Thinking of the all-female strike force always brought memories of Varick, and that brightened his mood for a moment even though he hadn’t heard from her in weeks. Correspondence on Celestia was heavily censored, but he’d received several messages from her once he’d been established in his new job. Apparently her re-entry into the Banshees wasn’t as certain as Erica had believed, but she was working her way through it. She’d been re-certified in all the tasks of an armored suit, but hadn’t received orders to a new unit yet.
As always, his mind shifted to the warm memories of their nights together. The blissful weeks when they’d been held up on the Ajax, not knowing if they would be rewarded or punished for their actions on Roanum—and not caring. Varick’s indifference to possible censure had drawn him even closer, as did her insistence on returning to the fight. That was some woman. She’d jumped into the water with him, though aware of the horrible snakes, without a moment’s hesitation. And she’d jettisoned the evil shapeshifter even as he’d offered to take the blame for the justified decision that could easily have gotten them both court-martialed.
Movement on the trail interrupted his reminiscence, and Mortas squinted into the gloom. The approaching shape was tall and thin, not wearing body armor or even a helmet, but he recognized the walk and tried to connect it with a name.
“I can still take you two falls out of three, even at my age.” Hugh Leeger’s voice jolted him, but Jander forced himself to stay seated. His rifle was ten yards away, as was the communications rig in his armor.
“What are you doing here, Hugh?”
“Can’t visit an old friend?” Leeger stopped a few yards away, dressed in a worn set of fatigues and boots. “I’m not armed, if you’re worried.”
“I’m not worried, but neither are you. I bet you’ve got some help hidden, just short of the crest, watching us. Am I right?”
“I’m alone.” The tall man closed the distance, and sat down with a sigh. He seemed to be admiring the view, and so Mortas studied him. His skin didn’t seem to have turned orange yet, but it was hard to tell in the dark. It did appear a bit sallow, and his childhood bodyguard had lost considerable weight.
“How’d you get in here?”
“In the back of a truck. You’d be surprised, how many of the people on bases just like this one are helping us.”
“I would have hoped those helpers would have seen the error of their ways when we got attacked the other night.”
“That wasn’t us.” It was Leeger’s turn to study him. “But I heard all about it. Big base like this, loaded with people with guns, and you ended up leading what? Fifteen of them? Not a ringing endorsement.”
“Most of the types here aren’t combat troops—but those fifteen fought like pros.”
“That leaves a whole lot more of them, wearing the same uniform as you, who didn’t help out. Your army’s divided, even the ones who didn’t come over to us.”
“No one’s happy about being here. But some of us remembered our oath.”
“And what oath was that? The one about defending humanity?”
“Yes. And that’s what we’ve been doing here—at least the Orphans, anyway. You might not have heard this, but we’ve got a policy.”
“Watt’s Law?” Leeger chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised. As I said, we’ve got helpers everywhere. And with the way Asterlit keeps the Force in the dark, I guarantee I know more about what’s going on than you do—here, and off-world.”
“You get good Bounce reception down in those mines?”
“Better than the censored junk you get. Did you know that Watt’s Law—and what you did on this hill—was a story on the Bounce?”
“Just another Mortas family puff piece, probably.”
“Oh, somebody’s pushing it all right. But it’s got legs of its own. Lots of politicians, especially the ones trying to look like they didn’t know there was slavery here, have taken your stand and made it their own.”
“Just what I always wanted. A bunch of corrupt liars teaming up with me.”
“You may be needing those corrupt liars. What you did here, saving those poor kids, is all it takes to tip things over. Asterlit’s feeling the heat, and he blames your unit.”
“Well let’s hope he doesn’t send us to some god-awful wasteland, to chase orange mutants and tattooed fanatics.”
“Did you notice anything about those tattooed fanatics the other night? That a good percentage of them were women and children?”
“I was a little busy. They were shooting at us and setting fires. They killed my best friend from the war zone, too. I don’t much care what they looked like.”
“But you did notice. So what’s that tell you?”
“That we’ve killed so much of the Flock that they’re sending women and children on suicide missions.”
“You really think that? Pappas is slipping.” Hugh gave a short whistle. “Tell him that instead of looking for snitches at Camp Resolve, he should try doing a head count.”
“That’s impossible. I should know; I run supplies to them. New refugees keep coming in, and old ones keep sneaking out.”
“Not anymore. There hasn’t been a refugee convoy to Resolve in three weeks. And all those camps that Asterlit still controls? They’ve been emptied.”
“What are you saying?”
“Asterlit was never anything but a weapon wielded by Horace. He has a certain animal cleverness, sure, but he only knows what he learned from his master. To stay in power, the minerals have to come out of the ground. Asterlit controls a number of mines in the undisputed zones, but there’s nobody left to work them.”
“No.” The import of Leeger’s words chilled him. “That can’t be true. No way they’d pull that, after everything that’s happened.”
“Sadly, yes. All those good Celestian citizens who thought slavery was all right as long as it wasn’t happening to them, the ones who ended up packed inside those camps fighting for scraps, are seeing just how easy it is to get reclassified as a slave.”
“Somebody once told me that the Celestian term for orphan was the same as the term for slave.”
“Well, refugee has the same meaning now. They’ve kept it quiet, but every camp Asterlit controls has been relocated to the secured mining areas. It’s a simple arrangement. You want to eat, you better meet your daily ore quota.” Leeger’s tone had flattened. “Lots and lots of folks wishing they’d run off and joined the rebels when they had the chance.”
“How come I don’t know this already?”
“The same reason slavery was allowed here in the first place. Zone Quest, the Force, and the Emergency Senate need that ore.”
“All this suffering, for a bunch of rocks.”
“Don’t forget there’s a lot of money involved.”
“So is that why you’re here? To tell me this?”
“I want you to come with me.”
“You know better than that.”
“Jan, quitting your family was the hardest thing I ever did. But it wasn’t really a choice. I just couldn’t be a part of that anymore, knowing all the misery I was helping create.”
“So sending women and children into machine-gun fire makes you feel better?”
“At least they die free, with weapons in their hands. Better than leaving them to this.” Leeger pointed to the spot where the house had stood. “As you well know. And I already told you that wasn’t us. The Flock’s a strange creature, almost a cult, you can’t reason with them.”
“But you’ve tried.”
“Why wouldn’t we?”
“What aren’t you telling me, Hugh? What are you planning?”
“Come with me, and you’ll know everything.”
“I’m piecing it together just fine on my own. It isn’t like you, to just hide underground. You’re cooking something up.” When Leeger didn’t respond, he continued. “Just understand something. If the Orange start killing Orphans, the gloves come off.”
“Your outfit’s
been hunting us since you got here. You’re not any good at it, but I’d say the gloves are already off.”
“You know what I mean. Asterlit asked me how to beat you, and so did my entire chain of command. So far I haven’t given them the answer.”
“I doubt you could.”
“You remember what my father used to say about conflicts? He said people mistake the prize for the key, and that throws off their planning. The key is the thing that gets you the prize, and you have never confused the two. You’re not just waiting us out. You’re maneuvering for the knockout punch—and I’ll figure out what that is.”
“Maybe that’s why I want you with me. It’ll be safer.”
Jander stood, slowly. “I don’t know how you got in here, or how you plan to leave, but my people have bunkers all over this hill. If I start yelling, you’ll be in irons by sunup.”
“And handed over to Asterlit by noon.” Leeger didn’t move.
“I wouldn’t give you to that prick.”
“You wouldn’t have any choice. Command would make you. Just like they’re going to make the Force give up the remaining camps.”
“They’re going to move all those people to the mines?”
“The ones that are left. We’ve been taking more and more of them to safety, right under your noses, and nobody noticed.”
“Somebody noticed.” Jander sat back down. “The pigs were never meant to be food, were they? The refugees you’re smuggling out just walk off with them.”
“Very good. Even I didn’t see that one coming. A guy who used to work for me realized we could defeat overhead surveillance by moving among the hogs, if we smeared their fat on us.” Leeger chuckled lightly. “It’s a little limited. You gotta keep the numbers down, and you can’t direct these beasts for shit. So you go with ’em until you’re out in the open and then you just split off, moving the way they do.”
“The Sims on Verdur defeated our surveillance by gluing pieces of heat shielding on their smocks. Tough bastards.” Jan pondered the news. “So is that how your little orange messenger gets around?”
“His name is Sunlight. He was born in the mines. Hates it down there. He goes wherever he likes, running with the hogs.”
“He thinks highly of you.”
“No more than I think of him. He’s a lot like another kid I raised.”
“You only raised me until I went to prep school.”
“And what did you do at that school, the first time somebody pushed you?”
“I kicked his ass.”
“I rest my case.”
A breeze rode the slope, fluttering the leaves in the remaining trees. Jander broke the silence in a whisper. “I’m tired, Hugh. I’ve never been this tired.”
Leeger laid a hand on Jan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “So tell me about your friend, the one you lost the other night.”
Chapter 11
“This is bad,” Zuteck warned between bites. “Whenever they’re too nice to us, something awful is on the way.”
“For a meal like this, let it be bad.” Cusabrina responded. Most of the squad was seated around a table in a crowded mess hall, enjoying a meal of steak with every side dish they could name.
“Look at this place.” Lightfoot craned her neck. “Everything’s brand new. It’s like we’re the first ones to ever eat here.”
“So who are all these other people?” Dellmore asked. Although the Banshees were wearing newly issued olive-colored flight suits, they didn’t stand out in the sea of coveralls and fatigues. The mess hall was a kaleidoscope of uniforms, many of them wearing work belts and equipment monitors. “Never seen any of these faces before.”
“Well, First Sergeant Blocker is sitting right there with the skipper, and there’s Pelletier and her squad.” Legacy chimed in, pointing.
“That’s not what I meant,” Dellmore said, cutting her off. “Who are all these strangers? And why’d they fly us straight inside this place from the field, without letting us see it from the outside?”
“I’d say they were more concerned with keeping us from being seen, not from seeing.” Sergeant Tin answered in a tone laced with misgiving. The shuttle that had picked them up at the crater had shut down the surveillance feeds to their suits, and they’d disembarked inside a large hangar with sealed doors. Their suits had been taken away for maintenance, and they’d been escorted to a comfortable squad bay to shower up and guess at what was afoot.
“It’s official—something’s up.” Bullhead slid into a seat next to Tin, leaning in. “I sneaked out onto a loading dock and got a look around. This is one big complex. The part we’re in right here, it’s a dome connected to a much bigger dome by a covered tunnel. I saw two other domes the same size as this one, and I’d guess they go all the way around the one in the center. There isn’t a single window anywhere, and there are a lot of MPs patrolling the perimeter fence.”
“I knew it. Place is like a jail.” Zuteck shoved her empty plate aside, and started on a bowl of ice cream. “This is bad.”
“I know her. That’s Carlisle.” Dellmore spoke to the squad from a seat in an auditorium that was quickly filling with Banshees. “Breena, see the one that just walked in? That’s Carlisle, right?”
“It is,” Cusabrina answered. “And the one behind her looks likes Uplaster. Remember her?”
“Bet she’s still a bitch. Walking with a limp, these days.” Zuteck answered. Sitting next to her, Ayliss was trying to make sense of the gathering. The squad’s veterans were spotting numerous Banshees from units that should have been far away and, judging from the greetings, hugs, and middle fingers being exchanged all over the room, they weren’t the only ones.
“Hey, look at the back.” Bullhead called in a low voice, and the squad made a show of stretching as they obeyed. A line of MPs had blocked the three rows at the top of the seating area, and a hatch in the rear of the auditorium was now admitting their occupants. Men in camouflaged fatigue trousers, chest-hugging long-sleeved tops, and black skull caps mutely filled the two top rows, leaving the third one empty except for the MPs facing the new arrivals. To a man they were below average height, with wiry frames and expressionless faces.
“Spartacan Scouts. Best recon there is, and Command treats them like criminals. Unbelievably brutal training. See that thing they’re doing? Looking all bashful, eyes darting around a few seconds and then back to the floor? They just mapped out the whole room, all the exits, and all the weapons,” Dellmore whispered in Ayliss’s ear. “God I love those guys.”
“Rig!” Lightfoot hissed from several seats down. Ayliss turned to look, and immediately saw what had caught her eye. She exchanged a wide-mouthed look of surprise with Legacy and Bullhead.
“What is it?” Dellmore asked.
“See that dark-haired sergeant, the one with the electronic eye? That’s Sergeant Stempful. She was our chief trainer in Banshee Basic. And the ones behind her? All her NCOs.”
“My, my.” Dellmore giggled, sliding down in her seat. “Ol’ Zuteck is right. If they’re cleaning out the Basic Training cadre, this one’s gonna be big.”
The seats were almost filled when the lights were lowered and a large monitor flickered into life in front of them. For a moment, Ayliss believed a clip from a horror movie had somehow been projected by mistake, but then the entire throng surged to their feet without a sound or an explanation. Inured to military protocol, she popped to attention along with the others, standing rigidly with her eyes fastened on the face looming over her.
Seen from the shoulders up, the figure wore the dress uniform of a general in the Human Defense Force. However, it was the head that held Ayliss’s attention. No hair, no nose, and skin that looked like sandpaper. The eyes glowed with terrible intent, and even when the voice came through the speakers it was impossible to determine the gender.
“Take your seats, please.” The Banshees almost threw themselves down, and Dellmore took the opportunity to lean in close to her. “General Immersely.”
Ayliss stared in wonder at the highest-ranking Banshee of them all. Although Banshee units were assigned by fleet and space sector, and therefore commanded by admirals or generals, Immersely was their ultimate superior. Looking out of the corners of her eyes, Ayliss saw that the entire room was transfixed.
“I chose to address you without my facial prosthetic because I wanted to mark this occasion. As some of you may have already guessed, for the first time in the war every active service Banshee will be committed to a single operation. You have been gathered together to prepare for a mission that I believe will bring this war to an end.”
Inwardly, Ayliss frowned. Raised among a political elite who used soaring phrases like that one with abandon, she had a deep suspicion of such lofty pronouncements. So many propaganda campaigns had been designed to give the impression that volunteering for the Force, donating to the latest cause, or even voting for a certain politician would hasten the day when the conflict with the Sims would be finally brought to a victorious conclusion. Born into the war, into the very family that ran it, Ayliss had ceased long ago to believe it would ever end. That it could ever end.
“What I’m going to share with you right now is information that is so highly classified that it should explain why you’ve been sequestered. You will remain under a condition of total lockdown until this mission is completed, but only because it is vital not to tip our hand.
“Thanks to the efforts of a wide-ranging team of scientists and Force personnel, we have located the planet that is the origin of the Sim enemy we have faced for so long.”
Despite her pessimism, Ayliss joined a collective gasp from the audience.
“We have identified the entities that are making the Sims.” The skull on the screen moved its nerveless lips into a grimace of hostility. “And you are going to exterminate them.”
“Good afternoon.” The Banshee captain was tall, with strawberry blond hair and a burn mark on her right cheek that stood up like an exclamation point. Wearing pressed camouflage fatigues, she stood in front of a large wall monitor. “I’m Captain Erica Varick, and I have the dubious distinction of having met both of the shapeshifting aliens that humanity has encountered so far.”
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