REV: Revolution

The REV Warriors Series

Book 4

by

T.R. Harris

____

Copyright 2018 by T.R. Harris

All rights reserved, without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanically, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Novels by T.R. Harris

The Human Chronicles Saga

The Fringe World

Alien Assassin

The War of Pawns

The Tactics of Revenge

The Legend of Earth

Cain’s Crusaders

The Apex Predator

A Galaxy to Conquer

The Masters of War

Prelude to War

The Unreachable Stars

When Earth Reigned Supreme

A Clash of Aliens

Battlelines

The Copernicus Deception

Scorched Earth

Alien Games

The Cain Legacy

The Andromeda Mission

Last Species Standing

Invasion Force

Force of Gravity

Mission Critical

The Lost Universe

The Immortal War

Destroyer of Worlds

The Human Chronicles Book Bundles

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REV Warriors Series

REV

REV: Renegades

REV: Rebirth

REV: Revolution

REV: Retribution

Jason King – Agent to the Stars Series

The Enclaves of Sylox

Treasure of the Galactic Lights

The Drone Wars Series

Day of the Drone

In collaboration with George Wier…

The Liberation Series

Captains Malicious

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Contents

REV: Revolution

1. The Vonis Plains, the planet Menkar

2. Aboard the Battle-Carrier Eldorado

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

6. Aboard the Battle-Carrier Eldorado

Chapter 7

8. Aboard the Battle-Carrier Eldorado

Chapter 9

10. Arrival at Borin-Noc (ES-6)

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

19. The planet Enif (ES-8)

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

24. Aboard the Battle-Carrier Valhalla

Chapter 25

26. On the surface of Enif (ES-8)

27. In the Antaere-guarded entry corridor to Enif (ES-8)

28. Aboard the Battle-Carrier Valhalla

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Epilogue

The End

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Novels by T.R. Harris

REV: Revolution

1

The Vonis Plains, the planet Menkar

Designation: ES-4 (Earth-Standard #4)

“Sir, we have a priority request for a REV team in grid sector G-18,” said a non-com as he pressed the headphones tighter to his ear to cancel out the wind-driven noise of the battle outside the tent.

“So late? What is it, another flush and dump?”

Acrid smoke burned the eyes of Colonel Adesh Khatri, carried from the burning city of Doorer only six klicks away. It had become the focus of combat operations since about eleven-hundred hours; however, with darkness approaching, both sides were scaling back for the night. Be they Human or alien, everyone needed rest after sixteen hours of intense fighting, including REVs. Sending out another team this late in the game didn’t make sense.

Besides, most of the requests he’d seen over the past hour or two had been for mop-up operations, using REVs instead of regular troops to flush out small pockets of enemy resistance. That grated on Khatri. His REVs were the most-elite warriors in the Corps, not janitors to be used when the regulars didn’t want to risk another injury here and there. He’d started the operation with one hundred twenty REVs; he was now down to sixty-four active and recovering troops. No other unit in the campaign had lost fifty-percent of their strength. Only Khatri’s. And now he may lose some more, and for what?

“How many troops are involved?” the Marine officer asked.

“There’s about a hundred fifty, pinned down on the northwest side of the town. A crossfire is keeping them from reaching more protected ground for the night. Snipers are picking them off now and then. Resistance seems more intense in the area.”

“Even at this hour?” Khatri grumbled, knowing it would be hard to deny a request with a buck-fifty Marines involved…and being shot at to boot. But still, couldn’t that many Marines do the same job as five REVs?

The colonel knew his primary objective was to help win the battle, not preserve his men. At least that’s what General Diamond would say. In truth, Khatri didn’t have a choice. He would have to send the team.

According to his datapad, most of his active troops were already in the field. There were a few coming in with the Recovery Crews and others in the hospital, but this would make the third Run of the day for some of them. Hell, even supermen had their limits. But the sad truth was that with a little extra RG-9 and a reduced dosage of AC-3, several of the REVs in the hospital could be redeployed. They wouldn’t be in peak condition, but they could still function.

Khatri approached the shimmering holographic image at the other side of the tent. The man had his back to the colonel, with the stereographic cameras picking up the edge of a wall monitor and a desk behind the figure.

“Excuse me, general, but we just got a late-term request down here.”

A continuous comm link was open between the battle-carrier and ground command allowing the holographic image of the thin, nearly-bald REV Operations Commander to be in the room with Khatri. General Jack Diamond turned to his field commander, a wry smile on his face.

“Another one?” he said almost gleefully. “So what’s the problem? Send them.”

“It’s the operators, sir. The cycle rate has been so high that you must be running out of fresh controllers.” Khatri was hoping that would be the answer. It would be the excuse he needed to deny the request and possibly save the lives of some of his men.

“Let me worry about that. If you need to send another squad, I’ll find the operators.”

“But sir…the requisite rest periods—”

“If you haven’t noticed, colonel, we’re in the middle of a battle. There are fourteen thousand troops in the combat theater. You don’t see them rotating back to their barracks once their prescribed battle time has elapsed. My people up here will do what’s necessary, just as yours will.”

Khatri inhaled sharply. He didn’t need to be reminded that a battle was going on, especially not by some sniveling armchair general. Adesh was down here in the shit with his men, while the general was in orbit three hundred miles above the surface, safe and warm in a well-protected battle-carrier. “It’s just that I don’t think the mission is a necessity,” he admitted, venting some of his anger. “Things are winding down for the night. A few more hours of rest and recovery and everyone will be a lot more effective. If they go out now, REVs will die.”

General Jack Diamond shook his head. “We have to keep them cycling through as long as the battle continues, answering every call as it comes up. Only by proving their worth on the battlefield will the REVs play even more important roles in the future.”

“The REVs have proven their worth above and beyond, sir. You can’t ask much more of my men.”

The general’s face turned darker in the greenish glow of the hologram. “We can and we will, Colonel Khatri,” Diamond snapped. “And they’re not your men; they’re mine. Besides, we’re too close to victory now to play it safe, either here on Menkar or elsewhere. And Colonel, Marines die in combat; that’s just a fact of life. And sometimes we—as officers—have to send them out on missions knowing that will be their fate. So grow a pair, Khatri, and get your team ready to go.”

Khatri glared into the glowing eyes of the translucent image. Diamond was an intelligence officer, not a field commander. What would he know about growing a pair? He was more comfortable sneaking around and stabbing people in the back, which was basically what he was doing to Khatri’s REVs. Adesh, on the other hand, preferred his fights straight up and in your face, as did most Marines. But if there was one thing he’d learned throughout his twenty-four years in the Corps, it was how to follow the orders of a superior officer, even if the word superior was a misnomer in this case. He bit his tongue and nodded.

“Yes sir. Just let me know when I can deploy.”

“That’s better. Now get your men juiced up and I’ll do the same up here. Even operators have a little extra boost available if need be. As they say, all is fair in love and war, and the term illegal drug takes on a different meaning in times like these. And if what you say is true, another thirty minutes or so and everyone can get some much-needed rest…until the next call-up. ”

2

Aboard the Battle-Carrier Eldorado

Air Force Sergeant Joanie Hollis entered the huge operator’s bay aboard the battle-carrier Eldorado, blurry-eyed and half-awake. This was the last thing she expected, to be shaken from her sleep after only twenty minutes and ordered back to work. She knew this was against regulations, but she also knew the regs were being written as they went. With this new type of REV operating in the fleet for only the past six months, how could anyone know what worked and what didn’t? Apparently, letting her get through her prescribed rest period wasn’t one of them, at least not today.

She carried a small plastic flask filled with what was ostensibly water, yet with a little extra ingredient added. Although highly-illegal back on Earth, the drug cocktail was regulation—sort of—an accepted concoction of stimulants designed to help operators and techs make it through a game. She grimaced. They would chew her ass if they heard her refer to the control session as a game. But that’s what the teams called it. It seemed a better fit, rather than REV Operational Control Session, or ROCS. Others called it getting your ROCS off, which was frowned upon even more. Joanie would stick with calling it a game.

She slid into her chair while glancing around at the rest of the team as they took up positions. Normally, the operators and techs would have met thirty minutes earlier for a pre-Run briefing, outlining the mission goals and parameters. But these weren’t normal times. The battle for the Vonis Plains had been going on for over twenty-four hours, including the aerial bombardment. REVs were being recycled more than ever, with the control teams in disarray and running on wacky-juice themselves. Although there was a rumor the operation was winding down, it didn’t seem like it from where Joanie sat.

As equally groggy and strung-out techs plopped into nearby seats, Joanie acknowledged each of them. Although there were no set teams among the controllers—just a gathering of people available at the time—she knew them all, having worked in the same bay together for six months. Joanie nodded at the med tech on her right. HM3 Carrie Anderson was a good friend of hers, often playing the role of Joanie’s wingman at the carrier’s main meet and greet R&R venue. She would monitor the REV’s bio readouts during the Run. Behind her was the drone operator, a tactical technician at his strategy computer, the weapons guy, and the field surveyor. Six people to run one REV, plus two supervisors with overall operational authority for the Run. Then there were the Recovery Crews out in the field, the jumpship crew, as well as the medical staff on standby back at the field hospital. That made a total of nearly sixty people to support the five REVs in the squad.

For some reason, the number struck Joanie as funny, reminding her of the familiar chant of the military higher-ups when it came to these new REVs: If they can be controlled, then by god we’re going to control them! It was how the military liked to micromanage every facet of an operation, for good or bad.

Joanie had spent a few months with a traditional REV unit back in the NT-4 days. It was much simpler then. A small medical crew, a recovery team, a handful of operational observers and a few REVs. Then just wind them up and let them go. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am. That wasn’t the case anymore. This was… better?

Joanie snickered at her last thought, overcome by fatigue and irony. She took another long swig from the flask, wondering when in the hell she’d start feeling the effects. She was too tired to even remember all the names of her current team. It didn’t matter. In a few minutes they would all stagger out of the bay and return to their compartments.

Lieutenant Steve Bennett leaned on the console, looking down at Joanie from the other side of her station.

“You’re senior operator on this Run, sergeant,” he said with a pleasant, yet tired smile. They had hooked up a few times and Joanie felt he’d actually developed some feelings for her. Tough luck, buddy, she thought as she smiled up at him. Too many fine pickings aboard the El for me to limit my opportunities.

“I’m on it, LT. Aren’t they pushing it a little? I thought this thing was just about over?”

“It is, but the brass wants to make an impression.”

Joanie wondered if Bennett knew, that to enlisted pukes like her, he was one of the brass? It didn’t matter; he was just trying to impress her by being one-of-the-boys, regardless of his rank. She would let him flirt. It never hurt to have an officer in her pocket…or wherever.

“So what’s the op, lieutenant? We didn’t get a briefing.”

“No time. Spur of the moment request. A group of Marines is pinned down in grid section G-18, caught in a crossfire and unable to move. They need a breakout.” Using his hand controller, Bennett lit up the screens in front of the rest of the controller teams. It showed a video overview of the area. “Approximately a hundred and fifty Marines are along the side of this building and in the alleyway to the west.” The scene changed to show a wider view of this section of the city, with twenty-story buildings and wide roadways. The place was littered with the remnants of the battle; burned out vehicles, crumbled storefronts and even the charred bodies of either combatants or civilians, it was hard to tell which.

The officer highlighted two of the tall buildings flanking the Marines’ position.

“There are two enemy emplacements on the seventeenth and fourteenth floors respectfully. They have a series of tripod-mounted double-bore flash cannon keeping the Marines in place. In addition, there are ground troops to the north, as well as a few drone snipers that pop up now and then and take shots at the Marines. The mission’s objective is to eliminate one of the arms of the crossfire so the Marines can move out and into the area to the northeast. There they’ll find better cover for the night.”

“So we’re clearing the way to their hotel?” Petty Officer Carrie Anderson asked sarcastically.

Bennett glared at the corpsman. “These guys have been at it since before dawn on the planet. They deserve a safe place to rest.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry. It’s just that we’ve all been at it since before dawn, especially the REVs. The ones they’ve assigned to the mission have been hacked to pieces by now and are barely able to move without AC-3. What about them?”

As one of the five hospital corpsmen assigned to the mission, Carrie was aware of the physical condition of the REVs. She would also be the most sensitive to their plight.

“Don’t get too attached, Anderson. You know the rules,” said Lt. Bennett. He looked down the long line of stations, with the other op teams at the ready. “Load-up is in two minutes, with transit time of three. Okay, people, it’s game time.”

Joanie pursed her lips. If the damn lieutenant can call the Run a game, why can’t I?

* * *

Sergeant Joanie Hollis flexed her fingers then placed her right hand on the multi-function control stick on her console. The device wasn’t used to move objects, but to transition between a variety of data inputs she had available, from medical readouts to satellite imagery. It was her job to guide the REV throughout the Run, as well as keep him safe. The myriad of information at her fingertips were her tools of the trade.

A data line appeared on her main screen: Private First Class Marc Roberts, age nineteen, from Laramie, Wyoming. She scanned his vitals and the graphic of his various wounds. Carrie was right; the man was a wreck. He had multiple ballistic gunshot wounds, mostly to his right side, plus a variety of flash weapon burns, well…everywhere. A deep cut sliced across his left cheek and sensors showed he had a severely strained right wrist. His residual AC-3 was sitting at seventeen percent, which was extremely high. Joanie grimaced. That meant the activation dosage would be reduced. He’d be revved up, but he would also feel some pain and not heal as quickly. A full dose would help with that, but it would also reduce his Run time. And that wasn’t done, ever.

Keep it together, Joanie, she thought. He’s just a tool, a weapon. Remember that.

Cameras inside the jumpship showed the five men being helped into the troop bay and placed in half-shell suits of A-18 armor. To the man, they were barely cognizant, looking more like zombies than the most-elite fighting units in the Human military. More techs moved in to secure the front sections of the armor and lock them into place. Then the helmet was placed over the head and secured to the command collar.

Joanie switched to the internal optics of the helmet. The electronic eyes lit up the dim interior of the jumpship just as the med crew left out the back. Then the ramp lifted, leaving only a crew of three in the bay with the REVs.

Joanie tested the four cameras on her REV’s command collar, one front, one back and the two sides. She placed the views on separate screen sections at her station. For the untrained, it would be hard to follow the actions of the REV while scanning four different perspectives. But she was pretty good at her job.

“Weapons check,” she said through a microphone that wrapped around her short blonde hair and ended a half inch from her lips.

Her particular voice code had already been implanted in the REV, making her voice the only one PFC Roberts would hear and respond to. He wasn’t activated yet, so he could still speak…a little.

“Yes, sir,” he mumbled, unable to distinguish Joanie’s gender in his present state of mind.

The angle of the helmet cam changed, taking in the thick, black weapon cradled in his arms. For this op, all the REVs would carry BR-90, 60-cal explosive-round weapons. The primary targets were on the upper floors of skyscrapers. The 60s were like mini-missiles and would do the job at that distance. But they could also be a hazard if fired in close proximity to friendlies—or even the REVs themselves.

“Weapons hot,” said a tech from behind Joanie. “Forty-rounds loaded, four packs attached to the suit.” The report was rote and without emotion. Normally a REV would have a variety of exotic and deadly weapons with him, which made Weps’ juices flow more than a bland BR-90. But this mission was pretty straightforward. Just open a path for the Marines to escape and then exfil to the Twilight Zone, the area where the Recovery Crew would be waiting.

“Lift away,” said Lt. Bennett. “Drop in three minutes. Prepare for activation boost and clock set.”

At thirty seconds out, the rear ramp opened again. Roberts noticed and turned his attention in that direction. It was purely an instinctive reaction. He was too far out of it to really care.

The three jumpship techs moved to the forward section of the compartment and sat in sling seats. Then they covered their ears.

Joanie smiled. The audio would be turned down in the controller bay, but not all the way. It was important to hear at least a little of what was coming.

“Touchdown…activation,” said Lt. Bennett.

Simultaneously, the bio readouts of all five REVs spiked, followed immediately by screeching primal screams of blood-curdling intensity. This was the battle cry of the Running Man Brigade, as the Rev drug was introduced into their bodies, changing the men from Human to REV. Although macho—and frightening—the call was entirely involuntary. The control teams heard the muted cries, using them to verify activation, along with the official start of the mission time clock.

Unlike with NT-4, AC-3 REVs could Run for up to twenty minutes at a time before having to be Twilighted, thanks to the reduced stress placed on the body by the new formula. Joanie found this to be both a benefit and a bane. With NT-4, Run times were up to twelve minutes. Add another eight into the mix and injuries suffered from a Run became proportionally greater. As a result, more REVs were dying. The only saving grace was that they could now be directed to Recovery sites, rather than relying on RCs to follow them into combat zones. However, this did cut down on the operational time for the Runs, with several minutes needed for exfiltration from the fight. But REVs rarely went out their full twenty minutes. If they did, then it was probably because they were in some deep shit and unable to get to a Twilight Zone. At that point, they were already classified as KIA and the mission objectives would change, from offensive to one based more on body count—enemy body count. If they had to go, they’d take as many of the enemy with them as possible….

Joanie commanded her REV to exit the jumpship at optimal speed and then meet up with the Marines huddled near one of the city buildings a kilometer away. A small flock of tiny survey drones lifted off the hull of the jumpship and took up positions above the REVs, detailing incoming enemy fire tearing up the ground around the running REVs. Fortunately, none were hit. Joanie grimaced when she checked their running speed. They were sprinting at about sixty kilometers per hour, only two-thirds the speed of a fresh REV. This had to be a result of their prior injuries. Even jacked up on Rev, the damage was having an effect.

Joanie used the command collar camera to zoom in on the Marines. The men and women were leisurely leaning against the wall, some with open packets of rations in their hands. They’d watched the jumpship land but barely reacted to it. Only those in the direct path of the REVs moved out of the way.

“Identify friendlies, muster with the Marines along the wall. Await further orders. Eliminate need for execute order. Go on my command,” Joanie said into her mic.

Roberts obeyed. Through the helmet cam, glowing green bands lit up the shoulders of the Marines, the invisible-to-the-naked-eye identifiers that changed frequently to deter imposters. He moved up against the wall as the Marines nearby eyed him with suspicion.

It had taken a long time for regular troops in the field to accept the fact that REVs could now operate within their ranks without tragic consequences. For almost twenty years REVs had been an entity unto themselves, with videos circulated throughout the fleet showing the savage, mindless killing machines they had once been. They weren’t like that anymore. They could be controlled. Even still, REVs and standard troops had trouble co-existing.

“Okay, let’s get them moving,” said Lt. Bennett. “It’s almost dark. We want to get the Marines to safer ground as soon as possible. REVs One, Two and Three, cross the street to the east and enter the building there. Four and Five, cover and then move along the west side. Identify targets. Operators, take command.”

Joanie was the senior operator for the op, so her REV was designated R-1. She sent him out, racing from the cover of the building across a wide, eight-lane thoroughfare. Immediately, thick, bright balls of plasma energy began to streak down from the seventeenth floor of the building to the north. They tore up the asphalt of the street while ripping out large chunks of concrete from the sidewalks. All three REVs made it across before crashing shoulders-first through already shattered windows and doorframes and into an alien department store.

Joanie considered the scene to be familiar, yet incongruous, something she’d noticed in all her previous REV Runs within alien cities. Human style retail stores with alien manikins and designer fashions. Who knew?

This dichotomy arose from the fact that all the Colony Worlds in the Grid were Earth-like, and each with Humanoid-like beings sitting atop the planetary food chain. Sure, the species varied some, but in subtle ways. Also, technological levels were not always on an even par, although Menkar was one of the most cosmopolitan of the ES worlds. It had been contacted by the Antaere over four hundred years before, and during that time, the natives had been fully integrated into modern Antaerean society. That was a problem for them now. As most of the other Colony Worlds were turning away from the Antaere and siding with Earth, Menkar remained stubbornly loyal to the yellow-skinned bastards from Antara. As a result, their planet was under siege and their population being killed. The Antaere preferred it that way; letting others catch the bullets for them. But that was changing, as the number of Antaere allies was quickly fading. More Antaere were committed to the battles these days, and with the invasion of Antara approximately six months away—

“What the hell, Sergeant Hollis!”

The sound of her supervisor’s voice shocked Joanie out of her reverie and back to reality. She’d lost concentration for a moment, distracted by her observations of the alien department store.

“Sorry, sir. Momentary brain fart.”

“Keep it together a little longer, sergeant. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

The lieutenant’s reprimand sounded weak and insincere. He was tired, too, and couldn’t blame Joanie. It was how they all felt. Yet this was the greatest fear of an operator—a momentary loss of concentration which could result in the death of a REV, as well as those around him.

The three REVs in the store were crashing through barriers and interior walls moving northward, closer to the building with the gun emplacement. The aliens were still sending in bolt after bolt through the frontage, setting material on fire and creating great waves of hot, destructive concussion. The other two REVs were also dodging incoming, while sending BR-90 rounds at the skyscraper. But there was more enemy fire incoming, most of it ballistic and originating at ground level. The REVs on the street were being hit, the drones showing huge chunks of armor being splintered off bloody bodies.

“R-1, prepare to exit building. Site target during transit across the street. Fire at will.”

Similar commands were given to the other REVs, and a moment later the three men burst from the protection of the retail shop and entered the open area of the street. They ran at nearly forty kilometers per hour, while twisting their bodies and firing up and to the right, toward the seventeenth floor of the building half a click away. In the split second it took to cross the road, it was over.

In an incredible display of eye-and-hand coordination, PFC Roberts placed fourteen rounds through the far distant bank of broken out windows. The other REVs did the same. The explosives in the heads of the rounds weren’t that powerful on their own, but combined, the blast was enough to shatter the entire floor, causing the three above it to abruptly drop, closing up the gap. The building remained upright, yet with a horizontal cloud of grey dust squeezed out from the now sandwiched floor.

But the battle wasn’t over.

Joanie noticed her REV was taking heavy incoming fire from the street to the west. He and the other REVs made it across the boulevard and into the relative cover of another building. With the high-angle fire no longer a threat, they were somewhat protected. But the other two REVs that had been on this side of the street weren’t there to meet them.

Joanie checked the bio readouts. They were dead, having suffered catastrophic injuries from the aliens at ground level. The enemy was using small tanks, firing bolts every bit as powerful as the bore cannon in the skyscraper. The tanks also had ground support troops firing ballistics at the REVs.

One of the tanks rounded the corner and sited its barrel at the three remaining REVs.

“Cover!” Joanie shouted.

Private Roberts managed a couple of REV strides before a powerful explosion on his left sent him flying into the air. He landed hard on the other side of the street, covered in a pile of concrete rubble.

Biosensors blared to Joanie’s right.

“Injuries to his left side torso and leg. Armor compromised,” said Carrie Anderson. “Still mobile. Get him moving, Joanie!”

“He lost his weapon in the blast,” said Weps. “It’s below him, to the right.”

“Recover weapon,” Joanie commanded.

Roberts rifled through the chunks of debris, as the concrete façade of the building rained down on him, being torn apart from enemy fire. He recovered his weapon, although there wasn’t much of it left.

“Go north along the street!” Joanie shouted, unnecessarily. The REV wouldn’t respond any differently based on the emotions of the operator. “Seek shelter in the building at the other side of the intersection.”

R-1 was now up and moving and joined soon by R-3. Unfortunately, R-2 was down. He wasn’t dead, but his left leg was gone.

Another tank entered the intersection, its barrel sweeping from right to left, attempting to lock onto the sprinting REVs. A series of huge blasts erupted from the storefronts, only feet behind the men. R-3 was blown across the street, his body crushed and his biosensors flatline.

Then one of the blasts caught Roberts, throwing him to the ground. The overhead drone showed a shattered body with an equally shattered suit of battle armor. Pieces of the mangled composite material were cutting into his flesh.

“Remove upper torso armor, including the helmet.”

Private Roberts tore at the offending armor, before grabbing the curled base of his helmet and peeling it off his head. The collar cameras still worked—they were designed for the harshest conditions—yet they only showed the battlefield from Roberts’ POV. Joanie shifted inputs, using the tiny drones as her new set of eyes. She had one fly in close for a visual inspection of her REV. Joanie already knew what she would find.

It was hard to tell where the blood ended and the body began. Private Roberts was a sea of red, with gushing wounds accentuated by the increased blood pressure of an activated REV. Even still, his superhuman body was calming the outflow.

“His limbs are intact, as is his vision,” Carrie stated. “He can move.”

“Enemy units closing from up the street,” said the field surveyor in a reverent whisper.

There wasn’t much more to be said.

“Get him out of there,” said Lieutenant Bennett. “There’s nothing more he can do—”

“Whoa! Here come the Marines!” a man down the line called out.

Joanie checked the high drone for an area update. He was right. The Marines had broken out from their hiding place and were moving up the street, laying down incredible suppressing fire at the enemy positions. The two Antaere tanks exploded from RPG hits, while their alien support troops ran off seeking cover.

Lt. Bennett tapped the top of Joanie’s main monitor, smiling. “Looks like he’ll make it, sergeant. Great job.” He winked, then glanced at the mission clock. “And with six minutes left. Plenty of time. Let’s save at least one of the REVs.”

Joanie already had the closest Twilight Zone located: Six blocks away, with no known enemy units along the way.

“Yes sir! Right away, sir.” She smiled up at the handsome young officer. You know, Mr. Bennett, you may have just earned yourself an encore, she thought, locking eyes momentarily with the lieutenant. Not now, but we’ll see how I feel after a good night’s sleep.

3

Brigadier General Jack Diamond was in his office aboard the Eldorado, surveying the results for the last series of REV missions on the surface of Menkar. As night approached on the battlefield, it was estimated five thousand Antaere and native warriors were still on site and hunkering down. Although technology allowed for around-the-clock operations, it seemed both sides were taking the opportunity of nightfall to take a breather. Come daybreak there would be more opportunities for his REVs to make an impression.

Diamond had long ago disengaged the holographic connection with Colonel Khatri’s command center on the surface. He could take the insubordination of his second-in-command for only so long. Any more and they might both live to regret it.

Although the general didn’t feel left out of the action taking place on the surface, he was still glad Khatri was there in his place. He knew his limitations—as well as his strengths. That was why the more-experienced Marine colonel was running REV combat operations on the surface, and not him. This allowed Diamond to assume the position of observer rather than as a true operational commander, as his title implied. Khatri and the other officers in the unit knew of Diamond’s limitations and they accepted them, if at times that acknowledgment was a little too blatant. Diamond’s value to the program lies in other areas.

The general knew Khatri was right about this last mission, but he wasn’t about to admit it. After nearly a full day of fighting, the weary ground troops were looking for the easy way out, with every squad, unit and brigade wanting REVs to help clear pockets of resistance before nightfall. It would help cut down on last-minute casualties—except those suffered by the REVs.

Diamond was okay with that. The more vital his REVs became to the war effort, the larger his department could grow, along with his prestige. He had a lot to prove, especially after the mess David Cross had made of the program.

A chime sounded on his desk, indicating an incoming high-priority link. Diamond was expecting the call, even as it made his chest swell with pride. It would be Chief of Wartime Operations General Frederick Clausen. Although Earth’s supreme military commander had authority over all operations, both on the surface and in space, the first call he made near the completion of the ES-4 campaign was to the REV commander. That said a lot for how the REVs were now regarded in the fleet.

The tall, square-jawed five-star general was shaking his head, even as he displayed a thin smile. “I can’t get over what a difference a year has made,” the CWO began. “Not only is the war going increasingly in our favor, but the REVs have finally become what we always hoped they would be when Slater first showed us his work.” Clausen laughed. “That was a little before your time, Jack, but I’m old enough to remember. And most of the credit for this turnaround goes to you.”

Diamond flinched a little at the word most. He thought he deserved all the credit for the new direction the program had taken since he wrested command from David Cross. But he didn’t push the point. After all, his success came from the fact that he’d stolen most of Cross’s research and turned it over to his own scientists. And then there were the unreported contributions by the mysterious Howard Summerlin. Even Clausen wasn’t fully aware of the impact Diamond’s fabulously-rich benefactor had on the development of AC-3.

“Thank you, sir. All it took was a fresh perspective. David was too close to the subject to see how a slight change in the formula could make such a difference.”

Clausen nodded. “I’m just letting you know you have the whole town buzzing back here. There’s even talk of no-cap funding for your program. Pretty soon, we could be on the way to building that army of REVs we’ve talked about.”

Diamond grimaced, an expression caught by Clausen. “What’s wrong?”

“The same as always, sir. It’s not the REVs we lack, it’s the trained operators. It’s great that we now have a division of compliant supermen ready to take orders. We just don’t have enough qualified people to issue those orders.”

“Do you not understand the meaning of no-cap funding, general?”

Diamond laughed. “Yes sir, and that will help. But it will take time. We had a thousand REVs when I took over the program, and with the lower metabolic rate associated with AC-3, we can find twice the tolerant candidates than we could with NT-4. That just means we’re going to need a hell of a lot more operators at the controls.”

Clausen nodded. “I understand that, Jack, and you’ll have all the support you need, especially as we gear up for the invasion of Antara.”

“So you’re going ahead with it?”

Now it was Clausen’s turn to grimace. “Looks like we won’t have a choice. Every overture we’ve made for peace talks has been rejected outright. The damn yellow-skinned bastards still think they can win the war. Belief in the Order won’t let them accept anything less.” The word Order was said in finger quotes. “We just have to get past Iz’zar and Ekin’bor. The inner world of Simblaus is mainly a manufacturing center. We want to preserve that, if we can. We may need the facilities later on. So two more worlds and then it’s on to Antara.”

“Wouldn’t it be best to blockade the planet and let them come to their senses that way, rather than spend Human lives on an invasion?”

“That’s the same question Truman faced when considering whether to drop a couple of nukes or a full-scale invasion of Japan. Right now, the plans are to go in, but one thing you have to realize, Jack, we don’t give a damn about the Qwin. Unlike the natives of the Colony Worlds—which we need to build an empire—the Antaere are expendable. We’ll go in with all we’ve got, including nukes. Hell, a little over a year ago they were about to do the same to us. They don’t deserve any more consideration. So to answer your question, there may not be as many casualties as you think, at least not on our side.”

“That’s good to know, sir,” Diamond said. “Although I believe in my REVs, I also wouldn’t want to see a bunch of them get slaughtered, not when we have alternatives.”

Clausen laughed. “Damn, Jack, you just shattered my impression of you as a cold-hearted bastard. You actually care for your men!” Clausen held up his hand before Diamond could respond. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know. Your secret is safe with me. Now, give me a—”

Alarms sounded aboard the warship, interrupting the conversation and prompting a mad dash to battle stations by the ship’s crew.

“What’s going on there?” Clausen asked.

Diamond took a moment to scan the tac screen on his office computer.

“Incoming ships detected,” he told the CWO. Clausen would be getting the same data any second now, beamed back to the homeworld from the fleet above Menkar.

“The Antaere don’t have a substantial fleet in the region,” Clausen stated. More than anyone, he knew the enemy’s capacity and recent ship deployments. “How big of a force?”

Diamond studied the screen. “Ninety-plus ships.”

“But the Antaere don’t have ninety—”

“Sir, they’re reporting trouble identifying the energy signatures,” Diamond interrupted. “They’re not matching up with any known vessels, theirs or ours.”

“Well, we sure as hell know they aren’t ours, general.”

“Sir, I’m going to break the link now. You’ll be tied into everything I have in a matter of seconds. I need to get to work.”

“Of course, Jack. We’ll—”

Diamond cut the link and then opened a line with the bridge. “Captain, this is General Diamond, give me an update.”

Diamond wasn’t the only officer of flag rank onboard the battle-carrier. In fact, he was one of four, including a three-star who was in charge of the ground forces and a full admiral commanding the fleet. Still, he got a response, although it sounded as though Captain Crane was speaking over a party line, updating a number of people through a single conversation.

“Now one hundred twenty incoming bogies. Unknown origin. They’re approaching the planet from low orbit on the opposite side and launching atmospheric attack craft, hundreds of them. They’re closing on the battlefield.”

Diamond was at a loss for words. Fortunately, it wasn’t his job to make decisions at the moment. That was up to the captain and the naval officers aboard. But what Jack did know, the Human fleet above Menkar was only twenty-one ships in strength, and most of those were troop carriers. The main part of the Human fleet had chased away any sizeable Qwin forces three days before and was still in contact with them, keeping tabs. If the Antaere had turned back to Menkar, there should have been a warning. If not, then someone dropped the ball, and it was about to cost thousands of Human lives.

Diamond thought of the troops on the ground. Reports showed hundreds of attack vessels racing toward the Human lines, and probably with thousands of reinforcements for the beleaguered Antaere forces. The Humans did have a battle-carrier group in orbit to help support the troop ships, but even under perfect conditions, it would take a full day of constant shuttle flights to evacuate fourteen thousand combat troops from the surface. It was clear to Diamond that those on the ground were on their own, including his remaining REVs.

4

Admiral Jerica Armitage was in the Eldorado’s Combat Information Center when the incoming ships were first detected. Now she studied a myriad of data screens and inputs, trying her best to figure out what the hell just happened? Where did one hundred twenty warships come from? Her forces supposedly controlled the Menkar star system and the space beyond for up to twenty light-years. But that didn’t seem to be the case at the moment.

Maybe this new enemy fleet had been lying in wait, concealed from detection by what was called dark status, with nearly all shipboard energy turned off. But why attack now? Thousands of Antaere and their native allies had already died on the surface. Besides, the Human ground forces were in almost complete control of the planet, and the Eldorado’s task force was still a formidable deterrent. It didn’t make sense.

And neither did the energy signatures of the bogies.

The admiral tensed. Could this unknown fleet represent a new generation of Antaere warships, a secret weapon they’ve only now deployed? The Antaere did have the most-advanced technology in the Grid; they were certainly capable of developing something unknown, revolutionary…and deadly.

“Commander, get me numbers for our attack craft on the surface,” Armitage called out. “Can they repel the incoming with what they have?”

Commander Brian May shook his head. “No ma’am. There are sixty-five fast-attack aircraft operating with the ground forces, along with ninety moderately-armed shuttles with limited maneuvering capabilities. At last count, there are three hundred eighty enemy ships incoming, all of unknown capability and firepower. We have to assume the Antaere know what they’re up against and still they aren’t holding back with their attack.”

“Can we get into position to cut them off?”

A master chief answered. “The motherships are still on the other side of the planet, but should they elect to cover the battlefield, they would do a better job of it than we can. Besides, only the El, the Sydney and the Frankfurt, have any effective offensive firepower, and certainly not enough against a fleet of that size. We might be able to defend our forces in space, but not for long. And as for the units on the surface—”

“Connect me with General Powell.”

A link was opened a moment later with the operational commander on Menkar.

“Danny, you have a shitstorm coming your way,” said Admiral Armitage.

“Yeah, I heard.” The general’s face was contorted from a combination of stress, fatigue and anger, yet it was his eyes that conveyed the most rage. “I’ve ordered our troops to seek shelter wherever they can. Fortunately, the Antaere and the natives are doing the same, although they were already in the process of doing that the darker it got.”

“The Antaere are breaking off as well?”

“Not surprising, admiral. They probably don’t want to be anywhere near us when the shit hits the fan.”

“I’m recalling the rest of the fleet, but it will take two days for them to get here.”

“We’ll do the best we can to hold out. We do have some air cover, plus shelter in the cities we control and the remains of the spaceport. That should give us some protection. It won’t be pretty, but some of us will be around when the fleet arrives, guaranteed. It will take more than airpower to take out fourteen thousand mad-as-hornets Humans.”

“They’re probably bringing in reinforcements.”

“From the size of the dropships and the aircraft they have on the way, they can’t carry too many. We’ll be fine. You just cover your own ass, admiral. You have a much larger force to contend with compared to what you have to put against it. Don’t worry about us down here.”

“I’m way ahead of you, Danny. Just don’t be surprised if we have to do a strategic advance to the rear until the fleet arrives.”

General Powell laughed, a forced laugh. “Very good, Jerica. Let’s just make sure we all live to fight another day.”

5

Brigadier General Jack Diamond was back in the tac bay, along with over a hundred curious and nervous REV operators and techs, most staring at him, looking for guidance. The order had gone out a minute before to suspend all action on the ground and return the REVs to Twilight Zones. The regular Army and Marine forces were also ceasing operations and taking cover. What was curious, the Antaere were doing the same, and not taking advantage of the ceasefire to gain territory or strategic positions.

“Colonel Khatri, where are the recovery crews?” Diamond asked his ground commander.

“Still in the field and doing the best they can. They’re about the only troops moving out here, our forces or otherwise. Looks like we’re about to get a whole lot of bricks dropped on us.”

“The main fleet is being recalled but they won’t get here for two days.”

“We’ll do the best we can, general.”

“Can you get to the spaceport? Some of those bunkers we took out were pretty deep.”

“Way ahead of you, sir. I already have the wounded being evacuated and the recovery crews have orders to take their REVs there.”

“Good. My operators still have contact with their REVs. Any with Run time left can still fight.”

“Sir, just get them to the nearest recovery team. A few REVs with limited time available won’t make a difference. Let’s save some lives.”

“Of course, colonel; I was just stating a fact. I’ll get all the REVs heading for TZs immediately.”

***

Sergeant Joanie Hollis sat mesmerized by the rhythmic movement of Private First Class Marc Roberts as he ran through alien city streets heading for the Twilight Zone. She kept a wary eye on her other screens, noting where the enemy ships were beginning their strafing runs. All across the battlefield, explosions were going off, ripping into buildings, canals and other fortified locations. The curious part, the bombs and missiles were indiscriminate in their targeting. The entire city was under siege, not just the Human-controlled areas.

In the end, the bombings did their job, forcing thousands of troops to abandon their hideouts and scurry into the open. It was dark on this part of Menkar, but infrared sensors lit up the landscape for both allies and enemy alike, turning night into day. What was curious: the aircraft ignored most of the fleeing troops, instead maintaining a disciplined attack on the buildings.

When the strafing ended, landing craft arrived in droves, dislodging their shock troops, before immediate dust-off and return to the motherships. Soon the ground in and around the city of Dooer was swarming with aliens. Drones swept in, spotlighted and nightscope cameras focusing in on the enemy troops.

“Who the hell are they?” someone asked from another part of the tac bay.

Joanie isolated one of the aliens and froze the image, enlarging it on her screen. Shocked silence filled the chamber. The creature was not an Antaere, nor was it Menkarean. It was muscular, dark-skinned and with boney plates running up the sides of its angular, almost cat-like head. It wore very little armor to hide its form—which was odd in these times of mechanized warriors. Even still, there was a fierceness in its eyes, a savage, fearless look. Joanie shivered as she paraphrased the previous question. “What the hell is that?”

Every world within the Grid with an advanced form of life had been surveyed by the Antaere centuries before, be they Earth-like or not. Besides the Colony Worlds, there were dozens of others, although the Humans and Antaere were only interested in those similar to their homeworlds. A quick check of her computer resources came back with zero results. This was a completely new species. Joanie’s skin turned cold from the implications. That meant this thing came from outside the Grid. That in itself wasn’t revolutionary; there had to be millions of alien species spread across the vast galaxy. Yet it was the unknown nature of the revelation that frightened her the most. Who were they? Where did they come from? How many were on the way? The empire of the Antaere may encompass a sphere a thousand light-years in diameter, but what about one that covered half the galaxy or more? No one knew what lie beyond the Grid, they could only speculate. And now the first contact had been made with something outside. And they didn’t come in peace.

Having run the last operation in the bay, everyone was gathering around her station, including General Diamond. He stood to Joanie’s left, transfixed by the alien image.

“It’s moving,” someone said. Joanie unfroze the image, catching up with the drone’s recording. People gasped at what they saw. The previously upright alien bent over and began to run on all fours, its impressive-looking black-metal weapon now held securely against its chest by restraining straps. But running was not the proper word. Instead, it leaped in great strides and at even greater speed. Someone put a monitor on the leaps and a moment later a number of one hundred kilometers per hour came on the screen.

The incredible speed was impressive enough, but what made the people in the room gasp was what it did with that speed. A group of the leaping creatures was closing on the Human troops, who in desperation were firing wildly at the dark figures as they fled, using nightvision goggles as best they could. But the aliens were quicker and more elusive and descended on the Human troops with savage abandon. They didn’t unsling their weapons; instead they fell on the Humans with wild slashing from both their arms and feet. Wide cuts opened up on the soldiers, even with their light armor. Whatever the aliens had on their limbs was sharp and tough, tougher than the armor.

Joanie squinted, trying to see what weapons they carried, but it soon became apparent the aliens were using claws, even on their feet, to slash at the troops. They struck with lightning quickness and accuracy, bounding between targets with agility and ease. Although some of the attackers went down from Human gunfire, that didn’t change their strategy. They preferred physical combat in such close quarters to their more conventional weapons; however, a few resorted to their guns only to reach Human targets outside their reach. It was a slaughter.

Joanie turned her attention back to PFC Marc Roberts. She checked his relative location to the exfil point.

“Fuck!” she called out. There was a line of aliens between him and the recovery crew. He wouldn’t make it without fighting through them.

She checked the time clock. Two and a half minutes before terminal cascading. It would be tight, depending on how long it took him to fight through the aliens—

“Recall the recovery team,” General Diamond ordered. “Get them out of there.”

“Sir!”

“He won’t make it, sergeant.”

“But you don’t know that for sure.”

“Do as I say. Your REV is already gone. Now his value to the Corps is to help us learn as much about these new aliens as we can.”

Joanie hesitated.

“Do it, Joanie,” said Lt. Bennett. “Send out the recall code to the team. Prepare your REV for defensive actions. It’s important for us to see how the aliens do against a REV.”

“But he’s pretty fucked up, sir,” said HM3 Carrie Anderson. “It won’t be a stand-up fight.”

“It’s better than nothing,” said Diamond. “Let’s not waste the REV. Get him ready.”

Joanie gave up. With the recovery team being recalled, even if Roberts made it to the extraction point, there would be no one there to meet him.

“R-1, stop advance, prepare to defend yourself with all resources,” she commanded.

At almost the same moment he stopped, the image was shaken by a collision with a number of the savage aliens. Joanie had trouble sorting out the chaos from the jerky command collar view. In blurs in the darkness, Marc Roberts was swinging away with blindingly fast fists, striking the aliens and sending them careening out of view. Blood splashed on the four camera lenses embedded in the collar before chemicals on the glass burned it away. Roberts hit one of the aliens on the side of the head, against a solid plate that appeared to be made of bone. The alien tumbled across the ground, stood up and shook the cobwebs away. Joanie was shocked that anything could withstand the hit from an activated REV, even an injured one.

Then a strange voice was heard through the collar pickups. The aliens stopped their attack and backed away.

The drone operator brought one of his charges over the scene. It flashed on a brilliant halogen light, revealing Roberts surrounded by a ring of dark-skinned, cat-like aliens, most on all fours, their massive, bone-lined heads weaving back and forth. But they weren’t attacking.

And neither was Roberts. He had been ordered into defensive mode. Without an attack, he had nothing to defend against. He stood in the center of the ring, looking awkward and off balance.

In real life, AC-3 REVs weren’t the most-skilled warriors. They didn’t need to be. Their heightened reaction time, durability, strength and eye/hand coordination made up for that. The aliens stood back, assessing their enemy, held in place by the barking commands of another.

The alien officer stood upright, staring at the REV, the edges of his narrow mouth curled up in almost an amused expression. Being an alien, Joanie couldn’t be sure she read that correctly, but it seemed to match his reaction. The creature had a small electronic device in his hands. He shifted his attention from the screen to Roberts and then back to the screen. He sent out more commands to his troops in his foreign language, a language that was not in the universal translation databank, another indicator that this was something from outside the Grid. Then he stepped forward.

“Have him stand down!” Diamond ordered.

“Sir?”

“Do it.”

“Yes sir. R-1, stand down. Make no defensive moves.”

Unafraid, the alien stepped forward until he was only a couple of feet from the REV. His narrow head looked Roberts up and down, before bravely reaching out a hand and running a finger through the thin coating of blood that covered most of the man’s bare torso. The creature then rubbed his long fingers together, studying the consistency and texture of the thick liquid. Then he put his fingers in his mouth and sampled the taste of the blood.

“Disgusting,” said someone in the room.

For his part, the alien turned to his troops and nodded, speaking again in his native language. He seemed satisfied with the taste. After another solid stare into the unblinking eyes of the REV, the officer returned to the line of cat-like creatures. He spoke to two of them; they removed their slung weapons and handed them to two of their comrades. Then they assumed the four-legged attack posture again.

Joanie acted on her own. “Defend yourself—”

She barely had the command out before the two aliens leaped. They came with their heads down, sharp boneplates aimed at the bare skin of Robert’s chest. He reacted faster than the aliens, sweeping a blood-covered arm across his chest and swiping away the attack. But the aliens were quick. They were on him a second later—one high, one low—slashing at the armor on his legs and the flesh of his back.

The A-18 armor was stronger than that carried by standard troops, and the alien had trouble cutting through it with its extended claws. Joanie and the others could now see how the two-inch long, slightly curved and razor sharp claws projected from the fingers and thumb. The bare feet also had claws, and the animals would bend radically at the waist to bring all four appendages to bear on the victim, much like a domestic cat.

Roberts ignored his new injuries, as an activated REV was wont to do. This frustrated his attackers, especially as he continued to fight back with incredible strength and quickness. Eventually, both of the aliens fell dead; however, two more were tagged in.

Joanie was fuming. Her REV was being slowly sliced to pieces and there was nothing she could do to stop it, and although he continued to fling his arms at his attackers, his movements were becoming slower, less coordinated. Hopefully, this wouldn’t continue much longer. Death would be welcome at this point.

And it came, but not from enemy action, but from the consequences of continued cascading on the Rev drug. Roberts’ body suddenly turned rigid and tumbled backward to the ground.

The alien officer barked out new orders and his troops backed off. Joanie switched to the drone view.

Nothing happened for the next several seconds, the alien officer confused as to what just happened to the REV. Then he stepped forward again. The collar camera angle showed a towering figure standing above the body of Private First Class Marc Roberts. The drone view showed him reach out with a foot and push on the corpse, once, then twice. Robert’s eyes had erupted out of their sockets and there was a pronounced swelling and burnt amber stain at the center of his chest where his heart had exploded. Satisfied that the REV was dead, the alien turned to his troops and spoke something, before reaching behind his back to pull a shiny, two-foot-long sword from a gold-embossed sheath.

“Do the others have swords?” Diamond asked suddenly. “Scan with the drone.”

The operator obeyed, moving his hovering device to check the backs of the other aliens. No one had noticed the sword before, and none of the others carried them.

“The sign of an officer, or person of higher rank,” General Diamond thought aloud, his intelligence officer training taking over. Joanie could see the significance. If only officers carried swords, then they could be more easily identified…and taken out.

But then the alien officer began to hack at Robert’s neck with the sword. The scene was so violent and horrific that someone in the room with Joanie vomited. Surprisingly, she thought to get the person’s name. No one that sensitive belonged in the tac bay controlling REVs….

Once Robert’s head was separated from his neck, the alien bent down and removed the command collar from the nub. He lifted it to his face, wiping blood away from the forward lens. He began to speak again. Joanie knew the linguists would have a field day with the recording of Roberts’ death. And the alien didn’t seem shy in his impassioned speech. Joanie wondered if he realized no one could understand him, at least not yet? He didn’t care, he continued to ramble on for about a minute. Afterward, he placed the command collar in a satchel attached to his waist.

The alien officer then turned to his troops. A moment later, two of them withdrew their weapons from their slings and pointed them at the drone. Brilliant light filled the screen for a fraction of a second, before all went black.

The tac room remained quiet for several seconds, each person lost in their thoughts. General Diamond broke the silence.

“All right everyone, the show’s over. Lt. Bennett, set a ten-person watch and then dismiss the rest. There’s nothing more for them to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Joanie raised her hand. “I’d like to volunteer for the first watch.”

“You’re well beyond your prescribed work—”

“Sir, please.”

Bennett nodded.

Joanie needed time to replay the video—as many times as it took. She wanted to learn all she could about this new enemy, their secrets, as well as their weaknesses. She owed that much to Private First Class Marc Roberts, from Laramie, Wyoming.

* * *

“Attention officers and crew of the Eldorado Task Force.”

Admiral Jerica Armitage’s voice came over speakers on all twenty-one ships of the squadron.

“The enemy ships have regrouped and are headed our way. Although we have not had direct contact with them to determine their capabilities, I feel it is the more prudent decision to withdraw from the Menkar star system and rendezvous with the bulk of our fleet before engaging the enemy. I understand this will leave the troops on the surface without orbital cover, but at this time we cannot provide even that. However, an assessment of the alien troops on the ground, as well as the air power they have available, shows us with about a four-to-one advantage in troop strength, so there’s a very good chance much of the ground force will survive until we return with the full fleet. I must say, this line of action goes against my grain, but as a good friend told me recently, Let’s live to fight another day. And unless additional forces arrive to supplement what this unknown race of alien has on Menkar, our fleet will be strong enough to drive them from the system. We’ll be back in two days.

“Now all commands, set condition yellow, post lookouts…and let’s get the task force moving. That is all. Armitage out.”

6

Aboard the Battle-Carrier Eldorado

Six days later, a meeting took place in the wardroom of the Eldorado. The battle-carrier was once again in orbit around ES-4, along with three hundred eighteen warships of the Human 2nd Fleet. The mysterious aliens had departed the planet as quickly as they arrived, but not before killing over five thousand Human troops. But they didn’t get away unseen. A squadron of extremely fast frigates followed, attempting to keep tabs on them. The aliens didn’t like that and set traps for them along the way. Units waiting in dark status ambushed the trailing ships, but still the aliens were being tracked to their current location.

Chief of Wartime Operations General Frederick Clausen was chairing the meeting, although he did so as a holographic image placed at the head of the long conference table. Two other high-ranking officers, along with one civilian, were also in attendance through holograms. The rest of the attendees were present in the flesh and represented every branch of the service, including the REV division.

It had been a hectic six days for General Jack Diamond. He had been to the surface of Menkar four times while what was left of his unit was transported to the fleet. Colonel Dehesh Khatri had survived, along with twenty-one of his REVs. All those who had been activated and in the field at the time of the alien invasion had been killed, along with half of those with the recovery teams. Then the aliens hit the spaceport. The fighting was fierce, but the Humans had overwhelming numbers, even against this new alien threat. After thirty-one hours on the surface, the aliens packed up and left.

The staff meeting was to give a fuller accounting of what had just happened on Menkar and beyond.

“Quiet please; let’s get started,” ordered General Clausen. “I’ve been told special arrangements have been made so my holographic link will last for the duration of the meeting. Supposedly, it takes up a lot of bandwidth to keep it open. Even still, let’s get to it. General Powell will conduct the meeting on site. General….”

“Thank you, sir.” Daniel Powell was a bull of a man, an Army Ranger, serious and steely-eyed. He spoke in a voice used to command. He pressed a button on his controller and a large screen on the bulkhead lit up, showing a map of the Antaere side of the Grid.

“We didn’t know it at the time of the Menkar attack, but the aliens launched simultaneous strikes on eight other targets, primarily in Antaere territory. Since we don’t have the best intel coming out of Qwin space, we weren’t aware of these attacks, not until the Antaere told us when they realized the aliens weren’t targeting them exclusively. And now with more pieces of the puzzle coming together, we’re getting a better picture of what happened and what we need to do going forward. First of all, we now have a tentative enemy fleet strength of approximately four hundred warships—”

“Sir,” interrupted a Navy captain, red-faced and tight jawed. “It’s a good bet these aliens—whoever they are—can’t breathe a vacuum. I say we hit their fleet with everything we’ve got. Destroy their ships and we destroy them.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, captain. We’ll talk countermeasures in a moment. Currently, the aliens have regrouped in an area of space on the other side of Antara, which at the moment is a problem. They’re basically untouchable unless the Qwin give us permission to cross their territory—”

“Excuse me, sir, but fuck the Qwin!” said the ill-tempered officer.

“That’s enough, captain. I understand your frustration, but there are other considerations. We’re not about to take on all the responsibility for taking out this new threat without some input from the Antaere. If we did, then it would weaken our forces and open us up to a counterattack. Let’s fight one front at a time, Captain Cain.”

“Who are they, sir?” asked a major down the table.

Diamond could tell the general welcomed the change of subject. He wasn’t ready to get into tactics and strategy, at least not yet.

“Since we need an identifier—we can’t keep calling them these new aliens—we’ve had the linguists pouring over the audio we have, thanks mainly to data received during an encounter with one of our REVs in the field. From a combination of repeated words, sentence structure and emphasis, we believe they call themselves the Ha’curn. That’s H-A, c-u-r-n, with the emphasis on the Ha. That’s about all we’ve been able to decipher at this point, but progress is being made.”

“So they’re from beyond the Grid?” the major prodded.

“From all indications, yes. Their language is not in any known database and the energy sigs from their ships are unique. They do use standard gravity-drive tech, but it’s a little different. Just as all of us in the Grid use Antaere technology, there are subtle differences depending on the manufacturing technique. There were also skirmishes at other locations with their spaceships. They’re using flash energy technology, along with ballistics and torpedoes, just like us.”

“So they can be defeated,” said another officer at the table.

General Powell grimaced. “Their flash weapons have about twice the range of ours, and their defensive shields are tougher to penetrate, as far as we know. In none of the engagements was an alien—a Ha’curn—ship taken out. As a result, we don’t have debris to analyze, at least not yet.”

Powell shut down the questioning with a stern look around the table. He had a briefing to give and there was a structure to it. He needed to get back on track.

“Considering the Ha’curn strategy, they spread their forces across multiple fronts and with no attempt to hold territory. To us, this indicates this was more of an exploratory operation than a full-scale invasion of the Grid. It’s our belief that there is a much larger force en route, or that can be summoned. We have eyes on their main fleet so will know if any other action is forthcoming. In the meantime….”

The general changed the image on the screen.

“As far as we can tell, this is the enemy—our new enemy,” said General Powell. The screen displayed a series of frozen images, some clearer than others, and all taken from either drones or REV command collars. They showed cat-like creatures, with boney head plates, and close-ups of their hands and feet with menacing claws, some covered in Human blood. “From images like these, as well as an examination of the few bodies left on site, we’re putting together a picture of what we’re up against. As you can see, this is something new. And it only gets worse from here.”

The image shifted again, this time to a detail of the basic Ha’curn assault weapon. “We recovered a couple of their primary weapons, and they appear to be off-the-shelf versions of what we have, but with a few additions. This single piece has four distinct armaments. One is a very thin dart made of extremely dense material that’s capable of penetrating any of our battle armor, including A-18 REV armor. The holes they make are small and the darts are designed to embed themselves in the armor with the tips extending about five inches into the subject’s body. It becomes a spike attached to the inside of the suit that rotates around as the body moves, ripping flesh apart and keeping the wound from closing.” Powell looked at General Diamond. “Even for REVs, who have the ability to self-heal in the field, this type of weapon keeps the wound open and bleeding. For anyone who encounters one of these darts, the only remedy is to remove the armor as quickly as possible. And if one of these high-velocity darts strikes unarmored flesh, it will just keep going, penetrating more targets, as many as five or ten before its energy is dissipated. And if that wasn’t bad enough, these weapons also carry traditional ballistic rounds, along with a plasma energy component with about a third longer range than we have. Lastly, it can also launch grenades. Overall, this is one badass piece of armament. And that’s not counting what they can do during hand-to-hand combat.”

The image changed, this one to a video taken from a drone. Diamond had seen the footage before; it was from one of the first attacks by the aliens on a squad of retreating Humans. It showed a savage attack, using alien hands and feet in targeted slashing, resulting in deep gashes and a one hundred percent mortality rate.

“At first we thought they had attachments on their hands and feet,” Powell said, “until we looked closer and found their limbs are their weapons. After examining some of the recovered bodies, we found that the aliens have two-inch-long retractable claws on both their hands and their feet, strong enough to cut through standard battle armor. They don’t wear shoes, so their feet are just as deadly as their hands. In addition….”

The image shifted again, this time following the path of the aliens as they crouched and leaped, using their feet and hands to propel themselves. “They’ve been clocked at almost seventy miles per hour, and they can jump twenty feet into the air without a problem.” Powell commented. “During the runs their weapons are slung against their bodies, freeing their hands for either leaping or attack. They can also stop on a dime, stand upright and begin firing their weapons a heartbeat later; however, after some analysis, they prefer physical attacks over using their weapons. In ground combat, this proved to be very effective, and with the added benefit of preserving their ammo.”

There was a sick silence in the room. Everyone in attendance was a military professional and was racking their brains for countermeasures to what they’d just seen. But it would take more than a couple of minutes to find an answer.

The image switched to a close up of the alien head. “And it only gets better,” Powell prefaced. “Along the sides of their heads are these very dense skull plates. They extend about six inches above their head, and from examination of the dead, the Ha’curn appear to sharpen these plates to form razor-sharp blades. Video also shows that the aliens can take a hit from a REV in these plates and survive. In addition, their skin is as tough as nails, apparently having evolved to survive combat among their species. We’ve been experimenting and anything less than a standard 45-caliber round will simply bounce off. There will be damage, but it won’t stop the attack.”

“In summary, ladies and gentlemen,” General Clausen said, taking over the meeting. “We have ourselves a near-perfect killing machine, equipped with both natural and technological advantages we are ill-prepared to confront. Add to that, we’re in the middle of a war with the Antaere.”

“So what’s our next move, general?” Diamond asked. He knew his REVs would have to play a major role in the coming conflict. Super-soldiers would be needed to go up against near-perfect killing machines.

Clausen nodded to the table. “That’s a good question, general. We’ve only had six days to study the threat to even know what we’re up against. And at this point we don’t know if the Antaere are going to be a help or a hindrance.”

“But they’re in the same situation as we are, even worse,” said Admiral Jerica Armitage, the commander of the 2nd Fleet. “It’s been determined that we have the strength to take on the four hundred ships the Ha’curn have. The Antaere don’t. And the aliens are closer to Antara than they are to Earth. The Qwin would be foolish not to join us.”

“Join us, ma’am?” said a colonel at the table. “You want us to work with the Qwin?”

“We have little choice,” said Armitage, sounding frustrated. “If we attempt to cross three hundred light-years of Antaere space and take on a sizeable alien force without support, we’d be setting ourselves up for disaster.”

“But the Antaere would know we’re after the Ha’curn and not them.”

General Clausen leaned forward in his holographic image. “Let me make a statement here and now. I am not about to launch an assault on the Ha’curn without the Antaere—along with everyone else in the Grid—having some skin in the game,” he said firmly. “This is a Grid problem, not just a Human problem. We may have the most guns, but I’m not going to commit Human lives without a corresponding contribution from not only the Antaere, but the other races as well.”

“Sir, you’re asking for a major shift in the political alignment of the Grid,” said the holographic civilian in the room. He hadn’t been introduced, but Diamond assumed he represented the government’s interests.

“Again, Mr. Ellis, we don’t have a choice. We’ll still take the lead against this new threat, but what happens if we’re successful and the Antaere are left at full strength and we’ve been diminished during the fighting? They’ll see an opportunity to counterstrike. And besides, as everyone suspects, this could be only the beginning of the Ha’curn campaign against the Grid, with many more ships on the way. If not, then what they’ve done so far doesn’t make any sense. And it will take a Grid-wide effort to form any kind of effective defense against a larger attack.”

“But the Antaere have resisted any of our peace offers to date, general,” said the man with the green glow around him.

“That was before the events of the past six days. You may find they’re a lot more receptive now.” Clausen waved his hand at the table. “Okay, that’s enough for now. You’ve all been given the basics, now let’s get down to the brass tacks. Each of you in this room will be tasked with certain areas of responsibility. We will be hitting this from two directions. One, against the Ha’curn forces directly; and two, on the political front, gathering all the help we can from within the Grid. This has to be a unified effort or we’re destined for failure. Now get to work. We don’t have much time.”

7

Lieutenant Commander Jonathan Taylor slammed the door behind him and spun around, nearly running headlong into Admiral Jerica Armitage in the corridor. “Fuck the Qwin!” he said before recognizing the fleet admiral. “Sorry, ma’am. It’s just that I can’t believe we’re negotiating with the yellow… I mean the Antaere.

Jerica smiled, understanding the junior officer’s frustration. “You’re forgiven, commander. Just remember, we need them as allies, at least for the time being. Any progress?”

“Some, sort of,” said Taylor, glaring at the closed door. “They’re waiting for you inside. If you will excuse me, ma’am, I have a lunch order to put in. I thought my rank exempted me from such duties.”

Jerica shook her head. “Commander, in my home—when I’m there—I still fix the dinners and do the laundry. We never reach high enough rank to be dismissed from those duties.”

“But you’re not doing that for the Qw—Antaere, ma’am.”

“Carry on, commander.”

Jerica opened the door and stepped inside.

The two Antaere officers on the other side of the conference table looked up, expectantly. “Oh, it is you,” said First Insir Havoren Kinnel, with obvious disappointment. “I did not believe your under-officer could return with our food in such a short time.” He looked down again to the datapad on the table.

“Lieutenant Commander Taylor reported that we have reached an agreement.”

Havoren looked up again, a frown on the forehead of his pale yellow face. “That is an untruth. There has been no agreement, only a lessening of the gap between our terms.”

Jerica looked to Captain Loren Camacho, also seated at the table. The plump-faced negotiator looked frazzled, with bags forming under her bloodshot eyes. For the day, she and her team had been at it for thirteen straight hours, with only a lessening of the gap to show for it.

The admiral was pissed. The arrogance of the Antaere was grating on her nerves, almost to the point where she was willing to kick all the delegates off her ship and return to a state of war between the two races. The current ceasefire was barely that, with the negotiations about as flimsy.

Jerica was ready to go for broke. The Human forces controlled ninety-percent of the Grid with a military three times the size of the Antaere. And still the aliens insisted on haggling. The admiral didn’t feel she had to negotiate. She would set the terms and the Antaere would either accept or reject them. It was that simple. Except to the people back on Earth. They would only launch an attack against the Ha’curn if the Antaere were there with them, risking their own crews and ships, along with the Humans.

“What seems to be the problem now?” Armitage asked as she slipped into a chair on the other side of the huge table from the aliens. There were just the two Antaere negotiators, along with eight Humans.

“We will not accept any Human troops aboard our vessels.”

“But they will be there purely to observe.”

“To observe and report back, which could then constitute assumption of command.”

“That’s only so we can maintain continuity of attack,” Armitage countered. “We can’t have independent units flying around the battlefield without coordinating through a central command.”

“And that central command would be under Human control?”

“You know it will. We will have the most units committed, so it is only right.”

“Then launch the attack yourself. Your force is large enough to crush the Ha’curn threat. If Antaere forces would only get in the way and complicate your attack strategy, then we will gladly step aside.”

Armitage shook her head. They had been going around in circles like this for days.

“This must be a joint-Grid operation. The Enif and the Noc have committed troops—”

“Fourteen ships can hardly be termed a commitment, Admiral,” said Havoren.

“For them, it is. Yet being the two superpowers in the Grid, we must supply the bulk of the force. And Antara must do its part.”

“We have given you permission to cross Antaerean space. We have also agreed to provide fuel and restock your ships along the way. We are not to fault that our forces have been diminished to such a point that we cannot offer more. Your forces are to blame for that.”

“You have ample ships for the effort, First Insir.”

“And then leave Antara and our Colony Worlds unguarded? Of that you would very much welcome.”

“We are not going to attack you, especially not with the threat of the Ha’curn out there. In reality, we don’t have to.”

“And what is the meaning of that?”

“Just as you think, First Insir Havoren. Earth has the resources to defeat your forces, either now or later. We don’t need to lure you away from your strongholds just so we can attack. We will do it whether you are there or not. Is that plain enough for you? If you really want to know the truth, only by joining us in our attack against the Ha’curn can Antara be saved.”

“That is a rather bold and undiplomatic statement to make. You threaten our homewo—”

“It is nothing new. If it hadn’t been for the Ha’curn showing up, our ships would be in orbit around Antara at this very moment. You may not want to hear that, but it’s the truth. So continue to play your games and see what that gets you.”

Both aliens stared at her with their golden eyes. Everyone had been dancing around the bottom line for days now. With her exhaustion and frustration, Jerica had laid it all on the table. If the Antaere agreed to Earth’s terms after her outburst then she would be the hero. But if they walked away from the negotiating table, it would probably cost her command of the 2nd Fleet.

Havoren continued to stare, until Jerica finally pushed away from the table and turned to the door.

“Where to?” the alien asked in a panic.

“Anywhere but here. You know my terms. Accept them or not. It doesn’t matter to me. It’s your homeworld you’re gambling with, not mine.”

“Delay.”

The admiral turned around yet remained near the door.

“No observers…but our navigation computers can be linked with your command, for tracking purposes. Allow us our own operational area, clear of yours. There is no need for us to approach the Ha’curn as a single force. We shall come from different directions. Strategically, that would be better. It will also make coordinated movements not as critical.”

“Two hundred ships, nothing less. And all of B-Class or higher warships. Your units must also engage the enemy, and not merely show your banner.”

“Show our banner?”

“Show up with no intention of fighting.”

“If we are on the battlefield, we will fight.”

Jerica was nodding. “Okay, but one last thing.”

“Such as?”

“All your ships are to be manned by Antaere, and only Antaere.”

“I do not understand.”

“Sure you do, First Insir. The Antaere have a nasty habit of enlisting others to fight their battles for them. If Human life is to be risked, so will Antaere. It will be a small trade-off compared to the loss of life resulting from an invasion of Antara, wouldn’t you agree?”

The two aliens huddled for a moment, speaking too quietly for the table mics to pick up the conversation and translate it for the Humans in the room; however, it wouldn’t be quiet enough for the spy cams and other pickups. Those recordings would be analyzed later.

Havoren looked to the admiral. “Very well. You shall have our commitment, once all the terms spoken here have been memorialized and transmitted to Antara for final approval.”

“Good.” Armitage opened the door to leave. Like Lieutenant Commander Taylor, she didn’t want to be in the same room with the aliens any longer than she had to.

“One more thing, Admiral Armitage.”

“What is it?”

“Check on the status of our food. We are quite hungry.”

General Frederick Clausen was on a conventional wormhole link with the commander of the 2nd Fleet, Admiral Jerica Armitage. He filled his cheeks with air and then let it out.

“That was gutsy, Jerica. You know how touchy the fucking Qwin can be.”

“I’ve had it with them. Either they’re all in or they’ll suffer the consequences once we get done with the Ha’curn.”

“If we ever do get done with the Ha’curn,” said Clausen through pursed lips. “You know a fleet can’t just show up out of nowhere and start snipping at the heels of a fairly powerful group of interstellar powers, not without backup or a big ass pair of hairy alien balls.”

Armitage grimaced. “That’s an image I’m going to have trouble getting rid of. Thanks, sir.”

Clausen smiled, then continued. “Their end-game has to be much more…definitive, I guess the word would be. This is just the beginning, Admiral.”

“And the Antaere know that. But you know sir, when all is said and done, if we control the entire Grid, we’d probably have an easier row to hoe against the Ha’curn. No more distractions from the Qwin.”

“You may be right, but for now we welcome all the help we can get.”

“So when do we launch? We’re ready—we’ve been ready for weeks.”

“I’m setting the launch for the eighteenth. Then it will take another month for us to get on station. The Ha’curn are only sixty light-years from Antara. That’s about a week for their ships.”

“They better show up.”

Clausen smiled. “Don’t worry, admiral. We’ll know if they make any changes. We have a few assets in place who will let us know.”

“Antaere?”

“Unfortunately, no. Even though you insisted that their ships be manned only by Antaere, they may get around that by hiring out some of their maintenance duties to other races. We have eyes in that group. If the Antaere deviate, we’ll know in time to call off the attack.”

“Sir, if we’ve gone that far, we may as well hit them, with or without the Antaere.”

“The 2nd will come out of that pretty well banged up. You’d be sitting ducks for the Antaere.”

“You’ll just have to send in Ingram and Duvoisin if that happens. Even if the Qwin do take on the remainder of my fleet, they’re going to come out of it bloodied themselves. They’ll know it would only delay the inevitable by a few months. They’d be roasted if they did that.”

“I’m pretty confident they’ll show up, Jerica. Some of my Antaere experts are saying they’ll use this as an excuse to sue for peace afterward, stating how allies cannot remain enemies. It will come off as a magnanimous gesture on their part, even though everyone knows they won’t have a choice. Stand by our side against a common enemy and it will be enough for them to save face.”

“I didn’t think the Qwin cared much about that.”

“They didn’t, until we came along and started taking their Colony Worlds. Now they have to appear to be the ones making the decisions.” Clausen shrugged. “And that’s assuming another huge Ha’curn fleet doesn’t show up out of nowhere. No, if the Antaere do bail, then so will we. I want to preserve as many of our assets as I can, just in case.”

“I understand, sir. So the eighteenth?”

“That’s right. Disburse your fleet before that according to plan. Have your units rendezvous right on top of them before they know we’re coming. Otherwise they’ll probably retreat and remain just out of range…until their main fleet gets here.”

“Aye, sir. Already in the works. It will take an Einstein to track all the routes we’re going to take. And so far, the Ha’curn are still clustered in one tiny part of the Grid. They can’t have very many assets out keeping track of us.”

“Let’s hope not. That’s it for now. I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes sir. Armitage out.”

8

Aboard the Battle-Carrier Eldorado

Admiral Jerica Armitage had been on pins and needles for the past month. She had broken up her three-hundred-ship-strong fleet into squads of not more than fifteen and sent them racing off in all directions. Normal straight-line travel to the Ha’curn fleet would take twenty-two days, but with the circuitous route the units took, it was thirty-two before they all suddenly appeared on station a mere quarter-light out from the Ha’curn fleet.

The Humans had eyes on the aliens, courtesy of unmanned surveillance drones, and every day that passed, Armitage was expecting the aliens to weigh anchor and bolt away, having been tipped of the fleet’s coming.

But that didn’t happen. The Humans were here, as were the Antaere. And so were the Ha’curn.

That raised another concern for the fleet admiral. The aliens didn’t appear concerned when a combined force doubling twice theirs showed up within striking distance. Either the Ha’curn were justifiably confident, or incredibly stupid. She doubted they were stupid.

“Send scouts out to three light-years,” she commanded. “Scan for the slightest energy readings. They may have units sitting in the dark.”

Once that was done, she had her command center link up with the Antaere ships.

“Admiral Armitage, we will cover the sector to the inside,” said her counterpart in the Antaere fleet, Lead Insir Sandor Vali. “We will be in position in seventeen qindus.”

The admiral knew the reference to the inside meant in the direction of the main galaxy, and qindus was their measure of time, similar to a minute. The computers would make the adjustments so everyone would be operating on the same time measure.

“Very good, Lead Insir. We will be moving into attack formation in fifteen minutes. I have scouts looking for any hidden Ha’curn forces.”

“As do I. Until this moment, none have been detected.”

“Same here. But we don’t want to walk into a trap.”

“Agreed.” The Antaere commander looked around his bridge, a thin smile on his face. “I would never have imagined a moment like this would have come. It is truly historic.”

“Yes it is, Sandor. Let’s make it one that will be remembered fondly.”

“Agreed, again. By your command, admiral. We bow to the superior numerical force.”

Jerica smiled back at the yellow face, noting with humor the disclaimer numerical in the Insir’s statement. He still wasn’t acknowledging the Humans military prowess. That was his right. He can believe what he wants, Armitage thought. But at the end of this, it will be the Humans in complete control of the—

“Movement, admiral,” reported the scope operator. He placed his screen on the main display.

“Are you seeing this, Lead Insir?”

“Yes. They are forming their fleet. Yet the formations are…odd.”

“Attack formation Alpha,” Armitage commanded. “Box them in.”

The four hundred ships of the Ha’curn fleet were moving, yet they didn’t appear to be forming up either defensive or offensive lines. And neither did they appear to be readying for departure. Instead, small gaps were forming in the cluster of ships, appearing as dozens of puzzle pieces within the energy signals.

“What the hell are they doing?” asked a lieutenant commander at the nav station.

Unconsciously, Jerica shook her head, which probably wasn’t the best thing for the fleet commander to do. She was supposed to appear always in control, knowing the next move in the game before it was made.

“Identify openings, prepare waves one through three. Go on my command.” she said, sounding decisive.

Masses of ships began to move into position. The Antaere were lining up as well. The assault on the Ha’curn fleet was about to begin.

And then the Ha’curn ships bolted away.

“Track them!” Armitage cried out.

“Computer contacts, ma’am. Forty separate squadrons, ten ships each, heading away on all compass points. Ma’am, they’re kicking in their deep wells. Should we pursue?”

Armitage hesitated. Her fleet—both fleets—had been caught flat-footed. Was she willing to break her force into forty separate pursuit units, each with fuel and other support ships? And could she do that in the short time she had before contact was lost with the fragments of the Ha’curn fleet? To break up her force in the spur of the moment could be catastrophic. The Ha’curn know what they’re doing; she wouldn’t.

“Send only tracking ships. Keep contact with all the separate units. They’ll have to regroup somewhere. Find out where.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The link with the Antaere fleet was still open.

“Admiral, the Antaere wish to fall back to cover our homeworld,” said Lead Insir Sandor. “As you know, Antara is currently unguarded. We cannot take the risk of the Ha’curn forming up there.”

“They could regroup anywhere, Lead Insir. It’s best if we stay a unified force.”

“For you, perhaps, but not for the Antaere. Antara is only sixty light-years away, with no countering forces between here and there. I am not asking for permission, admiral. I do not have to. My forces are under independent control and authority. We arrived when and where you requested, prepared to fight. Our obligations have been met. But now we are departing. I suggest you fall back, as well. You are isolated very far from your home.”

“We will track the Ha’curn ships, looking for a pattern. I can understand them splintering apart, but they can’t remain like that for long. This is a new part of the galaxy for them. They cannot survive as ten-ship units, not against a unified Grid.”

“Perhaps not, yet they will be very hard to find should your fleet lose contact. I express luck in your pursuit. But for now, the Antaere are leaving.”

Jerica Armitage sat for several seconds before the now-empty screen, weighing her options. As the Lead Insir said, she was a long way from home and currently staring at a vast empty field of space. The Ha’curn may return to this region, or they may not. Either way, she had three hundred ships and nothing to attack.

“Helmsman, plot a course for ES-4. Take us back to Menkar, best possible speed. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

9

Four months later, on the month-long transit from Crious (ES-10) to Borin-Noc (ES-6), with one day remaining.

The starship smelled of oil. Lieutenant Zac Murphy found that to be odd. Although he wasn’t a mechanic, or even a pilot, he was pretty sure spacecraft operated mainly through electronics. What aboard the ship would require oil? Door hinges and…well, door hinges?

Zac shrugged off the question. The fact that he’d even thought of it had to be a byproduct of the frustrating boredom he was feeling. He was so bored it was making him mad. How he came to be aboard the old troop transport—on his second run to ES-6—was evident: he’d pissed off the wrong people. But why they had been pissed in the first place was what confused him. He didn’t deserve this. Any of this.

After checking on his charges, he wandered forward, knowing the old ship’s captain would be alone on the bridge. He was always alone on the bridge. How the man could stand it was beyond Zac’s understanding. But checking on him would be a distraction. Not much of one, but at least something.

Captain Darius Hunter straightened up in his pilot’s seat when Zac entered, removing his stretched out legs from the command console.

“Kinda late to be wandering the corridors, isn’t it, Mister Murphy?” The man’s voice was smooth and laced with humor. For a contract transport pilot on an uneventful transit route between star systems, he always seemed to be in a good mood.

“Just checked on my kids, now I have nothing to do.”

“Then please, pull up a seat. This is your second run with me, yet we’ve hardly said a dozen words to each other. Is that a REV thing, or do you just not like me?”

“No sir,” said Zac as he rotated the co-pilot seat around to face the captain. “Just didn’t realize the first time I made the trip that this would become a routine.”

Hunter raised his bushy eyebrows. “I was surprised, too, when you showed up with this latest crop of rookie REVs. I’ve been running your kind for a couple of years, and I’ve never had a person of your fame and rank playing nursemaid to the recruits.”

Zac shrugged. “Thanks…I think.”

“After the first run, I did a little research on you. Not that it was hard, and I’m sure there’s a lot more classified information I couldn’t find. The most-senior REV in the Corps, the Human with the most alien kills of anyone; you helped discover the Thirteenth Corollary and it was because of you that that Corgin guy admitted to destroying the Temple of Light on Iz’zar. ”

“Congin Bornak,” Zac corrected.

“That’s right. And because of that, we were just about ready to attack Antara and end the war before the Ha’curn showed up.”

“And here I am now,” Zac said with a sickly smile.

“And here we are.” Hunter’s face turned stern. “Who the hell are these fucking Ha’curn? We were just about to end this thing and then they show up. And now they have these wolf-pack squads out raiding locations throughout the Grid. Except for Earth, Crious and Antara, they’ve hit everyplace else, including caravans in space.”

“Hopefully our little three-ship convoy will pass through unnoticed.”

“I’m not worried about that; we’ll run if we have to. I don’t believe their ships are any faster than ours. It’s just frustrating to have been so close to ending the war.”

“Yeah, it sure did screw things up. At least now we’re not fighting the Antaere anymore.”

“For now, but they’re not going away. And from what I understand, they’re not helping out much, either.”

Zac cocked his head toward the rear of the ship. “That’s what my guys are for. REVs lead the way. We always have….” His voice trailed off.

The bridge was dark except for the light from a few automated survey screens constantly displaying data readouts. That plus the glow of distant stars through the wrap-around viewport. Zac stared out at the steady lights and grimaced.

“Don’t you ever get bored, being out here in the middle of…nothing?”

Captain Hunter recoiled from the question. “Bored? Hell no! Why would I get bored? Do you realize where you are?”

“Yeah, I just said it. Aboard an old tin-can of a troop carrier, in the middle of the greatest expanse of nothing anyone can imagine—no offense intended?”

“None taken,” Hunter said with a laugh. “Lieutenant, we’re in outer space, aboard a starship traveling faster than the speed of light. I could never get bored of that.”

When Zac didn’t respond right away, Hunter continued. “Son, I’m almost sixty-five years old. I was a teenager when the Antaere came to Earth, so I have some memory of what it was like before. Everything changed when the aliens came…and remember, initially they came in peace. It was a big-ass event, historic, life-altering. Then as soon as I was able, I joined the Navy and became every boy’s fantasy: Luke Skywalker piloting an X-wing fighter against an evil alien empire.”

When Zac frowned, so did Captain Hunter. “You do know who Luke Skywalker is, don’t you? Star Wars and that whole thing.”

“I’ve never seen the movies, but of course I’ve heard of it.”

“You need to pull them up. They’re pretty damn primitive by today’s standards—even the remastered ones—but maybe you’ll develop a better perspective of where you are. Look out there,” he said, pointing forward through the viewport. “That tiny bright spot up there is the tell-tale sign of a miniature blackhole—something we’ve created. And all that distortion is the light from the stars ahead of us being warped by the presence of the singularity. That is a miracle come true, something people could only imagine fifty years ago. Now we zip through space, defying the laws of physics, like catching a cab on Fifth Avenue. And there.” He pointed out the side of the starship. “You can see the stars out there without distortion and brighter than any night sky on Earth, and in all their glorious natural colors. Mister Murphy, we are living a great adventure, and for me it’s a fantasy come true.”

“This is your fantasy?” Zac asked, waving a hand at the darkened starship bridge.

“As I said, I learned to pilot starships and I fought against the Antaere when I was younger. But even Luke Skywalker grew old. I retired from the Navy and then began double-dipping by contracting out my piloting skills. I’ve run military munitions throughout the Grid. I’ve carried combat troops from Earth to Crious and all the way out to Kaus and Borin-Noc. Now I’m carrying REVs. And I’ll continue doing this for as long as they let me. I never tire of the wonder, lieutenant. I never will.”

Zac saw Captain Hunter studying his face in the dim starlight. “Unfortunately, my experience hasn’t been so, so satisfying,” Zac said, feeling obligated to say something after the captain’s starry-eyed speech.

“So what’s it like being a REV?” Hunter asked, changing the subject. “I know you’re the most senior one in the Corps, and an officer to boot. I’ve never heard of an officer REV.” The old man smiled and looked around his bridge. “You must have pissed off the wrong people to end up here.”

“You could say that,” Zac answered with a shrug and sigh. “As far as being a REV, it wasn’t all it was advertised to be.”

“But you’re different from the others; I can sense that. For one thing, you’re sitting here talking with me. I’ve never known REVs to be allowed to wander ship’s corridors unescorted, not until this new type of REV came along. But you’re old-school. Still, you’re calmer, not as hyper as the others.”

“You want to know the truth?”

Hunter’s eyes grew wide, and Zac sensed a trace of fear in them. The captain was afraid of what he might learn.

Zac leaned in closer. “I’m a…Jedi Knight.”

Hunter’s face turned serious. “I thought you never saw the movies?”

“I haven’t, but I do know the folklore.” Zac smiled. “You really want to know the truth?”

“Maybe. I’m not so sure now.”

“You promise not to tell anyone, even though at this point I don’t give a shit who knows.”

“Who am I going to tell?”

Zac smiled. “The truth? My body produces a natural form of the Rev drug, so I don’t need the maintenance boosts or to be activated like the others.”

Captain Hunter sat in silence for a moment, formulating his response. “You say your body does this, naturally? How is that possible?”

Zac could tell the man was scared. He’d just been told Zac didn’t have to become activated to become what he envisioned a REV to be.

“I don’t know. It’s some kind of mutation that helps our bodies survive the effects of the drug.”

“So are you…you activated all the time?”

“Partially,” said Zac, sending out his most disarming smile. “Don’t worry, I can control it. But you wouldn’t want to challenge me to an arm-wrestling contest.”

Hunter let out a snort. “Don’t worry, Mr. Murphy. My bones have become so brittle over the years from the variety of gravities I’ve lived under, you’d probably snap my arm clean off.” He studied Zac for a moment in the starlight. “I didn’t know. Is this what happens to all the older REVs?”

“Some do, most don’t. There’s a handful of us. And that may be it, too. This new AC-3 stuff isn’t as taxing on the body, so there may not be any need for the body to mutate. Hell, some of the guys back aft are laughing and playing cards. That’s something NT-4 REVs could never do. As you said, we were isolated and watched 24/7. Sure, the men back there are still addicted to the drug; we all were after the first couple of doses. But this is different. They can recover and go on multiple Runs a day, if they’re not too shot up. They even retain a lot of consciousness during a Run. That was never the case with the NT-4s.”

“You sound like you envy them.”

“I do,” Zac admitted. “I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories, maybe even seen some videos of REV Runs, before AC-3. It all looked so macho, a one-man killing machine ripping through hundreds of aliens, covered in guts and gore. But you probably don’t realize that to a REV—an old REV—videos like that were embarrassing. To see ourselves so out of control, so violent, so crazy. Most people pride themselves on their restraint. They don’t fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. If they do, then they don’t belong in civilized society. That’s how we felt. We didn’t go around like these new guys, sticking their chests out and acting all proud. We did what we had to do, were made to do. We served the Corps and did our jobs. But we weren’t proud of what we had to become to do it.”

“These new guys have started calling themselves REV Knights,” said Captain Hunter.

“I know; I’ve heard. Good for them. So yes, captain, I am envious of them. They may have a chance at a normal life at some point. We were never given that chance.”

“But you’re different, not as, as—”

“Crazy?”

Hunter shrugged.

“That just created another problem. You know the military and the government. What they can’t control they fear. REVs like me are outside the norm. And now with all the new REVs running on AC-3, people like me are being thrown away and given menial duties until they figure out what to do with us.”

“Damn, lieutenant. I had no idea.”

“It’s fine, Mister Hunter. I’m just glad to get a lot of this off my chest. Obviously, I don’t have a lot of people I can talk to.”

“The other REVs?”

Zac poked a thumb toward the aft section of the ship. “The ACs? No way, especially the rookies. They’re still high on the idea of becoming supermen. They’ll learn…or maybe they won’t. But until then, at least they can play cards with their buddies.”

Captain Darius Hunter smiled in the darkness. “Well, Mister Murphy, today is your lucky day.” He leaned forward and flicked on an overhead light, illuminating the command console. Then he opened a shallow side drawer and pulled out a deck of well-worn Bicycle playing cards.

“I have to warn you, Zac, I only play for money.” He looked around the nearly empty bridge. “That’s why none of my crew will play with me.”

Zac smiled broadly. “No worries, captain. This will be the most welcomed money I’ve spent in a very long time. Dealer calls the game. You go first.”

10

Arrival at Borin-Noc (ES-6)

Zac had always like Borin-Noc, at least the parts he’d seen of it when he wasn’t in a hospital bed at the former military base, recovering from a Run. Like all Colony Worlds, it was Earth standard in nearly every way. Maybe that was why he liked it. The base had been situated in the high country, surrounded by alien pines, grassy meadows and towering, snow-capped mountains. It was beautiful.

That was until the natives revolted and the Humans had to pull out. The events surrounding the evacuation had become a minor legend within the REV Corps, relating the story of how Gunnery Sergeant Arturo Garcia had sacrificed himself so the remaining seven hundred Humans hiding out in Site B could escape the planet. The location of his final sacrifice had been the eleven-thousand-foot high mountain peak known as Site A, the alien stronghold that held sway over the smaller peak to the north. Site A—called Vi-Cor by the natives—was now a major REV base. It was once again a forward position in the war with the Antaere, the major training facility for REV operators, centrally-located within the Grid and a jump off point for REVs heading into the fleet or ground facilities closer to Antara.

Yet with the latest strategy being employed by the mysterious Ha’curn, nowhere in the Grid could be considered the front. The small ten-ship wolf-packs were operating everywhere, and nowhere. They’d attack anything anywhere, being more of a nuisance than a real military threat. But they had made a mess out of the Grid. All populations, on every world, were in a state of panic. And there wasn’t a lot anyone could do about it.

And overshadowing it all was the belief—the fear—that a much larger force was on the way and could arrive at any time.

Hence Zac’s latest delivery of thirty-five REV recruits, their first deployment after Screening. Zac had to snicker at the thought of them coming here for training. REVs weren’t trained, they were discovered. Any volunteer who could tolerate the drug was accepted. And with this new version of the REV drug, more men were being found to be tolerant than ever before.

In Zac’s day, REVs did go through some training. Not a lot, but enough drilling so the operation of the mighty weapons they carried attached to their arms would become instinctive. Because that was how it worked, by instinct. REVs couldn’t think during a Run, they could only react. Not until Zac came along. And that fucked up everything.

These ACs were different. They could be controlled and directed. They carried conventional weapons, retaining enough mental awareness to know what they were and how to use them. They understood directions and targets. And their heightened abilities made nearly every operation and every weapon a demonstration of skill and acuity, even without training. Their bodies could just do it without trying.

The first of three shuttles carrying the REVs to Vi-Cor base landed in what had once been the laser array chamber, located at an elevation of eighty-five hundred feet, with two-hundred-foot-high ceilings and carved out of solid granite by the Antaere and the Noc when they created the base. Clouds of landing exhaust were vented out before placement crews moved in to tow the vessel to a staging area. Then the rear door of the shuttle opened and the REVs streamed out. Zac was still uneasy with the fact that so many REVs could be in the same room at the same time. That was traditionally a recipe for disaster. But not anymore. He had to admit, this was better.

A Marine first lieutenant approached him with a wide grin on his plump, bearded face.

“Welcome back to real gravity, Zac,” said Justin Brandt. He was about the only person Zac could call a friend on the base. It wasn’t that Zac was antisocial—although that still came hard for him. It was just that he hadn’t spent much time here since the changeover.

“Good to smell some fresh air after a month in a tin can.”

Brandt wrinkled his nose, taking in a whiff of the still lingering exhaust gas. “You call this fresh?”

“Sweet alpine air, and cool to boot. I like it.”

The officer took one of Zac’s two small duffle bags. “C’mon. Let’s get you to your room. A week, right?”

“That’s it. So let’s get into town for a couple of days.”

A pair of enlisted men passed the officers. Both officers returned the salutes. Zac looked back at them as he walked. “I want to go someplace where people aren’t saluting me all the time. Still not used to that.”

“I like it. Makes me feel im-potent,” Brandt joked.

“Remember, it’s the jewelry they’re saluting, not you personally.”

“Damn you, Zac, you just ruined the whole experience for me.”

Brandt noticed the gaggle of new REVs being directed out of the chamber. “Wish we had more for them to do. Back when we were fighting the Antaere there were a lot of planet-side targets. But the Ha’curn don’t have any; however, we are working on some ideas to make REVs effective in space battles.”

Zac frowned. REVs had never been effective in space. Maybe the occasional boarding party, but certainly not in ship-on-ship operations. Brandt saw the skepticism in Zac’s expression.

“Not much progress, just some ideas. You might sit in on a few of our meetings. Your input would be welcome.”

First Lieutenant Justin Brandt wasn’t a REV. He was part of the support group within the Running Man Brigade, currently helping with the operational control of the ACs. Before that he’d been second-in-command of a Recovery Crew, following REVs like Zac into combat. He’d been in the shit and Zac respected him for that.

“Before or after we go into town?”

“Before. I’d like to show you how we’ve beefed things up around here since your last visit. I mean it, the place is being overrun by operator-trainees. With more REVs entering the program, the need for controllers has tripled. And most of them come here for training.”

“Why here? Why not Earth.”

“Too far out. Vi-Cor is becoming the hub of all REV operations in the Grid. We’re working a rapid-response for the wolf-pack attacks, and ES-6 is pretty much in the middle of the Grid. It makes sense to run things out of here.”

Before exiting out the rear door of the shuttle chamber to enter the miles of tunnels carved into the mountain, Zac turned and grinned. “So this is REV Central? Who would’ve guessed we’d ever come to this? REVs and mortals working together, side-by-side, in peace and harmony. Times definitely are a-changing.”

“Mortals? Speak for yourself, First Lieutenant Murphy. I have jewelry. Around here, that makes me a god!”

* * *

After getting settled in, Zac went to the comm center and purchased a link with Earth. It took a while for his clearance to come through and his party to be located. But eventually the familiar face came on the screen.

“Zac! Hell, man, it’s been a while.”

“How are you, General Smith?”

“Enough of all this formality, lieutenant. We’ve been through enough together to cut the bullshit. Besides, this is a pleasure call, nothing official from the tagline. I have to say, you are looking a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

Zac smiled at the aging senior officer. They hadn’t seen each other since Zac was brought back to Earth from Enif, a beaten and drugged out shell of a man just freed from six months of captivity and an afternoon of combat against three Antaere REVs—known as NOVs. He wasn’t in very good condition at the time, and the thirty-one days it took to go from ES-6 to Earth wasn’t enough time for him to completely heal up, even with a cocktail mix of various rev drugs coursing through his veins.

“Good to see you, too, Smitty. I’m on ES-6, having just done my duty as a delivery boy for a new crop of REV killers to the base.”

Smitty’s face turned serious. “Yeah, I heard Diamond has you shuttling troops back and forth. I wish there was something I could do about it, but even my extra star isn’t enough to overcome his popularity back here. Maybe in a while.”

“If we have a while. Is there anything new with the Ha’curn?”

The general shook his head. “Nothing. Their fleet broke up when Jerica Armitage closed on them. Since then we haven’t been able to track down even one of the wolf-packs. Even when we do have ships in the area, they bolt away before we can engage. From what I understand, they still have their four hundred ships spread across the Grid.”

“What the hell are they still doing here?” Zac asked, almost as a curse. “If they aren’t going to conquer us, then go the fuck home. Come back with more forces if you have to, but in the meantime, leave us alone.”

“That may be their purpose: keep us off balance until the main fleet arrives.”

Zac sighed deeply. “Sorry, sir, I’m just frustrated, at the Ha’curn, at the Qwin, at my fucking life. This isn’t how I imagined it would turn out.”

Smitty frowned. “And how did you think it would turn out? You joined the REVs at nineteen. Since then, your fate was pretty well sealed.”

Zac slumped his shoulders. “You’re right, I don’t know what I’m talking about. I haven’t had any expectations for a while, except believing that each Run would be my last. It’s just when this, this thing happened to me, and then Olivia came back in my life….”

“I know what you mean, son.”

“So have you heard from her? Is she okay?”

“The last I heard she was still in Colorado working with Cross out at his ranch.”

“And the others?”

“I’ve been keeping track as best I can; you know the whole brothers-in-arms thing. Angus is running an armory out on ES-5, not too far from you. Kyle and Donovan are both attached to REV divisions with the 1st and 2nd fleets. Diamond has them doing essentially what you’re doing, admin work with no combat.”

Zac laughed. “I’m sure they like that.”

“About as much as you like being a chauffeur.”

“I think it’s Diamond’s goal to drive us all crazy. I think it’s working. And Ashley?”

“The very talented—and deadly—Ashley Hunter has disappeared, as deep cover secret agents are prone to do. In fact the last I heard, her and Amber were in the Zanzibar heading for open space, probably at the behest of the ship’s mysterious owner.”

The smirk on Zac’s face was making his cheek muscles sore. “It would be nice to get the band together again, someday, for something.”

Smitty laughed and patted his belly, which had grown several inches since the last time Zac had seen the officer. “That’s for youngsters. I think I’ll stay home and be your manager. I’m too old to go on tour again.”

“Don’t worry. If Jack Diamond gets his way, that will never happen. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the guy didn’t like me.”

“He doesn’t like anyone, except Jack Diamond.”

“Well Smitty, this is costing me an arm and a leg; they charge for private calls, even if the link is with a two-star general. I was just curious if you’d heard from anyone. Thanks for the info.”

“If I ever do talk to anyone again, I’ll let them know you’re alive and well. You take care of yourself, Lieutenant Murphy. And son, wear the rank proudly. Remember, I’m the one who gave you that gold bar.”

“The bane of my existence, sir. But thanks anyway. You meant well. Good-bye, Smitty.”

“Bye, Zac.”

Zac blew out a big breath of air and leaned back in the chair. REVs rarely made lasting friendships, so when they finally came along, he didn’t want to lose them. Maybe the past three years had just been a dream, a figment of his imagination. He should have known better to think he could be like everyone else. He was a REV. He will always be a REV. His blood chemistry told him so.

11

The next morning, Zac met Justin Brandt at one of the huge interior rooms set up as an operator facility. It was a strange dynamic within the base. The REVs had their section, and everyone else had theirs. But it wasn’t like the old days. The segregation was designed to keep the two contingents from becoming too familiar rather than for safety reasons. It wouldn’t pay for an operator—or anyone on the operator’s team—to become attached to a REV. Their job was to guide a weapon through a Run, nothing more. And often that Run could end in injury or death. They couldn’t know the REV or anything about him beyond his name, rank and city of birth. And even the city wasn’t necessary.

The training room was about half-full at the moment, with everyone talking at once. Fortunately for the operators and their teams, they all wore headsets. Also, the stone walls of the room were lined with a noise-absorbing material which helped muffle the din.

“A thousand people to control eighty REVs,” said Justin Brandt. “Not like the old days, is it, Zac?”

Zac shook his head. He had very little experience with this new version of the REV program, relegated as he was to nanny duties. Before that, he’d spent time recovering from six months as an Antaere captive, where he was constantly shot up with an alien form of NT-4. In reality, he was lucky to be alive.

Brandt led Zac through the room and into another granite-lined corridor before taking him through a set of doors. The room beyond was quieter than the operations center, with a couple of long counters in the center and an assortment of desks occupied by more cerebral types hard at work on their computers and datapads. Zac was led to a desk at the far end of the room. The man at the desk stood up when they approached.

“Zac, this is Dr. Larry Coates,” said Brandt. “He’s leading the command-packet effort here on the base. Larry, this is First Lieutenant Zac Murphy.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Murphy. I’ve heard a lot about you throughout the years. Are you joining the unit?” The men shook hands.

Zac pursed his lips while looking embarrassingly at his friend. Brandt mirrored the expression.

“Unfortunately, no, Dr. Coates. I have more important duties to tend to.”

The scientist frowned slightly, not knowing whether he’d been insulted or not. Zac changed the subject. “What is the command packet effort? Sounds technical.”

Brandt spoke first. “It’s what we’re doing to help make REVs part of the fleet’s space operations. Larry will explain.”

The scientist walked to one of the tables and picked up a REV command collar that was lying there. “Theoretically, we can control a REV assault on a starship. But for the command vessel to remain effective, it needs to be far enough away from the action and safe from attack. Yet with the speeds involved in space battles, as well as the vast area they range in, we could be talking about hundreds of millions of miles between operator and REV. And since command collars are too small to contain wormhole comms, we have to rely on traditional radio waves for the links.”

“And you can’t afford any time delays,” Zac said, picking up on the line of reasoning.

“Exactly,” said Coates. “We’re talking about several minutes, and that goes for giving commands as well as receiving data back from the battle. It just can’t be done with remote operators. The only solution is to send the REVs out with a set of pre-programmed instructions on how to carry out the mission. That’s what the command packets are for.”

“You don’t seem very happy, Dr. Coates. Isn’t it working?”

The man shook his head. “We can’t program in all the variables. Although the ACs can still think—to a degree—they require constant input to keep them moving in the right direction. Otherwise—”

“They just stand there. Not like the old days, is it Dr. Coates, when they’d just wind us up and let us go?”

“That did have its advantages, as well as its disadvantages.”

Zac smirked.

“Anyway,” said Coates, continuing. “We’ve developed a small assault vessel designed to get the REV to a ship. We can even get him aboard and fighting. It’s what happens next where we have the problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Even if the REV manages to kill the crew, he won’t know how to pilot the ship. And if he doesn’t kill them all, he still has to be Twilighted, which will get him killed instead. Either way, we won’t be able to recover the REV after Twilight. I don’t have to tell you, lieutenant, but without the right mix of RG-9 and other drugs to bring down his levels, he’ll resume cascading after the initial dose of Twilight wears off. We only have about forty minutes to get the REV to a medical facility before he starts cascading again.”

“It seems like a lot of work for very little benefit,” said Zac. “How often do you need to take over a warship, rather than just blow it to pieces?”

Coates looked crestfallen. “That’s the other issue,” he admitted. “And because of that, the funding for this part of the operation is pretty small. But without more land battles, the REV program doesn’t have much utility, at least against the Ha’curn. We’re hoping to keep the REVs relevant.”

“So more of them can get their asses shot off?” Zac said a little too harshly. He recovered his composure. “Sorry. Just some personal issues I’m working through.” Zac forced a smile at the scientist. “Don’t worry, Dr. Coates. I suspect this thing with the Ha’curn is just beginning. With a larger fleet against us, there will be plenty of ground landings where the aliens stick around for a while. I’m sure there will be plenty of work for the REVs just the way they are. But good luck with your research; I hope it works out for you.” Zac turned to his friend. “Let’s go eat.”

12

The Vi-Cor REV Base had three mess halls, one for the REVs, one for the operators and staff, and another for the officers. Although all the walls within the mountain were made of granite, care had been taken to make the officer’s mess look more conventional, with paneled walls and carpeted floors. From the ceiling hung two huge chandeliers made of rare Borin-Noc crystal, something very close to diamond. A small fountain was set to the side with a trickling waterfall over polished stones collected from the river splitting the valley at the base of the mountain. Zac had to admit, it was one of the nicer mess halls he’d been in.

The room was almost empty at this hour of the morning, so Zac and Justin Brandt took a table near the fountain. A steward came up to them, offering menus and a pleasant smile.

“The lunch special is native fish taken this morning from the Kennos River. Fresh as can be, and with asparagus shoots and a lemon juice sauce. Of course, both the vegetables and lemon are of a local variety, but they taste just like the real thing. Shipping perishables all the way out here from Earth isn’t practical.” The man knew Brandt, but not Zac, and was laying on the welcoming spiel a little too thick.

“Thanks for that, sergeant,” Zac said. “But you know what I’d really like is a fat, juicy hamburger. Lettuce, tomato—or whatever they have here—with cheese and bacon. Make it a double patty if you can. And French fries, lots of French fries. And what kind of soft drinks do you have?”

The steward smiled knowingly at the officer. “We have Pepsi products here, sir. Just like back home.”

“Then that is what I shall have.”

Brandt ordered the fish, and after the waiter left, looked at Zac with a sly grin. “I thought you guys went in for steak, and nothing but steak?”

“That’s after a Run. We need to replace the calories we’d just lost. This is just for me. I haven’t had a hamburger in three years—and fourteen before that. Angus and I stopped at a McDonalds on our first trip to meet Cross.”

Brandt’s face suddenly lost all expression.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked past Zac’s shoulder, to a point behind the REV. Zac turned quickly to see why Brandt was staring.

At a table near the center of the room was a man, seated by himself, his back to Zac. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with longish gray hair, longer than was appropriate in officer’s country. The man suddenly tensed and sat up straighter, sensing someone was watching him. Slowly, he turned. A razor-thin smile stretched out from his lips.

Zac’s blood pressure began to climb, along with his other functions. He blinked several times realizing he was cascading. Not enough to cause problems, but definitely a change. The man got up from his table and walked up to Zac. Both he and Brandt rose from their seats.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Murphy,” said Colonel David Cross. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Same here…sir.”

Zac stared into the crystal blue eyes of the former head of the REV program and one of its founding scientists. The man was tall, lean and fit, and wore his hair longer than most people in the military could get away with. But as a legend in the Corps, Colonel Cross did more or less what he wanted. Or at least he had, until the program had been taken away from him by General Jack Diamond.

“I heard you were running recruits out of Crious,” said Cross, looking Zac up and down, as if giving him a medical exam with just his eyes. “You appear to be healthy; no residual effects from your experience with the Antaere.”

“I’m okay. I thought you were back on Earth…with Olivia, Chief Contreras.”

“She’s still there. I didn’t bring her along on this trip. I’ll be sure to give her your regards when I return.”

The two men stood staring at each other, neither speaking. Then Cross glanced at Brandt. Justin got the message.

“If you will excuse me, Colonel, I believe I have somewhere else to be.” He hurried away.

“May I sit down?” Cross asked.

“And if I said no?”

Cross smiled. “I’d probably insist.”

Zac stepped back, waving a hand at Brandt’s empty chair.

The men sat down.

“I thought Diamond had you on a pretty tight leash?” Zac said, abandoning any attempt at decorum with the senior officer.

“The same as you,” Cross replied. “He’s off espousing his ACs as the saviors of the program. He doesn’t need any of us old fossils getting in his way, either me or you.”

“I thought you didn’t give a shit about us anymore, now that you have your children? So how’s the master race coming along? Ready to take over the world?”

Cross raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think I want to do? If you do, then you don’t know me very well. I’m just following the natural path of evolution. I want a stronger, better Human. You and the other Deltas are just that, even if you don’t want to admit it. The children are just a natural offshoot of evolution. They were going to come about one way or the other…after you came on the scene. All I’ve done is organized the process, helping to keep track of the progress.” He sighed and looked at the falling water from the fountain. “Have you ever wondered what would happen if Delta REVs had any children, with a few of them carrying the mutation? What type of life do you think they would have if no one knew or understood what was happening to them? They’d be considered freaks of nature. I’m protecting them from that since I know what they are and what potential they have. I’m also helping to foster purer bloodlines, taking chance out of the equation.”

“Sounds sensible and altruistic. But I’ve often wondered: Would me and the others have started producing natural NT-4 if you hadn’t messed with the formula? Was this a natural path of evolution, or a manipulation?”

“I can’t answer that for sure,” said Dr. Cross. “I believe eventually the mutation would have appeared. But when and to what degree, I have no idea. This way I knew when and where. Again, I provided a more controlled environment to study the effect, rather than leave it up to chance.”

“And now Diamond has taken over, and his ACs are a little closer to your dream of manufactured supermen than you ever got. Doesn’t that piss you off?”

Cross leaned back in the chair and smiled. “You think what Jack has done was a surprise to me? I had the AC-3 formula six years ago, but it wasn’t getting me to where I wanted to go. And now, look around you. Do you think the AC-3s are superior to you and the Deltas?”

“I didn’t say that. But they have it a lot better than what traditional REVs had to go through.”

Cross shook his head. “Your kind—the traditional REVs—were called mindless killing machines. Now we simply have mindless. There are three thousand people here at this base alone learning how to control the ACs. And that’s just the beginning. The system is too big, too complicated to ever be effective. Is that better?”

“It’s better for the REVs. They’re not burning themselves out so fast. And they can actually exist in society when they’re not on the job. They could have a future.”

“You don’t know that for sure. No one does. AC-3 has only recently been put to full use. We don’t know all the side effects.”

“So what? You knew the side effects of NT-4 yet you kept feeding it to us for years, even if it was killing us.”

“It didn’t kill you. In fact, it made you…better.”

“I’m a freak, colonel. Me, Angus, Donovan, we’re all freaks. And now no one knows what to do with us. Sure, I could go on to live a normal life…if they’d let me. But not the rest of the traditional REVs. Their fate was sealed at the first injection of NT-4.”

Cross looked around the room as Zac’s voice became animated, angry. More officers were streaming in as it got closer to lunchtime. He leaned in closer to Zac, speaking in softer tones than before.

“I’m sorry for what they’re doing to you, Zac. Really I am. After I had a decent sampling from the Deltas, I didn’t need you and the others anymore. If it had been up to me I would have let you all go. It’s Diamond who doesn’t trust you. And he’s convinced the people in Washington that he’s right. Just be patient. So far none of you have caused any problems. Eventually they’re going to forget about you.”

Zac laughed. “That’s comforting. Nothing like a long forgotten REV. That’s been happening to us for some time now, although mostly it’s been our graves that have been forgotten.”

Both men straightened up when the steward brought Zac’s hamburger and Brandt’s fish special.

“Excuse me, Colonel, will you be remaining at this table? I seem to have an extra lunch special.”

“Leave it, sergeant. I love your fish.”

“Thank you, sir.” The man left as soon as he could, sensing the tension at the table.

Zac frowned, watching the doctor as he squeezed extra lemon juice on the fish filet. “How long have you been here?”

“A little over a week.”

“Does Diamond know?”

Cross placed a forkful of fish in his mouth. “Damn, that’s good.” He shook his head. “Jack does what he wants, and I do, too, most of the time. No, he doesn’t know.”

“Why are you here?”

Cross waived his fork at Zac’s double-decker hamburger. “You better eat that before it gets cold.”

There wasn’t anything Zac could do about the current situation. Cross was here, and so was Zac, for the next three days. He’d go into town for two of those, and then he’d be gone. Who gave a damn what Dr. David Cross was up to?

“You want to know why I’m here? I’ll tell you.”

“You don’t have to. It’s none of my business.”

“But it could be, in a way.” After another bite of his food, Cross continued. “Jack has had me analyzing data feeds from his ACs. He acknowledges that I know this better than anyone and he’s curious about how his REVs are holding up. He also figures I can’t cause any problems if I only handle shitloads of data. I have Olivia helping me. She’s one of the best at this.” Crossed leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “About a month ago we got a report from Vi-Cor about an AC who the doctors were having trouble getting his levels down. And this was after a maintenance session, not even a long-term activation.”

Zac tensed. He knew that retaining high residual levels of the rev drug, despite the dilution regime, was a sign that something else was taking place in the body, something unexpected.

“From AC-3?” Zac asked. “Was this one of the traditional crossovers? An NT-4 now on AC-3.”

“That’s why I’m here, to find out. As it turns out, this is one of your recent recruits, eleven months in the program. He’s had only one NT-4 maintenance dose, plus those in the testing phase. Since then it’s only been AC-3. Add to that the fact that he’s never been on a long-term Run and we have a real mystery on our hands.”

Now Zac was curious. His body had begun to produce its own version of NT-4 as a defense mechanism against the stresses the drug placed on his body. But that had taken years of abuse before the mutation appeared. AC-3 was a lot less stressful on the body. There would be no reason for it to adapt to survive, and certainly not so soon.

“Well, is he?” Zac asked the unformed question.

“I’m still working on that,” Cross answered in a whisper. “There is a trace amount of…something. Right now I’m trying to figure out if it’s a variation of NT-4 or AC-3. There are subtle differences in the drugs, although ninety-eight percent of each is identical to the other. The two percent is what makes an AC-3 REV or…you.”

“Could he just be a…freak? That one-in-a-million person whose body is hypersensitive to Rev, either version? There have to be people like that.”

Cross shrugged and shook his head. “And now you know why I’m here. I tried to get the subject transferred back to Earth but our friend General Diamond has a standing order that I’m not to have any control over the REVs. I couldn’t bring him to me. So instead, I came to him.”

“Diamond will be pissed if he finds out you’re here.”

Cross smiled. “I still have some friends in the Corps and the program Mr. Murphy. If Jack finds out I’m here, they’ll say I’m working on a new data transfer system. In the meantime, they’ve given me an isolated exam room and all the equipment I need. The process isn’t that complicated, it’s just that under the circumstances, it’s just me doing all the work. In hindsight, I should have brought Chief Contreras.”

“I wish you had. It’s been a while….”

“She talks about you all the time.”

“Thanks for that. So…why did you tell me this, about the REV?”

Cross shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably because you went off about how great the AC-3 program is. I just wanted you to know that there’s a lot about the formula we still don’t know. Things like this take a long time to settle out. This could just be the beginning.”

“And if AC-3 does make natural REVs even out of rookies, wouldn’t that help your plans?”

The doctor shook his head. “Not really. If AC-3 is a shortcut to reaching your level of REV, then there would be no controlling it, no slow introduction to society. Take a shot and wham…you’re a superman. That could be very unsettling for a lot of people.”

Now Zac shrugged. “You’re still a long way from that.”

“Let’s hope so.” Cross patted his lips with the cloth napkin then stood up. “I’m glad to see you’ve recovered from your ordeal with the Antaere. And I wish there was more I could do about your situation, but I can’t. I’ll tell Olivia I saw you. Take care, Lieutenant Murphy.”

Zac stood up—and much to his surprise—shook the senior officer’s hand. “Thank you, sir. Good luck. I hope you get the answers you’re looking for.”

Cross nodded and then walked away.

13

After lunch, Zac went looking for his friend, Justin Brandt. He felt bad about what happened and wanted to make it up to him. He wandered into the huge controller training bay on his way to the smaller room with the lab geeks, hoping to find him there.

The room was empty except for a young, female sergeant with short-cropped blonde hair. She turned at the sound of his footsteps on the stone floor.

“Where is everyone?” Zac asked.

“They’re at lunch—”

Her expression turned to shock and she stood up quickly, coming to attention.

“At ease, sergeant. We’re all friends here.” Zac gave her a full-tooth smile.

“Lieutenant Murphy. I didn’t know it was you.”

Zac recoiled. “You know who I am?”

“Yes sir. But when I met you before you were a gunnery sergeant. I heard you were the first officer REV. Congratulations, sir.”

“Thanks. Who are you?”

“Sergeant Joanie Hollis, United Air Force. I spent a couple of months aboard the Valhalla when you were there. Run monitor, trainee.”

“But you’re air force. We were a Marine operation exclusively at the time.”

“The air force provided a lot of the remote monitoring equipment. That was my specialty.” The cute blonde smiled wryly. “I also think the air corps was planning to start their own REV program at the time. They were tired of the Marines getting all the glory.”

Zac nodded. “But sergeant, that’s what Marines do.”

“Sir…that’s what you think.”

Zac laughed. “So now you’re an operator-trainee.”

“Hell no, sir. I’m one of the instructors.”

“We haven’t had operators for very long.”

“I was in on the ground floor. I’ve controlled forty-one Runs.” Her smile was intoxicating. “I’m like you, sir. A legend among my peers.”

Zac had only a peripheral knowledge of how AC-3 REVs were run. Now he had the opportunity to get a personal briefing, and by a very appealing instructor.

“So how does it work? As you probably know, I’ve been out of the loop for a while.”

Joanie’s face flushed and she turned serious. “Yes, sir. I heard. That must have been terrible. Like everyone else, I’ve seen a lot of the videos.”

It was Zac’s turn to blush. “I hope I didn’t make too much of a fool of myself.”

Joanie’s face turned animated. “No sir! You were…heroic. Not me. I would have given up the very first day.”

“That I very much doubt. You have the life or death of a REV—as well as the mission’s success—all riding on how well you do your job. And…you’re a legend. That says a lot.”

“It’s different, sir. My life isn’t at risk.”

“But you know what’s at stake. I admire that. How about showing me how it works?”

“Sure, take a seat.”

Sergeant Hollis sat at her operator’s station while Zac took the medical monitor’s seat. “First of all, each REV has to be assigned an operator, one which only he will respond to. With so much going on during a Run, we can’t have him confused by conflicting commands. The instructions we give have to be simple and not much more than three words at a time. The REV can process data a lot faster than we can, but most of that is sensory, not audible. Movement, heat, sound on the battlefield, these are things he’s responding to. He can become easily distracted if not receiving constant input from the operator.” Joanie stopped, her eyes displaying embarrassment. “But I don’t need to tell you this. You know.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t. Remember, I come from a different time. I can recall in perfect detail everything that happens during a Run, but not during the Run. Only afterward…if I survive. Now what’s this?” Zac asked, pointing to the control stick. “Is this a way of guiding the REV?”

“No, sir. That’s for me. It’s a way for me to switch between about twenty different data inputs so I can get a better sense of the battle. Unlike when you were on a Run, I have access to satellite data, drone images and more. I’ll know if there’s a group of bad guys around the corner and help my REV deal with the hostiles.”

“And they listen?”

“They better, or else I’ll spank their tight little behinds when they get back.”

An alarm began wailing in the room. Zac sat back, a smile on his face. “Nice touch, sergeant. And that means what? Some kind of drill?”

Joanie’s face turned pale, her eyes wide with terror.

“No sir, that’s the real thing.”

“What thing?”

“That’s an attack warning. It could be a wolf-pack.”

Sergeant Hollis was firing up her console, lighting up screens, both at her station and along the front wall. Dozens of people began flooding into the room as well, taking up positions.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a husky Navy hospital corpsman as he practically picked Zac up and removed him from the seat next to Joanie’s.

A Marine colonel stepped to the front of the room. “Attention up! All instructors take primary stations. Those with the next level of experience, the ones after that. We have reports of a double wolf-pack assault on the base—twenty Ha’curn ships. Landing craft have separated from the motherships and are above us at this moment. They appear to be targeting the gun turret and shuttle room. Unfortunately, the guns are no longer operational. They’ll try to come in through the openings along the barrels and the shuttle entrance. We can’t close those off. Prepare your REVs for defensive actions. Get them up and running.”

Zac studied the faces of the people in the room. A third of them were serious, though concerned. The other two-thirds were gripped in terror. These were the recruits, the trainees who came here thinking they were going to learn how to play video games with living beings. Now not only were the REVs at risk, but so were they. The men and women in the room knew that no Ha’curn attack had been successfully repelled. It was only the hit-and-run nature of the attacks that spared more lives.

Now twenty ships were making the assault, and on the largest REV base this side of Crious. Zac wondered if the aliens realized what they were getting into? There were almost eighty REVs at the base, although looking at the operator stations, it was obvious all of them couldn’t be activated at the same time. Maybe thirty at the most, and that was governed by the expertise of the operators and their teams. Hopefully they wouldn’t put the lives of REVs in the hands of rookies.

Zac moved to the front of the room where the colonel was directing both junior officers and enlisted. When he saw an opening, Zac stepped up to the officer.

“Does this make sense, colonel? Could they really be attacking knowing what’s here?”

“You’re Murphy, aren’t you? Well, I can’t tell you. It certainly seems like a stupid move on their part.”

“It would be their first.”

“Hopefully it will be their last, at least for this group of raiders.” The man stepped up to the first row of consoles. “Prepare to deploy REVs, ten to each level. Station the others at the main entrance. M-101’s, with minis for backups. Load ’em up. They don’t have to run far.”

Zac turned to the main screen towering above him on the wall. It was broken into three sections, one each for the chambers above the control room and another showing the main entrance into the complex, five thousand feet below. Huge metal grates had been lowered over the entrance. The barrier wasn’t solid; it could still be fired through. REVs and regular military were stationed there.

In the chambers above, more REVs were activated and moving, the clock ticking. Most were in battle armor, a few without. It took crews to fit the armor on a REV, and apparently there wasn’t enough time to get all the crews on station before the REVs had to be sent out. Hopefully there were other REVs being fitted and on standby, ready to replace any who were killed or taken out of action.

Zac was awed by what he saw on the huge screen. Twenty or more hulking REVs, all moving in unison, charging up stairways and spreading out in the enormous chambers, racing past fleeing men and women without paying them any attention. It was amazing, the fact that activated REVs weren’t killing everything that moved. Maybe Diamond’s vision wasn’t so bad after all….

“They’re on the top of the mountain,” another officer announced to the room. “They’re coming down, hard to count, but well over two hundred.”

A screen lit up showing video from outside the complex. The Ha’curn were there, scrambling down the slopes with ease. They had their claws out, using them with blinding efficiency to gain purchase on the stones, dirt and snowpack. They were as surefooted as cats, which many compared them to. But these aliens were more like panthers—intelligent, organized panthers—dressed in their black outfits, weapons held firmly to their chests. The mountain slopes were covered with them.

“Stage the REVs. None of the invaders are to make it into the complex. Get ready.”

Commands were being sent through dozens of microphones, some more calmly than others. Zac caught sight of Joanie Hollis. She was stern-faced and serious, her lips moving, her eyes glued to her screens, sending out orders to her assigned REV in a workmanlike fashion. She was confident and decisive, unlike many of the others. Even the experienced operators were having trouble keeping it together. They’d never been threatened before. They’d always been in orbit or safely to the rear of the action. Now they were fighting not only for the lives of their REVs, but for their own lives as well.

The REVs were lined up, facing the open gaps in the gun turret room and the expanse of the shuttle entrance four hundred feet above, their weapons ready. They each carried a thousand rounds of combined ammo. Thirty REVs—here and at the main entrance below—with a thousand rounds each, against a couple of hundred lightly-armored aliens. It shouldn’t even be a question. Activated REVs could cycle their rate of fire faster than any creature alive, even the Ha’curn, and with uncanny accuracy. That had been shown in the engagements the Humans had had with the aliens. The cat-like beings could be killed, and from the look of things, that was about to happen to a whole shitload of them.

Zac let out a soft, yet nervous laugh. Hopefully, the Ha’curn considered this just another target of opportunity, not knowing what was inside the mountain. The nervous part of the laugh came from the possibility that they did know and were carrying out the attack anyway.

“Colonel! Colonel!” someone in the front row of operators yelled out. “My comm’s breaking up!”

“Same here!”

“Affirmative!”

The officer stepped up to Joanie’s station. “What the hell’s going on, sergeant?”

Joanie was frantically working her controls and punching the keyboard on her console. She turned to a man behind her, ignoring the colonel’s question. “Keep it up,” she cried out. “Don’t lose it.”

“It’s not me, sergeant. Some kind of interference.”

“Interference?” asked the colonel. “From where?”

“Outside, sir,” the survey monitor said, his voice in a panic. He was in charge of surveillance and site security. “We’re being jammed.”

“Does anyone still have solid contact with their REVs?” the colonel barked.

“We all have contact, sir, but not solid,” Joanie reported. But it’s coming in and out.”

“We’re going down, sir,” said the site surveyor. “Total LOS in about twenty seconds.”

The colonel looked back at the large screen. It was still operating cleanly.

“What systems are affected?”

“Only the command collars, sir. It’s a targeted frequency.”

Joanie pushed back from her console. “Sir, I can’t see my REV.”

Zac leaned on the console. “You can’t see him?”

“And he can’t see me. No contact.”

“No contact, no directions?”

Zac turned to the main screen. All the REVs were standing in a line, rocking slowly back and forth, their weapons still at the ready. There were no regular troops in the chambers to back them up, and only about twenty at the main entrance. These troops were staring at the now idle REVs next to them, sensing that something was wrong.

Zac reached across the console and took Joanie by the collar of her uniform. He pulled her from her seat. “Can you give me voice control of the REVs?”

The sergeant blinked several times, startled by his physically grabbing her and the confusing nature of his words. “What?”

“Can you give me command of the REVs?”

“You, why…no!”

“Give me voice control. I’m a REV. I can activate naturally and remain in control. Let me go in there and direct the REVs!”

“Sir!” Joanie called out to the colonel, clawing at Zac’s vice-like grip to get away.

“Let her go, Murphy!”

Zac obeyed before turning to the colonel. “Sir, I can go in there and direct the REVs. I can activate. I can move at their speed and resist incoming fire like them. Dammit, colonel, I’m a fucking REV! Let me go in there. I can do this.”

“Sir, the first of the Ha’curn will be in the complex in thirty seconds,” another officer said to the colonel.

“You…can activate, on your own? How?”

“Let’s not worry about that now. Can you give me voice control or not?”

“Sergeant!”

Joanie was scowling at Zac. “He needs to have his voice fed into the system.”

“How do I do that?”

“Through a set of standard words. The computer will take it from there.”

“So it can be done?”

Joanie pursed her lips and nodded.

Zac turned back to the colonel as another update came in.

“The first of the Ha’curn are entering the shuttle bay, sir!” someone yelled.

All eyes turned to the main screen. Several of the black creatures entered the shuttle bay, coming in from above, their sharp claws gripping the rock of the cavern’s ceiling. They scampered above the line of REVs with ease before dropping on top of them. The REVs were knocked to the ground as several of the cat creatures ganged up on them, clawing at their A-18 armor. It took a while, but eventually pieces of the composite material began to shred. Blood flowed out from the wounded and dying REVs, who now lay sprawled out on the stone floor, giving no defense.

“Do it!” the colonel ordered.

“Over here!” Joanie ordered. Zac jumped the console. He was already at mid-cascade, so when he shoved the corpsman out of his seat, the man went flying, tumbling over the row of operator stations behind them. Zac didn’t apologize.

Joanie had a short progression of words on her screen. “Read these into the microphone, slowly and distinctly. No panic in your voice.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Zac looked at the words. “Command. REV. Advance. The quick brown fox. There is no shame in victory.” He frowned at the sergeant. She impatiently prompted him to continue. “Ground floor elevator. Begin. End.”

Joanie reached over and turned off the microphone.

“Okay, that’s just the beginning,” she said, pressing a small datachip into his hand. “You’ll need to insert this into the manual comm link on the command collar of every REV you control. The data will load automatically and take about three seconds.”

“I can’t just go in and start giving orders?”

“You could, if we still had comms up, but we don’t. You need to link with each individual REV you want to control. If one goes down, grab another and insert the chip.”

Zac stood up. “Someone get me a weapon!”

A Marine-issue M-101 was pressed into his hands. Another man slipped a torso shield over his shoulders and began to tighten the side straps.

“This will help some, sir.”

“And here, put this in your ear.” Joanie handed him a tiny comm bug. “We have cameras throughout the complex. I’ll be able to help guide you.”

Zac looked at the small electronic device. “Why can’t you use these to communicate with the REVs?”

“Once they’re activated the REVs are programmed to only respond to the command collars, and that’s the only frequency being jammed.”

Zac put the bug in his right ear.

“If you run out of ammo with the ’101, just grab another from the idle REVs,” said the colonel. “There should be plenty. Now get moving. The shuttle bay is lost. They’ll be coming in through the gun turrets any second. And others have already begun to move into the main complex from the shuttle bay access points, as well as through the main entrance. Good luck, Lieutenant. I hope you know what you’re—”

Zac had already hopped an operator’s console and was rushing away, eliciting gasps of shock as he blurred past the people in the room. He was near full activation now, the first such episode since his time in the Antaere maze. With it came a clarity of mind and vision, in addition to a thrilling sense of overwhelming power. He felt like a boulder rolling down a mountainside, picking up momentum as he went. This was still a new sensation for him, having the strength of a REV, and being aware of it.

He was at the stairway to the turret room a moment later. He bounded up the steps, taking ten at a time. Three leaps and he literally crashed through the door at the top of the landing.

With lightning quick reactions he surveyed the room. It was about a hundred meters long by fifty wide, mostly empty except for generator units to the rear along with three huge gun turrets sticking out through vertical openings in the stone wall to the outside. Half of the barrels extended below the level of the chamber, with the other half extending outside. They could be angled up to almost vertical and rotated fifteen degrees side to side, if all the barrels turned at the same time. There was an elevated control station about ten meters to the inside of the turret openings, with other monitoring stations and ammo carriers lining the side walls.

The room was empty except for the odd looking line of ten armored REVs standing with their backs to Zac and slowly rocking back and forth with eerie regularity. They had weapons in their hands and in firing position, but it was obvious no one would fire without directions.

Zac sprinted across the floor, aiming for a REV in the middle of the line, fourth from the left. Just then, the first of the Ha’curn slipped in from the top of the turret openings, clinging confidently to the rock of the ceiling. They moved with speed and agility, sixty meters above the floor.

Zac reached the REV. His helmet was attached to the command collar above, with his torso armor hooked in from below, leaving the collar exposed; it had to be in order for the cameras to work. There were four small slot openings on the back of the collar, a pair to each side of the rear-facing camera. Zac knew the command collars intimately; he’d worn them for fifteen years during his one hundred-plus Runs. He hoped the arrangement of the data ports hadn’t changed for the new ACs. He inserted the small chip into the second slot from the left, the comm link. He began to count to three slowly as the data uploaded. He gave it until four just to make sure.

He rushed to face the REV. The helmet turned, the beady green electronic eyes locked on him.

“Repeat after me,” Joanie said into Zac’s ear. He repeated her words out loud to the REV.

“You are REV number one. Recognize me,” he said. “Follow my commands. Defend yourself. Shoot all non-Humans in the room. Execute.”

Zac dove out of the way as the REV instantly locked onto a number of the Ha’curn on the ceiling, targeting and firing so fast it sounded like one long, continuous blast from the ’101. Shattered and bloody bodies began to rain from above.

More Ha’curn were coming in on the barrels of the large ballistic cannon, leaping with uncanny coordination before standing upright and firing their black weapons. Zac took several hits in his armor. His heightened REV reactions and strength fought against the force of the plasma bolts striking him. His armor began to melt, but he felt nothing, his combined three-Rev chemical cocktail numbing any pain his body may be experiencing. He opened fire, each of his shots a fly’s breath apart and on target. Ha’curn began to be split apart by the powerful ballistic rounds of the M-101 assault rifle.

He glanced to his left. Ha’curn were now dropping from the ceiling and landing on REV #1. Their claws were slashing at the tough A-18 armor, having trouble cutting through. Then something fell on Zac.

He twisted and bent over. The Ha’curn on his back tumbled forward, but its claws were embedded in the light armor Zac was wearing. He took the stock of his rifle and smashed it into the chest of the alien, crushing ribs while opening up a tremendous gash. Red blood spurted out. Zac pulled the creature away, just as three more fell on him.

He rolled to his right, placing several of the Ha’curn beneath him, which helped to keep them from gaining firm grips on either his armor or his flesh. He was cut in a dozen locations but ignored the injuries. With the aliens too close to shoot, he settled for swipes of his rifle, accompanied by two quick fists to the alien heads. Two died instantly, while one was sent sliding on the smooth stone floor from a hit to the side of its head. The thick bone plate saved its life, for the time being. But then Zac watched as the Ha’curn tried to regain its balance. It took a step toward the Human, then staggered and fell to the floor, unconscious. Zac smiled. So…with enough force to the side plates, brain damage resulted. That was good to know.

Zac ran to the next REV in the line. The Ha’curn had quickly noticed that only two of the Humans in the room were firing at them. They ignored the others while concentrating their attack—both physical and with energy weapons—on the two who were.

Zac inserted the datachip he still held in his fingers into the comm port of the REV and repeated the linking procedure. He took several bolts to the back as he did so until the hot and shredded armor fell from his shoulders.

Then REV #2 took over, advancing quickly, laying down prodigious amounts of M-101 fire, causing the Ha’curn to duck for cover. Zac had activated a third REV by the time #1 went down from the concentrated gunfire of the Ha’curn.

Two more aliens rushed him as he made his way to the next REV in the line. He blasted one before his weapon ran empty. The second caught a rifle butt in his chin, between the flat head plates. The alien’s head snapped back, the body following.

Zac didn’t bother activating the next REV in the line. Instead, he snatched the weapon from his light grip and moved to the next one. He cleared away any Ha’curn blocking his way and activated the REV, assigning him as REV #4.

“Retreat to the rear. Guard the doorway on the right.”

The REV rushed off, heading for the way Zac had entered the room, leaving only a splintered doorframe in his wake. Zac—with his accelerated reasoning—had a moment to reflect on how the AC-3 REVs could understand commands, recognizing what was a doorway and what was left or right. This definitely showed a level of consciousness never seen in an NT-4 REV. It opened up some interesting possibilities for Zac and his commands.

He activated #5 and sent him to guard the door at the back of the chamber, the one that led into the main tunnels for the complex at this level. In the meantime, Ha’curn were pouring into the chamber from the stairway leading to the turret room from the shuttle bay above. Zac sent a dozen rounds into their bodies until no more came through the portal, either because they were all dead or they decided this wasn’t the most advantageous use of their dwindling troop strength.

“How many more are there?” Zac asked Joanie through their comm link.

“There aren’t anymore outside; they’re all in the complex…or dead. You’re pretty much clear where you are now. But they’re moving through the corridors, breaking into rooms and killing everyone they see. All staff is being evacuated to the farthest points within the mountain.”

Zac looked at the other REVs in the room, the ones he hadn’t activated. Unfortunately, the Ha’curn had gone ahead and attacked them, eliminating any potential threats. All he had left were the two REVs guarding the doors, and one of them was pretty beat up and barely able to stand.

“What about standard troops? Are they defending the corridors?”

“We don’t have a lot here,” the sergeant answered. “We’re a REV base; what do we need standard troops for?”

Zac grimaced. That made sense. “What about other REVs? Can you send some my way so I can activate them?”

“We can, but they’ll have to be transported to a rendezvous point by hand because their armor is too heavy for them to carry without being activated first.”

“Speaking of that, how much time is left on these two?”

“They can run for up to twenty minutes, so each has about seven minutes remaining.”

“I’m going to send one down to you. He’s in pretty bad shape. Can you Twilight him at the bottom of the stairway and get him some medical care?”

“It will have to be a manual Twilighting. His collar is programmed to do it at the end of his Run.”

“That’s fine. Listen, I don’t know the complex very well. Where can you drop me a couple of extra REVs? I can’t handle much more than that.”

“From the turret room, go along the corridor until you come to the second intersection, then turn right. There’s a meeting room with a green door about fifty meters down. We’ll put them in there. The way is clear once you get out of the main corridor. Before that, you’re going to run into Ha’curn.”

“Got it. The REV is on his way down to you.”

Zac went to the REV…he’d forgotten the number of this one. “REV, go down stairway, wait for Human team. Do not engage. Execute.”

Both REVs moved to the shattered doorway.

“Stop!” That didn’t work. He addressed the more-severely injured REV. “REV #4, proceed downstairs. Wait for the Humans. Do not engage. Execute.”

The right REV moved.

He moved to REV #5—or at least he hoped it was number five. “Number Five. Stand at attention. Execute.” The REV stood up straighter. Good. “Follow me wherever I go. Kill all non-Humans you see—” Zac then thought of something. He turned away from the REV.

“Sergeant, are there any non-Humans in the complex?”

“Plenty. There are Noc as well as some other species. You’re right. It was okay to give the order in the bay, but not within the complex.”

Zac turned back to the REV. “REV #5, follow me. Shoot any target I designate. Do not wait for an execute order before shooting. Now execute.”

Zac wasn’t sure if the REV could understand such a complicated set of instructions. He would find out soon enough.

He opened the door and entered the corridor with REV #5 close behind. There was a thick cloud of smoke lingering near the ceiling and extending about two feet down, residual from flash bolts in the confined space. There were a couple of dead Humans and three Noc—the natives of Borin-Noc—but no dead Ha’curn. All the enemy aliens who made it this far had moved on.

Every door he came to was open, some having been blasted away. More bodies. Then he heard something on the left, three doors down.

He did a quick look inside, using his REV awareness to take in the room in a fraction of a second. Then he stepped inside, already aware of what he’d find.

Doctor David Cross was standing in the middle of his quarters, his uniform ripped and bloody in several places, and holding a metal lamp by the stem, blood painting the brass surface. On the floor around him were two dead Ha’curn.

“You did this?” Zac asked, incredulously.

The scientist looked stunned. He nodded.

“Are you hurt?”

The Marine colonel shook his head. “You go ahead. I’ll be fine. They’ve moved on.”

Zac nodded and left the room, taking his REV shadow with him.

At the first corridor intersection, Zac ran into some resistance. Four Ha’curn, moving his way, had taken up a position there. They fired flash bolts into the hallway.

Zac and his REV pressed themselves against a stone wall and returned fire. The Ha’curn backed away.

By this time, Zac’s chest armor was gone, as was most of his uniform shirt. He was covered in blood from head to toe from multiple injuries, although he felt no pain. His state of mind made him aware of his condition, almost to the point of panic. It was one thing not to feel his injuries; it was another not to know their extent. At any moment his legs could give out from under him, or his heart could stop. Since he couldn’t feel his body, he had no way of knowing how badly he was hurt.

Zac rushed past the contested intersection and to the next.

“Now turn right,” Joanie’s voice said in his ear. “We put two REVs in the room with the green door. Your way is clear.”

“Where are the Ha’curn?” Zac asked as he reached the room and entered.

“Strange, but they’re working their way back toward the turret and shuttle rooms.”

“They’re leaving,” Zac said. “There are only so many of them in the Grid. They can’t afford to lose too many on suicide missions. And if they stay here, we’ll eventually take them all out. I’ll get the REVs and try to cut them off.”

It was an odd scene: two fully-armored REVs—helmets and all—still standing in the hand trucks that had carried them here. The men had been activated by the techs who brought them but they had nowhere to go until directed.

Then REV #5 Twilighted. He fell to the floor with a thud. Zac moved to the back of the two new REVs and went through the linking procedure. After receiving instructions, they followed Zac out of the room and back the way he came.

The three REVs made it to the turret room just in time to waste four more Ha’curn as they made for the openings and the outside of the mountain. Then the REV trio went up the stairs to the shuttle bay.

There were more Ha’curn here, about thirty, who promptly began to return fire. Zac and his REVs cut down half of them before the rest made it out the shuttle entrance.

“They’re moving up the mountain,” Joanie reported. She snickered. “Looks like they’ll only need one shuttle to evacuate the survivors. They came in with fourteen. Good job, sir.”

Zac stood at the huge open portal to the shuttle bay, peering out at the wide valley below and the sister peaks of the mountain range in the distance. The two other REVs flanked him, weapons in hand, awaiting further instructions. None were coming. Recovery teams would come in and Twilight the pair ahead of schedule. They were the lucky ones. They’d suffered little damage. The others, both here in the upper chambers and down at the main entrance, had been slaughtered. The only survivors from the original thirty were the one in the green room who had Twilighted and the one Zac had sent down the stairs. There was also a high level of other casualties within the complex.

The only consolation Zac felt was from the fact that the Ha’curn hadn’t expected any of the REVs to put up a defense, not after jamming the signal to the command collars. But they had. Thanks to him.

He knew a cold wind was blowing in through the shuttle bay opening…but he couldn’t feel it. He also knew he had to get to the hospital, and soon. He was slowly returning to normal as the level of Rev in his system dropped. He would begin to feel his body again, and he needed to be as far into la-la-land as possible when that happened.

14

Zac didn’t come out of the drug-induced coma for three weeks. This wasn’t because of his residual levels were too high, but rather because of the extent of his injuries. They were just as serious as he suspected when they put him under. Even with his enhanced healing abilities, he was still bandaged up, stiff and sore when the doctors gave him the medicine that would bring him back among the living.

He was still in the hospital at the Vi-Cor REV base on Borin-Noc. He had a private room and cute, attentive nurses. He had TV to watch and all the food he could force down his sandpaper-coated throat. Two days later he was feeling much better and able to walk within the hospital hallways, the ubiquitous fluid hanger in tow.

On the third day of his awakening, a number of high-ranking officers crowded into his room. They included Lieutenant General Daniel Powell and the unnamed colonel from the REV operator room. They came in with two men Zac knew well: Brigadier General Jack Diamond and Colonel David Cross.

“How are you feeling, Lieutenant Murphy?” Powell asked. “General Diamond and I just arrived from Menkar and we had to see you first.”

“I’m a lot better, sir. Thanks for asking.” Although Zac was now one of them, he’d never had much use for officers.

“Glad to hear it. I want to thank you for the incredible job you did here. I doubt the base would have survived if you hadn’t taken the action you did. I don’t know if you’ve been told, but ninety-three people died in the complex during the attack, in addition to twenty-eight REVs. But it could have been much worse.”

Zac had heard the numbers already.

“Another thing. Video analysis of the attack is leading us to believe the Ha’curn had intimate details about the base. They knew what was here and how to breach the defenses. And then there was the jamming signal.”

“How did they do that, sir?”

Powell glanced at General Diamond. “During the first battle on Menkar, a number of the command collars were taken from REV bodies. They apparently traced the broadcast frequency from them. They couldn’t do it with a single collar, but with several they could. So this was a directed and coordinated attack, the largest of its kind since ES-4. They knew what they were doing.”

“But why?” Zac asked. He had a lot of time to lay in his bed and think of the question. “They had to know they wouldn’t take out the REV program with an attack on a single base. And they’ve never tried to hold any ground. They sacrificed a lot of their limited troop strength, and for what? To make a point?”

“We think that’s exactly it: to show us they could hit one of our strongest bases,” said General Powell. “And they don’t seem shy about letting us know they can jam our REV comm frequency. That’s something even the Antaere never did.”

Dr. Cross stepped up to Zac’s bed. “It was different with the NT-4’s, general. They didn’t rely on the comms so much. By the time a REV was on station he was already programmed to act. The comms were there merely to track him, record the Run and monitor his well-being. That was all passive data. The AC-3s require continuous interactive links to operate. Eventually, the Antaere would have tried to do what the Ha’curn have done. They just hadn’t had time before this new threat showed up.”

Zac was amused to see Jack Diamond’s face turn red. He was both upset and embarrassed by Cross’s statement. It was a direct stab at his new REVs. Then Cross went in for the kill.

“The attack on Vi-Cor has highlighted a major flaw in the current system and something that’s going to have to be addressed before the AC-3 program can go any farther.”

“That’s not true, General Powell,” said Diamond quickly in his defense. “I have techs working on the problem as we speak. It’s simply a matter of blocking their jamming signals.”

“So we jam their jamming? And what happens when they find a workaround?”

“Sir, you can’t shut down the program—”

“Relax, Jack, no one’s talking about shutting down the program. The REVs are our most-effective answer to the Ha’curn soldiers, as demonstrated by Lieutenant Murphy and others. I’m just pointing out a fact. We need the REVs, but we need to make sure they can function; however, in the meantime I don’t want any REVs deployed to the forward area until a solution can be found. If the Ha’curn can jam the comms, it’s just a short jump to them taking over the signals and controlling the REVs themselves. Imagine what that would mean to our forces in the field.”

“The Deltas!” Diamond said. “The Deltas.” He looked down at Zac in his hospital bed.

“What are you talking about?” General Powell asked.

Zac saw Cross cringe.

“They’re the class of REV Murphy belongs to, general.”

“I thought there are only three or four of them, hardly enough to make a difference.”

“That’s not true, general. There are a lot more.” He looked at Cross.

General Powell followed his gaze. “Is that true? How many are there?”

“At last count, we’ve identified one hundred three showing signs of natural NT-4 production.” The words came out of the colonel’s mouth like pulling teeth. “But they’re of varying degrees of saturation and production. You’re right; there are only four of Lt. Murphy’s grade.”

“Can these others activate on their own, like Mister Murphy?”

“Some can.”

“How many? This is important, Dr. Cross.”

Cross shrugged. “I really don’t know. We never took it that far. There was no need.”

“There is now,” said Powell forcefully. “We need to have a way of controlling the ACs while in the field. The lieutenant has proven that can be done, and that was a spur of the moment action. With some thought and planning, the operations could be much more effective and coordinated.” Powell cocked his head toward the door of the hospital room, and the REV base beyond. “Besides, the entire support mechanism for the ACs was getting out of hand. I prefer something simpler, more direct. Troops need to be commanded in the field, and not from a floating platform in space.”

“Sir, the AC-3s have proven themselves,” Diamond said. “They’ve been the tip of the spear for almost a year. The system works.”

“It did. Now we need to try something else until you can work out the bugs. And the biggest bug is making sure we can maintain links with our REVs. Can you guarantee that, general?”

“No sir, not now. But I will.”

“Then we’ll revisit the subject when you can. In the meantime, have all these Delta REVs brought to the base and tested. We’re at a critical juncture, general. The Ha’curn could show up with a massive fleet at any time. In fact, as Mister Murphy pointed out, this attack didn’t make any sense, unless it’s leading up to something else. Maybe the Ha’curn wanted to make sure they could take out the REVs before they made their major push at taking over the Grid. They should be thinking twice about that now, thanks to Mister Murphy. But that doesn’t mean they’re going to put their larger plans on hold.”

Diamond’s mouth was a razor-thin line on his face as he fought to control his anger. “Yes, sir. I’ll have Dr. Cross get the Deltas here as soon as possible. In the meantime, the techs will still be working on the comm problem.”

“Have them do that. The links are a way of controlling hundreds of REVs at a time. The Deltas could be a way to deploy smaller strike teams in the field. I imagine we’re going to need both before this is over.”

General Powell reached down and patted Zac’s arm. “You get well, Marine. We need you now more than ever.”

Zac smiled at the flag officer. Anytime Jack Diamond was embarrassed or frustrated was a good day in Zac’s opinion. “Will do sir, right away. Can’t wait to get back into action.”

So much for being Diamond’s errand boy anymore. Zac Murphy was back.

* * *

It was another week before Zac was discharged from the hospital, over the protests of the medical staff. According to the severity of his injuries, he should have required several more months of rehabilitation. But this was also a REV-based med crew. They had witnessed the amazing healing qualities of the REVs before, even if they didn’t understand it. Even still, Zac was bandaged and hobbling when he made it back to the room that had been assigned to him several weeks ago, and for which he’d only spent two nights before this.

First Lieutenant Justin Brandt came to visit him only minutes after he got to his room, word already circulating that he’d been released from the hospital. He had a guest with him.

“Sergeant Hollis,” said Zac enthusiastically, both glad to see the cute Air Force non-comm, as well as embarrassed by his cuts and bruises. He hadn’t been expecting female company.

“I’m glad to see you’re getting better, sir.”

“Can’t keep a good REV down, no matter how foolish and reckless he is.”

“There was nothing reckless about what you did. It was amazing. I sincerely believe you saved us all.”

Justin laughed. “Please, sergeant, don’t give him a bigger ego than he already has. He’s insufferable enough as it is.”

They all laughed.

“I appreciate it, Joanie. And sorry about grabbing you in the control room. I was a little jacked up at the time.”

Joanie gave him a seductive smile. “No problem, sir. I kinda liked it.”

Caught off guard by her remark, Zac changed the subject. “I’m just glad you were that little voice in my ear during the Run. It helped me make it through.” The woman blushed. “But seriously, what’s going to happen to your operators now that the comm links have been compromised? Are you out of a job?”

Joanie shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is they haven’t started up training again. There’s a lot of confusion at the moment.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure General Diamond’s techs will work out the comm problem and you’ll be back in business.”

Joanie grimaced. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Just between the three of us, I’ve always thought we were the weak link in the system. And it’s only gotten worse as we’ve been running hundreds of people through the training as quickly as possible. None of the new people have any experience in combat to effectively guide REVs during their Runs. How could they? Most are just kids.”

Zac smiled. He figured Joanie couldn’t be more than twenty-five herself. And here she was speaking about people three to four years her junior as kids. From the serious look on her face, she didn’t see the dichotomy.

“What’s the solution, Joanie?” Brandt asked. “We can’t go back to the old way, with NT-4. The tactics of the Ha’curn won’t allow that. Hell, they don’t even with the ACs. It’s obvious the higher-ups are planning for something bigger when massive ground ops will be required.”

“I don’t know, sir. It’s just too big of an operation, with too many moving parts. It needs to be simpler. I’m not sure how you did what you did, sir, but that seems like a more logical approach, if it can be done on a larger scale.”

Zac was sure she didn’t know about the Deltas or the directive General Powell had just issued. Even if she did, she couldn’t grasp the significance, not in one sitting. Still, he was impressed with how her mind worked.

Zac sat down on the end of the bed, a small moan forced from his lips as he did so.

“Oh, I’m sorry, lieutenant,” Joanie said. “I’m sure you want to get some rest, and in a real bed.” She smiled. “Will you be staying at the base for a while?”

He nodded. “Looks like it.”

“Good.” Joanie Hollis locked eyes with Zac for a moment before turning to Brandt. “Sir.” Then she left the room.

Brandt looked down at Zac, a wicked smile on his face. He winked. “You dog, you.” And then he left the room as well, closing the door behind him.

15

Two weeks later Zac was up and moving around fairly well. Most of his cuts had miraculously healed, miraculously unless one was familiar with how NT-4 affected the body. He still had a few angry red lines on his arms and chest from the deepest of the cuts, but like the other wounds, they wouldn’t even leave scars.

Zac was in the shuttle bay when the first of the Deltas arrived at the base. These were the men at the top of the list, the most-senior REVs in the Corps, besides Zac.

The three men plodded their way out the back of the spaceship, huge duffle bags draped over their shoulders. They were each tall, fit men with chiseled jaws. If Zac didn’t know better, he would have mistaken them for brothers. The only difference was their haircuts. The one with the thin fuzz of ginger on his scalp saddled up to Zac and gave him one of the sloppiest salutes he’d ever seen. Zac returned it in kind.

“Where’s the nearest bar, sir? We’ve just spent two weeks aboard a dry boat, and that sucked.”

Zac smiled at his old friend. “Welcome to Vi-Cor, Gunnery Sergeant Angus Price.” He saluted then shook the hands of the other two men. “Kyle, Donovan, glad you’re here.”

“Already I can tell this is better than where we’ve been,” said Gunnery Sergeant Kyle Johnson. “Thanks for pulling me out of Purgatory. That bastard Diamond—”

“Is here, Kyle.” Zac looked around the shuttle bay. “And he has eyes and ears everywhere.”

Kyle responded by dropping his duffle bag and then lifting the middle finger of his right hand and presenting it to the granite walls of the bay.

“Nothing subtle about you, gunny,” Zac said.

“So what’s up, Zac?” asked the third gunnery sergeant in the group, Donovan Ross.

“They didn’t tell you anything?”

“Nothing. They just sent couriers out to collect the three of us and get us here ASAP.”

Zac called for the men to follow him from the shuttle bay. He had private rooms set up for them on the floor below. They would find them a welcome change from the accommodations they’ve had for the past year. Along the way, Zac explained more.

“The cat’s out of the bag about the Deltas. After the comms got cut during the Ha’curn attack, I kinda took over and guided a few ACs to a…well, victory, you might call it.”

Angus price took Zac’s arm. “Is that when you got these?” he said, indicating the healing wounds. “I hear the Ha’curn are big-ass cat-like things.”

“You heard right. Picture a panther that can walk upright, run at sixty kilometers an hour and jump ten meters at a time. They also have these thick-ass plates running up the sides of their heads that could take my best hit without breaking.” Zac sent his friends a wicked grin. “That doesn’t mean the meaty material in between survived, just that the bone didn’t break.”

“So what does this have to do with us?” Kyle asked.

“When the Ha’curn attacked they jammed the comm links with the ACs. That left them blind, deaf and dumb as doornails.”

“So what’s new?” Angus commented.

“Anyway, when the generals saw what I did with the ACs they’re calling up every Delta we have to form squads of REVs, a Delta in command of a group of ACs.”

“How many Deltas are there? There can’t be that many,” Donovan said.

They’d come to the first of the rooms. Zac opened the door and the four men entered. Angus tossed his duffle on the bed, claiming the room before the others.

“Cross is here, and he said there are just over a hundred.”

“No shit?” said Angus. “All those guys Cross ran through Cheyanne Mountain? I didn’t think they were…like us.”

“Some are, some aren’t,” Zac answered. “Cross has been ordered to get them here and test them. You’re the first to arrive, since you’re known quantities.”

“Is Olivia here with Cross?” Angus asked.

Zac pursed his lips. “Nope.”

“That’s too bad. What about Ashley?”

Ashley Hunter was the deep cover spy Angus had begun a thing with during the Final Corollary mission. “I talked to Smitty a while back. He said she took off for parts unknown with Amber in the Zanzibar. You know, her job and all.”

“So, were bacheloring it, mate. That could be interesting. Any prospects working?”

Zac didn’t want to say anything about Joanie Hollis. After all, she was enlisted and he was an officer. Even still, they’d had a few private dinners in Zac’s quarters, although nothing beyond that. He was still self-conscious about the wounds to his body. But they were healing, not fast enough for Joanie, but still he insisted they wait before moving the relationship to the next level.

“Don’t worry, Angus. This is the main training center for the AC-3 controllers, half of which are women. You shouldn’t have any trouble staying busy. That’s if Diamond lets you killers fraternize with the natives—and I don’t mean the Noc. Now get settled in. I’ll take Kyle and Don to their rooms, and then let’s meet up for dinner.”

“You’ll eat down in the common mess with us peasants?” asked Angus. “Won’t they miss you in the wardroom?”

“You really don’t like officers much, do you?”

“Like all enlisted, we think you’re all a bunch of overrated, pompous shites.”

“Even Mustangs?”

“Mustangs? Are you referring to present company who thought he was too good for the rest of us enlisted pukes and jumped ship? That Mustang?”

“You know I had nothing to do with that. I got drafted.” Zac said in his defense, feigning concern.

They all shared a friendly laugh, a product of the camaraderie felt among brothers-in-arms. Then Zac left with the others, leaving Angus to get settled in.

16

Eight days later forty-one Delta REVs were at the base, with more to come. General Diamond was still in a pissy mood; he didn’t like Deltas—Zac in particular—yet he was under orders to integrate them into the program. Although he was the one who brought up the subject of the Deltas, he’d done it out of a desperate attempt to save his program. That didn’t mean he had to be happy about his spur-of-the-moment revelation.

He was also frantically pushing his scientists to find a foolproof way of securing the comm links with the ACs, so far without success. They were making progress, but not enough the guarantee the results. General Powell, as well as others back on Earth, were unwilling to commit AC REVs to the battlefield until then.

At least not without a Delta babysitting them.

David Cross set up shop in one of the tech centers of the base and was in direct contact with his ranch back on Earth. This gave Zac the opportunity to speak with Olivia Contreras several times, again overwhelmed by the beauty of his on-again-off-again significant other each time he saw her. This might have been one of the reasons he’d cooled it recently with Joanie Hollis. The air force sergeant seemed to understand, content for them to stay friends for the time being. She had worked with REVs long enough to know they weren’t into commitment. But they sure were fun to play with.

“So how goes the search?” Zac asked Dr. Cross. The two were in Cross’s laboratory, having become somewhat cordial over the past several weeks. They were both victims of circumstance, and Zac understood more of Cross’s vision for the REVs, if not the military side of the program. He knew Cross had developed an ulterior motive for reworking the NT-4 formula several years ago, once he learned people like Zac were possible. Zac admitted the idea was intriguing: the creation of a new race of superhumans. Yet as appealing as that sounded, Zac could envision a slew of problems as well, not the least of which would be the reaction of normal Humans to the new ones. The question had been examined countless times in books and movies, although Zac never believed it was really possible. Until now. Until…him.

His musings weren’t unbiased, since he would be considered one of the lucky ones. Could he stay objective knowing this? Could he put himself in the shoes of the Average Joe on the street? Would he see himself as friend or foe, as another step in the evolution of man or as a competitor for the survival of the species? It didn’t take a genius to see the answer. All it took was a common-sense look at Human nature. And that’s where reality clashed with the dream. It wouldn’t be pretty.

David Cross leaned against an exam table; another of the Deltas had just left.

“Out of the thirty-three we’ve tested so far, twelve have developed to a point where they could be called true Deltas. That’s a lot higher percentage than I was expecting. When I first detected natural NT-4 in their systems back on Earth, the levels weren’t as high. The mutation appears to be accelerating, even without subsequent combat activations, just maintenance boosts. That’s why I’d like to test you again. You’ve had it longer than anyone, and now with the addition of the Antaere variety, I’m curious to see how you’re progressing.”

“You call this progressing? My system is pretty screwed up.”

“You just saved this base from destruction, along with the lives of everyone here. How is that screwed up?”

Zac shrugged. He still didn’t consider himself a hero. “I just did what I had to do at the spur of the moment.”

“Here, hop up here,” Cross said, patting the exam table. “Since I know what to look for, this won’t be too intrusive.” The doctor smiled. “You can cascade a little if you’re afraid of needles. You won’t feel a thing.”

Zac hesitated.

“Please…I need a baseline, something to gauge the others to. This is important.”

Zac agreed.

* * *

When he came back the next day for the results, Zac couldn’t tell if Cross was excited or upset. Either way, the man was a mixture of emotions.

“What did you find out? Are my eyes going to turn gold and my skin yellow? Or am I going to develop the ability to fly like Superman? Hell, x-ray vision would be kinda cool.”

“That would be nice,” said Cross. “Truthfully, I was shocked to see that the Antaere Rev is still active in your system. It’s in trace amounts, but there’s also been a slight modification in the natural enzyme you’re producing. Your body is a remarkable thing, apparently adjusting to chemical changes at an accelerated pace. Again, this could be a survival trait. Yet something like this usually takes generations to manifest.”

“What’s happening?”

Cross looked at a datapad. “As I said, your natural NT-4 has changed. It was never a true copy of NT-4, but close. Now it’s a little further away.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“For you, it’s been good.” He took Zac’s arm and held it up to the light. “The deep cuts you suffered at the hands of the Ha’curn have completely healed, as one would expect with a REV, any REV. But what’s remarkable is they left no scars. That reveals a deeper degree of healing. What I’m thinking is your enhanced healing abilities have carried over to your internal organs as well. Even perfectly healthy functions are becoming…healthier. And this is without need. That could be why the natural Rev in your system is changing so quickly, evolving into a more advanced version even before the body has called for it.”

“Is that why the natural NT-4 in the other REVs has increased, even since your last testing?”

“That could be it. It’s not so much a geometric increase, but it is definitely a looping effect. The presence of the natural NT-4 is helping to stimulate even more production. In your case, it’s more so.”

“What’s the prognosis, colonel? Will I keep increasing the production of natural NT-4 until I walk around continually activated? Would that be a good thing?”

“Unknown at this time. The process may have a natural ceiling, just as growth is limited in Humans except in odd cases. We remain within a range, although through the millennia we have grown taller.”

“But it sounds like I could be one of the freaks. And that’s not to say some of the other Deltas won’t do the same. The more natural NT-4 we produce, the more the body modifies us to make even more. When does it stop?”

Cross shook his head. His once-jubilant expression was now one of concern. “All good questions, lieutenant. But you have to remember you’ve been activated more often since the discovery of the natural drug in your system than any of the others, thanks to your Antaere captors. You would naturally be more advanced than the others. With the standard Deltas, the progression is much slower.”

“But noticeable.”

“But noticeable. On the average, the new Deltas have increased one-and-a-half-percent from the time I first examined them. That’s not a lot, but if the increase does accelerate it could become an issue. I need more data to plot the timeline.”

“So where does this leave your new mission? Will these new Deltas be able to do what’s asked of them?”

“You mean cascade up to a level where they can work with activated AC-3s on the battlefield? I’m not sure. You found this out; you can only handle a few at a time, not an entire squad, not with having to give detailed commands to each. The ACs are limited in their comprehension. Currently, the operators have to maintain constant contact with their REVs, micromanaging the Runs. And they control only one REV at a time. Sure, a Delta does make decisions faster than any operator. But how many ACs you can run is still to be determined.” Crossed sighed, a look of resignation on his face. “I don’t think command has thought this through completely. They’re putting too many expectations on you and the Deltas, hoping you’ll pull their asses out of the ringer.”

“My thoughts exactly, colonel.” Zac laughed. “They’ve been doing that since the beginning of the program. So what now?”

Crossed shrugged. “We continue. Soon they’ll want some mock Runs with Deltas in charge. I’ll recommend they start off slow, one Delta running two ACs. We’ll go from there. If the Deltas can handle more, we’ll move it up. The problem is this won’t be a quick fix, not like everyone’s expecting.”

“They’re expecting a major Ha’curn invasion of the Grid. Frankly, so am I. If we’re not ready by then, Earth will be left fighting them conventionally.”

“And if the Antaere do accept the peace terms?”

“Then we’ll have a little extra help. Unfortunately, I think everyone is expecting the REVs to be the saviors of the Human race.”

Cross laughed. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Zac was on his way back to his quarters when a man in a ubiquitous white lab coat cornered him in the passageway. Zac was no genius—not by any stretch of the imagination—but his natural NT-4 did help with memory. He recalled the man was named Coates, and he was in charge of the crazy ship-boarding program.

“Dr. Coates, if you don’t mind I’m heading back to my quarters.”

“This will only take a moment, Lt. Murphy.”

Zac sighed deeply, not hiding his exasperation. “Is this about your plans for REVs-in-Space?”

“It is, and I can tell by the sound of your voice you still don’t believe in it.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I believe it’s possible; I just don’t see the reason. As I said before, having a means of boarding enemy starships is so far down the list of priorities that it doesn’t even register. We’re not pirates. We want to destroy the enemy, not capture their ships.”

“I could give you a dozen reasons why my program has merit, but don’t you agree that with the new Delta REVs at the base, the possibility becomes more feasible. Conscious REVs would solve the problems with the procedure. There would be no need to maintain radio links, and you could still fight with the efficiency of the AC-3 REVs.”

“Actually, better than the ACs,” Zac said, in a display of juvenile pride. “But that doesn’t change the fact that command isn’t going to allow you to siphon Deltas off from the ground assault program. There aren’t enough of us.”

“Just give me a few, anyone with experience at starship piloting. All I need are a few demo runs. After that you can have them back. If command likes what I show them, we’ll deal with staffing at that time.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Zac. Kyle and Donovan had been climbing the walls for the past few weeks. They were already proven Deltas, so they weren’t part of the testing procedure. They also had a little training in starship piloting. During their time aboard the Zanzibar they—along with Zac and Angus—had felt insecure about their lack of basic piloting skills. All of them had taken lessons from the sexy AI known as Amber. The two younger REV’s had taken to the thrill of starship piloting, acting as if they were part of a live video game. They would get a kick out of zipping through space in tiny pods, playing pirate by boarding dummy enemy warships. If not, at least it would get them off his back. They hadn’t been too subtle in their frustration at having nothing to do…or kill. A REV lived for the Run; the scientist’s REVs-In-Space program might prove to be a cheap substitute.

“Dr. Coates, today is your lucky day. I just happen to have two of the most-advanced Delta REVs available for immediate assignment.”

“You do?” Coates was shocked that his argument had produced results. About as shocked as Zac was.

“We can’t make it a formal reassignment; that would involve going through General Diamond. But these guys have nothing to do until the trials with the AC-3s begin.”

“I…I thank you, lieutenant. I really wasn’t expecting this,” Coates stammered.

“Then why did you ask?”

The scientist opened his mouth to speak.

“Never mind,” Zac said, saving the man any further embarrassment. “I’ll send the men to your lab this afternoon. Keep this between the two of us. And be aware, I may have to pull them at a moment’s notice, depending on how the other part of the program goes.”

“I understand! Thank you, Lt. Murphy. Thank you.”

The man rushed off. Zac smiled. Kyle and Donovan are going to love this.

17

“You want us to do what?”

Kyle Johnson looked down into the tiny, five-meter long capsule and grimaced.

“It’s perfectly safe,” replied Dr. Coates. “You’ll be strapped in and the cushion can rotate so you won’t have to roll over when you access the vessel. You’ll be under the influence of the ship’s gravity at the time. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. You say we’re going to be traveling just under light speed in this thing? How is that even possible?”

“Miniaturization has advanced considerably. There’s a single focusing ring and grav-generator built into the pod. It can’t get you to light speed, but close.”

“I’m going to have a gravity generator operating a couple of feet from my head?”

“It’s safe. All those stories of grav-gens causing cancer are not true. Besides, you won’t be exposed long enough for any effects to take place.”

“That’s what you say. Just remember, doc, if I get cancer in twenty years, I’m going to track you down and kick your ass.”

Dr. Coates turned to his assistants, motioning for them to begin hoisting the pods above the floor of the huge auditorium the scientist had appropriated for his test runs. There were cranes and winches and thick metal chains.

“Since the boarding crews will be operating in simulated gravity during the event, we can run these simulations on the ground and not in space. That makes it easier.”

Donovan Ross stood next to another of the pods, a sour look on his face. “That’s why I signed up for this thing, so I could fly these things in space. Now you say we can do everything at the base? What’s the fun in that?”

“You’ll get the same sensation in the simulator, gunnery sergeant. Now, if the two of you kindly board your pods we’ll get this run underway.”

Seeing they were in a granite cavern, hooked to a myriad of safety features, the men climbed into their vehicles without an ounce of trepidation, but with a lot of disappointment. Of course, Kyle was still worried about the gravity-generator, but it wouldn’t be activated on the ground.

They laid in the padded, full-body cushions, beds that reminded them of the old insertion capsules from their NT-4 days. What was missing were the maintenance crews moving it to fasten a five hundred pound suit of armor around them. For this experience—as well as the actual operation—they wouldn’t be dressed in armor. That was something they’d have to address if they were ever part of a real boarding party.

They strapped in, starting at their legs and then moving up. The bed could rotate, allowing the occupants to look either out through what was the top of the pod, or through the bottom, the docking part. The top lid was closed and locked into place. There was also a docking mechanism on this side of the pod, as well as the bottom. That was one of the things they would be testing today.

The cranes lifted the pods twenty meters into the air. The controls were tied to a computer that would move the capsules according to commands. This first run would be managed by the shipboard computers.

“So what do we do, just go along for the ride?” Kyle asked through the pod’s comm.

Coates and his crew had moved away to a table with a series of control units tied together with a mess of wires and cables running out their backsides. It looked very crude and disorganized.

“We’re testing the stacking program,” replied the scientist.

Kyle’s pod was hovering in the air, a thick metal arm holding it, leaving the top and bottom free to be approached by Donovan’s pod. Kyle watched as the huge sucker on the bottom of Don’s capsule closed on his. It was an odd sensation. The thing was made of rubber, but there was also a ring of deadly-looking laser points aimed at him. The pod kept coming until it made contact with Kyle’s, blocking out much of the light from outside. Then he heard a whirring sound and the entrance hatch a foot from his face slid aside.

The pods were connected and both the REVs lay strapped in their seats, staring at each other, Donovan hanging upside down, Kyle on his back.

“Now what?” Donovan asked.

“The seat will rotate halfway, allowing you to unbuckle. Kyle, you will do the same. It may get a little cramped in there, but this will allow Don to transfer to your unit. Theoretically, we can link nine pods together without losing integrity. Now hold on. Kyle’s pod will now be docking with the mock-up starship.”

Kyle’s bed rotated, allowing him to look sideways through the clear hatch at the bottom of his pod. A flat grey metal surface was approaching. In reality, the joined pods were moving down to the mock hull. A moment later a near-silent docking was made.

“Watch your eyes. We’re going to cut a hole in the hull before we open the access port.”

The REVs squinted as a brilliant ring of light came through the bottom of Kyle’s pod. It only lasted a couple of seconds before the perfectly round piece of cut metal fell from the hull. Kyle could see how Coates and crew had built a mock-up starship in the cavern. The bottom hatch cycled open.

“Be careful, Kyle,” said Coates’ voice in the pod. You need to stand up the best you can so you can drop through the opening. It’s about four meters to the deck.”

Kyle unbuckled then twisted confidently in the tight quarters. He let loose and fell cleanly through the one-meter-in-diameter opening, landing on his REV enhanced legs without so much as a grunt. He stood for a moment surveying the inside of the fake ship. He was in a decent-size compartment near a mock galley. He wondered if the food processor was working; he was hungry.

Then Donovan dropped on top of him. Both men tumbled to the deck.

“Yes, you should step out of the way,” the voice of Dr. Coates told Kyle. “There will be a team coming in after you.”

Donovan stood up, smiling. “I like that. Let’s do it again. And thanks for breaking my fall, buddy.”

Kyle flipped him off. “Now that we’re inside, what do we do?”

“We’ll provide the assault teams with specialized weapons better suited for close-quarters-combat within ships. You’ll get training in those.”

“I thought we’re just here to test the equipment and procedures. No one said we’d be part of an actual team.”

“I was speaking figuratively. Now, please exit the ship and prepare to enter the pods again. This time we’ll let you link with the mock-up manually. There are a number of factors to consider. And Mr. Ross, you will be happy to learn, we will be moving into space for the approach trials. You will need to show the effectiveness of the grav-drive and the maneuvering controls. We also need to measure assault timing with semi-activated REVs. You can do that, can’t you, activate at will?”

“To a degree,” said Donovan. “A lot of that depends on the situation. We probably won’t be a peak efficiency during testing; they’ll be no real danger.”

“Oh, there will be some danger, I assure you,” said Coates. “We’ve never actually tested the pods in space. A lot of things could go wrong with the miniature gravity drives, plus the pressure seals and the docking procedures. A blowout here on the surface won’t result in a catastrophic loss of air pressure and atmosphere, like could happen in space. And we can’t test for generator overloads and sparking until we fire up the engines. And then the REV pilots will have to do actual maneuvering to approach an enemy warship without being noticed. Fortunately, the pods are designed to operate within star systems, when the enemy would be dropping out of deep wells and approaching at sub-light speed. All these things you will have to be aware of.”

Kyle felt his body cascading some, just from the litany of potential dangers in the space trials. “And how will we be able to approach a warship going at nearly the speed of light without being noticed?”

“We have a few tricks up our sleeves.”

Kyle and Donovan exited the mock-up starship, noticing how the hull was full of perfectly round cut out holes, indicating the docking procedure they’d just run had been done several times before. Coates met them near the exit hatch, continuing with the conversation.

“We will be going into space tomorrow. I just wanted you to get a feel for the pods before we do so. So what did you think?”

“Not much to them,” said Donovan. “But it sounds like this wasn’t a real test. Besides, you’ve done this several times before, and without REVs. When do we come into play?”

“In space. It’s a whole other ballgame up there. And according to Lieutenant Murphy, the two of you have piloting experience. We have an old DN-class starship available for us. We’ll work up to actual boarding of the vessel and then the overriding of piloting commands, allowing you to take over the ship. Once we have this down, we’ll produce a video detailing the entire operation from beginning to end. The two of you will be the stars.”

Donovan was beaming; not so Kyle. “And we’ll be using unproven space pods during all these trials. Have any of your test pods exploded?”

“Not from the gravity drives, gunny.”

“But they have exploded?” Kyle asked.

“A little.”

“And what does that mean? A little?”

Coates tried to smile, something he didn’t seem comfortable doing, even in the best of times. “As with all new technology, accidents happen. Hopefully, we’ve worked out most of the bugs.”

“Most?”

Coates shrugged.

18

Zac cascaded a little when he ran into the Antaere coming out of an elevator at the Vi-Cor REV base. Actually, there were two of them, and they dismissed him without a second glance, obviously not recognizing him as a former guest of the Qwin Hilton courtesy of Congin Bornak. He watched them walk away down the corridor as if they were taking a pleasant stroll back on Antara. They apparently belonged here, and they knew it.

But Zac didn’t. He raced down the passageway until he came to the executive offices where the generals were to be found. He entered General Powell’s office and approached the secretary, an E-7 named Randall Kenyon.

“Good afternoon, lieutenant,” said the man. Zac was a frequent visitor to the office, so Kenyon knew him well. “Are you here to see the general?”

“Is he in?”

“He is.” Kenyon looked at a computer screen. “He has about fifteen minutes before his appointment with General Diamond. Shall I see if he’s available?”

“Please, thanks.”

A moment later Zac rushed into the spacious office of the senior officer on the base. This wasn’t his command; however, his three stars gave him a lot of clout.

“Lieutenant, what’s wrong?” said the tough-as-nails field commander, reading Zac’s expression.

“Qwin…here in the base?”

After shaking Zac’s hand, the general sat back down in his chair, grinning.

“You saw them,” he stated. “I guess we should have made an announcement. I’ve been getting calls all morning.” He indicated for Zac to take a seat on the other side of the desk. “They’re here to talk peace, Zac. It seems word of the Ha’curn attack on the base has gotten back to Antara, and the fact that the ‘Curn were able to jam our AC signals has them in a panic.”

“Panic? Why?”

“It seems our yellow-skin friends had been expecting us to solve the Ha’curn problem by ourselves…with the help of the REVs, of course. Now they see how the REVs have been essentially castrated and this is making them doubt we can take on these new aliens alone. If our most-elite troops are sitting on the sidelines, it’s anyone’s game at this point.”

“And they want to help shift the odds.”

“As much as they can. We haven’t told them about the Deltas yet, and even if we did, there’s no guarantee you’ll have much of an impact on large-scale operations. Maybe a few commando raids, that sort of thing. But this looks to be shaping up to be a space war, not a ground operation. Even if the ACs were still active, they’d only come into play with a major invasion by the Ha’curn involving attacking and the holding of ground positions. The Antaere are hoping that by adding their fleet strength to ours it will keep the ‘Curn off the planets.”

“Do they have enough ships to make a difference?” Zac asked.

“No matter what they have, it can’t hurt. It would also take their threat off the table. Right now we have a very shaky ceasefire going, but we’re still looking over our shoulders at the Qwin. I’d rather have them on our flanks rather than lurking somewhere behind us.”

“And that’s why there are Antaere here, to negotiate this kumbaya moment between our two races?”

“Something like that. But it’s happening not only here, but other places as well. Once the details are worked out, we’ll all meet to hold hands around the campfire and sing happy little hippie songs. Which brings me to a point. I was going to call you in once we got further along with the negotiations, but the President has requested that the REVs be the formal security guard for the Human delegation.”

“The Deltas or the ACs?”

“Both, from what I understand. But he specifically requested that you lead the security detail.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, he seems to think he’ll be safe with the great Zac Murphy watching his ass.” Powell grinned. “It will look good in your service jacket.”

“Does Diamond—General Diamond—know about this?”

Now the grin grew wider. “He does indeed. He protested, saying it wouldn’t be safe for you to be around the President.”

“How did that go over?”

“Like a lead balloon. The President heard what you did here. He insisted.”

“Can I pick my own team?”

“Of course. We’re still a couple of weeks away from getting the details worked out, and then a three week journey to Enif.”

“Enif?” Zac cringed at the word. His memories of the planet weren’t the most pleasant.

Powell nodded. “As a concession to the Colony Worlds, we’re having the official signing ceremony on Enif. We’re firmly in control of the planet, but the Antaere insist on having a fleet present to counter ours.” Powell laughed. “We’ll still have twice the ships there, so it will only make the Qwin look less intimidating. But they still want a show of military strength in the system.”

“It makes sense,” said Zac. “I’m sure the Antaere will try to spin this as anything but a surrender.”

“You know your Antaere, lieutenant. They are a bunch of slimy bastards. So you’ll accept the assignment?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not at all.”

Zac smiled and shrugged.

“Then count me in.”

19

The planet Enif (ES-8)

Zac Murphy’s memories of the planet Enif were horrific. It was here that he’d been placed in a three-section maze by the insane Antaerean Congin Bornak and made to fight a trio of alien REVs in a battle royale on live TV. He was carrying three varieties of Rev in his system at the time, which messed him up quite a bit. But he survived, and the show had incredible ratings throughout the Grid, but not the kind Bornak was hoping for. And then that show was quickly eclipsed by his surreptitiously-recorded confession as the mastermind behind the destruction of the Temple of Light on Iz’zar. The power structure in the Grid shifted again after the confession, leading eventually back to the planet Enif and the Peace Conference about to get underway.

The truth, the negotiations between the Humans and the Antaere had been going on for months already, but behind the scenes. The conference was just for show, a glorious event publicized as the end of hostilities between the warring parties. The details had already been worked out. The events taking place over the next five days were pure theater, and everyone knew it. Peace was coming to the Grid, if only between the inhabitants of the Grid. The outsiders had other ideas.

“Don’t we look pretty,” whispered Angus Price.

Zac pursed his lips, feeling awkward in the maroon-colored, high-collar uniforms that had been designed specifically to represent the Running Man Brigade at the conference. He and the others had a new identity, a more civilized persona, so a new identity was needed, or so the reasoning went. Gone was the savage beast of the NT-4 days, replaced now by the more refined and dignified AC-3 REVs. The problem, the ACs were useless without dependable comm links with their masters back at control central. So far, the effort to secure the links was still wanting. Every time General Diamond’s techs came up with a solution, another team of experts was tasked with finding a way to circumvent the fix. The counter-techs had been successful one hundred percent of the time. This was unacceptable to the higher-ups, especially when it was shown how the signal could not only be jammed but intercepted as well, turning the REVs against their masters.

This was unfortunate for the ACs, but a boom for Zac and his Deltas. It also meant he and his men were the official security detail for the Human delegation at the conference. And although most of the Deltas were on station in less-obvious ways, it left Zac and Angus as the public faces of the REVs, more for show than effectiveness.

A long and narrow stone table was set at one end of a grand ballroom, within the two-hundred-year-old former Temple of Light on Enif. This temple had been replaced twenty years before by another imposing structure over twice the size and located about two kilometers away. The old temple hadn’t had much use since then, not until the peace talks came up and Enif was chosen as the neutral meeting ground. The Humans had protested at first, not wanting to hold the talks in an Antaere temple to the Order, even if it was no longer used for that purpose. But out of respect for the Colony Worlds, the Humans relented.

And now Zac and Angus stood to the left side of the table, trying to look dignified—yet intimidating—as the ceremonial guard for President Kenta Fukasaku at the opening ceremonies.

But it was hard for Zac to look anything but uncomfortable, especially when the collar of his uniform was slowly choking him to death.

General Jack Diamond stepped up to the pair of REVs.

“Stop fidgeting.”

“I’m trying, sir,” said Zac. “Who designed these damn uniforms anyway, the Antaere?”

Diamond glared at Zac. “Just stand there. These are the opening ceremonies; they won’t last too long. The Antaere didn’t want a big military presence before the cameras so you couldn’t very well wear your dress blues. This is supposed to be a peace conference, not a war council. Besides, you don’t see your Antaere counterparts complaining.”

Zac looked to the other side of the long table. There was a pair of Antaere there, mirroring him and Angus. They could have been NOVs—the Antaere equivalent to REVs—but he couldn’t tell. They weren’t activated. But from what he’d heard, the program had been shut down after Bornak died and the Rowin—Andus Zaphin—met an untimely and accidental death of his own. Studying the guards, Zac had to admit, he’d never seen that particular type of Antaere uniform before, perhaps something designed just for this occasion, just like his. Good for them, he thought. I hope they’re just as uncomfortable as I am, although they don’t look it. Come to think of it, the Antaere always look uncomfortable, so how could I tell?

The Enif were running the show in the great hall. It was a concession made to members of the Colony Worlds, the aliens tragically caught in the middle of the conflict between the Antaere and the Humans. As a result, the natives were going to make the affair as regal an event as possible. Zac found it all so medieval, better fit for kings and queens. Humans were way beyond that. They normally conducted these kinds of affairs in boardrooms, not ballrooms.

The delegations began to stream in, much to Zac’s relief. The sooner it got underway, the sooner he could leave. There were rows of spectator seats lining both sides of the entryway, now filled with VIP invitees of a dozen species. This made the scene appear more chaotic than impressive, a menagerie of contrasting fashion, skin color and headdress.

President Kenta Fukasaku and the Antaere Tesnin, Denak Zaphin, led the parade into the huge chamber, the two supreme leaders of their people walking slowly toward the elevated platform where the huge table sat. The only thing the Enif had left out of the show was the red carpet. Obviously no one had told them about it, or else they would have had one.

Behind them came the bigwigs representing the various factions within their governments. On the Human side was a fair number of politicians, including the slimy Senator Reece Hamilton. Chief of Wartime Operations General Frederick Clausen was there as well. Zac was surprised Jack Diamond hadn’t wriggled his way into the parade. He liked the limelight. But he was in the chamber, standing behind Zac and Angus on an observation balcony ten meters above the main floor. Zac could feel the general’s eyes burning into the back of his neck, although his neck was covered by the evil collar. Zac didn’t know what the general expected him to do, but Diamond was sure he was about to make a scene. However, that was the farthest thing on Zac’s mind. He just wanted to get the damn thing over with so he could get out of this fucking uniform….

In an odd shift in ceremony, the two delegations separated as they approached the table, the Humans moving to the Antaere side and their row of dignitaries, and the Antaere to the Human side. Zac and Angus were the last of the eight people on the Human side and were expected to greet each of the alien representatives. Zac watched as the Tesnin came closer. Maybe this was the moment Diamond was worried about, when Zac would come face-to-face with the leader of the Antaere people.

The Antaere emperor shook hands in a conventional manner, smiling through his pale yellow lips and meeting each dignitary with warm golden eyes. He stopped when he came to Zac.

“Lieutenant Murphy, finally we meet. Your exploits in the killing of Antaere citizens is legendary.”

Zac shook his hand, offering a little taste of REV strength in the process. The yellow neck of the alien tightened a little as a result. Zac bowed slightly while maintaining eye contact.

“Yes, Tesnin Denak Zaphin, finally. I had hoped we would meet eventually.”

“But not under these circumstances.”

“This will do.” Zac wanted to say surrender was surrender, no matter how much you tried to dress it up. But he would play nice, especially in front of the crowd.

Denak moved on, his party taking seats at the table, with him and Fukasaku at the center, the Tesnin to Zac’s side. Once everyone was settled in, Denak took the lead and spoke first.

“I welcome all people of distinction to these negotiations, a union of thoughts and intentions designed to bring peace to the Grid and all those within. We are faced with a tremendous challenge, both as we seek better understanding and cooperation between all who reside here, as well as the threat from beyond. Yet it is this threat that has made us all aware of our commonality, more than our differences. This is in agreement within the tenets of the Order. For we are here to bring Order to the Grid, as has been the Antaere goal from the beginning. There will be peace, a lasting peace, a peace from now until the Final Glory. I now present you with President Kenta Fukasaku of Earth. ”

“Thank you Tesnin Denak Zaphin. Yes, we are all here in the pursuit of peace. For far too long our two races have shared a conflict that has enflamed the entire Grid. Billions have died as a result. We can no longer endure such horrors, such disagreements that brings shame and disorder to all our people. And the races of the Colony Worlds have suffered the most. But now our differences must be set aside so we can defend ourselves against a greater threat, an outside threat. In a way, the coming of the Ha’curn has been a blessing. It has opened our eyes to the reality—as well as the futility—of our prolonged disagreements. They have shown us that we are one federation of advanced beings within a small part of a larger galaxy. As such, we should not fight among ourselves. The Ha’curn have demonstrated that there are enough threats in the galaxy without us needing to manufacture our own. At the conclusion of this conference there will be peace in the Grid. The war will be over, at least the war between the Humans and the Antaere. And then united we will face the greater threat…together.”

People clapped, barked, whistled and otherwise did what a variety of alien races did to express their satisfaction. Unfortunately for Zac and Angus, the opening ceremonies went on for another two hours, as each person at the table had to make their speeches. The lower-ranking dignitaries were apparently out to grab their fifteen minutes of fame and stretch it out for the cameras, droning on much longer than had either of the two leaders. If it hadn’t been for a slight cascading, Zac was sure he would have passed out from boredom. But eventually the event came to a close and the delegates went off for drinks and dinner in another part of the old temple. Zac and Angus weren’t invited, although Zac thought that would have been something to see; a massive banquet designed to provide the proper culinary delights for over a dozen races. It must have been a nightmare for the caterers.

20

Angus and Zac returned to the security quarters for the Human forces, unbuttoning their torturous collars and breathing freely for the first time in hours.

“Maybe they just got the measurements wrong,” said Zac.

“Or we’re gaining weight. I know I have. I haven’t been in a decent battle in, well, a year or so.”

“Speak for yourself, dickhead. I had a nice little one at Vi-Cor. Oh yeah, you missed it.”

“I didn’t want to steal any of your glory. I know how much you seek it out, mate.”

Three other Deltas were in the office, a series of rooms in the west wing of the ancient temple which had once been priest quarters. The Antaere security force had matching offices in the east wing. Sergeant First Class Keith Pierson brought them both drinks, a type of local rum that wasn’t half bad.

“You know drinking in the temple is forbidden,” Angus pointed out, as he took the glass.

“This isn’t a temple anymore,” Pierson said. “It was replaced by that monstrosity down the road. This was just a dusty storage vault until the peace talks came up. I’m sure there’s been a lot of drinking in here over the past twenty years.”

“Anything to report?” Zac asked. He was still surprised that he was the only REV officer in the Corps. He thought that by now General Diamond would have advanced one of his ACs to a position of authority, someone to lord over both the ACs and the NTs, including Zac.

“Nothing,” said Pierson. “Everyone seems to be minding themselves.”

“And the ACs?”

“Just hanging out waiting for something to happen.”

“Good.” Zac took up a datapad with the conference schedule programmed in. “Why the hell does it take five days to sign a damn piece of paper? They already have the details worked out.”

“That was the Qwin’s idea,” Angus reminded him. “They don’t want to have it look as though they were called in by their Human masters and then sent on their way after a quick surrender. They want to make it look like everyone is a bunch of mates, just here on holiday.”

“That’s five more days before we can start organizing a defense against the Ha’curn.”

“Look at the bright side, that’s just more time for Kyle and Donovan to spend floating out in the emptiness of space in their little black coffins. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer pair of blokes.”

Zac looked at his friend and frowned. “What’s with you anyway? You spent all of two months in England before your parents came to the States. And after all this time, you still have the cockney accent and British slang.”

“Just keeping me bloody heritage alive, me matey.”

Zac fingered the comm code in the datapad.

“How are you guys holding up out there?”

A pale white face appeared on the monitor, illuminated by a matching screen at the other end of the link.

“Oh just swell, Mister Murphy, sir. It’s been something like twenty-four hours and all I have to report is we detected a meteor a few hours ago that passed within a hundred thousand klicks, close enough to make us nervous.”

“I thought nothing made you nervous, Gunnery Sergeant Ross.”

“I said us, not me. What scares me is the belief that I’m going to die out here from terminal boredom. Most of the other guys have taken a little pinch of Twilight. They’ll sleep until—or if—something happens.”

“You and the others in the pods are covering the main approach to Enif. You’re there to make sure nothing happens. Besides, wasn’t it you and Kyle who insisted that I include your pods in our security procedures? After spending a couple of weeks with Coates in space, playing space pirate, you guys couldn’t get enough of it. I didn’t know I was creating a couple of monsters when I loaned you to the lab geek.”

“Yeah, that was before I realized floating in space for days on end isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. During the trials we were actually doing stuff, neat stuff.”

“Another four days, Don. Then the conference will be over and I’ll see about letting you and Kyle keep the pods. Would you like that?”

“What I’d like is to be able to take a piss outside of a suction tube I have to pull out of the bulkhead.”

“That actually sounds like fun, if you ask me,” said Zac, raising a mischievous eyebrow at the ghostly face on his datapad screen.

“That, too, is not all it’s cracked up to be. You can’t even snuggle afterward.”

Zac laughed. “Just maintain your post, Gunnery Sergeant Ross. You’re guarding a vital entry lane into the system. You’re making a difference.”

“This is the lane the friggin’ Qwin are also covering. How much of a difference can we be making? Besides, twenty pods strung out over two million klicks would hardly rate as a skirmish line, even if the bad guys knew we were here.”

“The idea is for them not to know. Not even the Qwin. You’re there to keep an eye on them, as much as you are to watch for Ha’curn raiders. I know they’d be stupid to try anything against the largest concentration of combined military forces in the Grid, but they did attack a battle taking place on Menkar, as well as a REV base on ES-6. They don’t seem to shy away from a challenge.”

“At least if they did attack, we’d have something to do.”

“Watch what you wish for, gunny. Just hang in there for another four days. Take your Twilight and stand your watches. It will all be over before you know it.”

“And I’m supposed to believe the words of an officer? The last time an officer made me a promise he said, Join the Marines…and be all you can be. I didn’t know he was talking about with a little help from NT-4, the most-addictive drug known to man.”

“That’s the Army’s slogan, Mr. Ross. Ours is the Few, the Proud.”

“It should be the Few, the Proud…and the Juiced Up.”

Zac shook his head, a droll smile on his face. “I’m depressed enough without listening to you complain. Send my regards to Kyle. You’re just lucky you don’t have to fight off all the hot ladies of the court looking for a roll in the hay with a member of the royal guard. It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it.”

“Pardon me, sir…but fuck you. Ross out.”

After the screen went dark, Angus leaned over toward Zac.

“I’d write him up for that,” he said. “Discipline must be maintained at all times within the chain of command.”

Zac frowned and cocked his head. “Remember, I’m an officer now. I would write him up…if I knew how to write.”

21

Frederick Clausen was in the President’s suite within the former Temple of Light on the planet Enif. This had once been a set of plush quarters kept in reserve for the rare times an Antaere dignitary would visit. As a concession for holding the talks in the building, the Tesnin allowed Fukasaku to have the suite, while he took slightly less lavish quarters down the hall. Both leaders had security outside their doors; the Humans a squad consisting of a Delta REV and three ACs disguised as standard soldiers, and the Antaere by members their armored Guard Elite, also dressed in new ceremonial uniforms designed just for this occasion.

The ACs were wearing the lighter body armor with their command collars hidden under a newly-designed regimental cape. The units were already programmed to obey the voices of the Deltas—all the Deltas on site—which totaled six in the guard detail. They could activate any of the ACs with a beam focused on the collar from a small laser pointer hidden in their ceremonial sash. They could be triggered by radio signal not set at the standard collar frequency. They could also be activated manually by the press of a button on the collar. Each of these procedures would only deliver the proper dose of AC-3 to get them up and moving. It would still take the verbal commands of a Delta to guide their actions once activated. Because of this, the ACs in the presidential guard were those with the most combat experience before volunteering for the REV program. Until activated, they would serve as normal Marines, helping to enhance the Delta force. Yet if worse came to worse, they could become full-fledge REVs in a matter of seconds, and under control of the local Deltas. The system made sense, although it had never been tested in real life.

“This is a waste of time,” General Clausen was saying, pacing the floor behind the closed doors of the VIP suite. “The yellow-skinned bastards are defeated yet they act like they just won the damn war.”

The President smiled. He was reclined in an oversized chair, sipping on local wine. “Relax, Fred. This is my game now, and you have to know how to play it. We got everything we wanted in the negotiations. That will become apparent within days of the signing. I’m not worried about losing face. But the Antaere are. This is their last hurrah. Let them prance around like they’re still top of the heap. It’s all they have left.”

“And even with their help, there’s still no guarantee we can beat whatever is coming our way. You can’t believe these four hundred Ha’curn ships are all they have.”

“They could be some renegade fleet, cast out from their mother empire and just trying to stir things up.”

“You don’t believe that?”

“Of course not, but that’s what some people are saying. It’s been six months since they arrived and still no reinforcements. People have imaginations. Some try to imagine the best case scenario. Others, reality.”

“That’s me, Kenta. And I’ll believe the worst until proven otherwise.”

“And that’s your job, general. But again, relax. We have four hundred ships in the system compared to the one hundred eighty for the Antaere. We’re making a pretty decent statement as to who’s the new boss in the Grid. And with the industrial might of the entire Grid working on building more ships, we’ll have a thousand combined within a few months. That should be enough to deter any invasion. Besides, who would want to spend so much blood and treasure on an insignificant little group of planets like the Grid? Seems that if there was a gigantic galactic empire out there they’d have bigger fish to fry.”

“I hope you’re right, Mr. President. In the meantime, don’t let the Qwin dick you around too much. They’re famous for trying to change the terms to already-settled agreements.”

Kenta Fukasaku raised his glass to the general. “Here’s to tomorrow then. That’s when I sit down with Denak and start going over the details. I’ve never met him before, but he seems to be more reasonable than his underlings. And you have to realize, I ain’t no rookie at the game. Remember, I used to be a building contractor.”

* * *

The next day, the Antaere Tesnin and the Human President spent six hours together, between periodic breaks for rest and consultation. At the end of the session, the president returned to his suite for a debrief and update with his senior advisors. General Jack Diamond was at the meeting, and afterward, he swung by the security office on the way to his room.

“Attention on deck!”

“As you were. Is Lt. Murphy in his office?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll show myself in.”

Zac, Angus and two other REVs shot to attention when the general entered the small room that served as Zac’s office. Playing cards and poker chips were spread out on the desk.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Zac. “Just killing time.”

“That’s all right. This will only take a moment. May we have the room gentlemen?”

Everyone left except Zac.

“How did things go today, sir?”

Diamond raised his eyebrows. “According to the president, remarkably well. Hell, the Qwin even threw in a few things we hadn’t asked for. The next few days look to be much of the same, no great drama.”

“Then we can go home early, sir?” asked Zac, smiling.

“You don’t have a home, lieutenant,” Diamond said without humor. “Besides, this is just the beginning. The Ha’curn are still out there. Also, I think we both know the REV program has to change with the times. We need an unbreakable comm link system and I need more Deltas. And your kind of mutant seems to only come about through NT-4.”

Zac frowned. Diamond knew the REV hated to be called a mutant. “You need a lot of NT-4, and over a long time. How do you propose to speed up the process?”

“That’s David’s job. I’ve called him back to full duty. Contrary to his belief, he’s not in charge anymore and he’s not retired. I can’t have colonels running around the Grid doing whatever they like.”

“You used to be a colonel, who went around doing whatever you liked.”

“Careful, lieutenant. You may be the golden boy now, but pretty soon they’ll be more like you. And once we solve the comm problem, my ACs will be back making headlines.”

“Against the Ha’curn?”

The question caught the general off guard. He smirked. “That’s what it looks like.”

“Peace can be a bitch, can’t it, sir? Without a war, there’s no need for your REVs.”

Diamond took a step closer to Zac. The REV didn’t back down. “I want you to tell me why Cross was at Vi-Cor. I heard his bullshit story, but I want to know the real reason.”

“Something about a new data feed system. You’re sending him a lot of information and he needed an upgrade. At least that’s what he told me.”

“Bullshit, lieutenant. I heard it was something about an AC and high residual levels. How can that be possible? You said it yourself, it takes time and a lot of NT-4.”

“Can’t help you there, sir. That sort of thing doesn’t happen with your ACs.”

The general studied the slight grin on Zac’s face. “You don’t like me much, do you, Mr. Murphy?”

Zac buried his chin in his chest and snorted. “That’s no secret. And for good reason. Let’s see, first you accused me of a murder I didn’t commit: of your nephew and my best friend. Then you stranded me on a hellhole of a planet, before branding me a renegade and sending your hounds out to find me. And now you’ve thrown me away doing shit-shuttle duty…until I saved the base at Vi-Cor. Now lo and behold, I’m running the President’s private security detail. Funny how things work out.” The smile vanished from Zac’s face. “I’ve served the Corps for eighteen years, eighteen REV years, and since we first met, you’ve had it in for me. Sure, you gave me your reason: because you can’t control me. So you tried to do it through your rank, which is a pussy way of doing it, sir. I could suggest a more direct way of settling this.”

Diamond’s rock-hard stare softened as he stretched out a thin smile. “Do I sense a little cascading taking place, lieutenant? Be careful. We don’t want the beast in you to come out.”

“You keep asking stupid questions like that and we’ll see what comes out.”

Diamond looked around the small office, still smiling. “Enjoy your time with the REVs, lieutenant. General Clausen requested that you lead the guard detail for the delegation, but once that’s over, you’re mine again. So why don’t you make it easy on both of us and retire when the conference is over? Oh, yeah, you’re a REV. That would mean a lifetime of people watching your every move, of regular chem tests and psych evals. After all, we can’t have animals running loose within civilized society. You could flip out and kill a lot of innocent people.”

“I can’t do that, not anymore.”

“Keep telling yourself that, lieutenant. And enjoy the next three days. They’ll be among your last in the Marine Corps.”

Diamond turned briskly on his heel and left the room, telling the men outside that they could now get back to their game…and that he was done playing his.

22

Zac Murphy was lying on his bed, his shirt off, running the conversation he’d had with General Diamond through his head for the umpteenth time. It was the end of the third day of the conference, another day of Antaere concessions and capitulation. That was strange on the part of the yellow-skinned aliens, but Zac was too distracted to think more on the subject. He had other things on his mind.

Throughout the years, he’d spent plenty of time contemplating his future in the Marines—and what would happen afterward. But now the possibility was as real as ever. Diamond would make good on his promise. He’d either drum him out of the service or turn his life into a useless sack of shit, no good to anyone. Two more days of the conference and then the general would get his claws back into Zac. That was something he was having a very hard time accepting.

Diamond had been right about the monitoring of retired REVs. Although no REV had officially retired from the Corps, plenty had washed out of the program in their early years. These men lived shitty lives, submitting to all the scrutiny Diamond had outlined. Not only that, they were required to take maintenance doses of NT-4 every two months for the rest of their lives. Without the sessions, they would die from their elevated metabolisms. Zac had read somewhere that there was an eighty-five percent suicide rate among the ex-REVs. He was surprised it wasn’t higher.

But Zac wouldn’t need the maintenance doses. He was different. But even if he was, Diamond wouldn’t let him slide on any of the monitoring or testing. He would be the first REV to ever officially retire. He would be an anomaly, to be studied and watched until the day he died, whenever that came about.

And the clock was ticking. He could see his time in the Marines coming to a rapid close and at the moment it was consuming his thoughts.

“Zac, are you there?”

The voice of Sergeant Joanie Hollis came through his ear. He had a surgically-implanted pickup, invisible to inspection, even though so far no one had thought to look in his ears.

“I’m here,” he said dejectedly, his voice reflecting his mood.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a little down today. What’s up?”

Joanie was aboard the battle-carrier Valhalla, one of the two carriers within the Enif system. There was a small contingent of operators aboard, just in case something happened and the comm links to the handful of AC-3 REVs weren’t disrupted. She also served as Zac’s eyes and ears throughout the fleet and the system as a whole.

“I have a link from Kyle Johnson. He said he’s been trying to reach you on your datapad but you aren’t answering.”

“Sorry, it’s in the other room. I shouldn’t be out of touch like that.”

“I’ll patch him through if you like?”

“Of course, thanks. Kyle?”

“Hey Zac, you okay?”

“Why do people keep asking me that?”

Kyle let the subject drop. “Listen, I’m picking up what looks like a pretty big gravity disturbance coming this way. It’s a little hard to miss, even in my little pod.”

“The Antaere?”

“No. There are seventeen of their ships on my screen, but they’re just sitting there.”

“No reaction?”

“Nada, and I’m telling you, if I can see this thing coming, they certainly can as well.”

“Joanie, have there been any reports coming into the fleet about this gravity wave?”

“None, lieutenant. We have remote sensors out in our sectors. So do the Antaere. If something big is coming into the Antaere sector, they would have picked it up long before Kyle. Wait one!” A moment later, Joanie spoke again. “Shit! The collar-comms are breaking up again!”

Zac sat up on the bed. “It has to be the Ha’curn.”

“But the jamming signal is coming from the surface!”

“Fuck,” Zac said, standing up and slipping on a khaki shirt, buttoning it up as he headed for the outer room and the door to his suite. “We thought they’d do something like this. This could be their entire fleet.”

“It would be suicide on their part,” said the air force sergeant.

“Joanie, let Admiral Armitage know what’s going on. The Antaere have to be in on this. Otherwise there should be alarms going off all across the system.”

Zac opened the door leading to the hallway, still fastening the buttons on his uniform. He was only half-surprised to find six armed Antaere Guards outside, their KV-18s aimed at his chest. At this range, even a REV would be ripped in half by the ballistic rounds from the weapons.

He felt himself begin to cascade before taking a couple of deep breaths to calm down. This wasn’t the time. Besides, if they were here to kill him they would have fired the moment he opened the door.

The guards pulled him from the doorway and frisked him.

“Come,” said the officer in charge, pressing the barrel of his weapon into Zac’s side. It tickled, but still he obliged.

Zac was led down the hallway and into the elevated observation deck surrounding the grand hall.

“Where are you taking me, my Antaere guards?” he said, narrating for Joanie’s sake.

“Silence!”

They climbed the stairs at the end of the balcony. He wasn’t being taken to the cells in the catacombs, but higher up, to the VIP suites. Were they going to use him to help gain entrance to the President’s suite? Good luck with that, he thought. His men had orders not to let that happen.

His heart sank as he emerged on the top floor and found the wide, carpeted corridor filled with a frenetic group of Antaere troops. There were so many of them they had trouble getting out of the way for Zac to be led through. The door to the Presidential Suite was open and his four REVs/standard troops lay unconscious on the floor. They were still breathing. Zac was pretty sure a dose of AC-3 in the younger men would stir them from their sleep, but without a Delta taking command, they would just stand there.

“What’s going to happen to them?” he asked the officer.

“Of no concern to you. Inside.”

Zac was shoved into the suite.

The outer room was large and already filled with a number of people. The president was there, as were Generals Clausen and Diamond. The CWO’s adjutant, Colonel Landon, was there as well, along with a dozen civilian VIPs, including Senator Reece Hamilton. Hamilton huffed his way up to Zac.

“Where were your security forces when we needed them, lieutenant? They took us without a single shot being fired.”

Zac leaned over the plump politician with the silver-white hair and immaculately tailored suit. “Would you prefer we had a firefight in your room, senator? With any luck, you might have died in the crossfire.”

The senator backed away as Fukasaku and Clausen stepped up to Zac. Angus and Keith Pierson came with them. Zac reached out to shake the President’s hand. “Mr. President, General Clausen, I’m glad to see you’re alive, even though you’re being held prisoner in your suite by an overwhelming force of Antaere.” He spoke the words for Joanie’s sake, knowing she was still listening, and in case their conversations were being monitored.

“Admiral Armitage is tied in,” Joanie reported.

“We’re putting together a rescue team, lieutenant,” said Jerica Armitage in his ear. “Protect the president.”

Zac looked around the room, as if taking a survey. “Seems to be a hell of a lot of Antaere here. It would be difficult for anyone to get in without risking your life, Mr. President.”

“We have to try,” said the admiral in Zac’s ear, understanding his hidden message. “No alarms have come from the surface or from the Antaere fleet, but they can’t keep a thing like this secret for long. I’m moving the fleet into defensive positions.”

“So, Mr. President, our Antaere allies aren’t our allies after all. And with the whole Ha’curn fleet about to move in-system, we’re caught between a rock and a hard place.”

The President was looking at Zac with a furrowed brow, beginning to catch on. “You say the Ha’curn fleet is coming?”

“That’s right, sir, and our forces know nothing about it. They’re about to be caught completely by surprise.” Zac curled up the corners of his mouth into the suggestion of a smile. The president nodded.

“I’m disappointed to hear that; however, if Admiral Armitage knew what was happening, I’m sure she would forget about me and do all she could to protect the fleet. They’re needed to defend the Earth, and not a group of pompous politicians.”

“I heard that,” said Armitage. “I will do what I can with the fleet, but I’m still sending a rescue team.”

“She’ll do what she can, I’m sure,” said Zac. “I’m also sure she wouldn’t risk any of the fleet in a futile rescue attempt.” His expression turned sour this time.

The president bit his lip in frustration. “We’re not worth it,” he said.

The room came abuzz as the Antaere in the hallway began to move. A moment later, Tesnin Denak Zaphin entered the room under heavy guard. The aliens surrounded Zac and the other two REVs, while barely paying attention to the other Humans in the room.

When Zac was next to Angus, he leaned over and asked, “Where are the others?”

Angus shrugged. “Not sure.”

“I’m monitoring the standard radio frequencies for the others,” said Joanie in Zac’s ear. “They’re below you and together. The signals are shifting slightly so they appear to be alive. Or the Qwin are just moving the bodies around. I can activate the ACs with the standard RF, but I’m not sure if there are any Deltas to control them.”

“Understood,” Zac said to Angus/Joanie. “It’s best if we see what’s going to happen next. Zaphin just entered the room. We should know pretty soon.”

* * *

The Antaere guards cut Fukasaku from the others and moved him to another part of the room where Denak was waiting, alone.

“So you’re doing all this to protect us against a larger threat?” asked the president, his voice thick with sarcasm. “I appreciate the effort, but we don’t need your protection.”

Denak frowned. “I believe you are not being truthful in your sentiment. You cannot truly believe this to be anything other than what it appears to be.”

“You mean you aren’t being a loyal ally? You have hostile intentions instead?”

“Now I know you are not serious. Yes, we have hostile intentions. The most hostile, indeed. Today is a great reckoning, not only for you and your alien fleet, but for the Enif as well.”

“The Enif?”

“Of course,” said the Tesnin. “If it had not been for them and their desertion of my son’s fleet, your Human scourge would have been eradicated over a year ago, requiring none of what has transpired recently to have occurred. Yet with their betrayal at the very gates of Earth, our fleet was defeated and I was forced to slay Andus.” The Antaere leader stepped to the wide plate-glass window that overlooked the temple grounds and the much taller and newer edifice to the north. “It was I who insisted we hold these talks on Enif, and in this ancient temple. It is altogether fitting, since it was also the Enif who insisted on a newer, grander structure be constructed, even as they betrayed their faith by siding with the enemies of the Order. They will pay, as will the Humans.”

“Just as you sided with the outsiders, using them to help destroy your enemies within the Grid.”

Denak turned from the window and laughed. “You speak of the Ha’curn? We did not side with the Ha’curn. We created them. They are not from outside, but rather from the farthest reaches of the Grid, the sixth planet we contacted during the First Expedition. Their world lies beyond the Green Nebula. We have known of the Ha’curn even longer than we have known of the Humans.”

“Why hasn’t anyone heard of them?”

“Because we chose to keep their existence a secret.”

Kenta let out a sigh. “I have to admit, I’m impressed with your long-term planning.”

Denak shook his head. “It wasn’t long-term planning. It was for survival. At the time we first discovered the Ha’curn, the Antaere were more warlike, intent on dominating worlds and imposing the Order upon them. Although we fought wars on the other five worlds of the First Expedition, it wasn’t until we reached the planet of the Ha’curn that we suffered our first and most humiliating defeat. We were no match for the Ha’curn warriors, and that was something we could not let stand or become known. So we quarantined the world, placing powerful nuclear weapons under the surface and threatening the race with extinction if they caused us any further trouble. That was how it remained until recently. When faced with the destruction of Antara at your evil hands, we called upon the best fighters we knew and armed them with ships and technology.”

“Telling them their world would be destroyed if they didn’t obey?” said the president. “Not the most loyal of allies.”

Again, Denak shook his head. “That is not what happened. Instead, we offered them the galaxy in exchange for their assistance.”

“You mean the Grid?”

“No, the galaxy. We told them that once the Humans were no more, the Antaere would accelerate our spread of the Order, no longer taking a more cautious approach to colonization as we had since our experience with the Ha’curn. We would allow the savages to express themselves through combat, combat with our enemies. The Antaere would lead the way with the Order. The Ha’curn would be the Claws of the Order. They liked the sound of that, after which all would succumb, and become servants to the Order.”

The President shook his head in disgust. “And you believe all that bullshit, about the Order and everything else?” asked Kenta directly.

The Tesnin recoiled from the question. Then he smiled. “Of course not, Mr. President. My ancient family created the Order as a way of pacifying the masses. And just as the Corollaries detail the treatment of our alien followers, the Zaphin family has our own way of ruling Antara. The Order was a convenient method, and it has served my race—and my family--well and will continue to do so until the time of the almighty Final Glory.” Kenta could tell Denak was having trouble not laughing at his last statement.

“And you’re telling me all this—”

“Because you will not live to relate it to others. And who would believe you? Soon the Human race will no longer exist except in isolated and hunted nests. And then the Antaere will expand outward, until we become that dreaded threat from outside, conquering any and all we come upon. Although I profess to spread the Order, it is the Zaphin name I truly worship. Others will come to feel the same.”

“You’re insane, you know.”

Denak shook his head. “I am not,” the alien protested. “I am merely doing what I can to maintain power for me and my people. It is the same as you do in your position as president. There is no madness in what we do. That is only the belief of the defeated. You, Mr. President, will now join the family of the defeated. Come with me. You will offer the surrender of all your forces, here and in space, just as you so recently demanded of me, yet in a more direct manner.”

“Bullshit. You know I won’t do that. Would you?”

“I believe not, although I do value my life.”

“Are you offering my life in exchange?”

“That could be arranged. What would a small group of surviving Humans living under my direct control be…but entertainment. I might enjoy that.”

* * *

President Kenta Fukasaku was led back to the group of Humans, Denak at his side. “Whether you surrender or not, it matters not to me,” said the Tesnin. “Your forces will be defeated either way.”

Kenta turned to the crowd before looking directly into Zac’s eyes. “I will not be held hostage to effect a surrender of our forces. You, Mr. Murphy, lead whoever you can to safety.”

And with that, the President turned away and sprinted for the huge picture window on the other side of the room. He made it before anyone could stop him. He hit the glass hard…and then recoiled and fell to the floor, unconscious, yet alive.

Denak casually strolled up to the body. “Fool. He could not even honorably sacrifice himself.” He turned to General Clausen. “Your president was going to offer your fleet for his life. I make the same offer to you.”

Zac wasn’t sure how the Antaere would react to spitting in the face of one’s enemy. He was about to find out.

Denak stepped up to the CWO. “Is the sharing of bodily fluids an affirmative or negative response?”

“Negative, you fucking idiot.”

“Very well.” He turned to an Antaere officer. “Bring a body attendant for the president. If he is capable, place him with the others.” He then stepped up to Zac. “Do you intend to follow your president’s orders?”

“Not me, Lord Zaphin. I know a losing cause when I see one. I’ll behave.”

Denak frowned at the Human. “I suspect you are lying, as your race is prone to do. Yet I will let you live. I am sure my Ha’curn friends would find great sport with you and your other abominations. They do not need chemicals to be superior fighters. It will be thrilling entertainment.”

“Like the last time you had me in an arena? That didn’t work out so well for you, did it?”

Denak smiled and swept a hand around the room. “Indeed, it did, just not within the timeframe I had hoped.” He laughed. “Take them away!”

23

“Lieutenant, the fleet is moving away,” said a panicked Joanie Hollis in Zac’s ear. He was with the others, being herded to the catacombs below the temple.

“They’re taking us to the cells,” he mumbled, as if talking to himself. A pair of Antaere guards had been assigned to him personally.

“I’m going to lose contact with you the farther we go out, at least in real time. A commando group is preparing to head for the surface.”

“Can you transfer my comm to the commandos so I can coordinate with them?”

“I will, but they won’t be able to transfer it back afterward.”

“That’s okay. We’ll meet up when this is all over. What about Kyle and Donovan?”

“I haven’t heard from them. They have small wormhole comms, so we’ll be able to stay in touch longer.”

“Can you recover them?”

“Not likely. They’re in the Antaere channel, where the Ha’curn fleet is coming. We’re going in the opposite direction.”

“I understand. Take care, and thanks again for being my voice of reason.”

* * *

Joanie found the leader of the commando team in the staging area and gave him the codes for Zac’s communicator. She also provided the frequencies for the AC command collars. All they could do at this point was send the pulse to the collars that would deliver the drug to the REVs. It would be up to the Deltas on the ground to take verbal command of their assigned ACs, if that was possible. Otherwise the activated REVs would be sitting ducks.

Once that was done, she returned to the near-vacant REV control room. Conveniently, this was also her battle station. She took an environment suit from a cabinet along the bulkhead and put it on. As the battle neared, the atmosphere would be dumped from the ship, preventing any pressure blowouts in case of hull puncture. She would remain confined to the suit for the duration of the battle or her death, whichever came first.

“Johnson to control. Come in control.”

Joanie wasn’t excited to hear from the REV. He and nineteen others were alone in flimsy one-man assault pods, millions of kilometers from help and with no possibility of rescue. What could she tell him: that the Antaere had betrayed the Humans and that the Ha’curn were working with them? Or that the fleet was trying for a breakout, with the Antaere on their tail and the Ha’curn bearing down on them from out-system? She opened the comm anyway.

“What the fuck is going on?” Gunnery Sergeant Kyle Johnson yelled when the link opened. “The whole damn Ha’curn fleet is flying past us!”

“Sorry, Kyle, but we’ve found out the Ha’curn are working with the Antaere. The peace conference has been sabotaged by the Qwin. Zac and the others on the planet have been taken prisoner and the fleet is getting ready to run a blockade consisting of about six hundred enemy ships. Other than that, everything is just peachy. How’s your day going?”

There was silence on the line for several seconds. “Well…in light of that, I guess we’re all having a shit day.”

“Sorry we can’t get to you.”

“Understood. Listen, we came out here not just to be a bunch of on-site ship detectors. We’re supposed to be able to board some of these bastards and take them out.”

“Don’t try. What can you do against the entire Ha’curn fleet? Make for a safe haven on one of the outer moons.”

“And then what, wait to die? From the sound of things, no one from our side will be coming this way in the foreseeable future. Might as well see what these flying coffins can do.”

Joanie didn’t feel like arguing. She could hear the engines straining as the mighty carrier was already engaged in battle maneuvers. “Good luck, gunny. I hope you’re able to take a few of the bastards with you. We’ll do the same here.”

“Johnson, out.”

24

Aboard the Battle-Carrier Valhalla

“They have us blocked, admiral,” reported the lieutenant at the nav station.

Jerica Armitage knew what that meant: there would be no meeting up between the segments of her fleet. Each had been tasked with guarding two of the three entrances to the Enif system. The Humans took the flanks, splitting their force, while the Antaere took the center. Now that center was being flooded with Ha’curn warships. Not only that, but the Antaere had slowly moved their forces into position to block the exits from the Human channels. They also had more ships on station than first suspected, almost three hundred total, apparently fudging their casualty numbers in the engagements prior to the peace talks. They’d also been building additional warships in hidden locations. Now add to that the four hundred Ha’curn ships, and the Humans were badly outnumbered and their force fragmented.

“Incoming!” cried out someone within the CIC. Jerica shook herself in the confinement of her environment suit. The carrier rarely got directly involved in space battles; that’s what the screening ships were designed to prevent. But the destroyers were themselves in pitched battles for survival, leaving the carrier open to direct attack. The Valhalla was taking fire. But she was one of the most powerful starships in the Grid, along with her sister ship, the Camelot. The Camelot was with the other detachment, also under direct assault. In the twenty-two-year-long war with the Antaere no battle carrier had been destroyed by enemy fire. That could very well change today.

Armitage was not in command of the carrier; that was Captain Cain’s responsibility. But she was in command of the entire 2nd Fleet, the one that was currently being shot to shreds. She looked at the tac screen. Her forces had tried to join up but had been stopped by a steady stream of Ha’curn ships slicing between the two sub-fleets. The Humans were in the process of ripping into these ships from both sides, but the aliens didn’t faulter. They maintained their course, even as they were taking heavy casualties.

The Valhalla had eighty-one fighters out in space, harassing the enemy ships. The problem: the Antaere had deployed two hundred of their own, not from carriers, but from large battleships. What this did was provide multiple landing platforms for the enemy fighters where they could refuel and rearm. The Valhalla was her fighters’ sole base of operation, and currently the Antaere were keeping any of her fighters from reaching safe harbor.

The ship jerked suddenly, feeling as if one of the enemy fighters had impacted the hull rather than from hits on absorption screens. Hopefully it was one of the enemy ships.

“Open a link with the fleet captains,” Armitage said to a crewmember. When she nodded, the admiral spoke into the room. “Armitage to 2nd Fleet. Move screening ships to the head of both formations. Narrow your profile. Prepare to engage the enemy line. Once a breach is made, evacuate as many units as possible. Engage deep gravity wells when clear of influences. Save as many units as you can. Once out of the system, rendezvous at Rally Point Echo. Execute on my command.”

She watched the screens as what was left of her fleet moved into position. They were creating two dart-like formations. The breach wouldn’t be large, but it would be enough to get some of her ships through. The Valhalla was another matter. It was a huge target. She knew the Antaere and Ha’curn would let the smaller ships escape if it meant taking out the two carriers. If that happened, it would be a massive blow to the strength of the Human space forces.

Armitage began to think of Earth. Only two small fleets remained clear of the Enif system, with a total of one hundred nineteen warships. If her fleet was destroyed, they would be the only thing standing between Earth and the combined alien forces. She had to do everything she could to save as many of her fleet as possible. Unfortunately, that was beyond her control. At this point, luck would have to play a factor.

25

Major Michael Landry was an Army Ranger, and his second-in-command, Senior Chief Scott Wolfe, was a Navy SEAL. One would think that with the advent of the REVs, these special forces units would have faded away. But that wasn’t the case. Instead, they flourished. Since only a handful of the volunteers ever became REVs, those who didn’t often gravitated to the other specialty units. And with the longevity of the Human-Antaere war, both were filled to capacity by the best and the brightest.

Landry led his eight-man squad into the launch bay of the Valhalla, ready to start loading gear into the ship that would take them to the surface. He was expecting a standard insertion vehicle, a modified fighter with extra carrying capacity and ample firepower. What he got instead was a rusted out tin bucket with a pitted hull. He turned to Commander Arnie Slade.

“What is this shit, sir? Does that thing even fly?”

Slade had a look of concern on his face as well. “I’m told it does, and rather well at that.”

“You gotta be kidding.”

“No, and this is what command has given you. After all, who would suspect that of carrying an elite squad of commandos. The Qwin would be expecting more flash on our part.”

“So would I.”

“Just get your men loaded. You drop in ten minutes. And remember, Mike, you’re going after the president.”

Landry snorted. “I remember. Does the brass?”

The major turned to his men, who had made no move toward the ship, believing it to be some kind of mistake. “Get aboard,” he ordered. “Wheels up in ten.”

To their credit none of the men voiced their displeasure as they walked past the two senior officers. But their expressions said it all. Landy shook hands with his commander and then boarded the…the starship? He tossed his gear to a Navy first class and headed for the bridge, the chief close behind.

“So where’s the bridge crew?” Scott Wolfe asked.

“I am here,” said a disenfranchised female voice from the bridge speakers.

“No fucking way,” said Landry. “You’re an AI. We can’t have a combat insertion done by a machine, especially not a….”

“A female machine?” asked the sexy voice. “You do realize that is a nonsensical statement? I can change to a male persona, if you prefer.” The voice was now that of a man, older, rougher.

“That’s better,” said Chief Wolfe. “I think.”

“My preferred voice is that of the female called Amber. You may call me Amber.”

Landry was shaking his head. “Nah, I’m not putting up with this. Male or female, who gives a shit. It’s the idea of putting a computer in charge of the flight operations that bugs me. No offense, Amber, but machines just aren’t up to the task, not yet.”

“I am. Now have your men strap in. The launch crew of the Valhalla is vacating the atmosphere within the bay. There will be a prolonged period of zero gravity after launch.”

“Strap in!” Chief Wolfe yelled back to his men. Then he and Landry did the same on the bridge.

“This is a bunch of shit,” Major Landry grumbled.

“Launching,” the AI announced.

Landry didn’t like zero gravity, although everyone talked about how great it was, the feeling of flying. All it did for him was make him feel awkward and uncoordinated. He was a skilled combat officer; he didn’t like to be out of control.

The ship began to tumble slowly once it was unceremoniously dumped out the back of the carrier. It was anything but a launch. Then gas jets cut in and sent the ship toward the surface of the planet far below.

“What are you doing?” Landry asked the pilotless room. “It’s going to take us forever at this pace.”

“We need separation from the carrier before engaging any gravity drives of our own. We must merge with the other ships in orbit first. This will only last for another four minutes.”

It was a frustrating four minutes, but then the internals and inertia compensators kicked on. Chief Wolfe was out of his chair a second later, heading aft.

“Gear up! Check weapons. Check each other. This could get rough as we head for the surface. Prepare for immediate dust-off upon contact.”

Landry was on the bridge, seated in the pilot’s chair, with nothing to do. He watched the shimmering blue and white globe of Enif grow larger through the forward viewport, thinking how much it looked like Earth. All the Earth-Standard worlds did. That was why they were ES worlds.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked the omnipresent artificial intelligence.

“Of course. I’m the most-sophisticated AI in existence, fully capable of guiding this ship to a safe landing. If your command trusts me, shouldn’t you?”

“But why you, why this ship?”

“You and your team were aboard the Valhalla just for this very option. So was I. The plans for this rescue were put in place months ago, when the peace conference was first proposed. It’s a contingency plan, as the military is wont to do. There were other insertion vessels available, depending on mission parameters. For this mission, it was decided I was the best option.”

“Okay, I accept that. So how are you going to get us to the surface?”

“I have within my program several thousand transponder codes to choose from, including dozens for Antaere registered vessels.”

“You can change the ship’s transponder code?”

“I would not have mentioned the transponder code selection if I couldn’t. I am currently sending out a different code every five seconds. This will confuse ground control and allow us to get lost in the hundreds of other ships in orbit. At the proper time, I will present the officials with a high-priority Antaere code which will allow us access to the temple grounds.”

“No shooting?”

“No shooting. It is best if we make landfall without drawing attention to ourselves.”

Landry couldn’t argue with that. In fact he found it odd he’d forgotten he was talking with a computer. AIs were prevalent throughout modern society, yet they each had their basic flaws and giveaways. Not this one. Hell, she even used contractions.

“I’ve just received clearance to land. Time to surface, six minutes. I’ve downloaded data regarding the layout of the temple, as well as where the prisoners are being held. It’s been added to your datapacks. I believe you also have communications with Lieutenant Murphy. We’ve worked together previously. I’m anxious to see him again.”

“You know Zac Murphy?”

“Yes, and Angus Price, General Bill Smith and others. We’ve been on missions before.”

Landry pursed his lips and nodded. “Impressive, Amber, especially since the people you mentioned are still alive. I hope you can do the same for me and my men.”

“No guarantees, major. A lot of the mission’s success will depend on you.”

Now he grimaced. There was no arguing with that.

“Entering the atmosphere. Our approach will be termed leisurely,” said the AI. “The temple site is where most of the Antaere suspicion will be concentrated regarding approaching ships. Although the fleet is leaving, the Antaere will not believe we would abandon the president without attempting some kind of rescue operation.”

Landry went aft. “Get ready. Drummond and Fisk, you take point as we exit the airlock. The rest follow in twos. The chief and I will bring up the rear.”

“How’s Amber handling things?” the chief asked with a grin. He’d heard some of the conversation from the bridge.

“Fine, chief. I think I’m in love.”

The next few minutes were spent in silence, then Amber’s voice came over the comm in the staging area. “Thirty seconds. It will be dark when we land and I will let the jets burn for an additional ten seconds to fill the LZ with more smoke than normal. Considering the ship’s appearance, that would be understandable. Use your respirators and HUDs to guide you to the building. You should make it there undetected. After that, it will be on you.”

The men looked at the speaker and then at their leader. They grinned and nodded their approval.

“I guess we know who’s in charge, don’t we, major?” said Petty Officer First Class Isaac Drummond.

“Touchdown.”

The outer door to the short airlock walkway cycled open. The men, with their respirators on and goggles over their eyes, raced out into the hot, grey exhaust of the landing jets, even as smoke began to fill the interior of the ugly starship. The men followed lit lines on the inner surface of their eyewear, running to the side of a building about fifty yards from the ship. There were other vessels on the grounds, now engulfed in the oversized cloud of smoke.

While still undercover, the men raced along the two-hundred-year-old concrete parapet surrounding the temple complex until they came to the side of the temple itself. At the doorway, two Antaere stood guard, now covering their eyes against the roiling exhaust gas. Without breaking stride, Drummond and Fisk sent double-taps into the aliens with the suppressed M-101s. They were upon the bodies almost before they hit the ground, dragging them inside the building before hiding them around a corner within the ancient stone and concrete structure.

Once the commandos were inside, they closed the outer double doors and took up lookout posts, scanning the interior for more Antaere. They used infrared scopes, with targeting beams visible only through their goggles. They were in a wide vestibule, leading to an elevated balcony lining the grand ballroom. According to the readouts, the prisoners were on the other side of the room and three stories below.

“Lieutenant Murphy, can you hear me?” Landry said after triggering the frequency for the REV’s ear-bug comm.

“I hear you. Who is this?”

“Major Mike Landry. We’re in the building, opposite side from you, on the observation deck. What’s your status?”

“We’re fine, all can walk, even the president. Only Antaere are in the building. They’ve turned against the Enif.”

“That’s good to know. All right, we’re moving your way. I’ll keep the line open.”

With hand signals, Landry sent his men out of the vestibule, up a short flight of stairs and across the balcony. There were stairs at the other end leading down to the catacombs. From there they could link up with the passageways leading to the prisoners.

Just then, a pair of Antaere emerged from the stairway ahead of them, coming from above. The commandos took them out. But then another one showed up from behind.

Chief Wolfe spun toward the alien, pulling his black K-BAR knife in the same motion. He slashed sideways, slicing open the throat of the Qwin, keeping him from raising the alarm. But that wasn’t enough to keep the commandos hidden.

A flash bolt shot out from across the ballroom. It missed the commandos, even as it lit up the room like Christmas. Even the Qwin outside would notice the brilliant flash through the windows at the north end of the grand hall, especially in the dark of night. Alarms sounded and more Antaere entered from all sides. A second later, the deafening sounds of a ferocious firefight filled the grand hall, echoing off the stone floors, walls and ceiling.

26

On the surface of Enif (ES-8)

“Landry, update,” Zac said, trying to remain calm even as the alarms could be heard in the catacombs. He had pulled Angus in front of him so he could appear to be talking to him rather than to himself.

“We’re buster! Pinned down on all sides. Two of my men down. This isn’t good!”

Zac bit his bottom lip. He couldn’t let this go on.

The Antaere outside the cell were agitated, and soon joined by two more, making a total of four. They knew whatever was happening above them was meant to help the prisoners, and they weren’t about to let that happen.

With the guards distracted, Zac moved casually to the AC-3 REVs, now disguised as normal soldiers. There were four of them. “The plastic panel covering the opening is unbreakable, but not the concrete along the sides. I’m going to activate you, then two on each side, I want you to ram the concrete with everything you’ve got. Me, Angus and Pierson will hit the panel in the middle. Hopefully, the damn thing will fall out.”

The men nodded. He knew he’d have to repeat the instructions once they were activated, but he felt they deserved to know what was going to happen, even if they wouldn’t remember.

Senator Reece Hamilton was watching Zac. Now he stepped defiantly up to the REV. “What the hell are you doing? You’re going to get us all killed.”

Angus was on the politician a moment later, placing a fist around his neck and pulling him away. Zac could tell his friend was cascading, so he had to be careful not to break Hamilton’s neck. “Let the man work,” Angus growled. Then he pushed the senator away and into the waiting arms of General Frederick Clausen. The CWO nodded his approval to Angus and Zac.

Zac began to pull jackets and arm sleeves off the prisoners in the back of the crowd. Most were startled at first, but soon realized what he was doing.

“Now everyone get up by the barrier and start shouting. Ask what’s going on, as loud as you can. But get away when I yell clear. Got it?”

Everyone nodded.

Zac had the ACs kneel behind the crowd, out of sight of the guards. The people began chanting and banging on the barrier. The Antaere guards considered them for a moment before turning away; any real danger would come from outside the cell, not from inside. Then Zac began to tie the cloth around the heads and mouths of the REVs.

Zac looked up at Angus. “You and Keith get ready. Hit the middle of the barrier when I give you the go ahead.” He then turned his attention to the REVs, and in rapid succession reached through the high-collar uniforms and pressed the activate button on their hidden command collars.

The men remained kneeling, while letting out the god-awful scream endemic to the REVs. Even through the gags and the din of the prisoners screaming and banging on the window, the screeches were loud and frightening.

One of the Antaere guards turned to the barrier, which only prompted louder yelling and more banging on the plastic. He turned away.

Zac moved in front of the REVs and repeated his commands. They would stay on one knee until given the execute command.

Now Zac, Angus and Keith Pierson met at the back of the room. All the REVs needed running room to build up the most momentum. When all was ready, Zac took a deep breath and yelled, “Clear!”

Like the parting of the Red Sea, the prisoners slipped to the sides of the plastic barrier as quickly as possible. It still wasn’t quick enough before one of the guards turned to the cell and began to lift his weapon.

“Execute!”

The ACs rushed forward, gaining maximum REV speed in only a step or two. The Deltas were a split second behind, racing towards the clear plastic panel that made up the front of the cell. The ACs hit the side of the opening, smashing their rock-hard bodies into the two-hundred-year-old concrete at each side of the panel. The material crumbled, literally shooting out from both sides as if an explosion had taken place. Zac and the other two Deltas hit the center of the plastic panel with all the power they could muster. The unbreakable material was just that, unbreakable. But it could bend. The plastic deformed, forced outward, while pulling the sides in towards the middle. With the weakened support on the flanks, the panel broke away, pulling it not only from the side walls but also from the ceiling and floor. The huge ten-meter by ten-meter barrier fell outward, landing squarely on the guard with his weapon raised, crushing him instantly.

Zac and the Deltas were up a moment later, literally jumping the five meters to the other guards, smashing blurred fists into heads and bodies. The aliens were down an instant later, with the REVs quickly recovering their weapons.

Zac turned back to the now open cell. “Keith, get the ACs.” The four other REVS were standing idle near the crushed walls, covered in white dust and wobbling slightly. They’d only been given one set of instructions. Now they were waiting for more, already programmed with the voices of the Deltas in their command collars.

“REVS, cover the rear. Defend the Humans, execute,” said Sergeant First Class Pierson. The REVS moved out of the cell, following the other prisoners as they stepped over the huge plastic panel, made unstable by the body of the dead Antaere guard under it. Some of those with more sensitive constitutions avoided looking at the bloody lump, hardly recognizable as a once-living creature.

“Hurry,” Zac called out. “There’s a group of commandos trapped on the other side of the grand hall. We have to get to them before they’re cut to pieces.”

The eighteen delegates and VIPs moved along the dim and dank corridor of the catacombs, heading for a stairwell at the south end. Clausen and Diamond were helping the president, who still wore a bandage on his head and a sling on his right arm. There were three women in the group and the men were helping them along, although one Marine captain was holding her own and prodding Hamilton and another member of the world congress ahead of her.

Three more Antaere appeared at the stairway, weapons up and ready. Zac and Angus lit off flash bolts, striking two of the aliens center mass. The third one got off a shot, hitting a distracted Keith Pierson in the right arm. The cascading REV glared at the alien before dispatching him with a bolt to the face. It would take more than one flash bolt to take out a REV.

The men now had three more weapons. They were given to three of the ACs bringing up the rear, with instructions to shoot any aliens they saw coming up behind them. Almost immediately they began firing.

It was three floors up to the level of the balcony, and then one down to the grand hall. By the time Zac and Angus poked their heads out from the stairwell, the huge room was still alive with ear-splitting gunfire and the pops of flash weapons. A thick cloud of smoke was gathering in the soaring cathedral ceiling and the sweet smell of ozone filled the air.

In a crouch, the Delta REVs moved out from the stairwell and to the railing overlooking the floor below. The half wall was open, made up of stone balusters and balustrades. There was no effective place to hide, as the commandos on the other side had found out. Zac could see four of the eight lying dead on the polished stone floor, while the survivors had the barrels of their M-101s sticking through the gaps in the railing, firing at fifty or more Antaere surrounding them.

Zac sized up the situation instantly. There were huge columns rising up from the floor at the south end of the room where the Antaere were seeking shelter. There were also stairwells at both ends of the observation deck where the commandos were pinned down. The men were keeping the aliens at bay, for the moment. Zac had to do something to open a relief valve at the north end, allowing everyone to exit the building.

“Major, we’re across the hall from you.”

“I see you,” the officer yelled over the din of the gunfire. “We’re running low on ammo. We’re working on what we got from our dead. About a minute left.”

“We have flash weapons on this side. So far we haven’t been spotted by those on the floor. We’re going to take their fire. You head for the exit at that point, concentrating your fire in that direction. Go on my signal.”

“Roger that. We’ll cover you once we get to the end.”

Zac’s problem was he had to get nearly twenty people across the grand hall and to the balcony on the other side—including an injured President of Earth.

He scooted back to the others where the ACs were standing idly by. He went to the one without a weapon. “You are REV One,” he said. Then he grabbed the president by the arm and pulled him in front of the REV. “Take this person and carry him. Follow me on my command. Protect this person from injury.”

“I can run, lieutenant,” said Kenta.

“Not fast enough, sir.”

The REV stared at him with expressionless eyes, making Zac wonder if he understood the commands or not. Either way, he would stand where he was until Zac gave the execute order.

He went to the other three REVs and designated them numbers two, three and four. “Guard the group. Follow us across the floor. Fire at all aliens you see. On my command.”

With that done, Zac returned to the railing. The Antaere were still occupied by the commandos across the room and hadn’t spotted Zac and his people. They had six flash weapons between them. The three Deltas were armed, as were a trio of the ACs.

“Are you ready?” he asked the Deltas. “Make every shot count.”

“That’s what we do,” Angus said, grinning.

“Okay, drive them back.”

Zac looked to his right and the group of people hiding against the south wall by the stairwell. Clausen and the other military were ready, each having assigned themselves a civilian to care for.

“All right. Light ’em up.”

Zac and the Deltas opened up on the Antaere. They had a good angle on them initially, and as Angus had said, they made every shot count. With REV speed and accuracy, a dozen Qwin were dropped in the first second. Another dozen fell before the aliens realized what was happening. They fell back.

Across the hall, the surviving members of the commando team now directed their fire to the north end of the balcony, shredding the relatively few Qwin to that side. Then they made for the stairway leading to the exit. As they passed the bodies of their dead, they grabbed straps and dragged them along. At the stairway, the four stopped and began sending their remaining fire at the Antaere who had moved to the other side of the huge pillars to avoid the new incoming fire from the other side of the hall. Several fell as heavy ballistic rounds tore into their bodies.

“Execute!” Zac yelled to the group of REVs to his right. The REV assigned to the president unceremoniously lifted the man and tucked him under his arm, bending him at the waist. The president was a small man—barely one hundred forty pounds. For the activated REV he was feather-light.

The group sprinted down a short set of stairs to the floor of the main hall. The other three ACs took up positions to the south, firing continuously into every Qwin they could see. They didn’t miss.

Clausen and Diamond tried to shield the president and his REV, but they couldn’t keep up. The AC was across the open floor a second later. He vaulted the short stairs on the east side of the chamber and pressed against the wall near the larger stairwell, out of the line of fire of the Antaere.

The Deltas did their part as well, holding their weapons in their left hands while scooping up the three women in the group with their right arms. The Marine captain protested, but it was over a couple of seconds later as she was rudely deposited on the stone floor at the feet of the REV still holding the president.

Zac turned to the REV. “Take the person to the other side, there!” He pointed toward the commandos, thirty meters away. “Protect him. Execute!”

The REV took off, as Zac and the others laid down covering fire. The commandos did the same. Even still, the REV took two flash bolts to his left side and back. He stumbled to one knee but was up again a moment later. He was hobbled slightly but made it to the end and disappeared down the stairs.

Zac began to send groups of five along the walkway, protected by the fire from the REVs and Major Landry’s men. The first two groups made it across unscathed. The third suffered two deaths after Landry’s men ran out of ammo, opening a line of fire for the aliens. Zac and the REVs were the last across; they recovered the bodies of the fallen as they ran by.

Landry had already moved to the exit, his men crouched to either side of the opening, peering out, looking for opposition in the dark. The field outside was quiet.

Zac slid up beside the major.

“Looks quiet,” Landry said. “I don’t like it.”

“They’ve had plenty of time to cover this exit. Where are we going?”

“That ship over there. Sorry about the appear—”

“No shit!” Zac said, recognizing the rusted and dented hull of the starship as that of the Zanzibar.

“She said she’d worked with you before.”

“Amber?”

Landry winked.

“Okay, we’ll cover you while you and your men get your dead across the field. Once there, retrieve more ammo for your weapons and return the favor.”

The commandos hoisted their dead onto their shoulders in fireman carries. Angus and Pierson moved up beside Zac.

“I only have about six shots left,” said Angus.

“Three for me.”

Zac called the other three armed REVs to him. He checked the charges on their weapons. They were out. They had no choice, they would have to make a run for it. The Qwin in the building would be coming along the balcony any second now.

He patted Landry on the arm. “Go!”

The double doors flew open and the commandos sprinted across the open field as fast as they could while carrying the bodies of their dead. Zac and the Deltas leaned out, the barrels of their energy weapons scanning the outside.

Landry’s men made it halfway across before the dirt at their feet began erupting in geysers of gunfire. This was heavy caliber stuff and not flash bolts. Zac followed the sound to its origin. About twenty meters up on the left was a tower in the wall surrounding the old temple. There were embrasures in the battlement, and through one a long metal barrel could be seen, spitting fire into the field below.

The three REVs opened up, driving those behind the stone barrier back and silencing the fire momentarily. Fortunately, none of the commandos had been hit. They continued to the starship, the side hatch opening on its own, giving them access to the inside. The four men disappeared inside for a moment, before reappearing with their weapons ablaze, aimed at the tower.

“Go!” Zac yelled to the delegates.

The crowd rushed off, protected by the gunfire and flash bolts from both sides of the field, as well as the hardened bodies of the AC REVs. Besides the president, the REVs now carried the dead with them.

But still the gunfire came from above. Two more Humans fell.

Zac looked for a way to reach the tower. There was a single-story building jutting out from the stone wall, with a matching unit on the other side of the tower. On impulse, Zac rushed out into the field, sprinting toward the low-lying building. He was fully activated at the time, calling up all three varieties of Rev he had in his system. He would be stronger than a standard REV. By how much, he had no idea.

He was moving at over a hundred kilometers per hour by the time he leaped to the roof of the building and then launched with his right leg. It was still fifteen meters or more to the top of the tower, with Zac soaring through the air with no safety net below. Then he realized clearing the battlement wouldn’t be his problem; he was going to make that with a couple of meters to spare. He was now worried he’d clear the tower completely and fall to the other side of the stone parapet.

He tucked his body into a ball, preparing for what was to come. He flew over the lip of the tower and then crashed into the battlement on the opposite side, crumbling the stone and sending debris raining to the ground below.

The three Qwin in the tower hadn’t seen him coming. Now they panicked, grabbing for loose energy weapons as they abandoned the huge ballistic cannon. Zac uncoiled and lashed out with his right fist. The Qwin he made contact with flew over the side of the tower. He was already dead as he silently fell to the ground below. Next Zac stepped up to the other two. They fumbled with their weapons, and before they could bring them to bear, Zac had them by the fronts of their uniforms. He effortlessly lifted them from the floor of the tower and tossed them over the side. These aliens did scream on the way to their deaths.

Zac peered over the edge. All the delegates—even the dead—were now in the spaceship. Angus and Pierson were at the hatchway, waving with their hands for Zac to come down. That was a problem. He was twenty meters above the ground. Then he spotted the roof of the single-story building that was to the right of the tower. He hoisted himself over the battlement and dropped the fifteen meters to the roof.

The tile and wood supports broke as he made contact, dropping him into the interior of the building. Then several things happened at once.

A brilliant electric flash lit up the room as Zac crashed into a huge generator, sending sparks erupting from the deformed metal box. An explosion followed, one that sent Zac back out through the roof and tumbling through the air. His body was alive with electric energy, causing his vision to wobble uncontrollably. He didn’t know where he was or what had happened until he hit the ground hard and rolled.

He was suddenly set upon by several hands slapping at him. He reacted instinctively, smashing a fist against an unguarded chin.

“What the fuck?” someone yelled.

His vision cleared and he saw Keith Pierson hovering over him, still patting at his smoldering clothing. Angus was picking himself off the ground, rubbing his chin with a big, freckled hand.

“You’re bloody well lucky I’m cascading, otherwise you may have just killed your only friend.”

“Sorry,” Zac mumbled, spittle draining from his mouth as his body still spasmed from the strong electric shock he’d just experienced. The men carried him into the starship.

They dropped him to the floor of the airlock as the door slid shut and the ship bolted away from the surface. Zac—along with everyone else aboard—were tossed about violently as the ship made a series of radical moves before the compensators kicked in. Zac craned his neck to look into the common room of the starship he knew was called the Zanzibar by its nameless owner and AI pilot. People were stacked on top of each other, which helped cushion their falls as the ship left the surface. There were over thirty people in a vessel designed for four. Still, no one was complaining.

“Help me up,” Zac said to his friends.

Angus glared at him, still rubbing his jaw. “I owe you one, mate.”

“Later…and you’re more than welcome. Thanks.”

“It’s the least we could do for Lieutenant Peter Pan.”

His uniform—what was left of it—was still smoldering as he pressed his way into the common room. Hands patted his shoulders as a dozen congratulations and thanks were directed at him. He nodded, mumbling that it’s not over yet.

He looked over the heads of the passengers, seeing that they extended down the spine corridor all the way to the engine room. The doors to the two flanking staterooms were open with people standing in the portals.

“Where are the bodies?” he asked.

“We put them aft,” someone answered.

Zac nodded. He spotted the president. They’d cleared a spot for him on one of the couches along the bulkhead. He looked weary, blood soaking the bandage he still wore around his head wound.

“Are you okay, sir?”

He nodded through the crowd. Clausen was standing next to him, with a stunned-looking Jack Diamond at his elbow. Diamond and Zac’s eyes locked briefly before Zac turned and began to make his way to the bridge. People let him through.

Major Landry and his four commandos were there, seated in the only chairs in the room and covered in blood. The two officers acknowledged one another.

“Amber,” Zac said.

“Welcome aboard, lieutenant. Glad you made it.”

“Me, too. Where are we?”

“We’ve just made it into orbit. There are four Antaere fighters trailing us, yet as you know, none can match the speed of the Zanzibar.”

“Where’s the fleet?”

“That is another problem. Admiral Armitage is preparing to run the blockade. She has positioned her ship into a dart-like formation determined to force her way through. The Camelot is attempting the same maneuver on the other side.”

“The other side of what?”

The forward screen came on, showing a graphic of the inner Enif star system. A line of red-colored contacts split the Human forces, with more lines to the front and back of the fleet.

“The Ha’curn are preventing the two Human forces from combining. Also, the Antaere had more ships in-system than first believed. The fleet was outnumbered to begin with, and with the surprise nature of the attack, Admiral Armitage’s forces are now down to half their original strength. I am delaying docking with the Valhalla until I see the outcome of the coming battle. If it doesn’t go well, I will attempt to leave the system on my own and make our way to Earth. However, if the fleet is completely destroyed in the Enif system, there will be insignificant units available to prevent the Antaere and Ha’curn from attacking the planet. I may have to alter my plans in that case and take the president someplace he will be safe.”

“And where would that be?” Zac asked wryly.

“That remains to be seen.”

27

In the Antaere-guarded entry corridor to Enif (ES-8)

Kyle Johnson and Donovan Ross moved their individual pods into closer position. They were soon joined by two of the AC-3 REVs in their pods. The ACs weren’t activated yet; at this point they were just two normal Marines, yet with more combat experience than many of the others. Kyle and Donovan could already feel their bodies cascading simply from anticipation of the coming events. The others wouldn’t be. They would only be activated if and when it became necessary.

The pods were made of a composite material that was designed to be mostly detection proof. Although stealthy, they weren’t completely so. To overcome this, the engineers back on Borin-Noc made it possible for the tiny craft to reflect back the signals coming from enemy warships. This created an echo-effect, which was common with gravity-drives, as the space around the ships was warped by the passing singularities. Theoretically, this would allow the tiny pods to match speed with an enemy ship and then slowly close on its position without causing alarm. Kyle, Donovan and the others were about to find out if that was true.

They targeted one of the Ha’curn warships toward the rear of the long column, a craft about a hundred meters long. It was one of the so-called motherships and would be carrying a pair of shuttles capable of delivering fifty Ha’curn each to a planet’s surface. Since the Ha’curn had no planetary bases, it was assumed they would be carrying at least a hundred ground troops, plus the ship’s crew. That was a lot of aliens for four REVs to take on. Surprise—along with the REV strength—would have to be their secret weapon.

The ship they targeted was one of the last in the long line of vessels steaming in-system toward Enif. They moved into position, two pods on each side of the ship to create the echo-effect in stereo. The men held their breaths to see if the pilots aboard the Ha’curn ship would react to the phantom signals. When nothing happened, they began to move slowly closer, mirroring each other’s moves.

It was an excruciating twenty minutes later before the enemy ship came within view. It was painted black, yet it reflected the light from the Enif star, casting silver-white bands on the surface of the hull. That helped with judging relative distance, even though the men were using computer guidance to direct their pods toward the huge ship.

It was strange knowing that they were traveling at three-quarters the speed of light, even as it seemed they were approaching a stationary object at about five kilometers per hour. Kyle lined up two meters off the surface and just aft of the bridge. He tapped the controls and gently made contact with the hull.

The pods had rubberized seals on their underside, allowing them to make contact with the metal without sending vibrations throughout the ship. Now the oblong, black object looked like a leech, attaching itself to a body. Donovan then moved above Kyle’s pod and attached itself to his, followed by the other two pods. Soon, a stack of four rode atop the speeding starship, joining the other nodes and antennae dotting the hull.

Kyle sent out a low-frequency signal, which promptly came back identifying the communications antenna on the hull. It was aft, about twenty meters away. Next, he sent a tiny dart out the from what would be the back of his pod, aimed at the dome-shaped antenna. They’d done this in training back on Borin-Noc. It struck the object and was immediately energized, jamming all signals coming to or from the starship. This was a crucial step in boarding the vessel. If alarms went out, other ships would simply fry the Ha’curn ship to eliminate the threat.

Portals were opened between the four pods, allowing the REVs to move into position just above Kyle station. They pulled out their weapons. They weren’t what the men had first expected when planning for the operation. Instead of energy weapons or ballistics, they carried eighteen-inch, double-edged swords, one in their hands, with a back up in a sheath on their utility belts. It had been explained that these could be the most-effective weapons while boarding starships—at least for REVs. Powered weapons could breach hulls. This wouldn’t be so much a problem if the ship was depressurized at the time. But that would require the REVs to wear spacesuits. It was reasoned that when fighting Ha’curn, with their deadly claws, one slice of a spacesuit and that would be it. It was argued that the Ha’curn would also be in spacesuits in that case, making their claws useless. But the chance couldn’t be taken. The cat-like creatures favored their slashing claws to other weapons. They could have attachments on their spacesuits that would simulate their claws.

That was another reason the REVs targeted one of the rear units in the fleet. It was still an hour from the action, with no need to dump the atmosphere at this time.

Either way, it was a gamble. The REVs did have spacesuits in their pods. Kyle instructed his pod to do a simple pressure test on the hull. When it came back showing an atmosphere within, they breathed a sigh of relief. But they would have to secure the ship quickly before that changed.

Kyle’s pod was firmly attached to the hull, already affected by the internal gravity of the starship. He opened his bottom portal, allowing him to stand upon the metal of the starship. He gripped his sword with one hand while placing the other on the overhead. The pod had a ring of powerful lasers built into it that could cut a meter-wide hole through any known hull material, and all in about two seconds. Once cut, Kyle would use his REV strength to push the cut disk into the interior with enough force to crush anything below it.

So far theory was becoming reality. Now the real test was to take place.

Kyle looked up at his companions. They weren’t smiling, neither did they look scared. Donovan nodded at the two ACs. Both men had the voices of Kyle and Donovan programmed into their collars. Once activated, both Deltas would have control of them. And they would go in activated. There would be no time to do it during the assault.

The men nodded. “See you on the other side, gunny,” PFC Ben Drake said. Both he and Corporal Jimmy Clifford placed mouthpieces on their teeth. These would muffle the primal REV scream as the men activated. With the pod stack now connected to the hull, sound could carry through the metal.

Donovan pressed the button in his pod that would send the signal to activate the REVs. The faces of the two men grimaced, their skin turning red from the sudden rush of blood pressure. The event only lasted a couple of seconds, then their faces went blank.

“Follow,” Donovan ordered. “Kill all aliens you see. Prepare for new instructions when necessary. Execute.”

The men remained where they were, crouched in the portals to their pods, affected by the internal gravity from the starship. They were ready. They just needed something to do.

Kyle readied himself. He would be the first in. He cascaded even more. Deltas never cascaded to full activation stage; at least none had to this point. But it was enough. He and Donovan would be about ten percent weaker than the ACs, but they could think during the Run. They could switch things up if called for. Kyle felt like he was about to jump into a dark pit full of deadly vipers. He gripped the sword tighter…and then pressed the button activating the lasers.

The portal filled with a bright circle of white light and a faint whisper of smoke. Then Kyle pressed down with his REV enhanced leg muscles while bracing himself against the top of his portal. The cut-out disk of hull metal fell downward with tremendous velocity, taking Kyle with it.

An unfortunate Ha’curn was directly below at the time. He was crushed in an instant, which helped to muffle the sound of the metal disk hitting the deck. It didn’t matter. There were half a dozen other Ha’curn in the room.

Kyle maintained his balance, lashing out with his razor-sharp sword at the nearest black-skinned alien. He barely felt the contact before the head of the Ha’curn tumbled to the floor. To his left was another, having reacted quick enough to lift his front arms, claws extracted. Another swipe of the sword—almost too quick to see—and the alien’s eyes went wide, looking out at the stubs that were now his arms. Blood shot out of the ends, spraying Kyle with the hot, red liquid. Another alien crumpled to the deck.

Kyle was shoved from behind as first Donovan, then Drake and Clifford dropped through the opening. Their swords moved with the same ferocity and accuracy as Kyle’s. Although the men had only a few hours of training with the weapons, their REV coordination and reaction time made up for any lack of finesse. The metal blades slashed and thrust, slicing through unprotected alien flesh like a hot knife through butter.

The REVs moved out into the room, clearing more space between them. Alarms were sounding and more of the Ha’curn were rushing forward throughout the ship, some still not sure what was happening.

Just then, Kyle heard a whining to his left. He turned to see the pressure door leading to the bridge begin to cycle closed. With his free hand, he ripped a box off the bulkhead—some kind of emergency kit—and tossed it toward the door. He followed his throw a split second later. The box was caught by the closing door, crushing it some, but leaving about a foot-wide gap. Kyle placed his back against the bulkhead and an arm on the door. He pushed.

Two clawed hands lashed out at him from the room beyond, slicing the sleeve of his uniform to shreds, along with his toughened REV skin. The cuts were deep and blood gushed out, but soon to be slowed by his REV healing powers. As he pushed with his injured left arm, he reached through with his right, stabbing with the blood-covered sword. The aliens backed away and two more lost portions of their limps, screeching as they withdrew.

The door mechanism broke, sending the panel slamming back into its recessed opening with a clang. Kyle rushed in, blade swinging widely from side to side. It made contact with two of the nine Ha’curn on the bridge. But then two more jumped on his back. They slashed at his flesh, two long arms wrapping around from the back to sink two-inch long claws into his chest and pull upwards. Kyle jumped and bent forward, forming a half somersault. He landed on his back on top of a control console, smashing the two aliens who were riding him.

He rolled over and stood up, the sword held out in front of him, keeping another four aliens at bay. He was covered in blood, gaping cuts on most of his body. He knew he was badly injured, but he couldn’t feel any pain. That was one of the problems with being a REV. He could have his arm cut off and he wouldn’t know it until he tried to use the missing limb or passed out from the loss of blood. REV healing could only do so much to stop the flow.

And Kyle Johnson was fast approaching that point. That was when Donovan Ross swept into the room in a REV flash and sliced through the four unsuspecting Ha’curn.

“Where are the others?” Kyle asked weakly.

“On Runs to the stern. They’re keeping the kitty’s occupied.”

Donovan wasn’t as cut up as Kyle. He moved to his friend and placed him at a station. Then he looked around the bridge.

“Standard Antaere layout, as one would suspect.” Both Kyle and he had been embarrassed by their lack of skills with flying starships, so a few years back they’d begun to learn. That was the primary reason they pulled pod duty. Now their expertise was about to pay off.

Donovan slipped into the pilot’s seat. The ship was still traveling through the Enif system, apparently on autopilot. No signals had gone out indicating trouble aboard the ship so none of its sister ships showed any signs of changing course. Donovan checked the tac screen. There were forty ships within range, all moving uniformly along, screens down. He traced a course, one which would take him close to nine of the vessels, but nothing that came directly at them. That would set off collision alarms.

“Can you handle the weapons?” he asked Kyle, concern in his voice.

“I’m okay. I have a few good minutes left. Let’s make them count.”

Donovan understood what he meant. This was a one-way ticket. They could never escape in the pods, not after attacking the Ha’curn ships around them. Besides, both had sustained injuries that would eventually kill them without the proper medical care. And that wasn’t coming.

“Okay, good,” said Donovan. “Fire on my command. We’ll make one run and then wing it from there.”

“Right on, dude. And Don, it’s been a pleasure serving with you.”

“Same here, buddy. Now…let’s go kill us some aliens.”

Donovan didn’t hesitate. He pressed the execute button on the command console and the ship changed course.

They were on the first ship twenty seconds later. They were sure the ship’s captain was trying to raise them, but they weren’t answering. Instead, Kyle let out a full barrage of powerful plasma bolts at the unprotected hull of the warship. It exploded a moment later.

Even before the glow of the explosion could be seen, they’d sped past another two ships, firing point blank at them as well. The fourth ship raised its shields by the time they swept by. But the commandeered ship was too close for the shields to be effective.

It was after that when everything went to shit.

The Ha’curn fleet, at least the ones to the rear, was changing course, turning to address the threat within their midst. Donovan brought the ship into a tight spiral and plunged it into the center of the alien forces. The ships lined up and fired. Some of their bolts hit the raised shields of the renegade vessel. Other bolts missed, causing more Ha’curn ships to change course to avoid the roiling balls of star-hot energy. By the time the shields of their stolen ship were overloaded and dropped, this part of the Ha’curn fleet was in disarray.

Unfortunately, Donovan Ross and Kyle Johnson didn’t live long enough to know the full impact of their action. A combined nineteen bolts simultaneously struck the ship. It didn’t explode; it simply evaporated.

28

Aboard the Battle-Carrier Valhalla

“Admiral, there’s a break in the Ha’curn line!”

Jerica Armitage saw it at the same time as the tac officer.

“Time to intercept?”

“Four minutes, at max drive. It’s huge, ma’am.”

“I see that. Get all the ships headed that way, from both segments. Cover our flanks.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The fleet shot out for the breach. It was toward the back third of the Ha’curn forces, but it was prominent and showing no signs of closing. Already the forward elements of her fleet were shooting through, taking advantage of the disorganized line of enemy warships to open the breach even wider.

Jerica checked on the status of the Camelot. She nearly vomited from what she saw.

The mighty warship was heading for the breach from the other side of the Enif system. But it was visibly slowing. Readouts showed the ship had lost three of its four gravity engines, and chemical drive wasn’t enough to make up the difference. Not only that, but the admiral knew a ship that big couldn’t enter a deep gravity well on only one engine.

At the last minute, Captain Williams turned his ship toward the more organized part of the Ha’curn line. He plowed through, the energy signatures lighting up the screens in the Valhalla’s CIC as Williams activated every surface weapon he had available. A moment later the energy signatures began to fade. They kept fading, even after the residual from the weapons dissipated. In the end, there was nothing left to indicate the Camelot had ever existed.

“Ma’am, signal coming through!”

“From who?”

“A ship to our rear—it’s the commandos!”

“Open the link.” A screen lit up, the tired, yet smiling face of President Kenta Fukasaku staring into the dim light of the CIC. “Mr. President!”

“Hello, Admiral. I’m supposed to ask for docking permission to the Valhalla.” There was a look of relieved humor in the man’s dark eyes.

“Permission granted! Mission status, sir?”

“We lost a few people, but most of us made it out.”

The camera pulled out to show a wider view of the bridge of the Zanzibar. Zac Murphy was there, as was General Clausen and Major Landry. Armitage fell heavily into a nearby chair.

“I am so glad to hear that, Mr. President. Regrettably, I have to inform you that we lost the Camelot, as well as two-thirds of the fleet. Some of us will get away, but I’m being told we’re going to have a hell of a time defending the Earth against an attack.”

“That’s what I understand. But that doesn’t mean it’s hopeless. I see we’re coming up on the Valhalla. We’ll talk once I get aboard.”

After the screen when dark, Jerica surveyed the other screens screaming for her attention. The Ha’curn lines were in even more disarray than before, thanks in part to the sacrifice made by the Camelot. The remaining battle-carrier shot through the breach, engaging a deep-gravity well the moment it was in the clear and free of conflicting gravity sources.

The Valhalla would live to fight another day. And that day was about a month away—the time it would take to reach Earth.

* * *

Fourteen hours later, most of the surviving units from the 2nd Fleet were at Rally Point Echo, although it was now a moving location. The Ha’curn and Antaere fleets were close behind, so the 2nd couldn’t stop for repairs or a more accurate accounting.

By rough estimates, ninety-four ships had survived, out of a starting number of four hundred twenty-one. To make matters worse, that number was slowly dwindling as many of the more-severely damaged ships couldn’t keep up with the carrier. Armitage ordered those ships to veer off and seek shelter elsewhere, hoping the enemy fleet would be more interested in the big prize rather than the small fish.

And that prize was Earth.

Jerica’s remaining ships were making a beeline for the homeworld, with the enemy close on their tail. She would meet up with the 1st Fleet at some point, but that still wouldn’t be enough for them to make a stand in the emptiness of interstellar space. Already news of the betrayal on Enif had gone out. Every warship on Earth and within the general vicinity was gearing up for the defense of the planet. The much smaller 3rd Fleet at Crious was also being recalled, abandoning the Human’s longtime ally to help defend the homeworld. It would get there in time, but barely. What would face the armada of the Antaere would be a rag-tag, cobbled together defensive fleet, but it would have to do. If not, the Human race faced extinction.

29

Thirty days later the Valhalla entered the outer reaches of the Solar System, leading two hundred forty-eight vessels, every salvageable warship that could make it here ahead of the Antaere/Ha’curn fleet.

Admiral Jerica Armitage was on the bridge, feeling melancholy. She was limping back home after having her fleet decimated. And the biggest fight of her life was about to take place.

And then her heart leaped.

Filling the space between Neptune and Earth were thousands of vessels, organized into small groups, each tentatively assigned a sector to both monitor and protect. The ships consisted of private security vessels with modest armament, down to merchantmen with nothing but pea-guns to ward off raiders. Armitage tried to warn these ships away, telling them they would only become casualties of war if they remained. The captains of these vessels responded defiantly: “We’ll do our part, admiral. If nothing else, we can ram some of the bastards.”

With an emotional quiver in her bottom lip, the admiral wished them luck and let them remain.

It was like this throughout the system. Every ship that could fly was in space. They would form a minefield of heavy metal debris the invaders would have to navigate to reach the planet. It would be treacherous, but in the end, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. But Armitage’s warships would. To what degree was anyone’s guess. But this was for the survival of the Human race, not only here but everywhere. Every man, woman and child would fight. And the funny thing, Tesnin Denak Zaphin knew it as well.

Armitage had been half expecting the link that came through, as a much smaller-than-expected alien fleet stopped outside the system. President Kenta Fukasaku was on the bridge when the call came through, having been alerted to the timing. He was joined by General Frederick Clausen and Admiral Jerica Armitage, along with VIP guest Major Michael Landry and Gunnery Sergeant Angus Price. The President nodded and the central screen lit up.

The yellow-skinned leader of the Antaere raised a white eyebrow as he scanned the faces.

“Perhaps he wants to surrender,” Major Landry whispered to Angus.

“He’s already tried that once. I don’t think we’ll fall for it a second time.”

“Mister President,” the alien began, “I see you have survived, not only your failed attempt at becoming a martyr, but your recent captivity. Your injuries apparently were not serious enough to take your life.”

“What do you want?” the president demanded. He was in no mood for small talk.

“As you are aware, I have come with only a small force. That is because I have decided not to attack your homeworld…at least not now.” The alien was grinning. “Instead, I have sent the bulk of my fleet to Crious. There I will allow my Ha’curn friends the opportunity to teach the natives there a lesson regarding loyalty to the Order. I will make an example of them for all the Colony Worlds to see, after which all will know what happens to those who turn their backs on the Order…and who side with the non-believers.”

“That’s not necessary; I’m sure they already know how bloodthirsty and heartless you are. You have been teaching these lessons for hundreds of years. Perhaps your message needs to change, not your methods.”

“Nothing will change, Mr. President. Even now, we are back to where your race was fifty years ago, when the Antaere first made contact with your backward world. You will remain confined to your stellar system…until I come back. And I will come back. And when I do, no amount of fodder placed before me will prevent the incineration of your planet. You were planning to do the same to Antara, yet it will be Denak Zaphin who destroys your race…a race of savages and heretics.”

“There’s that insanity showing itself again,” said the president. “You will do what you must, and we will do the same. Yet as you’ve learned before, Humans are pretty tough creatures; we won’t go quietly.”

“That may be so…but you will go. Now prepare yourself. You haven’t much time left.”

The screen went blank as Zaphin cut the connection.

“Do you think he means it, I mean about not attacking?” Admiral Armitage asked.

Fukasaku nodded. “He has time on his side. He knows that if he attacked now most of his fleet would be destroyed. He’d probably still waste us, but it would leave him weakened.” Kenta smiled. “And I don’t think he trusts his Ha’curn allies not to smell blood in the water. No, he’ll wait until he’s rebuilt his fleet and has a better handle on the Ha’curn.”

“That will give us time to prepare.”

“I just pray it will be enough.”

30

After the Zanzibar docked with the Valhalla at the outskirts of the Enif star system, Zac Murphy was taken to the ship’s sickbay. He had extensive injuries, including third-degree burns over twenty-percent of his body suffered from the electrical explosion he’d been in. Initially, he’d been able to function, until his body began to return to normal after the cascading. Then the pain became intolerable without additional cascading. Eventually, he was placed in a drug-induced coma while he healed. He was brought out of the coma twenty-eight days later and was recovering fine, the combination of Rev drugs in his system helping with that. From what he was being told, he wouldn’t even have scars.

A few days later the door to his suite suddenly opened and a small group of people entered. They weren’t medical staff. There was President Fukasaku, General Clausen, Admiral Armitage, along with the Delta REVs Angus Price and Keith Pierson. General Jack Diamond brought up the rear. Zac knew he wouldn’t be there unless ordered. This could get interesting, Zac thought.

“Whose birthday is it, sirs and ma’am?”

“Yours. In a way, Captain Murphy,” said General Clausen.

“Captain?” Zac looked at Angus and Keith. They seemed just as shocked as he was.

“Yes, Mister Murphy, as a reward for the exemplary work you did on both Borin-Noc and Enif, I’m advancing you a couple of steps. I can do that. I’m the CWO.”

“I owe my life to you, captain,” said the president, placing a smallish hand on Zac’s bare shoulder.

“Besides,” Clausen continued, “I needed to keep you at a higher rank than both Second Lieutenant Pierson and First Lieutenant Price.”

Now it was Zac’s turn to look at his friends, studying their shocked faces. Keith was ecstatic, while Angus looked forlorn.

“What’s wrong, First Lieutenant Price?” Zac asked.

“Nothing. I’ll take the pay increase, but now no one will like me.”

Zac snorted. “This may come as a shock to you, but no one liked you before. And as far as a pay bump goes, a gunny with your time-in-service makes more than a first looey.”

“Well…shite.”

Zac looked to the dignitaries. “So what happens next? I heard the Antaere aren’t going to attack, but they will eventually.”

Clausen nodded. “That’s right. And because of that, we’re going to have to beef up all our forces, including the REVs. Once again, your people will lead the way. And we’re going to need a lot more people like you and your fellow officers.” He looked to Angus and Keith.

“There aren’t many of us around, sir.”

“I’ll leave that to General Cross.”

“General? Looks like there are promotions all around.” Zac glanced past the others to a sullen General Diamond.

“But it will take all the REVs, both the ACs and the Deltas, along with any other varieties David can come up with. And because of that, I’m appointing you as the direct liaison between the REVs and the Executive War Council.”

Zac raised his eyebrows, looking again at General Diamond. “Well, sir,” he said to the sulking senior officer, “looks like no early retirement for me. I’m in it for the duration.”

“That you are, captain,” said President Fukasaku, missing Zac’s subtle jab at Diamond. “As are your REVs. We’re counting on you to save the Human race from extinction. Are you and your men up for the job?”

“Do we have a choice?”

“Not at all.”

Zac smiled and shrugged.

“Okay then, count me in.”

Epilogue

Aboard the Battle-Carrier Valhalla

Dr. David Cross should have been happy with the news, but he wasn’t. Things he couldn’t explain or control usually pissed him off, and this was no exception.

PFC Jeff Haskell was an anomaly. And it was a direct result of the AC-3 formula. Cross checked the results again: Ten percent increase in residual strength and related functions, including a quickening of reaction time. But the most startling fact was his respiration and metabolism were only slightly elevated, barely two percent above normal. The effects on the body would be minimal.

The drug was definitely having an effect on him. Yet it was only him at this point. This confused the doctor even more. With so many people now on AC-3, he should have seen this anomaly showing up in others. Maybe it was as Zac Murphy speculated: Haskell was just a freak, his body hyper-sensitive to AC-3. Yet if that was the case, why was his body adapting so quickly? There should have been other symptoms, more side-effects. Instead, there were permanent changes taking place, mutations, albeit minute mutations.

Cross shouldn’t have been so concerned since only one person was being affected by AC-3 at this time. But Haskell had come to his attention as a fluke. There could be dozens more that the doctors never bothered reporting. Yet his real issue wasn’t with this new formula suddenly producing the Rev mutation, it was with his children, the byproducts of his impregnation of dozens of volunteers with the sperm from Delta REVs. His experiments were producing excellent results, including the first nine female babies producing natural Rev. And they came from nine separate bloodlines which meant they could be mated as soon as possible with the young males. Not only that, but the drug was causing an accelerated rate of growth and maturity. In six years or so, he should be able to take the experiment to the next level, when both male and female REVs could be paired. That should produce a one-hundred-percent pass-through ratio…a self-sustaining strain of natural REVs. And the population would only grow from there.

But what if he’d missed something in the AC-3 formula? What if it was possible to create naturals much quicker—and frankly safer—using AC-3?

He had a way of testing it, although it would be risky.

NT-4 had rarely been given to females because of the stresses it placed on their bodies. Unfortunately, the failure rate in the early experiments had been one-hundred percent. Even for the males, it was the rare man who could live through the process. But if AC-3 was less intrusive, less taxing on the body, could there be females REVs as a consequence? There was nothing that said women couldn’t do the job of a REV, if they could be kept from burning up. AC-3 might make that possible.

But he would have to be careful. He couldn’t go around killing a number of women just to see how they’d react to the new drug. He would need to test dosages and Twilight requirements, along with a dozen other factors. In addition, the female REVs wouldn’t develop the musculature or overall strength of the male REVs, but that really wasn’t his goal. He wouldn’t be producing them just so they could assist in the war effort. He would be doing this hoping a percentage of them would mutate, just as PFC Jeff Haskell had mutated. Just as Zac Murphy had. He needed mutated females who could mate with mutated males. That was all.

Yet if the females did survive the procedure, they would be just like the men, hooked on Rev for life and in need of periodic maintenance boosts. Even if he could find enough volunteers, how would society look at a bunch of drugged out superwomen? With men it was bad enough. Jacking up women might be too much for most people to handle. The primal scream, coming from the throats of women, would be upsetting, to say the least.

He was interrupted in his musings when Air Force Sergeant Joanie Hollis entered the room. She’d been assigned to Cross by General Diamond to help with his survey of the Delta REVs. Although she wasn’t a medical professional, she did have a keen mind and a lot of experience working with REVs. They were still aboard the Valhalla, but soon to transfer to the Enhancement Development Center in Denver. With his new star, Cross was back in co-leadership of the program, along with Jack Diamond. He couldn’t say he was happy with the development, but with the imminent threat posed by the Antaere and Ha’curn affiliation, any long-term plans had been put on hold. If Cross and his fellow Humans couldn’t come up with a way to protect the Earth from a future alien attack, nothing would survive, not his research, not his REVs, not his super babies. What he needed was a lot more superbeings, and as quickly as possible. Presenting his ideas as a way to enhance the REV population might give him the cover he needed….

“Here are the blood samples from the Deltas, colonel,” Joanie said. “Prelims are about as expected.”

David Cross eyed the woman for a moment, locking his gaze on her young, healthy figure in a way that made her uncomfortable.

“Sir?”

Cross snapped out of his trance.

“Sorry, sergeant,” said Cross. “I was just thinking. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind being part of a new program I’m starting?”

“What program?” She still looked uncomfortable.

“Just an idea I’m working on. I’ll let you know more about it once we get back to Earth. It would be a challenge. Are you up for a challenge, sergeant?”

“That depends, sir. Will it hurt?” She gave him a smile, a nervous smile.

“It shouldn’t. But that’s why we experiment, isn’t it? To find out.”

Still looking uncertain, Joanie shrugged.

“I guess so, sir. Count me in.”

The End

Coming Next:

REV: Retribution

(Early 2019)

Author Notes and FREE BOOK OFFER

I want to thank you for reading this latest edition in the REV universe. This is my 33rd novel and with a lot more to come. I’m just hitting my stride and hope you’ll continue with me along this incredible journey.

If you’ll bear with me, I’d like to take this opportunity to fill in a few of the blanks about myself and what I have planned for the future.

First of all, I’m one of those people who decided at the early age of twelve that I wanted to be a novelist, and like a lot of others, it wasn’t until I turned fifty-eight before I actually achieved my life-long goal. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t active in the field. I was trained as a journalist, through high school and college; I served as a Journalist in the U.S. Navy, and then did freelance publication design for a number of years once I got out. Then I became a real estate agent and broker, publishing a magazine called Homes For Veterans for twenty of my twenty-five years in the field.

This is all a long way to introduce the FREE BOOK OFFER I’m making for those readers who sign up for my email list. It’s actually THREE FREE BOOKS, including the first two books in my Jason King: Agent to the Stars series, as well as Captains Malicious, co-authored with my friend George Wier.

Sorry, but these aren’t in either my Human Chronicles or REV Warriors series. However, I am working on an exclusive short story for my email subscribers which will go into detail how Adam Cain was abducted by aliens at the beginning of The Human Chronicles. I’m still working on the short story, but the three book giveaway is now active.

Click here to get your free books.

www.trharrisbooks.com

Now about the Jason King novels.

Currently, there are two books in the series (hopefully with a third coming out in early 2019). Jason King has been a passion project of mine. It involves the adventures of an ex-Army Ranger who is now a very successful real estate broker working on the capital planet of a vast galactic empire. But please be assured, these are not real estate books. Instead, this is the story of a money-grubbing scoundrel and the troubles he gets into dealing with a variety of alien species, as well as conniving Humans. Because I spent twenty-five years in the real estate and mortgage industries, I do throw in some realistic insights which make the series not only humorous but also a look behind the curtain. Bottom line, Jason is a victim of circumstance—often brought about from his desire for the all-mighty buck.

The story originated from my belief that once Humans become part of a huge galactic family of aliens, they wouldn’t be content to live in the housing of the aliens. Instead, they would prefer their own style of home, not only because they would be more familiar, but to overcome the shock of the strange universe we find ourselves in. This is the catalyst which takes Jason King from his homeworld to a planet twenty thousand light-years away, just so he could get into the trouble that seems to follow him wherever he goes.

Needless to say, these books are light-hearted and humorous romps through interstellar space. And you can get both The Enclaves of Sylox and Treasure of the Galactic Lights for free by signing up on my email list.

But there’s more….

I’m also including Captain’s Malicious. This is a book I co-authored with my friend George Wier. George and I created a more traditional military sci-fi/space opera adventure involving the first clash between two great stellar empires, the Humans and the Vixx. At the outset of the war, the Human forces decide to pull back to more defensible lines, leaving their outer colonies on their own and at the mercy of the aliens. This includes The Reaches, where our hero, Captain Robert Kincaid, now wages a privateer operation against the alien occupiers in the last remaining Human warship in the region, the Malicious. This is a full-fledged sci-fi adventure novel with plenty of space battles, twists and turns.

Oh, and you get it for FREE as well when you sign up on my email list. www.trharrisbooks.com

And last, but not least, the exclusive short story detailing how Adam Cain came to be captured by the Klin. This is a behind-the-scenes look at how the Klin and their minions, the Jakreans, managed to abduct the most-lethal creatures in the galaxy. This story is still in the works, but I hope to have it completed in January 2019.

As I mentioned before, as an email subscriber, you will receive notices of all my giveaway and bonus material as they become available from now until the end of time—or until I move on to the happy writing grounds in the sky, whichever comes first.

In the meantime, what’s up is the next Adam Cain novel in The Human Chronicles Saga, Destroyer of Worlds. This is book number 26 in the series and details the continuing struggle against the now-immortal Aris, Kracion. I’m honored that the series has maintained a loyal following throughout the years. And be assured I work hard at making each novel unique and thrilling, something that’s a must in a series this long. In fact, that’s my number one goal with each new Adam Cain novel, to keep it fresh and interesting for you.

After that will be the fifth book in the REV Warriors Series, REV: Retribution. The war with the Antaere has taken an unexpected turn, and now the Human race is on the brink of extinction. Unless the new breed of Human—the REVs—can save the day once more. The series is building momentum. Hopefully, you’ll be amazed by what comes next.

Thanks again for reading REV: Revolution and for being a loyal reader throughout the years. As I say, as long as you continue to read my books, I’ll continue to write them.

T.R. (Tom) Harris

—December 2018

Email List & FREE BOOK OFFER

Please sign up to be included on the master email list to receive updates and announcements regarding the series, including release notices of upcoming books, purchase specials and more, please fill out the Subscribe form below.

See the Author Notes for details about my THREE FREE BOOK OFFER, as well news about the Human Chronicles short story I’m working on, soon to be released exclusively to those on my email list.

Subscribe to My Email List (www.trharrisbooks.com)

Contact the Author

Email: bytrharris@hotmail.com

Website: bytrharris.com

Novels by T.R. Harris

The Human Chronicles Saga

The Fringe World

Alien Assassin

The War of Pawns

The Tactics of Revenge

The Legend of Earth

Cain’s Crusaders

The Apex Predator

A Galaxy to Conquer

The Masters of War

Prelude to War

The Unreachable Stars

When Earth Reigned Supreme

A Clash of Aliens

Battlelines

The Copernicus Deception

Scorched Earth

Alien Games

The Cain Legacy

The Andromeda Mission

Last Species Standing

Invasion Force

Force of Gravity

Mission Critical

The Lost Universe

The Immortal War

Destroyer of Worlds

The Human Chronicles Book Bundles

Bundle #1 - Books 1 -5 in the series

Bundle #2 - Books 6-10 in the series

Bundle #3 - Books 11-15 in the series

REV Warriors Series

REV

REV: Renegades

REV: Rebirth

REV: Revolution

REV: Retribution

Jason King – Agent to the Stars Series

The Enclaves of Sylox

Treasure of the Galactic Lights

The Drone Wars Series

Day of the Drone

In collaboration with George Wier…

The Liberation Series

Captains Malicious

Available exclusively on Amazon.com

and Kindle Unlimited.