"Within Abaddon," Bryan said, "in tunnels many kilometers deep, lurks the emperor of the scolopendra titania. We do not know what he looks like. No human has ever seen an image of a scolopendra titania emperor. But we know that the emperor controls all his drones, all the hives of scum across the galaxy, using a complex system of communication we don't yet fully understand. Every single centipede in the galaxy, we believe, is connected to this vast network—the network controlled by the emperor."
"A sort of internet for scum," said Addy. "Scumternet."
Admiral Bryan nodded. "And it has a single point of failure. There are many scum kings, one per hive, but only one scum emperor. If we can take out the emperor, the network will die. Scum hives across the galaxy will detach from the rest of their civilization. The scum empire will crumble. We believe that emperors are thousands of years old, that it might take thousands of years for the scolopendra titania to recover from the loss of their current leader. We're going to land millions of soldiers on the surface of Abaddon, and most will engage with fighting the enemy on the surface. But one team will delve on a commando mission deep underground—to find the emperor himself." Bryan swept his gaze across the platoon. "You were handpicked to form this team. You will kill the scum emperor. The hope of humanity rests on your shoulders."
A moment of tense silence filled the room.
"But no pressure, right?" Addy said.
"Watch it, Linden," warned Jones.
"We've code-named your mission Operation Odin's Spear," said Admiral Bryan, "and we've named your new platoon the Spearhead. Lieutenant Ben-Ari will lead you, as she led the platoon on Corpus, and Sergeant Jones will assist her. I myself will oversee the fleet from our flagship, the HDFS Terra, but I will remain in constant contact with Ben-Ari and Jones. You will at all times have access to all the intelligence of the HDF—as well as our support, our pride, and our prayers."
Prayers, Marco thought. Perhaps it came down to that now. It all seemed so surreal, just a dream, like that night with Addy—an impossibility. I'm only a librarian. Not even a writer. How has it come to this? How am I here, tasked with saving the world?
Admiral Bryan was watching him, Marco realized. The silvery-haired man spoke softly. "It's not easy being a hero. I learned that fifty years ago. I'm here to help you. You will do this."
"Sir," said Marco, "I'm afraid. I probably shouldn't admit this in front of the others, but yes, I'm afraid." He inhaled deeply. "But I will also fight. Because you're right, sir. This must be done. We must win. So I will give it all that I can."
"I'll give more!" Addy said.
The admiral nodded, and a spark of amusement filled his blue eyes.
"I'm sure you will, warriors," the admiral said, and when Marco glanced toward Ben-Ari, the lieutenant gave him the slightest of nods.
Thank you, Marco, her eyes said. I'm proud of you.
Marco looked back at the admiral. "Sir, a question if I may. When we fought on Corpus, the hive was massive. A labyrinth underground. We only found our way because Cadet Abasi had been connected to the scum network. She had spent time in their lab, tubes running into her veins. Once we freed her, she could still sense the hive. She led us on the right paths. That's how we found the queen. Sir, the tunnels on Abaddon itself must be far more complex. How will we find our way to the emperor?"
Admiral Bryan stared into Marco's eyes. "You will have a guide. There is one soldier in our army—one among millions—who can connect into the scum's imperial hive. Who can sense all their pheromones, read all their messages, travel all their paths. She will lead you through the tunnels of Abaddon." He turned toward the doorway, and his voice softened, seemed tinged with sadness. "Enter, friend."
Clad in navy blue, Lailani entered the room.
CHAPTER NINE
As soon as they returned to her bunk, Marco laughed, raised Lailani into the air, and embraced her.
"Lailani!" He placed her down. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"
The other Spearhead Platoon soldiers were in their own bunks, though Lailani was kept separate. Her chamber was small and austere, the floor carpeted, and a tall window afforded a view of the fleet gathering outside. The place looked far more comfortable than a typical army bunk, but Marco noticed the camera mounted by the ceiling, staring down at the room with a cold black eye.
"I'm fine," Lailani said. "They didn't hurt me. They mostly showed me images and asked questions. Hour after hour, somebody sat right here—" She pointed at a chair. "And he showed me pictures of bugs. Lots of different kinds, some centipedes, others strange creatures I can't name. And he asked me the strangest questions. If I had seen them before. What they smell like. What colors they are. They were always black or brown or yellow, but he kept insisting I felt for other colors. And . . ." She shuddered. "They did things to my brain."
Lailani turned around and lifted strands of her short hair. Marco could see a scar on her skull.
"My God," he whispered.
"I'm not sure what they did," Lailani said. "I suppose they were checking for bugs in there." She gave a wan smile.
"But . . . they healed you, right?" They sat on her bed together, and Marco held her hands. "They cured whatever was inside you, didn't they? The . . . the scum?"
"Kind of. I think." Lailani chewed her lip. "They ran lots of tests on me. They even plugged stuff into my brain while I slept to record my dreams. And they collected all sorts of cells—blood, bone, skin, even a few tiny brain cells. I just hope I'm still a genius!" She made a face, cheeks puffed out, eyes crossed, and tongue thrust out. "Anyway, they said I'm almost completely human."
"Almost?" Marco asked.
Lailani nodded. "See, they were worried that my father was a scum. As if a giant centipede boned a woman and she gave birth to me. But it turns out I didn't even have a father. Sort of like Jesus. Immaculate conception! The scientists think that the scum took human sperm but changed it just a tad. Altered the DNA just by one percent, then impregnated my mother with it, maybe using a human clone. I'm ninety-nine percent human and one percent alien."
"That's not bad," Marco said. "That's almost entirely human." He breathed a sigh of relief. He too had wondered if Lailani were half scum, had almost imagined some lewd scene of a centipede copulating with a woman. "But why did the scum do this?"
"Well, that one percent of me that's scum? That's mostly the part that lets me connect to the scum hive. To smell them. To hear their commands. To feel colors. See, the scum don't communicate like we do. They barely use sight or sound. They mostly use a sort of strange Spidey sense, something that's hard to describe. It's beyond human senses. The closest thing I can compare it to is sense of smell, but that's not a fair comparison. Our human sense of smell is so limited. But the scum can detect chemicals that convey massive amounts of information. They can manage huge networks across entire hives, across their entire empire, just using these chemicals they can detect. It's how they communicate. They can even communicate across star systems, sending their pheromones through a network of wormholes the width of several atoms. It's really like a giant, stinky internet they're all plugged into. When I was on the Miyari, when I went bad, it's because the scum hacked into me through that network. Sort of how a human hacker might seize control of a computer across the internet. And they were able to give me commands, to control my movements. The scientists think the scum have done this to many other humans already, creating drones across Earth and the fleet, ready to strike."
Marco shuddered. "So anyone can be a scum agent. Anyone can sabotage the fleet from within."
Lailani nodded. "Anyone! The HDF is going to start testing everyone. They developed a test—they used it on me—to see if any other humans have that one percent part of their brain be scum. Anyone who's missing one or both parents is a candidate."
"But is that part still there?" Marco asked. "Can the scum still hack you?"
Lailani tapped her skull. "Not anymore! They planted a chip in my brain to block out scum c
ommands. I can even feel it when I lie down. It's right against the inside of my skull. It's very small, just the size of a fingernail, but it releases a sort of chemical that blocks external commands from getting in. They say they'll have to change it to a fresh one in a few years." She grimaced. "I'm not looking forward to more surgery. They had to cut my skull open." She shuddered. "Oh, but the good news? I can still reach out! I can connect to the hive myself. I can read them, but they can't read me."
Marco understood. "So you've become a double agent."
"Sort of," Lailani said. "We trained. A lot! They took me to an actual scum hive, Marco. A hive on an asteroid a light-year from here—an empty one, abandoned years ago. And they had me run drills. They had me connect to the scum network, all the way across space. I could sense it even from the asteroid, because the place still stank of the scum. And I was able to navigate through the hive as if a map were in my brain. Sort of how Kemi was able to do it back on Corpus. Except Kemi only knew one hive. I can access information about all hives. So they took me to a second hive, this one on a desert world with a few real scum still inside. And we ran the test there too. And again, I could connect to the scumternet—that's what I call it—and find my way through. But the aliens were unable to stop me, unable to control me. Sometimes the chip in my brain would sting so much! That's when I knew they were trying to hack into my brain again. But they couldn't. It made me feel dizzy and nauseated, but it soon passed. So guess what? I can hack into them, but they can't hack into me. I'm now the greatest weapon in the HDF, Admiral Bryan says. Even greater than a jet carrier, according to him."
Marco wasn't sure he liked the idea of Lailani turned into a weapon, of her being sent deep into scum hives.
"Lailani . . ." He tightened his grip on her hands. "You realize what they want to do, right? They call it Operation Odin's Spear. They want to send you into the biggest scum hive in the cosmos, the one on Abaddon itself. They want you to lead our platoon to the scum emperor."
"I know," Lailani said. "My God, Marco, they asked me so many questions about the emperor. What he looks like. What he's planning. But I don't know. He's cloaked. I can feel his presence deep inside Abaddon. If I reach out now, I can do it again! But there's a shadow always around him. I don't know what he looks like, his size, his mind. There's a giant firewall around him. But I think I can find his location. It's like finding a black hole. You follow the darkness."
"Follow the darkness," Marco said. "We seem to be good at that."
Lailani leaned her head against his shoulder. "I thought of you a lot. It helped me. When they made me look at bugs, I thought of you."
He couldn't help but grin. "So bugs remind you of me?"
"No, silly!" She poked him. "You made me feel better. I missed you."
"I missed you too," he said. "I was worried I'd never see you again." He wrapped his arms around her. "Glad to have you back, little one."
"I can tell." She patted his crotch. "Unless you sneaked me in a banana."
His cheeks flushed. To hide them, he kissed her. She pulled off her shirt, then tossed it over the camera on the wall. The rest of their clothes followed.
"Fuck, I missed you," she whispered as he lay atop her.
As they made love, Marco felt a twinge of guilt, and he thought back to that one desperate night with Addy, that night when they had both been so afraid, had both sought comfort in each other. They had vowed not to speak of that night again, had vowed to forget it had ever happened. As Lailani moaned beneath him, burying her hands in his hair, he forgot about Addy, forgot about the looming invasion, forgot about everything but Lailani.
"Love you," he whispered, lying by her side as they gazed out the window at the floating fleet.
"Ruv ya," she said, then frowned. "Hey, I covered the camera, but . . . you suppose all those starships outside got a view?"
Marco cringed. "Oh God. I hope not. It's bad enough having public showers."
"It's all right." She patted his backside. "You got a cute butt. Flaunt it if you got it!"
"Looks who's talking!" He gave her a squeeze, and she squealed.
They fell asleep in each other's arms, and nobody came to remove the shirt from the camera. For one night, Marco did not dream. For one night, with all the terror and grief, there was a little bit of joy.
* * * * *
The next morning, a summons arrived for Marco to report to the Dome—the massive, transparent globe that topped Space Station One, the very heart of Nightwall, indeed of all Space Territorial Command.
Still in Lailani's bunk, he stared at the summons in numb disbelief. The letters floated across his helmet's visor on the floor, beeping.
The Dome. It was like being asked to report to the White House Situation Room.
And they want me there.
Marco felt queasy.
He looked at Lailani. She still lay in bed beside him, looking up at him, and gods above, she was beautiful, and gods above, he didn't want to leave her, and by those damn gods, this couldn't be good.
"Is it because I spent the night with you, the greatest weapon in the HDF arsenal?" he asked.
"It's probably because I turned you into a scum," Lailani said. "Prepare to grow centipede legs any second."
"Very funny, Miss Ninety-Nine Percent Human." He pulled on his uniform—the service uniform, the navy blue one with the brass buttons. Somehow approaching the Dome in his worn-out black combat fatigues didn't seem wise. Hell, he felt like he needed a tuxedo for this task.
He left Lailani in the bunk and took the elevator up through the levels of Space Station One. The station was shaped like a mushroom: a huge disk growing atop a lengthy stalk. Atop the disk, like an eye, rose a bulb. Marco had to pass through several security checks, locked doors, pat downs, finger scans, and eye retina scans before being allowed through. He finally entered the Dome.
And a dome indeed it was, completely transparent. The disk—the top of the space station—was visible all around, a plateau of metal and light. Above spread the fleet, hovering among the stars.
A lone figure stood in the room, his back to Marco, staring out through the transparent globe at several floating warships. His hair was silvery, and two phoenixes shone on each of his shoulder straps.
Marco pressed his heels together and saluted. Struggling to keep his voice steady, he called out, "Corporal Marco Emery, reporting!"
Admiral Evan Bryan, the hero of the Cataclysm, the great commander of this fleet, turned toward him. The old man returned the salute.
"Hello, Marco. Come, stand here with me. Gaze with me at the stars."
Marco approached and the two men stood together, a nineteen-year-old corporal and a seventy-one-year-old admiral and living legend, watching the stars.
"Marco, have you heard of Operation Neptune? Sometimes known as D-Day?"
Marco nodded. "Of course, sir. The Normandy Landings. It was one of the greatest naval invasions in history."
"Back then, of course, we didn't know how to reach the stars. Even satellites were beyond our technology. It would be a few more years before Yuri Gagarin launched into space, before Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, before Pat Szabo walked on Mars. Back in those days, when humanity fought itself, building a warship to sail on the seas was a complicated, expensive endeavor. The greatest warships of the era were marvels of military might and technology, each one an achievement, each one a miracle of engineering and human spirit. The Allies had a billion people on their side, and every soldier and civilian did his or her part for the war. The great admirals of the day landed in Normandy with nearly seven thousand ships. Seven thousand! And with them flew over ten thousand airplanes, and they landed over a million warriors on the shores of France. Half our planet, young Marco, dedicated itself to saving the world from the other half, and they put all their resources into destroying the enemy. It was among mankind's noblest, yet bloodiest, hours."
"I've read many books about the Second World War, sir. It was the largest war huma
nkind knew until the scum attacked."
"Our population grew rapidly after that war," said Admiral Bryan. "From two and a half billion during World War Two, we grew and grew. When the scum first attacked, ten billion of us lived on Earth. And six billion of us died. I was a young man then, not much older than you are now. I still remember the heat, the light, the tidal waves, the long nuclear winter. I remember the collapse of civilizations. But I remember too nobility. I remember us banding together, rising like a phoenix from the ashes." He touched the golden phoenix on his lapel, sigil of the Human Defense Force. "And now again every soldier and civilian is dedicated to the war effort, to defeating the enemy, to ushering in hope. We do not crave war. We do not crave bloodshed. We love life. We love freedom. And so we gather this fleet, and we prepare to fight. A hundred thousand starships will begin their flight tomorrow, Marco, from single-pilot Firebirds to warships the size of towns. Within their hulls, they will transport ten million marines. It is the greatest single army mankind has ever mustered—greater than D-Day, greater than the Mongol invasions, greater than Operation Barbarossa. We have named our invasion Operation Jupiter. Long before we named a planet Jupiter, he was a god of the sky, and we will invade through the sky the way the brave Allies sailed through the sea in Operation Neptune long ago. This is humanity's greatest and most perilous hour. It is this hour that we will overcome . . . or we will fall."
"Do you think we'll overcome, sir?" Marco asked.
Admiral Bryan looked at him, his gaze somber. "I don't know. Marco, it is likely that we will fail. It is likely that the Iron Sphere defense system will collapse under the scum's retaliation. It is likely that our fleet will shatter in Abaddon's orbit. It is likely that your platoon will perish underground. But I believe that we stand a chance. I believe that our courage, our strength, our determination is enough. Does that comfort you?"
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