by Wesley Chu
Before he reached two, Cameron tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the north wall at the far end. Wait, make that three of the world’s worst guards. Another was having a cigarette, watching the door on the north side. Roen paused. If there was a guard watching that door, then there should have been one… A second later, his question was answered. One more guard came in from the south, where they had just entered. Now they were trapped.
One of the men in the center called to the new guard that just walked in. “Hey, Brent, see any of the Prophus while you were taking a piss?”
“Naw, I whipped it out and scared them away,” he replied.
The rest of the guys laughed. “This is the sweetest gig,” someone said. “Ain’t no Prophus making it all the way down here.”
“It’s pointless,” another said. “How else you ever going to earn yourself a Holy One pulling guard duty?”
“Not going to earn a Holy One dying in combat,” Brent added.
“I agree with Emi. Vessels and higher ups have priority with the havens,” the first one said. “What do you think’ll happen to us scrubs if we haven’t earned a Holy One by the time Quasiform starts?”
“I can’t wait for it to begin,” Emi continued. “A world rebuilt. Paradise on Earth, with us in control. I don’t know why the rest of the world fights it. They should be helping us.”
“Do you really believe everything the Holy Ones say about that paradise?” Brent asked.
The other guard nodded. “I didn’t believe in aliens before either.”
“Tell the truth,” Brent said. “I signed on for the riches. Being a lord in Heaven is just an added perk.”
“Watch your mouth,” Emi snapped. “The Holy Ones will cut you from ear to ear for blasphemy.”
Roen and Cameron exchanged glances, and he gave his son a series of hand signals. He didn’t think Cam understood all the orders; it had taken Roen almost five years before he was able to communicate fluently with them, but he knew Tao would understand. Then he counted down from five.
On zero, Cameron leaned over the side and shot a grouping at the left guard in the center of the room, while Roen, feeling overly confident, sprinted and strafed his assigned target on the right on his way to the guard at the far end. He missed all his shots, but Cameron took the remaining guy in the center out for him. Roen dove and slid along the floor, making several shots at the surprised guard near the door at the north end. It took him three shots to knock the guy out. By the time he had picked himself up and gotten back to the center between all the stacks, Cameron had already handled both guys there and the guard at the door where they had come in.
“You’re definitely my son, aren’t you?” he grinned.
“Maybe not,” Cameron answered. “I nailed both my targets, and cleaned up yours.”
“Ooh, that cut deep.”
“Tao told me to say it,” Cameron admitted.
Roen pulled one of the containers off the pallets and opened it. He held it up for Cameron to see. “Catalyst reaction rod. A crap ton of them.”
“I wonder why they’re here,” Cameron said. “You’d think they would keep these things in a Fort Knox sort of place, not relatively lightly guarded in the middle of enemy territory.”
“I wonder that too.” He put his arms around Cameron’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go find your mother. We can lead the rest back here when this is all over.”
As they made their way toward the exit, three figures emerged from the shadows and blocked their way. Roen pulled Cameron by the collar and ran toward the north door. Three more figures appeared. They were trapped. Roen and Cameron retreated back between the cover of the pallets.
“I spent the entire battle looking for you, Roen Tan,” a familiar voice said. “Even in the middle of our base, you are difficult to track.” The center figure walked under a light shining from the ceiling, and Roen’s heart skipped a beat. The stuff of his nightmares was here.
Jacob Diamont had finally caught up with him.
44
At All Costs
Our relationship with the humans is no longer tenable. The Prophus saw to that. They had hoped to avert total defeat by revealing us to them, or perhaps they had hoped to find a new ally in humanity. It makes little difference. All the Prophus have done is ensure humanity’s destruction. Their blood will be on the Prophus’s hands.
Gods do not treat their children as equals.
Zoras
* * *
Enzo watched the console as his forces deteriorated before his eyes. The trap had at first been a resounding success. However, bit by bit, encounter by encounter, his units were beaten back. As much as he wanted to blame the weakness on the haven’s security forces, that couldn’t be the case. Those forces had long shattered. The Prophus were now pitted against Enzo’s elite guard, and they were winning.
He couldn’t lay the blame on his men – they were better-trained and better-armed. In fact, in every single small unit encounter, his squads came out victorious. Yet, as the battle across the haven raged on, he found fewer units at his disposal, with his options diminishing by the hour. One by one, his units were destroyed. Even his Adonis siblings. Matthew and Azumi were dead. Akelatis was captured. In his own damn chosen field of battle, no less. How was this possible?
Enzo was Hatchery-trained and had been learning from the best military minds since he was old enough to walk. His only purpose in life was to lead and to win wars. He would have been confident to match his war prowess against any military mind, be it George Patton, Napoleon Bonaparte, Tran Hung Dao, or even Sun Tzu. It physically pained him to be losing. It was inconceivable that the enemy had a leader who was capable of defeating Enzo in battle with an inferior force on terms of his choosing. Just who was the Prophus commander?
I would dearly love to know as well. However, that is irrelevant. You have failed gravely, Enzo, and your standing has lowered. Initiate an orderly retreat.
“Retreat? Impossible. The catalyst reaction stockpiles will be lost.”
They can be replaced or reclaimed. I cannot. The odds of victory no longer offer acceptable risks.
“Zoras, I have never lost a battle before in my life. I will not lose one now.”
Perhaps you have finally met your equal. Seems more than your equal actually. You only have one option. Act on it.
“Damn it, Zoras. I am the leader of the Genjix. I will not tolerate having the rest of the Council believe I have been routed.”
As you often do, you forget yourself vessel.
A dozen scenarios ran through Enzo’s head. He was playing a game of chess with roughly the same amount of pieces as his opponent, but he was cornered, boxed in from two sides, and his enemy was chipping away at his pawns. He thought five steps ahead, trying to move his pieces to claim any sort of advantage, but in most cases, he would lose his king, which was the catalyst reaction rods.
Unless he was bold. In this game of chess, he was the queen.
“Palos, pull back to my position,” he barked over the comm. “Cover the escape pods. I’m taking two-thirds of the remaining forces and marking a new defensive perimeter.”
“Your command, Father,” Palos responded. “How long is the new line?”
“All the way down to lower level storage. We will hold until all the pallets with the catalyst reaction rods can be retrieved.”
Amanda looked worried. “Father, escape pods one through three are in Prophus-held territory now,” she stammered. “There isn’t enough room in the pods for all the catalyst pallets, vessels, and high-valued Genjix.”
“Then re-evaluate. The catalyst reaction rods have the highest priority.”
“Father,” Palos buzzed in urgently. “The enemy is pressing.”
You are on the Council. In this situation, your place should be on the first pod to escape, not leading a last desperate attack.
“Jacob is still down there holding the room. If I do not cut a path for him, he will be trapped.”
&n
bsp; Chiyva is a hard sacrifice, but one we have lived with before. He will find his way back in time.
“I have already lost too many Hatchery siblings today. I will not lose another one.”
Enzo rallied his units around him; he had twelve at full strength and several at partial strengths at his disposal. Most of them would be sacrificed for the greater good as they punched their way to the loading area of the main freight shaft. He deployed his units in almost a wedge formation, as if utilizing old cavalry charge techniques. The point of the wedge would suffer high attrition for sure, but their sacrifice would give the flanks time to react to the enemy. Enzo and his personal guard put themselves just behind that vanguard unit as they charged forward.
The wedge smashed through the first two intersections guarded by the enemy, decimating them. He soon found himself mixed in with his vanguard forces, fighting on the front line, where he was most comfortable. With him leading the way, the Prophus melted against their onslaught. Within the first few minutes, Enzo’s men were already halfway to the supply room. The gigantic freight elevator was in sight. If his forces could hold that area, assuming Jacob had handled the catalyst stockpile room, Enzo’s gambit would have paid off.
“Amanda,” he spoke into the comm, “have you been able to get ahold of Jacob?”
“He controls the room still, Father,” she said. “He has Prophus trapped in there, but is taking care of the situation now.”
Enzo continued to press. By this time, the enemy had formed a defensive barricade at the main intersection just before the freight elevator. He reassessed his options.
You can turn left and make a wide arc, but that is three times the distance to the elevator. If you head down a level, you can reach the cargo room by foot, but then you will still need to take the freight hallways by force in order to move the catalyst reaction rods to the escape pods.
“Then we go forward.”
Enzo ordered his men armed with riot shields to the front and charged, creating a battering ram across the forty meters to the chest-level barricade. He lost a man on his left and one in front, but the momentum carried his team forward. Half of his point unit had fallen by the time they were within five meters of their goal.
Enzo attacked, grabbing a shield from one of the fallen soldiers and stepping on the back of the man in front of him. He leaped over the barricade and crashed into three of the enemy. Instantly, he was back on his feet, swinging the riot shield like a club, taking out swaths of the Prophus.
One of the enemy tried to shoot him point-blank in the chest. Enzo grabbed the barrel with his free hand just as the man opened fire. He spun out of the way and swept the foot of the shooter, bringing the top of his shield down on the man’s head.
Left at your ten!
Another Prophus shot at him, this time nearly hitting Enzo in the face. He barely managed to cover up in time as automatic fire hammered his shield. He tucked his legs and pushed off, ramming into his enemy and knocking him down. Enzo stomped down on her neck. Within the ten seconds it took his men to climb the barricade, he had killed seven Prophus soldiers.
You have lost a step.
“Apologies, my guardian. I blame it on all the years of being a damned bureaucrat.”
“Secure this point,” Enzo commanded. “We will utilize the barricades against them.”
He barked out a succession of orders. The gambit seemed to be paying off. He had sacrificed his secured position on the chess board and was now forcing the enemy to fight in an extended line. He checked his attrition rate. Forty percent less than he had deemed acceptable, no doubt from his decision to single-handedly take the barricade. His men could now reinforce the freight elevator and call workers to move the pallets. Maybe with the tide turning, he could just stay and beat the enemy outright.
You have impressed me once again, but you are overly confident. Do not let this temporary success blind you to our priorities. Retrieving the catalyst stockpile will be a victory at this point.
“Father,” Palos said over the comm. “Scouts believe they’ve sighted the enemy’s forward command post.”
A blip appeared on his map of the facility. The location was just around the corner. Enzo moved over to the edge and peered around to see a mass of Prophus troops guarding a large intersection in one of the main hallways. He recognized a few of the figures: Dylan, a colonel in their forces. Marco, one of their higher-profile agents. Then he saw the woman, Jill Tesser Tan. Enzo’s hands tightened into fists. She was the most wanted of all the Prophus, even more than the Keeper, and the most hated by all Genjix. Even Zoras hissed when he saw her.
This does not change our plans.
“Zoras, it’s the Great Betrayer and the rest of their command. If they fall, their entire operation falls.”
Possibly, but your units have established the support line for Jacob. The catalysts are still more important.
Enzo hesitated. The safe decision was to retreat with as many of the catalysts as they could recover. Quasiform would only be delayed slightly. However, that retreat would be his first defeat and reduce his standing among the Genjix. No, he could snatch this defeat and turn it into a victory with one bold stroke. He was an Adonis Vessel, after all, undefeated, the greatest of all vessels. He would impose his will and strength on the enemy and show them who truly was their better.
A guaranteed partial defeat, or risking everything for complete victory. This is a gamble, vessel.
“I can defeat them and end this in one blow, Zoras.”
You will reap the rewards or consequences, in either case.
He repositioned his men for the attack and communicated his new orders. “Continue the retrieval. You will have less defensive support, but I will draw their attention to something more pressing. Palos, push your perimeter forward and meet me at the Prophus command post. Now!”
He waved his units forward and the wedge attack – riots shields in front – made a right turn directly into the teeth of the enemy’s defense. The initial enemy barrage was deafening. At the same moment, Enzo experienced memories of one of Zoras’s previous hosts, who had led a Forlorn Hope charge into San Sebastián.
The first line of his fighting force dropped before they had moved ten meters in. They were expendable, however. More took their place, locking their shields in as phalanxes of old. Others picked up the shields of the fallen and moved to the front. All they needed to do was get him close enough to wreak the vengeance of the Holy Ones upon these Prophus.
I see at minimum of four vessels. Be wary.
“None can match an Adonis.”
Halfway down the hall, the Prophus line made the foolish decision of charging with its own shields. Two lines of them broke out of the barricade and charged. The sound of the sides colliding was immense. This time, instead of going over the top through the Prophus defenses, Enzo drew his Honjo Masamune. With his sword in his right hand, a pistol in his left, and the shield wrapped over his left forearm, he envisioned the glory days of war, when battles were fought the way they were meant to, through skill and strength of will, when the winner was the man who drew the blood of the most enemies with his own two hands.
The line for both sides bounced backward from the initial impact, giving Enzo just enough room to slip through his units and get to work. He swept low with the sword, cutting through boots and flesh alike, felling several of the enemy. Ducking behind his shield, he felt the impact of the bullets on its surface. A moment later, the line behind him caught up. More of his units charged, hitting the second layer of the Prophus, who were not armed with shields.
Enzo waded in, slashing indiscriminately, a walking god of war slaying both the enemy and those Genjix who were in his way. Collateral damage was always acceptable, as long as the goal justified his actions. And now, Enzo was going for the enemy’s throat. It took him longer than he would have preferred. He had half a dozen bodies to wade through, after all.
Once he got into the interior though, he got to work, moving wi
th a speed and grace only a Holy One-infused Adonis could. He felt the pace and beat and tension of the battle flow through him, knowing exactly when and how and where to strike at all times. Enzo was so attuned, he felt he could have waged this fight blindfolded.
Soon, the Honjo Masamune was coated in blood, slippery to hold and weighed down by the slaughter. His shield was dented from the concentrated fire, and his pistol was down to three shots, but he pressed on, taking out the enemy’s communication station, slicing through the guards of the commanders, and disrupting their entire operation.
“Elias,” the one named Marco screamed as Enzo put his sword through a man’s throat. Enzo pulled the Honjo Masamune out just in time to raise his shield against the three shots that hammered against it. Then, to his surprise, Marco rammed into his shield with his body, trying to knock it aside. He was soon joined by Dylan, their fat colonel. The other commanders had all stopped directing troops and were engaging him.
Except for that traitor woman. Jill continued to stand there and speak into her comm while the others did all the work. That coward. It pained him that she was still alive while his brothers and sisters had died in the field. The Betrayer was barely a candle to Azumi’s bonfire.
Two of them hammered at him with bullets, trying to flank him for a shot. However, no two mortals, vessels or otherwise, could take him down by themselves. He blocked a grouping of bullets from Dylan, dodged Marco trying to club his head off with the rifle, and attacked. A quick dart forward speared Marco in the leg with the Honjo Masamune, and then he turned and knocked Dylan down with a bash of the shield to the head. He reversed his grip and rammed the sword down at the fat man’s chest. The ugly colonel proved surprisingly fast and spun out of the way at the last second.
Right temple. Duck now!
“Burn in hell,” a voice to the side of him said.