would give him plenty of cover from the firefight. He just couldn't bring himself to do those things, though. How could he face himself in the mirror if he let other people take all the risks for him? How would he keep Garul's respect? No, he'd picked this fight. He was staying in it.

Larissa was at the front of the pack with James. Neil was right behind them. That had to be Eric bringing up the rear. The scoped rifle slung across his back stuck out like a sore thumb. They were almost to the guard post. As soon as they arrived the soldiers inside would be revealed. They'd have to open up fire at that point. Owen held one hand out, palm facing the raiders. If he could slow the ones in front down a bit, the ones further behind might catch up and be easier to snare.

James' eyebrows came together in confusion, but he slowed his pace some, enough for Neil to catch up. They were almost on top of Owen. There wasn't time to wait any longer. He needed to act.

He raised the hand clasping the Naga weapon, aimed it at James, and pressed the firing stud.

The device made a short whining noise and then a loud crack. Blue light spat from the tiny barrel as it blasted a ball of coherent energy toward his target. Owen's aim was solid. The ball slammed into James, tossing him backward onto the pavement. The other raiders stopped in their tracks, all of them raising their weapons. He was their target, now.

“He shot James!” Larissa shouted. She aimed her pistol at Owen's head and fired, but the shot went wide. Owen dove for the ground and fired a second shot toward her but also missed. Everything was moving too fast!

Blasts of blue light streamed from both sides of the road as men in black uniforms stormed forward, Naga rifles blazing. Another raider went down. The remaining ones knew they were outnumbered and outgunned. They began to retreat away from the guard shack as quickly as they could, but they were dropping like flies under the heavy fire.

Fourteen

Eric ducked a ball of blue-white light as it flashed by his head. Damn, that was closer than he liked. He didn't know what sort of fancy toys they were shooting at him, but from the looks of it they were effective. James was on the ground, laid out flat. Didn’t know if he was dead or alive, but either way there wasn’t much he could do to help his friend, which sucked. Everything was going to hell, and it was all that kid's fault.

No, if Eric were being honest with himself, it was his fault. He was the one who'd brought McInness to the group. He'd led the spy right into their camp and then they'd all followed him right into this trap. McInness was there, just a dozen or so feet ahead, shooting some sort of tiny pistol. The kid had already gunned down James. Eric wanted nothing more than to take the kid out. He'd earned it, by God! But there was weird gunfire coming from both sides, a crossfire that left him certain he was going to be taken out himself if he didn't find some cover.

He dove under another bolt of bluish-white light and hit the ground. Neil went down beside him, struck by another of those weird bolts. Ray guns. Holy shit! Were they under attack by Naga? He didn't think so. Although their attackers were mostly hidden in shadow, the glimpses he'd caught looked human enough. He rolled behind Neil's body and swung his rifle free. With a little luck, maybe they could get out of this yet. He fired off a round at one of the soldiers, but it went wide.

Eric shook his head to clear it and then peered into the scope again. There was a target! He squeezed the trigger slowly, easing it back. The rifle bucked, and the man he'd been aiming at went down. A little thrill of satisfaction ran through him. That would teach the assholes!

He squeezed off another round and made another hit, but the guy he shot was still moving. He was down on his back, but definitely not dead. They were wearing some kind of body armor. This fight wasn't even close to fair. He kept up a steady series of bullets flying toward the soldiers trying to help their downed buddy and managed to wing another one. But there were so many of them!

Eric was all for a target-rich environment, but this was ridiculous. He looked up from the scope and tried to see if there were any way out of this mess other than in a body-bag. It wasn't looking good.

“Eric, we've got to get out of here!” Larissa screamed from a few feet ahead. She was using James' body for cover. Smart girl. It had kept her alive so far, anyway. But the soldiers were moving forward now, and near as Eric could tell they were the last two left fighting. She was right. It was way past time to go.

“We need a distraction,” he hollered back.

“One distraction coming right up,” Larissa replied. She reached into her back and withdrew two of her home-made specials.

That would do the trick, all right. “Toss 'em at the soldiers, one at each side of the road. Then we move!”

“I wasn't born yesterday!”

The bombs turned end over end as they flew through the air, the light catching them briefly before they fell into shadows. One of the soldiers rushing toward them had the presence of mind to shout “Grenade!”

Then the bombs went off, and nobody could hear much of anything for a few minutes. Eric managed to clap his hands over his ears in time, and even so, the shockwave left him stunned for a few seconds. He could only imagine how bad it must have been closer to the explosions, with no warning. Those bombs were loaded with little BBs. Anyone close to them when they went off probably got a face-full of shrapnel. If they were still in a fighting mood after that, the concussive force of the explosion should keep them down for long enough to escape.

Larissa was already back on her feet, bag over her shoulder and a pistol in her hand, running toward the base exit. She fired a few shots toward the soldiers as she fled. Eric hauled himself up from the ground, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and bolted after her.

His hearing started coming back about the time they reached the pile of rocks they'd sheltered at just a few minutes before. Cries of pain and calls for medical help were sweet music to his ears. They thought they could just mow his people down without any repercussions? Not hardly. They'd been bloodied by the bombs, but that was just for starters. He was damned sure going to make them pay for every person on his team that they'd killed.

Eric winced at the thought of his fallen friends. He'd known James and Neil for a decade. Longer, maybe. They'd fished together, drank together, talked shit together... Now both men were dead, and Eric couldn't help but think their end was on his conscience. If only he hadn't taken McInness with them!

“Come on, we need to get back to camp. We'll tell others what happened here,” Eric said. “When word gets out... We'll avenge them.”

“I don't think they're dead,” Larissa said, her voice huffing from the run. “James was still breathing, at least. I couldn't drag him, though. I had to leave him.”

They weren't dead? Eric wanted to rush back up and collect his friends. How could he leave them if they were still breathing? But the soldiers had already recovered from the shock of the bombs going off. Shouts echoed down the road toward their hiding spot. It wouldn't take them long to organize and come after him and Larissa. If they wanted to stay free, they had to run.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

Then he spotted movement. Someone sprinted down the road, making straight for him. It only took a moment to figure out who it was: McInness. Not enough that he'd led them all into a trap, now the kid had the gall to chase after him?

That was fine. He pulled a holstered pistol from his belt. He had a little something for the kid who'd done this to his people.

Fifteen

Owen was crouched low near the guard shack when he spotted Larissa tossing something. There was only one thing she'd be throwing in the middle of a firefight - her bombs!

“Grenade!” Owen rolled to better cover as he shouted, hoping someone would hear him over the noise of the battle.

A moment later the bombs exploded. The force of the blast sent bits of metal pinging against the gatehouse with enough force to create a spiderweb of cracks all over the bulletproof glass. Owen lay on the gatehouse floor, stunned by the concussion. Holy shit, she'd packed a heavy boom into those little packages! He prayed the soldiers exposed outside were all right, but as his hearing returned and he heard the cries of the injured, he knew that wasn't so.

Owen ground his teeth together and pushed himself upright. Throwing those bombs wasn't some last act of suicide. She'd thrown them to both sides of the road, right where the soldiers were hidden. That spelled distraction to him. She was making the security platoon hit the deck for long enough to try an escape.

He stepped outside the shack and sure enough, two people were running down the road away from the base. One of them was Larissa. The other carried a large rifle slung over his shoulder. That had to be Eric. Of all the terrorist band, Owen figured him for the most dangerous. Although given how powerful those explosives had been he might have to revise that estimate. Either way, the two of them were far too deadly to allow them to escape.

The little Naga gun in his hand still had some juice left. The charge light which had been green was now an orange color. Owen wasn't sure what that meant. He might have another dozen shots left with the thing or much less. Wasting one at this range would be pointless. He needed to get closer to them, ideally without being shot himself.

Owen took off at a sprint after the fleeing duo. His feet pounded against the pavement as he pushed himself as hard as he could, straining to close the gap between them. Somewhere behind him, he heard someone shout his name. It sounded like Hereford, but that was impossible. A general would never be out in the middle of a combat zone - would he?

There was no time to stop and find out, not if he wanted to overtake the fleeing pair. They had a long head start. For a moment he wasn't sure he could catch up with them before they vanished, but then they stopped to rest by the rocks where he’d hidden them just a short while before. Owen slowed down as he closed in on them. He raised his weapon and aimed it, but he didn’t have a clean shot yet. Too much rock in the way, and his aim with the tiny weapon was crap.

“Eric! It’s over. Give yourself up!” Owen called out.

“Like hell!” Eric snarled in reply. Gunshots rang out.

Owen hit the deck, the bullets whizzing by overhead. Shit, that had been close. If he’d been a half-second slower he would’ve eaten those rounds. Eric wasn’t playing for anything but keeps. He’d identified Owen as an enemy and was treating him like one. Fine, then. It wasn’t like it was his first time under enemy fire. He felt his mind slip into that cool, calm place he’d found during the battle aboard the Naga warship.

He rolled sideways, both to avoid any more incoming rounds and to get a better vantage point to shoot. Coming up into a crouching position, he risked holding still for just long enough to get a shot off. Larissa was in full view, digging through her bag again. Probably about to toss one of her bombs at him. No way he was going to let that happen.

Owen depressed the firing stud and sent a bluish blast at her. It impacted the rock instead, spraying dust and gravel into the air. He cursed and fired again. This shot nailed her right in the chest. Larissa’s eyes went wide as the shot hit. The force of the bolt sent her tumbling backward. That would keep her down for a while, leaving only Eric to deal with.

Where was he? Owen’s eyes darted to the left just a moment too late. A pistol smacked down on the side of his skull. He crashed to the ground, dizzy and nauseous. Eric must have rushed him while he was shooting at the woman. Owen reached up to feel his temple. His fingers came away wet. But he wasn’t dead yet, which was something.

Eric’s foot lashed out and kicked his weapon away. It skittered over to the rock pile and came to a stop well outside his reach. Owen rolled over onto his back, drawing in his left leg to lash out with a kick, but instead found himself staring down the muzzle of Eric’s pistol. He swallowed hard.

“Nobody is dead, Eric. You can still walk away from this without a murder charge,” Owen said.

“I want you dead for what you’ve done. But if I was planning to do it, you’d already be full of holes,” Eric replied. “No, I think you might be the ticket to getting my people free. Prisoner exchange, get it? They’re still alive, right?”

At least he wasn’t planning on killing anyone right away. That was worth something. “Yeah, they’re all alive. Larissa too. Stunning weapons. I specifically asked them to bring non-lethal weapons.”

“Why betray us at all? I don’t get it, man. I’ve seen your Facebook history. You don’t like the Naga any more than I do,” Eric said.

“I’ve been out there,” Owen replied, pointing toward the stars. “There are worse things than Naga, and they’re coming for us.”

“Then we’ll fight them, too. We don’t nee to work with those damned lizards to do it!” Eric shouted. “Now, get up. We’re leaving. You try anything I’ll just shoot you and take my chances with getting my friends back some other way.”

Owen got slowly to his feet, taking as much time as he could manage without it seeming like he was stalling. Which of course was precisely what he was trying to do. The security force would come this way soon enough. If he could just...

“Move, I said!” Eric snapped. He shoved Owen ahead. “Double time!”

His head throbbed. The wet patch was slowly spreading down the side of his face. It was hard to think beyond just following orders so he could stay alive. Owen did as Eric asked. What choice did he have? He broke into a light jog toward where the truck had been stashed.

“I think not,” Garul’s voice said from a short distance behind them.

Sixteen

Garul spotted Owen sprinting away from the gate shack and shook his head. The boy was courageous, but going off after an armed enemy without backup was a good way to get killed. If he could work with McInness long enough to train him, Garul had every reason to believe he could grow into a great warrior. But only if his inexperience didn’t get him killed in the meantime.

“McInness! Wait!” Hereford shouted. The general shook his head. Whether the young man heard the command or not, Garul couldn’t tell, but he didn’t obey it.

The time for thinking was over. It was a moment for action. Garul placed one clawed hand on the concrete barrier and used that support to vault over the thing. His legs hit the ground with bent knees, already loaded to spring forward into a run. Naga were different from humans in a number of crucial physical ways, he’d discovered. His people couldn’t match the humans for distance endurance. The human ability to run seemingly forever was astonishing, a remarkable evolutionary trait. But for a short burst of speed, no human could outperform a Naga.

He held his rifle in front of him as he tore off at a speed that would have left an Olympic sprinter behind. He couldn’t maintain the pace for long, but his people had evolved from ambush predators. Everything in the Naga metabolism was geared toward incredible bursts of speed, which was precisely what Garul needed just then if he was to catch up with McInness before his youthful exuberance got him killed.

Ahead, Garul saw the tell-tale flash of light from Owen’s pocket blaster. Garul smiled. Bringing the weapon along had been a good idea. Certainly, as a diplomat he wasn’t planning to come to Earth armed to the teeth. Neither did he want to be defenseless. Handing the little gun over to Owen had been an impulsive action, but one which might be paying proper dividends now. A second flash of light burst down by the rocks. Had he taken both of the foes down, then?

No, one was still up. The man struck Owen with his weapon before Garul could close with them. Then he aimed the handgun at McInness. Garul slowed and slipped sideways into the cover of some shadow. If he fired while the man’s gun was aimed at McInness, the force of the shot might cause him to pull the trigger. If the man planned to shoot, he would have done so instead of hitting Owen. Better to wait until there was a chance to take a clean shot.

The two spoke a few sentences to each other. Garul could almost make out the words, but not quite hear them. Owen rolled slowly to his feet and started marching away from the base, the gunman right behind him. Still Garul couldn’t shoot without risking his protege. He let out a soft growl of frustration when Owen and his captor broke into a light jog. Another few moments and it would be too late to do anything at all.

Time to act. Garul stepped from the shadows, raising his rifle, and boomed, “I think not.”

The gunman whirled toward the sound of his voice, pistol raised. Fire flashed from the gun’s muzzle, but Garul was already moving. His powerful legs carried him in a bound to his right. He landed already firing his own weapon. The bolt discharged in a ball of light that flashed just past his foe’s ear. The man yelped in surprise but to his credit brought the pistol around in a controlled arc, following Garul’s movements.

No ordinary man, this. He was actually worth fighting! Garul’s mouth curved in a smile as he dropped into a forward roll and came up swinging the rifle. The man fired two more shots. One missed, the other pinged off Garul’s armor. The shock of that impact sent the wind flying from Garul’s lungs, but he kept moving. This was no time to allow an injury to slow him! His rifle swing lacked power, though, and was too slow. The human was able to step back and avoid the blow.

“Finally, an enemy I want to kill,” the human said. He fired the pistol again, but it clicked instead of shooting. It was empty. He dropped the pistol and unslung the rifle from his shoulder. “Ah well. This might be even better this way. Let’s do this, then.”

Owen closed from behind the gunman, hands up and ready to strike. Garul shook his head at his protege. “I have this one, Haklek. He wants combat with a Naga? He shall have it!”

The young man backed off, looking confused, then darted aside toward the rock pile. Garul couldn’t keep track of him after that. He was too busy struggling against the human facing him, who swung a powerful blow with his rifle. Garul blocked it, but it was merely a feint. The human pulled the weapon back and twisted it, launching a lightning-fast butt stroke toward Garul’s head. He tapped the strike away with his own rifle.

“Haklek? What’s that?” the human asked. “Someone you brainwashed? Can’t imagine how else you got a kid to side with you after murdering his parents.”

Garul swung his rifle in low and was rewarded with a meaty thwack as it slapped against the man’s leg. He didn’t fall, but was limping on that side. “There is much you don’t understand. Haklek is apprentice. He is my warrior’s apprentice by his own choice. I would never force a being into that role.”

The man snarled and whipped his gun around in a series of attacks. Any one of them alone, Garul could block. But the sum of all those strikes was too much for even his defense. He was forced back first one step and then another. Despite the dire situation, Garul found himself enjoying the combat. It was always good to face someone who could challenge him in a fight. Finding one among humans was unexpected. “What skills you have! You should join us. The Kkiktchikut are coming. We need every warrior fighting alongside us.”

“Never. I’ll die first.”

A shame. This one would be a fine addition to any fighting force. Garul sensed when the human was tiring. He knew the man would never be able to maintain such a flurry of attacks for long. No being could. The Naga backed away another step, allowing the human to wear itself out. Once it had, he would strike, and end this.

“Got it!” Owen said from somewhere off to Garul’s side. He stood up, something in his hand. Garul knew without looking that it had to be the small pistol. While he was too close to fire his rifle, the smaller weapon was perfect for short ranges.

Apparently the gunman realized that as well. Garul saw the decision flash cross the man’s eyes an instant before the human took two swift steps backward, placing him out of Garul’s reach. Worse, his Naga rifle was facing entirely in the wrong direction to shoot. He’d been taken off-guard by the sudden reversal.

The human leveled his rifle at Owen, trying to shoot the young man before he could use the Naga pistol. Garul had no way of knowing which of them would be able to fire first. he couldn’t take the chance that his brand new Haklek would be able to win the quick-draw contest. Owen’s weapon would stun, but the human’s rifle could kill.

Garul gave a mighty war-cry and threw his body into the human’s rifle. He knocked the barrel partly out of alignment, but the man still managed to get a shot off. Pain flashed through Garul’s belly as if it had been set on fire. He crumpled around the injury, panting for breath.

Seventeen

Owen rose from the ground, his Naga weapon back in hand. His head was still throbbing, but he had to help Garul. As he stood he watched Eric spin the rifle around and aim it toward him. Owen raised his little pop-gun, but he could already tell he wasn’t going to get a shot off in time. The other man was simply too fast.

He braced for the impact he knew was coming.

But Garul dove straight at Eric’s rifle, shoving it aside the only way he could - with his body. The gun went off, report deafening. Owen saw Garul’s body jerk in reaction to the shot. He’d been hit! The Naga collapsed to the ground, curling around his belly protectively.

“One less lizard,” Eric said. He spat at Garul’s body and then bolted toward the field where his truck was hidden.

Owen fired a shot, but Eric was moving too quickly. He missed. He fired twice more, but neither shot impacted. Depressing the firing stud one more time gave him only a small fizzle of sound. It was out of juice. He tucked the useless weapon back in his pocket and rushed to Garul’s side. Eric could wait. If Garul had been shot, he needed help quickly.

The Naga snarled as Owen drew close, then relaxed when he saw who it was kneeling beside him. “Man gone?”

Owen nodded. “How bad are you hurt?”

“Painful, but not lethal with medical aid,” Garul replied. His teeth ground together as Owen moved his hand so that he could see the injury. Blood covered the Naga’s hand and was smeared all over his armor. In the center of the mess was a thumb-sized hole in the plates.

Owen winced. He hadn’t seen an exit wound, which meant the bullet was still rattling around in there somewhere. Then he spotted the Naga healing tool, still buckled to Garul’s belt. He unhooked it and examined the device, trying to figure out how to use it.

“Button on the top turns on,” Garul rasped. “Hold over wound.”

That was all the Naga managed to say before he passed out. That was more than worrying. Garul was tough as nails. If this injury was severe enough that he lost consciousness, then he was in real danger. Owen pressed the button to turn on the healing device and held it near the bullet hole.

At first he wasn’t sure anything was happening. He kept the device in place, hoping it would be enough to stabilize his friend. Damn it, Garul shouldn’t even have been out there! Why was he putting himself at risk? He was too important to lose. But on the other hand, he shouldn’t have been surprised. When had the old Naga ever been anyplace except in the thick of things? His presence shouldn’t have been a shock at all. His mad rush to help Owen wasn’t surprising, either.

Neither was his self-sacrifice. Damn it. Owen felt sharp pangs of guilt. His actions had been what put Garul in jeopardy.

Garul groaned. His eyelids fluttered. Was the device finally helping? Owen knew far too little about how the thing worked to tell for sure. He hoped it would be enough, and maintained it right over the wound. Garul blinked again, then his eyes opened. He gave Owen a sharp-toothed Naga smile.

“Ah, knew you would get it,” Garul said.

“Good thing I did. You didn’t look so good.”

“Good thing, yes,” Garul replied. He sighed. “The man?”

“He got away. My gun ran out of charge before I could hit him,” Owen replied.

“Will catch him later. Help me up before Hereford’s soldiers try to haul me off on a litter,” Garul said.

The Naga groaned as Owen helped him rise. He was heavy! Owen felt like he was lifting half of a horse. It didn’t get better when Garul placed his arm on Owen’s shoulders for support. But he could bear the weight. Had to bear it. Garul was only hurt because he’d screwed up somewhere. It was the least he could do.

They walked slowly toward the gate shack, hobbling like old men. Ahead, there were ambulances coming around to deal with the other wounded. Soldiers called out to one another and handcuffed prisoners while they were still unconscious. Several of the security force saw Garul and Owen limping their way forward and called for help.

Much to Garul’s chagrin, they absolutely did insist on easing him onto a stretcher and then piling him into the nearest ambulance. The Naga wanted to refuse, but then Hereford appeared beside him.

“Think how bad it would look for Earth to have the first Naga ambassador killed on the first day of his visit. Get in the ambulance,” Hereford said, his tone brooking no discussion.

Garul smiled at the general, but Hereford wasn’t buying it. He stood there, hands on hips, until Garul relented and agreed to let a doctor look him over. “So long as they let me heal using Naga medicine. You humans’ medical technology is archaic.”

“Whatever. Bring the little toy with you. But we’re getting you checked out,” Hereford replied.

Once the ambulance was away, the general turned to Owen. “What happened?”

“Sir?”

Hereford waved at the scene. Several soldiers were being treated for burn and shrapnel wounds. “I have people down. You wanna fill me in on who we were fighting?”

Owen gave him a quick report of everything he’d done and seen since leaving the base. He talked about the bar full of protesters, of meeting Eric, about how the man had brought him back to camp with him. There he’d met all the others in the group.

“A camp, like a campground?” Hereford asked.

“Yes, sir. They had kids there,” Owen replied.

“Shit. Which is why you asked for non-lethal,” Hereford said. Owen opened his mouth to apologize but the general waved it away before he could speak. “No, it was the right call. We would have had the casualties either way, and no one died. Thank god. It would have been nice to know beforehand how serious a threat we were dealing with, but there was no way you could have told me. You did well.”

Owen nodded, head down, feeling miserable. He didn’t feel like he’d done well. The trap had gone horribly wrong. Soldiers had been injured. Garul was shot saving him. Perhaps worst of all, Eric had escaped.

“Sir, I think we need to consider Eric Benson a serious threat. He’s the one who got away,” Owen said.

“How serious?”

“He was the shooter earlier today, sir. He also has access to more explosives,” Owen replied. Eric had snagged Larissa’s bag of toys as he fled. No way to know how many he might have tucked away in there or elsewhere.

“Damn. All right, I’ll send men out to the camp you described. You have the location?” Hereford asked.

“Roughly, yes sir. Close enough that a UAV will find it quick enough.”

“Good. If he’s there, which I doubt, we’ll take him in. If he’s not, maybe someone else there will know where he would go to ground. We’ll bring the lot of them in for questioning.”

Owen ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair. He’d been up for a very long time and running on adrenaline for far too much of it, but he doubted rest would come easily until Eric was in custody. “What can I do, sir?”

“Go see to Garul. The medics said he’d be fine, but I want someone I can trust with him,” Hereford said. “If anything else happens to our Naga friend, it’s on you. Got it?”

“Got it, sir.”

Hereford stalked away, barking orders to set up a strike on the camp as he went. Owen wasn’t even sure that was legal — using military forces to police citizens on US soil? But these were crazy times. It shouldn’t surprise him to see unusual measures taken. If they couldn’t broker a peace with the Naga, neither of their worlds might survive this conflict. Attacking the Naga emissary could endanger the entire human race.

Owen turned and followed the road the ambulance carrying Garul had taken, toward the base infirmary. At least the healing device had worked and Garul would be fine with a little rest. What if that gunshot had struck in a more vital spot? Losing his new friend and mentor aside, the repercussions of the Naga ambassador dying on Earth would be disastrous.

Worst of all, Owen couldn't shake the idea that all of this had been his fault.

Eighteen

Two guards waited in front of the elevator shaft as Hereford approached. He flashed his ID to them without their even asking. No one was exempt from security protocols on this base, not even a general. They allowed him to approach the elevator doors, where he had to give handprint and retina scans before the doors would open.

“Stay frosty,” Hereford told the guards before the doors cut off his view of them.

Then he began to descend. Base One's control room was deep beneath the planet's surface. It had originally been designed as a shelter in case of nuclear attack. Now, it was one of the main hubs for USSF's operations on Earth. Even as deep underground as the place was, it might not survive a direct kinetic strike, but it was more secure than most locations could manage. Half of what they were operating with was 'the best they could do'. Very little was optimal.

“But what is an optimal defense against a planet-killing weapon?” Hereford groused to himself. He didn't have the answer. If he had, he would have implemented it already. He’d done what he could, sending the Satori and Independence away in the hopes they could find a secret, distant world humanity could flee to if Earth was destroyed. But they hadn’t come back yet, and setting up a new home for humans millions of light years away was one hell of a long shot.

The doors slid open and revealed an already bustling room. Massive screens lined the walls, giving him a view of near-Earth objects as well as a constantly updating scan of the entire solar system. That latter screen was still a work in progress. Light lag meant that the scans from more distant regions were grossly out of date. Again, it was the best they could do, for the moment.

But one screen now showed a tactical camera feed, split with overhead imagery from a satellite feed that showed Captain Jenkins and his men approaching the camp site. McInness had been right. His directions made the spot easy enough to find, and the satellite showed there were still quite a few heat signatures in the campground. Was one of them Benson? It was impossible to tell. Much as Hereford wanted to wrap this entire operation up as neatly as possible, he doubted the man would be there.

“How are we doing?” Hereford asked as he approached the row of techs monitoring the situation.

“You're just in time, sir,” Lieutenant Marshall replied. “They're about to go in.”

This was a dicey operation. True, the President had given Hereford much more latitude than any military officer had possessed before they were attacked by aliens. But this was still a US military strike on US citizens on US soil. Under normal circumstances such a thing would never have been allowed.

The situation Hereford faced was anything but normal. Humanity's existence was hanging by a handful of threads, and Hereford was holding most of them in his hands. Let too many slip, and he'd doom every human being. It was a weight he wished daily he didn't have to carry, but one he was unwilling to put down. Maybe that was hubris, thinking that no one else could do it as well as he. But Hereford simply didn't trust anyone else to do the job well enough.

Hereford stepped up to the nearest console and gestured for a headset. “Captain, you have a green light for incursion. Remember there are noncombatants there.”

“Understood, sir. We're moving in now,” Jenkins replied over the radio.

The satellite imagery showed his soldiers as white blobs of movement on a green background. They were closing on the camp from the south, moving in four teams. Inside the camp, the dying remnants of a fire glowed white with heat. The heat signatures of each human being inside the assorted campers and tents also blazed with light. None of them were moving. Probably asleep, but there could be guards posted. If Benson had made it back, surely they'd be prepared for retaliation.

The teams split as they entered the camp area, buddy teams of two moving to each location that housed a target. As each team arrived and took up a ready position to strike, they clicked their microphones. The tension ratcheted up a notch in the command post each time one of those clicks came across the radio. Another few seconds and all hell was going to break lose.

Finally the last group signaled they were ready. Jenkins' voice came over the radio. “All teams, go now.”

They all moved with the fluidity of long practice. Bright bursts of light splashed across the screen at each target location. Those would be flash-bangs to stun anyone still awake in the camp. Immediately after they went off the teams moved. They rushed in, taking each target prisoner. In one northern camper, the pair of people inside reacted to the flash of light by rolling behind the bed. Preppers, maybe, Hereford thought, or ex-military. They had an excellent response time to the threat and would probably come up shooting, but his soldiers were already in the room blasting Naga rifles at the occupants. Both stopped moving.

It was all over in less than a minute. Not a single soldier was injured in the incursion, and every person the satellite had picked up was either unconscious or bound in zip-ties. Hereford nodded and allowed himself a small smile. This had gone very well indeed. He'd been frustrated by the injuries his people took during the firefight at the gate. These people weren't a military force, damn it. Just a handful of untrained civiliansThey shouldn't be able to stand against real troops, but sometimes combat was strange. It was certainly never predictable.

“General, we have ten captives. Four of them are kids, sir. We had to stun two of them, but the rest are conscious,” Jenkins reported. “No injuries. We've found a dozen firearms but no explosives yet. Still completing our search.”

“Understood. Bring them all to base when you're done. We'll deal with the mess here,” Hereford replied.

“The kids, sir?”

“You want to separate them from their parents, Captain?” Hereford snapped.

“No, sir. We'll bring them all in.”

“I'll call a social worker in from the state to help sort this mess out,” Hereford said. That would open the entire operation up to external review, of course, but there was no helping that at this point. There were kids and their parents involved. He was on thin enough ice incarcerating American citizens as it was, even for a short time. Lock kids up too and they'd have his stars for it. Presidential latitude in operations only went so far. “Make sure to bring in anything which looks like actionable intelligence, too.”

“Of course, sir.”

There was a clear bit of ‘don't tell me how to do my damned job’ in that last comment, and it made Hereford grin. He liked officers with gumption who weren't afraid of stars on a shoulder. Jenkins was a good man, but more than that he was a good company commander and damned fine in the field.

His actions tonight had sealed the deal, as far as Hereford was concerned. Jenkins had already been his top pick for the coming mission, but after seeing him in action twice, there was no doubt in the general's mind who he should send. Captain Jenkins might not know it yet, but he'd be going on a long journey soon, into a hellish amount of danger.

What was the old saying? The reward for a job well done is more work, or something like that... Never was that more true than in the military.

Nineteen

Eric woke, startled from his light doze by a series of explosive sounds. He grabbed his pistol and scanned the dark trees hiding his truck, unsure what was making all the commotion but knowing it couldn’t be good. Two more flashes of light glowed briefly in the distance, followed a second later by cracks that sounded a bit like thunder. But these weren't in the sky. They were on the ground.

In the camp.

He'd made it away to the truck after killing the lizard and then hightailed it away from the base. Eric wasn't sure where he should go, at first. Where he could go. He didn't know anybody in this part of the world except the friends who'd come in with him. But going back to the camp might be a terrible mistake. The kid knew where the place was. Eric was willing to bet the military would call the cops and send people in.

So he'd parked a good distance away, hiding the truck in a copse of trees on a hillside. He could almost see the camp from where he was sitting, but no one there would spot his vehicle. If no cops showed up there by morning, he'd drive down and warn the rest of them to get out of town, but he couldn't risk getting caught himself. Not after he'd killed that lizard and shot some of the soldiers on the base.

It felt good, taking real action. In the moment it had, anyway. Afterward he was left wondering how the hell he was going to get out of the mess he'd created. McInness had his name. They doubtless had cameras on the base which caught his face. They'd ID him in no time, so there was no going home again. The police would be waiting for him when he arrived.

What he wanted to do was get his friends out of the base, but he couldn't see any way to accomplish that on his own. With help? Maybe it would be possible. But he'd seen up close and personal how well-defended the place was. Breaking in would be damned hard. Maybe impossible.

Frustrated, he'd finally drifted off to sleep. But those flashes of light had to be an attack. The folks they'd left behind weren't much for fighting. That's why they'd been left. One old man, his wife, some women and a passel of kids was about what he recalled. The police wouldn't need much to take them down, but it sure sounded like a war zone there.

Then the blasts from the flash-bangs were gone. Eric thought he heard some yelling from down in the camp, and he saw flashlights coming on. One beam of light stabbed into the sky and caught something metallic gliding through the night air. A drone? Cops wouldn't have drones, would they?

Was the US military attacking these people? Damn them. Those folks hadn't done anything to hurt anyone. Eric ground his teeth hard against each other, hating them more with every distant shout the wind carried his way. He squinted and caught sight of more than one object flying overhead. Definitely drones, and there were several of them. Then a louder noise roared over the wind. A black helicopter zipped in low over the trees and landed just outside the campground. Eric saw some movement from the camp toward the bird. More and more people filing away from the tents and trailers toward the chopper. Soldiers and prisoners, from what he could see.

Then it took off and soared away.

Everything was silent.

He knew better than to go down there. Knew what he'd find if he did, too. The whole place would be torn up, everything turned over. They were looking for him, but they'd take whatever weapons they found along with anything else that looked interesting. He wanted to go check, but if that was the military they had access to all kinds of toys. They could plant cameras, leave a drone high overhead, hell, they could have a satellite watching the camp if they were really hot to find him.

The thought made him sweat. If they scanned this hill he might stand out even with the overhead cover of the trees. His truck had been off for enough time to cool down, so he doubted it would show on infra-red. But he still would. Eric wanted to turn on the ignition and drive off, look for someplace more distant and safer to rest until morning. But if they were watching, even if they'd just left a drone or a few soldiers behind to keep an eye out for him, turning on the truck would be a dead giveaway.

No, the better course of action would be to wait. He'd been a soldier himself, a lot of years ago. Not for very long, but he recalled the lessons his training had driven home. He knew what it was like to wait, too. Sometimes the right thing to do was to rush in, but when you were hunting deer you needed to just sit tight. This was one of the latter times. He'd hold position until morning. There was nothing he could do for the folks who’d been in camp. Not yet, anyway.

But in the morning? He’d try to figure out something. Even if he had to blow the entire base to hell, he’d do it if it meant getting his friends back. More than that, he felt a burning desire to do some more damage to the Naga invaders. Killing that first one felt good, it felt right. Were there more of them on Earth? Maybe he could find a way to kill two birds with one stone.

Eric drifted off into a restless sleep, his dreams filled with monster reptiles chasing him and his family. He always somehow got away from them. But his family didn’t. Just like they hadn’t when the real invaders came.

But now he’d made one of them pay for what they’d done, and he was just getting started. He’d kill them all, if that’s what it took to get them off his planet.

Twenty

Owen dozed beside Garul’s hospital bed. The Naga was already resting by the time he’d arrived and hadn’t roused. Maybe it was related to having used the healing device on such a serious injury? It might have depleted his body’s resources. Or maybe the base doc had given him something to help him rest. Either way, it was good he was sleeping. That gunshot had almost killed him.

The pangs of guilt over that hung with him as he closed his eyes. If he hadn’t been out there, Garul wouldn’t have been hurt. He’d figured it was the right thing to do, going after Eric and Larissa. They were a serious threat and someone needed to stop them. But damned if it hadn’t created just as many issues as he’d hoped to solve.

Larissa was safely in custody, but Eric was still on the loose and there were a bunch of injured soldiers on the base, Garul included. As far as Owen was concerned, that was on him. If he’d just given Hereford a bit more information, maybe they would have taken extra measures. If he hadn’t suggested the use of non-lethal weapons maybe the only people shot would have been the bad guys.

But there were still those kids, back at the camp. Owen couldn’t help but think those children would be better off with their parents alive instead of dead. He had personal experience with how hard it was to lose your parents and how much hate that could instill toward the killer.

He dozed off, then startled awake as the door opened. Owen reached into his pocket for his weapons, remembering even as he did that it was out of charge. But it was General Hereford, not Eric coming to finish what he’d started with Garul.

Owen pulled himself to his feet and straightened his jacket. ”Sir.”

“At ease,” Hereford said, his voice soft so as not to wake the sleeping Naga. He waved Owen back into his chair. “How is he?”

“Stable, sir. No signs of any problems here,” Owen replied.

“He went running after you the moment you left cover, you know that?” Hereford asked.

Owen ducked his head. “I do, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Be better.” Hereford sat in the chair across from Owen. “There’s too damned much at stake for errors, McInness. You’ve got heart, brains, and skill. We need those things. What I don’t need is one good man putting other good people at risk by taking reckless chances. Next time, wait for backup. We practice things together as a team for a reason. You get me?”

“Yes, sir,” Owen replied. He still felt like he could have done better, but Hereford wasn’t wrong. There was more wisdom in learning from his mistakes than in replaying them over and over in his mind.

“Is all right. Not first time shot,” Garul said. The Naga’s eyes flickered open. “Unlikely to be last.”

Hereford rose and went to his bedside. “You’re as bad as the kid here. Worse, maybe. Him, I can excuse on the basis of inexperience. You’ve got no excuses.”

“I went to the aid of my Haklek. And my friend. What else could I have done?” Garul shrugged and winced as the movement brought him a jolt of pain. “Although I’d have preferred a less dramatic end to the evening.”

“Just rest for now,” Hereford said.

Garul glanced over at Owen. “No injuries?”

“Just my pride,” Owen replied with a rueful tone. “Eric got away, though.”

Garul leaned back and closed his eyes. “You saved me instead of capturing him.”

Owen stood and went to Garul's bedside. He laid a hand on the Naga's shoulder. Garul opened his eyes and looked up. Their gazes locked for a moment that felt out of time for the young man. This Naga was his friend, mentor, and maybe just a little bit his hope of redemption. Owen wasn't sure how the alien had come to mean so much to him in such a short time, but that didn't matter.

He had.

“Of course I did,” Owen replied.

Garul smiled, flashing his teeth. “Then we will hunt him together.”

The Naga reached out a clawed hand. Owen met it with his own. At first he thought Garul was only shaking his hand, to seal the deal, so to speak. But as the Naga put more weight into the arm, Owen had to brace himself against the bed to keep from falling forward. With Owen's help, Garul rose to a sitting position. His face was etched with little tracks and lines that said he was still in pain. But he was upright.

“You sure you're ready to be up and about?” Hereford asked.

“I am a warrior, General. I am always ready. Now, I believe we have planning to accomplish? I strongly suspect that this shooter will return to the base. You have his friends here in custody?”

“Yes,” Hereford replied.

“Then he will be back for certain. He was a warrior at heart. He will not flee. Ah, but he might think I am dead. He did shoot me. If it hadn't been for Owen's quick actions, I might indeed have died,” Garul said. “Perhaps what we need is to find a way to let this human know he failed. That I still breathe.”

Owen frowned. “Won't that just put you in more danger?”

Garul laughed, which sounded like a mixture of clicking his tongue and a hacking cough. “An enemy ship could arrive in orbit any time now and obliterate us all. We are all in danger. Always at risk. This is no greater risk than we face daily just by breathing. But by all the shards, while we still breathe we will continue fighting to stay that way, yes?”

Owen snapped a sharp nod in reply. It was a point of view he wasn't used to hearing, but it made sense when Garul said the words. Most humans tended to be risk-averse. They'd do whatever they could to minimize danger to themselves. But the Naga seemed to have a different attitude toward danger. They met a threat head-on rather than fleeing from it.

“If we are to die a given day, then that will happen. In the meantime, we fight to live,” Garul said.

“There was a human culture that once espoused beliefs like that,” Hereford said.

“Oh? What happened to them? Did they die out?” Garul asked.

“Hells no. The people of Europe's northern lands took over a good chunk of the world. Most of my ancestors stem from one branch or another of their tree,” Hereford said. He flashed a feral smile at Garul. “They lived and breathed for battle, fought each other and alongside each other, explored, conquered, and raided. They weren't a perfect people by any means, but I see many of their virtues in the Naga.”

Owen grinned at the thought. Comparing the Naga with Viking raiders seemed like a bit of a stretch to him, but maybe it wasn't so far-fetched as it sounded at first. Both warrior cultures held fast to many of the same ideals.

“Then let us rise and plan for the morning. We have a trap to lay, and I have ideas about how we can use this shooter to our advantage. At the end of the day, we must come together, your people and mine,” Garul told Hereford. “That will require courage and daring. We Naga have done you a terrible wrong. Your people repaid our attacks by defending our homeworld in our moment of greatest need. It is a debt we must repay. And it begins now, here, today.”

Owen and Hereford shot each other glances as Garul stepped lightly to the floor and strode purposefully from the hospital room. Owen wasn't sure what the Naga had in mind, but one thing was certain; life hadn't been boring since he'd run into him!

Twenty-One

More sleep. That's what Garul figured he should have focused on, rather than strategizing with Hereford and McInness. He'd managed a few hours of rest after they were done, but it was nowhere near enough. He should have had all his wits about him for this meeting, but instead he felt bleary and worn. It didn't help that his injury from the evening more was still causing some pain. He winced as he shifted in his chair, trying to adjust his position to better accommodate the wound.

It didn't help much. He supposed he could use the healing tool again, but was loathe to do so. A body only had so much in the way of reserves. Naga had quite a lot, but he'd used the device twice in a single day to heal gunshot wounds. That wasn't pushing his limits by much, but he thought letting his body heal on its own for a bit might be the wiser course. At least for the time being. Better to keep some reserves in case something else unexpected occurred.

“Are you all right, Ambassador?” The human seated across the table from Garul was looking at him with a facial expression of concern.

“I am, Mr. Jamison. Thank you for asking,” Garul replied. The United States Secretary of State had flown out to meet with him today. It wasn't a meeting that could be easily delayed. Jamison had of course been informed of the events the night prior. He knew the Naga ambassador had been shot. Jamison was effusive with his apologies when they first met.

But once those introductions were over and they got down to 'brass tacks', as the human put it, he was proving to be quite the predator in this venue. The man was scrawny, wore glasses to help him see, and looked at least as old as Hereford without half the general's health. Yet Garul had to admit that for this sort of battle, Jamison was a worthy opponent. This wasn't a fight to be won with claws, but rather with words.

Garul's command of English was excellent and growing, but he'd still availed himself of a tablet with translation software on it. He hadn't thought he would require it. Scanning the documents before him, he was glad indeed to have the device by his side. The documents Mr. Jamison had presented him with used words he'd never heard any human speak aloud. Each sentence seemed twisted, convoluted, like it was designed to say more than one thing or to mean something other than what the immediate meaning appeared.

“I will require some time to go over all of this,” Garul said, waving the paperwork. “My English is improving, but many of these words and phrasings are strange to me.”

“Of course. I understand. Take what time you need,” Jamison said. “I'm happy to have some of my staff assist you with any translation difficulties.”

“Thank you,” Garul flashed his teeth. He wasn't at all sure that Jamison's staff would have the Naga peoples' best interest in their hearts. But he knew who would. “But my aide will assist me if necessary.”

The Naga motioned to McInness, seated next to him. The young soldier gaped a moment, then leaned in to whisper in Garul's ear. “I'm not a lawyer. This legalese bullshit isn't my strong point.”

“You'll do fine,” Garul told him. Then he turned back to Jamison. “This clause is interesting. What is a 'refugee'?”

“Ah,” Jamison said. He paused and shuffled his own copy of the proposed treaty, finding the appropriate spot. “A refugee is someone made homeless through war or other means. The clause allows either of our people to request sanctuary and refugee status on the other's world, should we no longer be able to live on our homeworld.”

“Given the nature of the enemy we both face,” Jamison went on, “it seemed wise to stipulate this in our agreement.”

Humans on the Naga homeworld, Patala? The idea was both amusing and frightening. How well would humans fit in there? It was a dangerous place, and while he knew many humans were quite capable as warriors, he wasn't so certain about their general population. Humanity seemed to have many different sub-groups within their species. Some were warriors. Others were...not even close.

“Mr. Jamison, I have concerns about this. My world is not as hospitable as yours. Most of the land has remained wild.”

“That should make it easier,” Jamison replied. “In the case of Earth being destroyed, you could just give any surviving humans some unused tract of land.”

“We could, and I would certainly agree to such a thing. But when I say wild, I mean truly wilderness. Our predators are not tame beasts like you have on Earth. Patala is host to a variety of animals who would see your people as...forgive me, but as tasty treats.”

Jamison blanched for a moment, but recovered quickly. “I think we would find ways to manage, somehow.” He glanced over at Hereford, who gave a slow nod in reply.

“And then there is the matter of bringing Naga here to Earth, should it be our world that falls,” Garul said. “As much as your safety on Patala would be questionable, my experience here on Earth has been that the welcome might not be warm for Naga.”

Jamison flushed. This was good. Garul had nothing against the man, but he intended to get the best deal possible for his people. This refugee clause wasn't a terrible idea, but he wanted some assurance that his people would not be slaughtered by angry humans if they did have to flee to Earth. The more off-balance he could get Jamison, the less focused the man would be on negotiating well. This was a duel, after all. Garul could make his words almost as sharp as his teeth.

“What happened to you yesterday was a serious breach of hospitality. I apologize profusely for the damage done to you through our lack of security,” Jamison said. He glanced sharply at Hereford, his eyes promising that there would be consequences for that.

Garul wasn't trying to make trouble for his friend. “General Hereford has done an outstanding job as host, Mr. Jamison. He has taken every precaution I can imagine to keep me as safe as possible, I assure you. Sometimes these things happen. I am healing well; no lasting harm was done. But I would want some level of assurance that my people would have a place of relative safety should we come here.”

“Something we would like if we were forced to flee to Patala, as well,” Jamison replied. “Yet you sound unsure you can provide it.”

There were the teeth again. Garul approved. The man didn't stay off-balance for more than a few moments before he found his center again. “I believe we can find someplace that will work. It might be we need to clear a section of wilderness, erect walls to protect the less warlike humans. But I think it can be done. All of this presupposes we lose one of our worlds, of course. Which neither of us want.”

“No, we surely don't,” Jamison said. He deflated a bit and ran his fingers through his hair. “Ambassador Garul, I have to say I didn't insert this clause into the treaty. It's not something I've ever tried to negotiate before. The United States has never been under such a threat of disaster. I've been ordered to make sure this clause goes through. What can we do to make this work for you?”

“That's quite an admission, Mr. Jamison,” Garul said. He was surprised by the man taking such a frank tone. He'd given away an edge in the negotiations in the process. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it really is that important to the people I represent. We're not just talking about the survival of our nation here. This is about survival of our species. And yours. Frankly, that trumps any other interests we have,” Jamison said.

“I agree,” Garul replied.

“To the terms?”

“To your statement. Survival of both our races is my highest priority as well. We should take whatever actions are necessary to ensure that,” Garul said. “All of the rest of this paperwork - military aid, technology transfers, trade, and such? They all support that primary effort. I have to say I am uncomfortable making preparations for the loss of my home planet.”

Jamison opened his mouth to speak, but Garul raised a hand to stop him, then went on. “I said uncomfortable, not unwilling. I am a realist. Also, unlike you, I have seen the Kkiktchikut weapon in use. I've watched a planet blasted into lifelessness, half the crust blown into space. The threat is indeed real. In principle, at least, I think this clause is wise. We work out details, but...yes. The Naga will shelter humanity, should it come down to it.”

“And we, you,” Jamison said.

A knock on the door stopped all conversation for a moment. Hereford barked, “Enter!”

The door opened and a young lieutenant entered. “Sir, sorry to interrupt. You asked to be notified at once if the protest outside the gate became a problem.”

“How bad?” Hereford asked.

“You should come see, sir. It's getting messy out there. Captain Jenkins is breaking out the Naga rifles to defend the gate.”

“Damn,” Hereford said as he rose from his chair. “Mr. Secretary, please excuse me. I need to see about our security.”

“Of course, General,” Jamison replied.

Garul coughed and rose as well. “Mr. Jamison, can we continue our discussion later today? I would like to see this protest with my own eyes. If we are to sign a treaty that makes Earth our last resort of refuge, I need to see the nature of whatever threats we might face.”

“If General Hereford thinks it's safe enough..?” Jamison asked.

Hereford rolled his eyes. “I'll keep him in one piece. Come along, Garul. You too, McInness. Let's go see what we're up against out there.”

Garul checked the items on his belt as he followed Hereford from the room. He had everything he might need to handle an emergency. Going out there would give the man who'd shot him twice a third chance. It was a risk, but one he was willing to take if it could aid in creating trust between their races.

Twenty-Two

Eric glanced down so the drone whizzing by overhead couldn’t get a look at his face. The ball cap and sunglasses he wore were pretty mediocre camouflage. They had to know his face by know. They’d be watching for him. But he couldn’t have avoided coming to this place, no matter the risk. This gate, among these protesters, was where he had to be.

There was no shortage of people gathered, that was for certain. Had to be a few hundred people there. It was impressive, even if it wasn’t going to actually accomplish anything. These folks weren’t armed, at least not most of them. Anyone there packing heat was keeping it well hidden, same as Eric was. He'd left the rifle with the truck. It would have stuck out like a sore thumb in this crowd. Better to go in lightly armed and see if there was any way he could stir up trouble. The rifle was close enough by if he really needed it.

There was a whole platoon of soldiers gathered on the other side of the gate, armed with a mixture of weaponry, all of it more deadly than the pistol holstered at Eric's back. Some of them were carrying what looked like a normal assault rifle, but others had weapons that looked right out of a sci-fi film. Ray-gun rifles? That had to be alien tech.

The idea of US troops using alien weapons made his blood boil. Was that what was going on? The powers-that-be working behind the scenes in the government were swapping human independence for alien tech? It wouldn't shock him.

Eric wandered through the crowd until he found another guy who looked a lot like himself. Arms crossed, the guy's glare toward the troops guarding the gate could have melted steel. Just the sort of man he wanted to find.

“Hey brother. Got a light?” Eric asked, holding up a cigarette.

“If you can spare a cig, sure,” the man replied. He fished a lighter from a pocket. “Ran out an hour ago, but I don't want to leave. We gotta make our voices heard.”

Eric exchanged the lighter for another cigarette from his pack. He lit his, then passed the lighter back over. “I hear you. Name's Eric.”

He had a lighter with him, of course. But it was the oldest ‘get to know you’ tool in his playbook. Pretty near never failed. He could tell the guy was a smoker from the smell and the yellow fingers, but even if he'd guessed wrong, it was still a good opening for a conversation. Which was what he actually wanted.

“Jim. You here yesterday? Was even more of us then.”

“Yeah, I was. It's early. I figure more will filter back in as the day goes on. You heard they have honest to god aliens inside there?”

“You sure?” Jim asked. “I heard that rumor, but I was half thinking it was bullshit. If it's true, man... I don't know what we're coming to. Those assholes damned near blew us back to the Stone Age, and now they're being wined and dined?”

“Yeah. I'm sure.” Eric leaned in close and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I shot one of them.”

“No shit, you did not!”

Eric nodded and took a drag from the cigarette. “Did. Nailed him with my rifle. If I see more of them, I'll get them, too. We have to keep Earth for humans. Bad enough we have foreign types coming here. We don't need stinking lizards, too.”

He watched the man carefully, unsure what his response would be. Eric didn’t think he seemed the sort to turn a guy in, but he was a stranger. You never knew. He had to start somewhere, though. Build some support in the crowd, so that when the time came to make a move he had backup.

“Yup. I’m with you,” Jim replied.

Eric handed him back his lighter. “Think you can help me spread the word about what’s really going on in there? We need to get everyone to wake up. Take action. I don’t mean waving signs, either. We need to make those boys inside sit up and take notice.”

“They’ve got most of the guns,” Jim remarked.

“You think they’re gonna fire on a crowd of civilians?” Eric asked.

He figured they probably wouldn’t, although if those Naga rifles were the same ones they’d used the night before? The ones McInness said didn’t kill? Well, they might just shoot those, if push came to shove. But there were more people joining the circus outside the gate every minute. Cars were coming up the road toward the base in a steady stream as the morning went on and daylight got stronger. According to the news there’d been a thousand people at the protest yesterday. He was willing to bet today would be even bigger. A thousand angry protestors would be a hard mob to deal with. Might even prove enough distraction that he could get in there and free his friends.

But only if he could get them riled up enough.

Jim shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think they would. Haven’t pulled shit like that since Vietnam. Don’t think they want that sort of press now.”

“So you’re in?”

“Sure,” Jim replied. “I’ll spread the word about what’s going on. What are you thinking we do about it though?”

Eric paused thoughtfully. “I reckon we’ll know when the time comes. Just gotta get enough people mad enough.”

Jim nodded and walked away to bend the ear of someone he seemed to know. Eric shrugged his shoulders and set off in the opposite direction. It wasn’t much, not yet. But it was a start. He wandered through the crowd, looking for more likely candidates to recruit to his side. Well, he wasn’t actually looking for real recruits, not today. He just needed to sow anger and fear. The more of those seeds he planted, the more damage this mass of people would do when it finally hit critical mass and blew.

He looked out at the road again. The handful of cars zipping toward the base had become a line. News coverage of the protest the day before must have gotten the word out in a big way. He’d bet they had more than twice as many people outside the gate today. It was going to be one hell of a crowd.

Hot, too. California never got really cold, even in December, but it was an unusually warm day already, and the weather report said it was going to be uncomfortably warm by noon. Once the sun was high overhead, baking down on everyone? Well, tempers would rise with the heat. People were already pissed before they arrived. Add in a few hours of standing outside in the sun and the whole place would be like a field doused with gasoline.

A place like that, all you’d need is to strike a match and everything would be ablaze.

Eric spotted a woman holding a sign with a picture of a college-age girl on it. He read the words printed with the picture, “Aliens Killed My Baby”. That hit him where it hurt. He had to blink away a tear, remembering his own little girl. He walked over to the woman.

“I saw your sign,” Eric said. He glanced down at his shoes. “They killed my daughter, too. My whole family.”

Her face went from hostile to soft and understanding in half a heartbeat. “Oh, my God. You poor man. I...my girl was in school, in Florida. She...”

“You don’t need to talk about it, ma’am. I understand all too well.”

“And now they’re...what? Making peace with those scum-sucking lizards?” Her voice raised a couple of notches as she spoke.

“Worse than that, ma’am. They’ve got lizards inside that base right now, and you can bet they don’t have our best interest at heart. We need to do something about this, send a message to those aliens to stay away from Earth and never come back,” Eric said. He tasted the heat in his voice. It wasn’t hard to whip himself into a fury. He meant every word he said, and that only helped make him more sincere.

“We do need to do something,” she replied. “But what?”

“Well, ma’am, I’ve got some ideas...” Eric smiled as he broke into a pitch designed for her. Yes sir, by noon this powder keg was gonna be ready to blow.

Twenty-Three

Garul trailed Hereford through the building. They left behind the fancy appointments set up for diplomatic meetings and reached more utilitarian spaces on the ground floor. These were more like what the Naga expected from a war base. The walls were concrete bricks, painted over. The floors were plain tile, carefully cleaned and waxed. They walked through a doorway over which was painted a massive image of a shield with the words 'Security Forces' written on it.

The area beyond was a series of small meeting rooms, a workout gym, the arms room they'd acquired weapons from the night before, and similar spaces. Hereford stalked past all of them, his destination a closed door at the end of the hall. There was no handle on the door to open it. At first Garul wasn't sure how they would get in. But Hereford tapped a panel on wall beside the door. The screen lit up after a moment, the face of a young human male appearing there.

“Let us in,” Hereford said.

“Yes, sir! Just a moment.”

The screen blinked out. Garul heard the sound of someone scrambling about on the other side of the door and then it opened from within. Hereford nodded sharply to the uniformed man holding the door open for them as he walked past. Garul followed, flashing the young human a toothy smile that made him blanch a few shades paler. He would probably never tire of that reaction...

McInness caught his glance and rolled his eyes as he brought up the rear of their trio. The security center was small. Manned by two human soldiers, there was only just enough space to add the three of them, and as the door shut Garul had the feeling the place was going to grow stuffy quickly if they all remained long.

He didn't think it likely they'd be staying, though. Not if what he saw was any indication.

One wall of the room was covered in screens, each one showing a different camera from somewhere on the base. About half of those screens showed views of the north gate, the same place he'd been shot the night before. It was broad daylight, now, just after noon, and the scene was no longer empty. Hundreds of humans gathered there, most of them carrying signs. Garul couldn't make out most of the words written there, but the ones he could said they spelled trouble. All of them seemed to carry some sort of anti-alien sentiment. Those humans were chanting and shouting as well.

Armed guards still held the gate, but if that horde of humans turned into a mob, Garul wasn't sure there were enough soldiers present to block their entry. Certainly not without killing a good number on both sides.

“Damn. You have a good estimate of their numbers?” Hereford asked.

“North of a thousand, sir. The crowd is still growing, too,” the soldier replied.

Hereford watched the screens carefully for another minute without saying anything. Then he reached out to a control panel and flicked the buttons there. In response, the images on the screen changed to other cameras at different places around the base. Once he'd satisfied himself that there were no other groups of protesters trying to get into the base, he shifted the few back to the north gate again.

“I don't like this. The men I posted to the gate don't have enough firepower to stop that many people if they decide to rush the base,” Hereford said.

“You could pull out a couple of Armor units,” Owen said. “I can't imagine them trying to get past those.”

Garul chuckled at the idea. The massive robotic suits bristled with firepower. Even one would be enough to make a mob quail at the thought of approaching. A few of those would indeed probably prevent an attack. He wasn't sure that was the best plan, however.

“General, I suspect those people outside are frightened, yes?” Garul asked. Hereford nodded, so he went on. “Making them even more scared does not seem like best plan. Not if our aim is true alliance of both peoples.”

“Having them storm the base isn't an option, either,” Hereford growled. “Call in the local police. Let's see if we can get them to de-escalate this situation before we go making it worse. Not that I'm entirely against your idea, McInness. But I want that to be a tool of last resort. Garul's right. Frightening these people more today will just make them even more certain that we're doing bad things in here. We need to shift them to our way of thinking, not scare them into more extremism like the bunch we saw last night.”

Owen nodded. “I understand, sir. What if I went to speak with them?”

Hereford tilted his head a little. “I'm listening.”

“Well, sir. I used to hate the Naga, too. For the same reason as a lot of those folks do. I'm reading some of those signs... A lot of the people lost someone in the Battle for Earth. Like I did,” Owen said. He locked stares with Garul, and the Naga was pleased to see how quickly this young warrior was growing up. “But I learned that the Naga are more like us than different. If I can show them that, too? Maybe we can start moving the needle in the right direction.”

“You're known by that terrorist who escaped. If you show up there, you'll likely be a target for him,” Hereford warned. “I'm not sure it's the best idea.”

Garul could understand the general's concern, but in this case he believed the boy was right. If their people were going to be allied, they needed to clear the air between them. The Naga had come to accept humans well enough, after Dan and Beth Wynn helped defend their world from certain destruction. Indeed, those two humans at least were considered heroes on Patala.

But the situation on Earth was the opposite. The Naga had attacked, had killed many humans, had even tried to wipe out their entire world when the initial attacks failed. Humanity hadn't seen the Naga as anything but a threat. It was past time to end that.

“Owen is right,” Garul said. “We need to begin the work of getting humans to trust Naga. It can start here, today. But it should not be he who speaks to them. It should be me.”

Owen shook his head. “If I'd be at risk going out there, it'd be hella worse for you. Eric would love to get you inside his crosshairs.”

“Yes, I don't think that's a wise course of action,” Hereford added. “We need to defuse this situation, but we can't risk you in the process.”

Garul blinked, calming his mind to collect his thoughts. These humans - his friends - had their hearts in the right place. They wanted to protect him from harm, and he appreciated it. But he needed to make them understand somehow. This was truly the only way forward for both their people.

“It must be me,” Garul said at last. Hereford opened his mouth to protest again, but Garul waved a hand and he kept silent. “I know there is risk. But look at those people!”

He pointed at the screens where the protesters continued chanting. He couldn't hear what they were saying; the video feed had no audio. But it didn't take a transcript to see the anger in their faces. They were all furious. Sadly, they had good reason to be.

“My people have done yours a terrible wrong,” Garul said.

“We've blown up or captured a few of your ships, too. It was war,” Hereford said.

“Yes, and your people have more than balanced the scales. Did you know that Dan and Beth Wynn are being considered for medals of honor on my world? Their actions helped save our planet,” Garul said. “After everything we'd done to you, when we were in our hour of greatest need, we didn't even have to ask your people for help. In fact, I've heard the audio communication that went between our ships and your Independence that day. My people ordered yours to not interfere. But they risked everything to help their enemy anyway.”

“Earth has balanced the scales for Patala. But we Naga have not done our part to balance the damage we did here,” Garul rumbled. “This day? Those people? I have a chance out there to begin that task. Yes, there is risk. Just like there was risk when Dan and Beth came to our aid. If there were no risk, it wouldn't matter. But if we are to bring our people together, it is those people out there, the ones my people hurt, who must be won over.”

He shrugged, an odd human gesture he'd picked up at some point. All of this seemed like inescapable logic to him. He only hoped he'd explained it well enough to convince Hereford. Garul watched indecision war on the man's face. He had to be weighing the potential risk versus rewards, and if the general said no, that would probably be the end of it. He just had to hope Hereford would see eye to eye on him in this. Garul locked gazes with him, his eyes imploring him to agree.

After a few more seconds of silence that seemed to drag on forever, Hereford nodded. “All right. Let's do this.”

Garul felt a thrill of excitement not unlike the sense of expectation he felt right before going into battle. He was headed into combat, of a sort. An odd sort of battle, since this enemy couldn't be slain. Hate didn’t die to gunfire or bombs; weapons only made it stronger.

But perhaps it could be beaten.

Twenty-Four

Hereford wasn't thrilled with the decision, but once he'd made up his mind he was determined to see things through. He hated the idea of sending Garul into danger. The Naga was a diplomat, damn it! He hadn't belonged out there the night before. He didn't belong in harm's way now. At the same time he understood the logic of what Garul was saying. The people of Earth still feared the Naga, with good reason. Some folks even hated the alien race with enough passion to try taking pot-shots at them, or raid a military base. If nothing was done, things would only escalate.

“You get yourself killed, I'm probably going to lose my job,” Hereford groused to his friend.

Garul laughed. “I do not intend to die today, General.”

They'd already stopped by the arms room to pick up a few things that Garul would need. Like a suit of Naga battle armor, for starters. He had only worn the light armor all Naga used for ship-suits on the trip down, not expecting any serious combat. The battle armor humans had won from captured Naga vessels was much heavier. It would shrug off most small arms fire, based on the testing they'd done. Some of the advances they'd brought to the Armor program had come from studying the design of Naga battle armor.

He felt better seeing Garul in the suit. It wasn't like they could use it for a human, anyway. The armor was carefully fitted for a Naga frame. It simply wouldn't function for a much smaller human body. They'd torn apart most of the sets to learn what they could from them, but now Hereford was glad he'd insisted they keep a few sets in storage.

Garul tapped a control on his left wrist and lights sparked on throughout the suit. It was made of heavy silvery plates, all linked together. Although the face plate was open right now, with a flick of his wrist or a single-word command, Garul could order the suit to fully encase his head. The armor would even operate as a space suit, for at least a couple of hours.

“Owen, give me the handgun,” Garul said.

Owen complied, pulling the small Naga device from his pocket and passing it to Garul. Hereford watched the exchange with interest. The Naga plugged the little weapon into a port on his armor. An amber light began blinking on the weapon.

“Charging,” Garul explained.

Hereford made his voice as dry as possible. “You know, you weren't supposed to bring any weapons down to the surface with you.”

“That little thing?” Garul chuckled. “It hardly counts as a weapon.”

Hereford rolled his eyes and kept walking. They reached the building's main lobby. An armored vehicle was already idling outside. No, they absolutely were not walking all the way to the gate. Hereford wanted any potential sniper to have as few opportunities to fire as possible. Bad enough Garul was insisting he leave the head armor down. One quick shot to the skull and he'd be history. But he looked frightening enough in person. The armored head was designed to terrify foes. It wouldn't help his goals of winning over the protesters.

He wasn't sure just how Garul planned to handle that, anyway. Those folks out there weren't just a little angry. They'd lost loved ones. Been afraid for their lives. It wasn't the sort of experience one could wave away with a quick speech.

Not without one hell of a speech, anyway. Hereford hoped Garul was up for this.

They piled into the armored car and rolled out toward the gate. Three guards rode with them, plus a driver. They'd augment the security force already posted at the north gate. He had other troops moving there as well, and he'd ordered the number of surveillance drones in the air doubled. Every possible precaution was being taken. This was still risky as hell, even with all the safeguards he could think of.

Garul pulled the pen-shaped handgun loose from his armor and handed it back to Owen, who took it with a nod of thanks. He slipped it back into a jacket pocket. Garul certainly wasn't going to need the tiny peashooter. Hereford had seen the specs for that armor. It had the equivalent of a built-in rifle in the right forearm. With a twist of a setting Garul could change the output from something that felt like a rubber bullet into a ball of energy that hit with about the same force as an armor-piercing round.

Hereford eyed the setting. Garul had moved it to the lowest level. He hoped the Naga didn't have to use the weapon at any level, but with that shooter still on the loose? Better to be armed.

They were closing on the gate. Hereford leaned forward toward the driver. “Stop just behind the gatehouse. I want Garul to be able to leave the vehicle without being seen.”

“You got it, sir.”

The armored car wheeled into the leeward side of the concrete gate shack. It was a military vehicle, not designed to be very soundproof. The chanting outside was easily audible to Hereford and his passengers. The soldiers riding with them opened the back door and climbed out.

Hereford turned to Garul. “You sure about this?”

“No. But I want to try. If it fails, well - I'll have you, Owen, and your men to save me, no?”

“Don't let it come to that,” Hereford growled.

Hereford climbed out of the car and peeked around the side of the shack. Captain Jenkins moved toward him, a surprised look on his face. Hereford waved him closer. If Jenkins had been shocked to see Hereford, that was nothing compared to the astonished face he made when he saw Garul in the vehicle.

“Sir, what the actual fuck?” Jenkins blurted.

“Our ambassador requested a chance to do a little diplomacy with our protesters,” Hereford replied.

Jenkins shook his head. “I can't guarantee his safety. There's no place he can stand out there that won't put him into the line of fire of anyone who wants to take a pot-shot at him. This is a terrible idea, sir.”

Hereford couldn't help but agree. Now that he was on the scene things looked even worse than they had from the calm of the control room. The noise from shouting people just beyond the gate was so loud he and Jenkins had to nearly shout to make themselves be heard. This crowd was one spark away from turning into a mob, and from there, into a riot.

He stood there deliberating for a few moments. Garul could still be driven safely back to Base One. Hell, if needs be Hereford could recall the security to the building and lock everything down there. The protesters might make a mess of things elsewhere on the base, but they'd never damage anything vital.

But that wasn't the future he wanted to see. If these people turned into a riot and trashed the base, that wouldn't be the end of things. It would escalate into something far worse. He'd seen it before. Hereford looked toward Garul. The Naga sat in the car, patiently waiting. His eyes told Hereford that he knew the inner debate raging inside his head. Garul understood.

Maybe Garul understood humans well enough to actually make a difference out there, too.

“We're doing this, Captain,” Hereford said. “I want everyone on the lookout for trouble. Anyone pulls a weapon, take them down with one of the Naga rifles. Otherwise we don't fire for anything short of the entire mob rushing us. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Jenkins replied. He looked frustrated, but he was also a damned fine soldier. He'd been given orders. Even if he didn't like them, he'd do everything he could to see the task set before him accomplished.

“It's on you, now,” Hereford told Garul. “You really think you can say anything that will make a difference to that lot?”

The Naga warlord stepped from the car into the bright sunlight. “I can only try, General.”

“Do or do not, damn it,” Hereford snapped. “Don't screw around out there. If things get hostile, we're pulling you out, understood?”

Garul nodded. He beckoned for Owen to follow him. The kid did so without complaint. Hereford had to hand it to McInness, he was willing to stick his neck out. Hell, he had to give credit to Garul for building that sort of trust, too. If he could talk McInness around, as far gone as the kid had been, maybe he really could do something to quell the mob outside the gate.

It was time to find out. Flanked by six of Jenkins' men, Garul stepped out from behind the shelter of the gate shack and into the view of over a thousand angry humans.

Twenty-Five

The crowd went from a roar to less than a whisper in half a heartbeat. It wasn’t the still quiet of outer space that met Garul as he rounded the corner of the building and came into full view of the crowd. This was a hesitant yet angry stillness like the one immediately before a storm struck. These people were furious and the object of their fury had appeared in front of them. They might be taken aback for a brief time, but it wouldn’t last.

He needed to act quickly.

“People of Earth,” Garul said. He noted that there were cameras from at least three news crews broadcasting the protest. All three had swung to face him the moment he arrived. That might be good or terrible news, depending on how the next few minutes went. If he succeeded in calming these people, his words would be broadcast across the planet and might do even more good.

Of course, if he failed, that too would be broadcast. No pressure.

Garul sucked in a deep breath before speaking again. “People of Earth. I am Garul, an envoy from my people to yours. I am here to meet with some of your leaders, but I am also here to send a message to all of you.”

“That message is a simple one. We were wrong, and we are sorry for the harm we have caused.”

Garul paused to take the measure of the crowd. They stirred somewhat at his words. A few whispers passed among them. But they weren’t lashing out. It was a hopeful start. He decided to continue on. “No words can compensate you for the harm we did. So we will instead show our remorse and resolve with actions. We have done you wrong; we will take whatever measures we can to make reparations for that.”

“Why?” A man in the crowd shouted out. “Why bother? Just leave us the hell alone!”

“Do your people not also believe in taking responsibility for doing wrong?” Garul asked. The man who’d shouted out before hesitated, then nodded. “As do we. The truth is, even after we had attacked you and killed many of your people, in our moment of greatest need, some of your heroes came to our aid. When the real foe was at our doorstep, planning to destroy our world, Earth did not hesitate. Your ship commanders flew to our assistance and in doing so saved my people.”

“Those operations are still classified,” Hereford remarked beside him in a soft voice.

Garul glanced at him, smiled, and went on speaking. “The Naga are in your debt. Your world saved ours, when you had no cause to do so and every reason to celebrate our destruction. We do not know if this debt can ever be replayed, but we will do all we can.”

Then he took a step forward toward the crowd. They backed away. He took another step and then knelt before them, head facing the pavement below their feet, arms splayed out at his sides. It was a posture of submission; not something a warlord did lightly. Garul couldn't see the soldiers behind him, but he could feel their tension climb as he knelt there motionless before the mob. If one of them had a weapon, they could use it on him now and there would be little anyone could do. He was helpless before them.

But none of them stirred. They all stood, signs in hand, eyes wide. Garul heard motion from somewhere within the crowd and lifted his eyes to look. It was a small human, one of their young. A girl, unless he missed his guess; it was sometimes difficult for him to tell the human genders apart, especially with their young.

An older human tried to restrain her, but the girl struggled free from her mother's hands and dashed forward to stand directly in front of Garul. Hands on hips, she glared at him.

“Are you the Grinch?” she asked. “Because you're green like the Grinch, and mom says you're bad like him.”

The crowd was ready to lunge forward. Garul sensed that they would fight to protect the child if they thought he would harm her. They'd rush him, even though he had frightening claws and teeth. He saw the resolve in their eyes. Best to keep his movements slow and deliberate. He did all he could to carefully avoid anything that might be interpreted as hostile. But kneeling in full armor was becoming painful, so Garul instead slid backward away from the girl into a sitting position.

“I do not know who that is, child,” Garul told her.

Owen leaned in behind him, grinning ear to ear. “A story character. Tall green bad guy who hates Christmas.”

Garul nodded to him, then turned back to the girl. “Then I am not he. I think your Christmas celebration is much like our own Davali. It is a celebration of life and light, is it not?”

The girl nodded. “Mom says it's Jesus's birthday. But...” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It's also when Santa brings me presents!”

“Then who is this Grinch?” Garul asked her.

“Oh, he doesn't like presents or singing or toys or fun. He tried to steal everyone's Christmas but then changed his mind,” she explained. “He turned into a good guy in the end.”

“Then perhaps I am something like this person,” Garul replied.

The girl backed away a step when he said that. “Why?”

“Because like your Grinch, my people did bad things to your people. But also like him, we have realized that we did wrong, and we hope to make amends,” Garul said. He stood and addressed the entire crowd again. “I cannot bring back your loved ones. I cannot undo the terrible things my people did. But we are dedicated to doing all we can to try. You have no reason to trust my words; I know this. But I swear to you by my blood that I will not rest until our debt to Earth is repaid in full.”

The protesters murmured to one another again, quietly discussing what he'd said. Garul wasn't sure if any of his words had changed the minds of those listeners, but if he had even made a beginning toward something new, then he counted it worth the risk.

The girls's mother rushed forward and took the child by the shoulders, trying to guide her back into the crowd. The little girl stomped her foot on the ground. “I'm talking with him, mom!”

“You should go with your parent, small one,” Garul rumbled, trying not to laugh. He met the mother's eyes. “Our children are also sometimes trouble.”

She rewarded his words with a genuine smile, one that reached her eyes. “I don't know what to make of you. I came here because my home was blown to bits by one of your ships. But...it's hard to stay angry with you after what you've said. And like Christie pointed out, it is almost Christmas. If we're going to start healing and forgiving, it seems like a good time for it.”

Garul returned her smile, careful not to show his teeth. He knew that could be unnerving for most humans. One heart turned. That was something. Even if he reached not one person more from this crowd, that would be a beginning. But as he cast his gaze over the crowd, he saw more heads nodding in agreement with what the woman said. Garul wanted to weep with relief. The pain of what his people had done to this world, coupled with their willingness to sacrifice themselves to save his people anyway, was a burden he carried with him daily. Heavy as a mountain, it rested squarely on his shoulders to find ways to make amends. He alone was authorized by his people to find a way forward with Earth.

Was that burden now the tiniest bit lighter? He wasn't sure, but he thought so.

A man's voice burst from somewhere deep within the crowd. “Oh, HELL no! We are not buying this lizard's bullshit. They killed my whole family. Burned them alive inside our home. I say, kill 'em all!”

Garul took half a step back, ready to pop his head armor up. Behind him he heard soldiers readying weapons. The crowd parted, letting the speaker through to the front. Garul knew him at once. It was the man who'd shot him, the night before. The one Owen called 'Eric'. He was back, a pistol in one hand. But worse, he had what appeared to be a bomb strapped to his chest.

Twenty-Six

Eric had heard just about all he could stomach of the lizard's posturing. He was sorry? Sorry??

That didn't cut it, not in his book. Sorry was nowhere near good enough to make up for the loss of his wife and children. He felt every word the Naga spoke like it was a dagger being plunged into his gut. Every line of bullshit that monster said was a reminder of all that these aliens had taken from him. He shouted and shoved his way through the crowd of sheep. That's all most of these people were, it turned out. Sheep-people. Sheeple. Just willing to believe any lie they were told. He could see it in most of their eyes. They were ready to be led to the slaughter.

He reached the front row and stood there in plain sight of all the soldiers, daring them to do something to him. He whipped out his pistol but held it loose at his side. The bigger threat was what he had strapped to his chest. He'd kept the bomb hidden under a light jacket, so the drones wouldn't spot it. But the time for staying out on the sidelines was over. He needed to act now, before the lizard had everyone eating out of his hand.

“Yeah, it's a bomb,” Eric told the soldiers aiming weapons at him, tapping the device strapped to his chest. “Shoot me. Go ahead. I dare you.”

He heard gasps from the crowd behind him. People took several steps back. Some took a lot more than that. He heard the sound of pounding feet as a few people dashed away, but the mass of human beings was just too densely packed. It would take a good minute for word of the bomb to even reach the back of this mob.

The woman who'd allowed her child to talk to the alien backed away from him, too. But she backed up toward the soldiers. The lizard took a single step that placed him partway between Eric and the little girl he'd been chatting up.

That girl looked an awful lot like his own Lisa, a thought which caused Eric a pang of guilt. He was frightening her, even putting her in danger. That wasn’t something he’d wanted to do. But then, Lisa was gone, wasn’t she? KIlled by the Naga. Eric snarled at the memory of his daughter and why she was lost to him. There could be no mercy for these creatures. He had to strike a blow against them. Fight back. If it cost his life, what was wrong with that? He'd be with his family, and at least he'd have done something to avenge them.

“Yo, Jim,” Eric called over his shoulder. “You with me?”

The big man who'd given him a light earlier was right there at the front of the crowd. He shook his head, eyes wide. “No way. You crazy, man.”

Damn it. Weak-minded shitheads, all of them. Eric called out to the woman he'd met earlier. “Jill?”

If she was close enough to hear, she didn't reply.

“Paul? Graham?” Eric rattled off the names of others he'd spoken with during his long wait. All of these people had agreed to help him kill lizards, damn it! They'd gone through the crowd, spreading the word and pumping up the mob's anger. They'd lit the spark for him, gotten all of these people riled up to the point of open fighting. But now that the time had come for real action, where were they?

Anyplace else, that was where. He was alone again. No one was going to have his back on this. Eric's head sagged as the realization that no help was coming sunk in. He'd figured that with the bomb and a few armed protesters, maybe they could make some demands. At least get his people out. Ideally, kill the damned alien too. Although it seemed like they were hard to kill... Unless he was way off, that looked like the same one he'd shot the night before. It was hard to tell; they all looked like talking dinosaurs to him.

There was a general standing near the alien. Eric couldn’t count the stars on his shoulders from where he stood, but there were more than two. Someone high up, then. The general took a step forward and spoke. “Son, I think you’re all alone out there on that limb. Time to climb down.”

“That’s fine by me. If I’m the last real patriot standing here, then I’ll stand alone,” Eric snarled. “I want my friends released right now!”

The general shook his head. “Not going to happen. They tried to break into a military base while armed. Some of them shot or damned near blew up a few of my people. They’re going to be seeing the inside of a cell for quite a while, I think.”

The words were unspoken, but Eric knew that was what the man had in mind for him, too. He wasn’t going to let that happen, though. If it came down to it, he’d just run straight at the Naga and blow his bomb. Surely that would do the trick, even if a bullet hadn’t been enough!

He scanned the soldiers facing him. One on his right moved a little closer, so Eric raised the hand that held his detonator where everyone could see it. The crowd behind him continued pushing back as quickly as they could, but they were all still well within the blast radius. The bomb he’d rigged used up everything Larissa had left. One really big boom with a few thousand small ball bearings firing off in every direction at once.

The general waved his man back. The soldier complied, so Eric lowered his hand again. “Smart move. We don’t want anyone getting hurt, right? So let’s just get my friends out of whatever hole you shoved them in and then we’ll talk.”

The general nodded to a guy wearing captain’s rank who stood next to him. The captain took a few steps back and got on his radio. Eric couldn’t make out everything he was saying, but he caught the words ‘prisoners’ and ‘bring them’. It was working! He knew it. They couldn’t risk losing their precious alien visitor.

That was reinforced when the general put a hand on the Naga’s shoulder. “Time to go.”

Eric shook his head. “No way. The lizard moves before my friends arrive, I blow the bomb.”

The general removed his hand and shot Eric a glare that would have struck him dead on the spot, if looks could kill. Oh, he was mad! Good. He wasn’t losing the chance to take out the lizard. Not for anything.

Movement behind the general caught Eric’s eye. It was the kid, from last night! McInness, his name had been. The kid slipped past the general and took a step toward Eric, who raised the detonator again in response.

“I’m not kidding!” Eric said. “I’ll blow us all up!”

McInness raise his hands, palms facing toward Eric. “I know you’re serious. I never doubted your resolve, not for a moment. But I have to show you something important.”

Twenty-Seven

Walking toward a bomb-wearing maniac was really low on Owen’s list of preferred activities. In fact, he couldn’t think of many things he’d like to be doing less. Walking down into a Bug nest in his skivvies came to mind, but he was drawing a blank on much else. Each step forward required a massive effort to look calm and collected while his knees told him all they wanted to do was knock into each other.

The thought about the Bugs gave him an idea, though. Eric was an awful lot like him. Like he had been, anyway. The man had lost family to the Naga attack, same as Owen. Just like him, Eric had used that fury to drive him onward. Owen had funneled his rage into achieving a slot in the Air Force Academy. If he hadn’t let the anger slip out one too many times, he might still be there. But he had, and in retrospect that was the best mistake he’d ever made.

If it hadn’t been kicked out of the Academy, he'd still be just like Eric: so full of anger that it was consuming his entire life. It wasn't that Eric had nothing to be furious over. Owen knew all too well what it was like to lose your entire family to a Naga attack. No, his anger and grief were justified. But they were eating him up from the inside out. Owen saw in the man a reflection of everything that he might have become, had Hereford and Garul not changed the course of his life.

“Eric. You know my background,” Owen told the man. “You researched me, remember?”

“Yeah, and it turned out to all be bullshit. You were lying the whole time!”

Owen shook his head. “I wasn't. Every word I told you about my family was the truth.”

“And you turned on us anyway?” Eric spat. “Your family must be rolling over in their graves, then.”

The thought made Owen wince for a moment. His resolve cracked, just the smallest bit. Was making peace with the Naga a betrayal of his family? Then his dad's voice came back to him. There was a day they were out at a corner market. The guy behind the cash register was someone from the Middle East, or thereabouts. Owen never did find out exactly. The customer ahead of them in line had called the man a 'rag-head'.

Owen's dad slipped forward, grabbed the man in an arm- bar, and rough-walked him out of the store. Owen remained behind while his dad proceeded to dress down the man he'd just hauled off like a sack of potatoes. When his father returned to the store, the clerk tried to thank him by giving his order to him for free, but Colonel McInness wouldn't hear of it. He paid for his stuff and left. On the way home, he explained to Owen why he’d done what he'd done. He'd recognized the man as an Airman from his base, so he'd used the moment to give him a little attitude adjustment.

“My father would never have judged everyone in a group by the actions of a few,” Owen replied. His dad was adamant about that. “He would have been among the first people to stand in your way. He would be proud that I am here to do it in his place.”

“Then he was a damned coward,” Eric said. “Just like his son.”

Owen smiled. “You know, a year ago I probably would have just come at you swinging after a remark like that. But not now, not anymore. I've learned a lot since then. It takes real courage to change yourself.”

“More useless words. You gonna bring my friends out here, or what?”

Owen glanced over his shoulder toward Hereford. The general nodded. That surprised him a bit. He'd figured that sending Captain Jenkins to use his radio had been a misdirection designed to keep Eric talking. But if he was considering handing them over, it changed things a bit. Owen was pretty sure Eric wasn't going to be able to just leave without firing a shot. He had too much hate pent up inside him. Enough that he was willing to kill himself if he could only hurt a Naga in the process. He might even be longing for death...

“You want to see what it takes real courage to face?” Owen asked Eric.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the real threat. The big enemy. You heard Garul talking about how humans helped save his world, right?” Owen glanced over the man's head. The crowd was still close enough to hear his words. Some even paused in backing away. “But you never wondered what that threat was?”

The wide-eyed look Eric gave him told Owen everything he needed to know. No, the man had never considered Garul's words, not even a little. To him, every Naga was a hated enemy. Why would he bother listening to them at all? But maybe he could be reached. If he saw that there was an even graver threat looming, maybe he could be convinced to set aside his hatred. It was worth a shot.

“What the hell are you talking about, kid?” Eric growled at him.

“Let me show you,” Owen said. He turned to Garul. “Your armor has 3D projection, right?”

“Of course,” Garul rumbled.

“Can you bring up a picture from the battle we just fought? So our friend here can see what we're actually up against?” Owen asked.

“I can, but...” Garul looked at the news crews gathered around, filming every second of this interaction. Then he glanced at Hereford.

Owen understood right away what the problem was. Of course, the existence of the damned Bugs hadn't been announced to the world at large. He'd seen some leaked information on various media sites, but the real truth? The full extent of the threat? No way. It hadn't been put out there. Classified, most likely. The powers-that-be had decided humanity was too damned fragile to handle the truth. Well, the hell with that. He turned to face Hereford.

“General, it's time they knew the truth.”

Hereford froze, his lips a disapproving line. He glanced over at the TV crews still filming the whole mess. They were live, watching everything going on and broadcasting it to who knew how many people. He could get in a hell of a lot of trouble if he allowed Owen to say what he wanted to. But on the flip side, Owen figured that Garul had already spilled the beans. As soon as he'd revealed that the Naga homeworld had almost been destroyed, but was saved in part by human ships, this cat was out of the bag. Reporters would dig for the story until they got the information they wanted.

“They're going to find out anyway, sir,” Owen said. “Best to get ahead of it.”

Hereford nodded.

Owen shifted his stare back to Garul, who sighed and raised an arm.

That caused Eric to raise his pistol again, which got every soldier in the area bristling their weapons in his general direction. Owen stepped between Eric and Garul, crying “Stop!”

Both sides froze.

Owen faced Eric. “He's not using a weapon. He's showing you something. Just watch, damn it! What have you got to lose?”

“This whole charade is bullshit, but I'll play your game, kid,” Eric said. “What's so damned important that you want to play show and tell?”

“This,” Garul said. He tapped a control on his wrist and the device there projected an image into the air above Owen's head.

It was a view from Garul's suit camera during the pitched battle to save his ship from the Kkiktchikut. There was Owen in his Armor, blazing away at the Bugs as they swarmed in, claws flashing and plasma flying. Owen winced at the memory as razor sharp claws raked the side of his Armor. He'd almost been sliced in half in that moment and not even known it!

The Bugs were huge, terrifying, powerful creatures. Owen watched the video replica of himself dispatch one of the things. Then another rushed his Armor in the projection. Garul froze the shot at the precise moment when the Bug warrior was in full view, guns blazing and claws extended. Owen had to admit, it was a damned good shot.

“What... What kind of bullshit is this?” Eric whispered.

“That's the real enemy,” Owen said, pointing. “The Naga call them Kkiktchikut, but we've taken to just calling them 'Bugs'. They once enslaved the Naga, who rebelled and beat them. But now they're back with stronger technology than we or the Naga possess, and they seem to have one goal: to wipe out every other spacefaring race.”

“You're making up some space opera bullshit,” Eric protested.

“I'm not.” Owen placed his hands on his hips. “I used to hate the Naga every bit as much as you do, for exactly the same reason. I got over myself. I learned that Naga can be good or bad, just like human beings. And I fought against the real enemy. That was me you were seeing, tucked inside that Armor.”

Owen shook his head, sadness overtaking him at the thought of all the time he'd wasted in hate. But at least he'd pulled out of it before it ate him alive. He had to find a way to do the same for Eric, too. He needed this. It was a deeper feeling than he'd been aware, at first. He wanted to help this man the way he'd been helped.

“Put down the gun, Eric. We've got much bigger problems than the Naga ever were. Together, maybe we have a chance at surviving this mess, but alone?” Owen said. “Alone, we're ashes.”

Owen watched the emotions warring in Eric's eyes, unsure which way the man's internal battle would swing.

Twenty-Eight

Hereford watched the interaction between McInness and the bomber with a mixture of dread and pride. He saw what McInness was trying to do plain as day. The kid was trying to save the man, to bring him around and get him to give up his anger and hate. As much as that tied in well to the season and all that, Hereford was too pragmatic to give him high odds of succeeding.

When Owen stepped in closer to Eric, Hereford held his breath, hoping, even praying that he was wrong. Because where he was standing now, if that bomb went off, McInness was a dead man. There was no way he'd survive a blast in that proximity. He'd be torn to shreds. Hereford wasn't so sure about Garul. That Naga battle armor was tough stuff. If he got has head shield up in time, it might be enough to save him. But McInness wasn't even wearing a damned vest.

He took a step toward the scene, hoping to lure McInness back out of the most dangerous zone. A strong hand on his elbow stopped him in his tracks. Hereford whirled, furious at being balked, and found himself nose to nose with Captain Jenkins.

“Sir, you shouldn't even be out here,” Jenkins hissed between gritted teeth. “I'll be damned if I let you get any closer.”

Hereford shook Jenkins' hand from his arm, but he knew his officer was correct. He'd already done more to risk his own neck in the past twenty-four hours than was wise. No sense compounding that by doing something even more foolhardy. “All right. What's the status on that asshole's friends?”

“On their way here, cuffed and under guard.”

“Good,” Hereford said. The man might be willing to toss his own life away in an attempt to hurt a Naga, but would he be as willing when his friends were present? Hereford was betting he would not.

He called out to the bomber. “Your friends are on their way. No need for violence here. As you've seen, there's more to this than you knew.”

“All I saw was some fancy alien special effects. All I heard was more lies from someone I already know lied to me,” Eric snapped back. “Fool me once, shame on you, right? But fool me twice...”

“It's not a lie, damn it!” Owen said.

“Says the liar,” Eric told him. “Maybe my friends are coming. Maybe they're not. But maybe, just maybe, I should take the chance I've got to blow you and your pet alien to hell. What do you think of that?”

Hereford watched the bomber's face intently. That small twitch near his eyes, the way his mouth ground together like he was gearing up to do something... He was going to do it. He was going to blow the bomb. It didn't matter that his friends were on their way to the gate. They weren't there yet, and that was what counted. The man's hatred was goading him on. All McInness had done was show him some pretty pictures — the man had already decided they were all lies. He probably thought it was a lie that his people were being brought out of their cells, too.

The asshole was going to blow all of them to kingdom come, and the hell with the consequences! There had to be something he could do to stop Benson, some way to make a connection. McInness hadn't managed it, though, even with everything he'd done. What could Hereford say that could get through to the man? He had seconds left to come up with something. Then he saw it.

“Benson!” Hereford called out. “Don't do this! Look — there's a little girl right there!”

He pointed at the child who'd spoken to Garul earlier. She was still there, hiding just behind the Naga. Irony, that. The girl was using the big alien as a shield against the thing she was most afraid of: another human. A child could tell that Garul was safer to be near than Benson. But the man couldn't see that. He was blinded.

And it was too late. Benson was already raising his hand, lifting the finger that held the trigger. His thumb was just over the button that would blast them all to hell. But Owen was moving too. Hereford saw his arm raise in a flickering motion. The kid had figured out that he'd failed to turn Benson around. His right hand shot up and pointed directly at the bomb. As time seemed to slow down around him, Hereford wondered what McInness thought he was doing. Then he saw the bolt of blue light flash from his upraised hand, and knew. He'd palmed the Naga pistol before approaching Benson. That whole time he was trying to talk the man down, he'd been ready to shoot him if his words didn't work.

The blast from the Naga weapon struck Benson in the middle of his chest, blowing him to the ground. He landed on his back with a thud. His fingers still clasped the detonator within them. It hadn't gone off yet, but—

Someone tackled Hereford, tossing his body hard against the general's side. He fell to the ground, head cracking against pavement. Stars dotted his vision and he tasted blood in his mouth, but he felt more or less all right. It was Jenkins. The captain tackled him, knocking him down behind a concrete barrier.

Hereford couldn't see what happened next, but he felt the concussive wave as the explosion went off. The force of the blast lifted him a little bit from the ground before smashing him back down into the road again. He'd instinctively closed his eyes when the blast hit, but he opened them again, shoving Jenkins off him and trying to get back to his feet. He felt unsteady, wobbly. But that was the damage to his balance caused by shock to his eardrums. Hereford had been around enough big bangs to know that it would fade in a while.

Jenkins helped him rise. Dust and smoke filled the air where the bomber had been. Some of his soldiers had taken cover and were slowly getting back to their feet. Others were down, bleeding. It looked like the nearest members of the crowd had been hit as well. Hereford couldn't see much else yet. The wind was light and would take a little time to clear the smoke away. He turned to face Jenkins and grabbed him by the color, pulling him close. “Medics! Get medics!”

He shouted the words as loud as he could, mouthing them widely as well to make sure Jenkins understood. The captain's hearing had to be as badly shot as his, but somehow he must have gotten the message. He staggered over to the gatehouse and picked up the phone inside.

Help would be here soon, but would it be in time for the people who mattered most to Hereford? Was there any hope at all? He saw a glint of sunlight reflecting off something in the middle of the blast area. That had to be Garul's armor. Hereford weaved his way through the debris toward his friend's side.

Twenty-Nine

Garul saw Benson's hand tighten on the detonator and tapped his gauntlet, activating the head covering. Even that might not be enough to stop a blast this large. He wasn't sure what the bombs were loaded with, but Benson had whatever it was facing directly toward Owen and Garul. Owen was just two steps away, so close but still impossibly far. He knew he'd never make it across that distance before the explosion took McInness down.

But the young man proved his mettle as a warrior once again. Quick as lightning, his hand shot up, pistol aimed center of mass on Benson's chest. The blast knocked the bomber over backward, but it wasn't going to stop the explosion, only redirect it.

“Owen, down!” Garul shouted. Even as he called out he was already whirling his body away from Benson to present the sturdy back plates toward the explosion.

But what he saw as he turned almost froze him in place.

The little girl was still standing there. She'd been right behind his leg the whole time. Her mother was there as well. Garul couldn't just let them die! He reached out with his left hand as he turned, shoving the woman backward into the dirt. Then he finished his pivot, scooping up the child into his arms. She squealed as he wrapped her tight within his armored body. Garul dropped to the pavement and tucked himself around her, shielding her as best he could with his body.

The explosion was a powerful roar even through his buttoned-up armor. Garul waited, holding himself completely still until he was certain there was no more debris coming down around him. He had to be sure. Any debris still dropping after the initial blast wouldn't hurt him, not through the armor. But it could still damage the tiny package he'd wrapped himself around.

He took a moment to check the HUD inside his helmet. The armor had taken a beating, but it was solid Naga construction. Even the seals held against the pressure wave of the blast. He was uninjured. But what about the child? She'd stopped moving!

Garul uncurled himself from her and gently laid her still form on the ground. Blood trickled from her ears. He wasn't sure if that was normal for a human after an explosion like this or not. Too damned much he didn't know about human anatomy! Still, she was breathing. That was something. Garul unclipped the medical device from his belt and checked it over. It lit up when activated and still seemed to be in working order, if a bit scuffed up. Would it work on a human? He hadn't had time to test the modified unit yet.

Hoping that the tweaks made to its design would enable it to heal the girl without pain, he held the unit over her body. It scanned her, seeking injuries, and lit yellow over her abdomen and head. Garul shifted the device to her head first and laid it against the front of her skull. It flashed green several times, informing him it was working on the problem.

These medical devices weren't difficult to use. They'd been designed with front-line grunts like himself in mind, after all! Just place the medical scanner over the injured person. It would identify injuries, after which he had to press the unit near the injury. It would then release medical nanites into the target, which would begin the repair process. It wasn't much different from the medical nanites Dan Wynn told him humans had. Just several generations of technology superior.

The light stopped flashing. Garul moved the device to her abdomen and set the nanite dispenser there to begin its work. As he did, he looked around at the carnage wrought by the explosion. There wasn't much left of the human bomber. Near as Garul could tell, the blast had shredded his body. Owen lay on the ground nearby. Had he managed to drop to the ground, out of the way of the worst of the blast? Or had he been caught?

He'd treated the girl. It was time to check on his friend. Garul carried his medical scanner over to Owen. The young man lay on his chest, making it difficult to determine if he was still breathing or not. The Naga dared not move him; if he'd suffered serious injuries and was somehow still alive, rolling him over might be enough to kill him. Instead he ran the scanner over Owen's body. It lit up yellow and red from head to waist.

Damn. He was alive, but badly hurt. As Garul finished his scan, he noted some of the spots he'd originally seen as yellow flash red, signifying increasing severity. His head was only yellow, but his chest and abdomen were both red, so Garul started there, laying the medical device in one place and then another. Then he waited, hoping his young friend would have the strength to pull through. There was little else he could do.

“Is he alive?”

Garul looked up and saw Hereford standing there, shouting down at him. He shut down his helmet and it slid back into the rest of the armor. “Yes.”

Hereford tapped his ear. “Can't hear.”

Of course, the explosion had dulled the human's hearing. Garul pointed to Owen and then nodded. He pointed at the medical device. Hereford seemed to get the idea. The general knelt down opposite Garul beside Owen's body. Garul smiled, ducking his head a bit to conceal it from the man. Hereford might pretend to be aloof and without feeling sometimes, but he cared deeply for his people. It was one of the things Garul admired most about the man.

Garul ran the device over Owen again, checking his status. Already most of the red regions had returned to amber. It would take the nanites more time to fully restore him, but it seemed likely he would live. There wasn't much more he could do for Owen at the moment, so Garul looked up from his patient to examine the rest of the damage done.

It was extensive. The bomb had been every bit as effective as he'd worried. Some sort of shrapnel had been built into the thing. Fortunately most of the blast seemed to have been directed forward from the suicide vest Benson had worn. When Owen knocked him onto his back it had sent the worst of the blast skyward. That explained both the little pellets of debris Garul had felt raining down after the explosion and why he and Owen had both survived. He glanced down at Owen's still form again appreciatively. His quick thinking had saved them.

“How are your people?” Garul asked Hereford, making his voice loud enough to hopefully be heard.

“Mixed. But medics are on their way,” Hereford said. He was already picking his way toward one of his downed soldiers, calling out to medical staff who were just arriving on the scene.

It wasn't just soldiers injured. As much as the crowd had attempted to back away, they'd been too packed in together to get very far. Hundreds of people were down. Most were conscious, though, and it appeared their wounds were minor. Some of those who'd been unfortunate enough to be closest to the blast were worse off, though. Hereford's medical teams rushed to treat them, too.

Then Garul heard a choked cry from nearby. The girl - she was awake! The joy he felt that he'd been able to save her vanished in an instant when he saw what she was doing, though. The child was huddled on the ground next to her mother, who lay face up. Blood streamed from the woman's nose and ears. He'd knocked her over before the bomb went off, but she'd still been almost as exposed as Owen. Garul went to kneel beside the girl at her mother's side.

“Can you help her? Mom won't wake up!” The small human stared up at Garul, eyes wide, voice plaintive.

“I will do all I can,” Garul said.

He checked his medical device. It still had some charge. Once the active nanite tank was empty, it would require time to replicate new ones before being usable again, but he still had a little left in the unit. And there were more medical units on the ship! Garul cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. He radioed his battle cruiser in orbit. “I need a shuttle dropped on my location with a medical team. Yes, now! Bring every healing unit we have that’s set for human use.!”

There were precious few Naga left aboard his ship, and pulling a team would halve the forces remaining aboard to keep the cruiser operational. But it might mean the difference between life and death for some of these people to get Naga medical attention quickly. He didn’t have enough nanites left to heal everyone injured, but maybe there were enough left in his kit to save this child’s mother...

Garul laid the device on top of the woman’s still form and went to work.

Thirty

Hereford guided his medical teams in toward the blast victims. They didn’t require much direction. These folks were among the best combat medics the general could put his hands on, coming from every other branch of the military to fill out the USSF. They rushed in, immediately moving into triage mode and categorizing patients by severity of injury, then working to keep as many alive as possible.

He made himself busy trying to help as best he could, but Hereford’s idea of battlefield medicine was slapping a bandage on a wound and tying it off tight. He felt more in the way than useful in a scenario like this

What a nightmare! He rand his fingers through what was left of his hair. More medical teams were on their way from nearby civilian stations and the local hospitals were all getting ready for incoming patients. They had a lot of wounded on the scene. Most of the crowd had backed away enough to avoid serious injury, but there were scores of minor wounds. Not to mention a good many more seriously injured, including a couple of his soldiers.

Hereford stalked over to where Garul was still tending to a downed woman. It wasn’t a person from the base. Just another protester who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The device was flashing red and amber lights as Garul moved it over her body. Hereford wasn’t sure just what those meant, but if he was reading the Naga’s expression right, it wasn’t a good sign.

“Is she...?” Hereford began to ask. Before he could finish his question, a deafening roar drowned out his words. The Naga shuttle came in at combat-drop speed, falling as quickly as the atmosphere would allow and then firing all its engines at the last moment to keep it from splattering all over the ground. Hereford shook himself to clear his head as the shuttle set down a short distance away. He hurried over to greet the new arrivals.

The ramp slid down and four Naga rushed out. They saw Hereford and recognized him, nodding as they dashed past toward Garul. Each of them carried a heavy backpack. When they reached Garul, he stood and began gesturing at them, speaking in a language Hereford couldn’t begin to understand. Damn it, Garul had picked up English in no time flat. Maybe it was time for an old dog to learn new tricks; if the Naga could learn English, surely Hereford could pick up at least a little basic Naga?

Time for that later. Garul gave them all their marching orders and the Naga spread out, moving among the crowd of injured humans. They opened the packs and pulled out medical equipment.

“Sir, what do we do about the Naga?” Captain Jenkins asked.

“Do about them? Hereford asked, incredulous. “They’re here to help!”

“Yes sir, I know. But a great many of the people in that crowd aren’t so sure. I’m worried they may begin to panic, seeing so many aliens in one place.”

Hereford glanced toward what remained of the protesters and saw Jenkins was correct. One old woman slapped away the claw of a Naga who was trying to get a healing device into place on her broken leg. She looked terrified, and she wasn’t alone. As the aliens got close more people reacted with fear and anger. This was going to escalate quickly again if he didn’t get in there to stop it.

“Noted. Thank you, Captain. Keep our medics organized. I’ve got this,” Hereford said.

He took several quick steps into the mess. There was one way he knew to stop everyone cold in their tracks. Hereford cupped both his hands over his mouth and then shouted as loud as he could. “That is ENOUGH!”

Everyone stopped moving. The humans froze in place, hearing the authority in the general’s voice. The Naga paused as well, looking curiously at him. Well, he had all their attention. Time to use it.

“You people still don’t get it, do you? Even after everything you’ve just seen?” Hereford’s voice dripped scorn. “That video you saw was real. Those Bugs are real. They’re an actual threat. But you see a couple of unarmed Naga come in with medical gear, and you’re shying away from them?”

He shook his head. “I have half a mind to send them back to their ship in orbit. They’re down here risking themselves to save humans from a bomb set off by another human. Saving us from our damned selves! The irony burns.”

“Let them help you. Or not. I really don’t care. But if a single one of you raises one hand against even one of our guests while they are out there trying to patch you all up, I will fucking deal with you myself. Do I make myself clear?” Hereford made his last question a booming roar.

Hey, years of practice yelling at people was good for something after all. Hereford hid a grin. The crowd looked suitably chagrined. The woman with the broken leg allowed the Naga trying to tend to her to use his medical gear. Most of the other protesters looked sheepish. Yeah, these same beings they were just yelling about were out there patching them up. It would serve them right if the Naga said the hell with them and left, but that wasn’t the way these aliens played ball.

Garul’s words still rang in his ears. The old warlord saw humans coming to Naga aid as a sort of life-debt. Dan and Beth Wynn had risked their lives, their crews, and their ships to save an alien race that Earth was functionally at war with. Another commander might have just pulled back and let the two enemy forces wipe each other out. But not Dan. No, Hereford had read the logs of the Independence himself. He’d rushed right in, recognizing the Kkiktchikut as a threat to both Naga and Humans.

Hereford shuddered to think what might have happened if a lesser person had been in command of that mission.

The situation felt a little more under control again, now that he’d worn his voice hoarse yelling at everyone. Hereford returned to Jenkins and asked for a report.

“Miraculously, it looks like the only fatality was Benson,” Jenkins said. “We have three security soldiers injured, but they’ll be fine. A dozen civilians were critically wounded, but with the Naga healing devices I gather all of them are going to pull through. Most of the other injuries were pretty superficial. If McInness hadn’t stunned Benson when he did...”

“It would have been a very different outcome, I know,” Hereford replied. The kid had done well. That blast he’d fired dropped Benson on his back, directing most of the blast up into the air instead of directly at Garul, Hereford, and the other soldiers. “Speaking of McInness, how’s our boy doing?”

“Still unconscious, sir.”

Hereford walked over to where Owen lay. Garul had bundled some cloth and placed it under his head. Eyes closed, bruises dotting his face, Owen looked half dead as he lay there. But Hereford knew Garul would never have left the young man to treat other people if he wasn’t already on the road to recovery. He knelt beside McInness and rubbed the kid’s shoulder.

“You’re going to be all right. And then we’re going to have a little chat about revealing classified information to the press,” Hereford grumbled.

Not that he minded much. Oh, he was sure to get some flak for it from others in the government. But McInness had been right. It was time to begin letting humanity know precisely what it was up against. The threat was too big, the stakes too high, for the general population to be left in the dark any longer. Now they would understand why the USSF had invited Naga delegates to Earth, why the two former enemies were working together. That news broadcast was already replaying over and over on every network, he was sure. There’d be a little hell to pay for letting this cat out of the bag, but it was the right thing to do.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. I would never break security protocols without permission,” Owen’s voice was thin and tired, but the small grin he wore showed he hadn’t entirely burned through all his spunk yet.

“Aha! Awake at last!” Hereford poked him in the chest. Owen winced. “Hey Garul, your patient is still alive and kicking.”

Garul came over and smiled down at them both. “That is the point, no?”

Hereford rolled his eyes. “Kid, the last bit the news carried was probably you at ground zero for a bomb going off. You got anyone you want me to call to let them know you’re alive?”

Owen’s eyes grew sad. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. He had lost his most direct family, casualties to a war which never should have happened in the first place. But then the kid’s face cleared and he shook his head.

“No sir,” Owen said. “The family that matters to me most is all right here.”

Thirty-One

“Sir, Base One called. They said they need you there ASAP,” Jenkins said.

Hereford glanced over at him. Like he didn't already have enough going on? “Tell them they can wait a damned minute. I can’t imagine anything they need being more important than the mess out here.”

Jenkins was pale, though. He looked...frightened. Hereford had never seen that look on him before. He froze in place, then drawled. “What is the nature of their emergency?”

“Long range radar picked up a wormhole arrival, sir,” Jenkins said.

For a moment Hereford thought that might be good news. “The Satori?”

“No sir. Something else.”

Well, shit. That explained the fear in the man’s eyes. Far as they knew, only one species out there had wormhole tech. The human ships with the devices were all stolen or salvaged from that race: the Kkiktchikut. They’d finally arrived in Earth’s system.

“I’m on my way,” Hereford told him. “Take charge here, Jenkins. Keep the peace. Get our people back to the base hospital and the civilians loaded into ambulances when they arrive.”

Hereford rose from Owen’s side to return to the car he’d arrived in. That would be the fastest way back. His mind raced with ideas for setting up a defense, but they were incredibly short handed, what with the Satori and Independence both gone. They had damned few ships left to stop an invading force.

Owen snagged his hand as he was rising. “Give me a hand up, sir?”

“Should you be moving at all?” Hereford asked.

“No, he should not,” Garul answered.

Owen shrugged and pulled himself up to a sitting position with a groan. “I’m getting up with or without your help, but it would hurt a lot less with it.”

Hereford sighed and pulled the young man to his feet. “You are an insubordinate prick sometimes, McInness.”

“So I’ve been told, sir.”

“At least you’re not my problem anymore. You’re his,” Hereford said, jerking his thumb in Garul’s direction. “I’m taking your haklek for a ride back to Base One. Meet us there as soon as you can. I think we’re about to be up to our ears in crap.”

Garul stood and went to Hereford’s side, helping McInness walk to the car. “My people can take care of the remaining wounded. I will come with you so we can face whatever threat this is together.”

A short ride in the armored car later and they'd retraced their steps to the base’s central building. Guards snapped to attention and allowed them to pass rapidly to an elevator set in the structure’s armored core. None of them spoke during the short voyage. As terrible as the past hour had been, as sore and tired as all three of them were, the news they'd received was even more dire.

Elevator doors snapped open, revealing the heart of Base One’s operations area: a massive control room. A huge screen dominated the wall opposite the elevator. Hereford strode forward, taking in the images playing across the monitor. It was every bit as bad as he’d feared.

“Situation report!” Hereford barked.

“Sir! You’re back!” Lieutenant Sanders practically whirled from his seat and stood. “Thank god.”

“What’ve we got?” Hereford asked again, still taking in what information he could from the scene.

It wasn’t good. He knew the ship class they’d spotted. It was a Kkiktchikut ship, of course. It couldn't have been anything else, given that it had jumped into Sol space via a wormhole. But he’d been holding out hope that perhaps it was a scout vessel, that maybe their enemy was merely checking out Earth’s meager defenses. That would have been dire enough.

No, this was much worse.

“It’s a planet-killer, sir. One of their big ships,” Sanders said. “Jumped in about eight light hours distant. We’re just getting the readings now, so everything you’re seeing is eight hours old.”

“Why so far away?” Hereford rubbed his chin. “What are they up to?”

Sanders shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. They’ve been accelerating toward us ever since arriving. Speed is climbing fast, too. They’re moving fast.”

Garul came to stand beside Hereford. “I believe I know what they have in mind.”

The image on the screen was grainy, the details difficult to make out because of the vast distance. But to Hereford it looked like it was splintering, little fragments breaking away from the main vessel. Smaller ships departing from the planet-killer?

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Garul. What are we seeing?” Hereford asked.

“I cannot say for certain,” Garul said slowly. “I’m relying on stories here. Legends, really, passed down by the Naga through the generations since we broke free from the Kkiktchikut. But we were once a servant race, remember?”

“I do,” Hereford replied. He had a bad feeling he already knew what the Naga was going to tell him, but he held out some hope that perhaps he was wrong. That he’d misjudged what was playing on the screen in front of him.

Garul went on. “They used us as warriors, as a fighting force to wage their wars against other star-faring races. Cannon fodder, I believe you would have called us. Sent in to soften up a foe and soak casualties so the Kkiktchikut didn't have to die.”

The Naga warrior pointed at the screen. “According to those legends, they would do precisely what we are seeing. Drop the Naga off in ships and send them hurtling toward their enemies.”

A bright flash appeared on the screen — another wormhole! More ships arriving? But no, it wasn’t that at all. Instead the massive Kkiktchikut vessel flitted forward into the radiant wormhole and vanished. But while it had left the Sol system, the smaller fragments he’d noticed breaking off from it had remained behind. A small swarm of objects all hurtling toward Earth at incredible speed.

Those wouldn’t be missiles or kinetic strikes. No, such an attack wouldn’t be difficult for Earth to repel, not now that they had several wormhole vessels of their own, captured from the Bugs. Hereford felt it in his bones that Garul had it right. Those were troop carriers.

“Could they still have captive Naga?” Owen asked.

Garul shook his head. “I do not believe so. Supposedly when we beat them back, all captive Naga were freed. But I can’t say for sure. They never attacked us with our own people, but they might not have, if they thought we would turn them to our side.”

“If they know Naga and Human are working together, I doubt they’d use Naga against us for the same reason,” Hereford said. “They wouldn’t use a blade against us if there were even a chance we could turn it back against them. No, I think we’re seeing something new. A new servant race they’ve recruited to help them in their war against us.”

“They’ve begun the same story all over again, with a new species,” Garul breathed.

A new alien race was rocketing toward them on a collision course with Earth. It was a foe they knew nothing about. No concept of what its weaknesses or strengths might be. They would be fighting blind. Which was precisely the reason the damned Bugs had done this, of course.

“How long do we have until they arrive?” Hereford asked.

“Unsure, sir,” Sanders replied. “Depends on how rapidly they’re able to decelerate. They’re moving at a significant fraction of the speed of light right now. We have two days, maybe three if they slow down more rapidly.”

Hereford sighed and closed his eyes. It seemed like almost no time at all had passed since Earth had been under a similar threat from the Naga. He’d helped organize the defense then. It would be entirely up to him to manage Earth’s resistance now. Luckily, he had an ace in the hole he could play. Hereford hoped to keep his secret project under wraps a little longer, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Sanders, radio the USSF Warrior. Tell her to make ready to help us stop those ships,” Hereford ordered.

Sanders balked. “Are you sure, sir? The Warrior is still being fitted out. It won’t be combat ready for weeks yet...”

They didn’t have weeks. Couldn’t Sanders see that? “I gave you an order. Make it happen,” Hereford said.

Owen raised an eyebrow. “The Warrior?”

“What’s left of the big Bug transport ship Colonel Foster captured. We stripped her down, then we built her back up again. We still can’t replicate most of their tech, so we set out to refit the ship with human and Naga technology instead,” Hereford said. “The result: the USSF Warrior, biggest and baddest ship humanity has ever sent into space. Or she will be, when she’s finished. But finished or not, we need that ship now.”

Hereford returned his gaze to the monitor where satellite telescopes continued tracking the incoming objects. Twenty ships out there, all headed to Earth. A massive fleet, by any standards, commanded by an enemy they had yet to meet. It was going to take everything they had to stave off destruction.

But if the Bugs thought Earth was going down without one hell of a fight, they still had a thing or two to learn about humanity!

To be continued in Book 13, “Flames of War”!

Author’s Notes

This book isn’t trying to make a political statement.

Although we certainly have a great many protests going on in the world right now, and enormous amounts of anger splashed all over the headlines, it’s probably worth mentioning that this book is in a made-up world with made-up characters and situations.

But while I didn’t start writing this book intending for it to carry any specific theme, what came up repeatedly during the writing process were my thoughts on anger and hatred. Most specifically the corrosive nature of those emotions.

Anger can be a great thing sometimes. It helps keep us alive, encourages us to fight against injustice, and can make the world a better place, in moderation. But taken to an extreme, all anger does is tear apart lives and make people miserable.

Hate is even worse. I can’t say how many times I’ve seen someone’s life torn apart from the inside out because they couldn’t control their hate. It’s a terrible and tragic thing to see, so that’s how I’ve presented it in this novel.

My heroes and villains in this tale aren’t that much different. All of them have done something wrong out of anger or hatred at one point in their lives. The difference between the ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’ in these tales is that the heroes have learned to recognize the damage hate can do and work to control it. They strive to be better than they were yesterday.

I feel like this represents our real world pretty well. Human beings aren’t perfect. We’re never going to be. But we *can* strive to be better than we were yesterday. It’s through challenging ourselves to do the right thing, to live better lives, and to be better people today than we were yesterday that we can grow and change — both ourselves and the world around us.

I want to thank everyone who’s been continuing to enjoy the Satori books. It’s been a little while since the last release; I’ve been hip deep in working on the Steel Dragon series with Michael Anderle. But the Satori adventures are some of my favorites and I know lots of readers love these tales as much as I do.

What’s ahead for the Satori crew? Well, the next book will be “Flames of War” and is already underway. We will definitely see the series go to at least sixteen books. Might be a few more past that. We’ll have to see. There’s still plenty of universe to explore out there, after all!

Thanks for your ongoing support of these fun adventures. And most of all, thanks for reading!

Kevin McLaughlin

Other Books by Kevin McLaughlin

The Ragnarok Saga (Military SF)

Accord of Fire - Free prequel short story, available only to email list fans!

Book 1 - Accord of Honor

Book 2 - Accord of Mars

Book 3 - Accord of Valor

Book 4 - Ghost Wing

Book 5 - Ghost Squadron

Book 6 - Ghost Fleet (2019)

Valhalla Online Series (A Ragnarok Saga Story)

Book 1 - Valhalla Online

Book 2 - Raiding Jotunheim

Book 3 - Vengeance Over Vanaheim

Book 4 - Hel Hath No Fury

Lost Planet Warriors (Military SF with light romance)

Book 1 - Desperate Times

Book 2 - Desperate Measures

Dire Straits - Free short story for email list fans!

Adventures of the Starship Satori (Space Opera blended with military SF)

Finding Satori - prequel short story, available only to email list fans!

Book 1 - Ad Astra: Book 2 - Stellar Legacy

Book 3 - Deep Waters

Book 4 - No Plan Survives Contact

Book 5 - Liberty

Book 6 - Satori’s Destiny

Book 7 - Ashes of War

Book 8 - Embers of War

Book 9 - Dust and Iron

Blackwell Magic Series (Urban Fantasy)

Book 1 - By Darkness Revealed

Book 2 - Ashes Ascendant

Book 3 - Dead In Winter

Book 4 - Claws That Catch

Book 5 - Darkness Awakes

Book 6 - Spellbinding Entanglements

By A Whisker (short story)

The Raven and the Rose - Free novelette for email list fans!

Dead Brittania Series:

Dead Brittania (short prequel story)

Book 1 - King of the Dead

Book 2 - Queen of Demons

Raven’s Heart Series (Urban Fantasy)

Book 1 - Stolen Light

Book 2 - Webs in the Dark

Book 3 - Shades of Moonlight

Other Titles:

Over the Moon (SF romance)

Midnight Visitors (Steampunk Cat short story)

Demon Ex Machina (Steampunk Cat short story)

The Coffee Break Novelist (help for writers!)

You Must Write (Heinlein’s rules for writers)

Exclusive free story for fans of Kevin McLaughlin’s science fiction! Learn the story of how John found the alien ship on the moon, launching the adventure which spans the stars and saves all of humanity!

https://www.instafreebie.com/free/Uor9d

About the Author

When not practicing hobbies which include sailing, constructing medieval armor, and swinging swords at his friends, Kevin McLaughlin can usually be found in his Boston home. Kevin’s award-winning short fiction is now available in digital form at all major ebook retailers. His urban fantasies “By Darkness Revealed” and “Ashes Ascendant” are available in ebook and print. His latest stories, the “STARSHIP” series and “King of the Dead” serial, are ongoing.

I love hearing from readers!

www.kevinomclaughlin.com

kevins.studio@gmail.com