by S D Tanner
“What thing?”
“It’s shaped like a starfish in the back of their necks.”
“That sounds disgusting,” Rok replied.
Joker snorted. “This from the guy with a metal brain and a tube keeping him alive.”
“I thought you said we were dead.”
“Semantics,” Judge muttered.
All he knew for sure was a clone had died to save him and that was enough. Patting the clone’s shoulder, he guided him toward the command chair. The clone tilted his head, seeking his eyes. “Good?”
“Yeah, you did good.”
Sitting heavily in the chair, he glanced at Judge who was eyeing the clone with interest. “What is it, Judge?”
“I think you were right.”
“I’s not like you to think or ever admit I was right about anything.”
“Don’t be a girl about it, Tag. I’m just saying that I see your point now.”
“What point?”
Still studying the clone, Judge asked, “Where’s Grunt?”
Joker flicked his head at the door that led to the small room on the Bridge. “Watching TV.”
Turning to face the door, Rok said, “That’s just bad babysitting, Joker. You should give him something to play with.”
“Don’t be a dumbass. He’s watching some video clips we found on file. I thought it might help him learn to speak.” Flicking his thumb at the clone, Joker added, “Not that it helped this guy much.”
Judge had walked across the Bridge to the small room. “Grunt! Get out here.”
Turning his back on them and facing his console, Joker said, “You’re gonna regret that. He’s not good company and he smells bad.”
Ducking his scaly head to avoid hitting the top of the door, Grunt lumbered onto the Bridge. He stood at the front studying them while they stared back at him. Tilting his head to one side, Grunt noted the blood on the clone’s hands, snorting softly as if he knew what it meant.
Judge flicked his chin at Grunt and then the clone. “None of these guys are stupid.”
He’d made the same observation, but he didn’t know what it meant, other than their enemy was selective about who they took prisoner. “So, what?”
“I think Grunt’s people are prisoners.”
“We all are, or at least we were.”
Judge shook his head. “We weren’t prisoners, Tag.” He flicked his head at the clone. “Neither was Clone. The Dead Force, the clones, and even Jessica, have been repurposed to serve the enemy.” Turning to study Grunt, he added, “But this guy and the ones we found in the city are being held prisoner.”
“Where did they come from?”
“That depends.” Judge looked over at Joker’s console. “Joker, what’s the reach on the teleporter?”
Spinning his chair to face them, Joker shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. Jess doesn’t know and I haven’t been able to run tests on it, but let’s put it this way, providing I can talk to you then I can teleport you.”
Catching onto where Judge was leading, he asked, “Joker, have we got any images of space?”
“Where do you think we’ve been?” Joker asked sarcastically.
The image of the wounded clone disintegrated and was replaced by one of the stars. Walking to the screen, he tapped it. “Grunt, is this where you’re from?”
Grunt’s mouth opened and closed as if he needed to check it was working. “Hoooommme.” Slapping his chest with a heavily clawed hand, he looked up at the screen and his yellow eyes widened. “Hoooommme.”
“You want to go home?”
“Yeeeessss.”
“Joker, do we have an image of the enemy aliens?”
Dissolving into sparkles again, the screen reassembled into one of the aliens wearing a blue jumpsuit. Grunt stepped back, staring at the alien on the screen. Shaking his oversized head, he hissed, “Noooo.”
“No?”
Hunching his shoulders and spreading his meaty arms, Grunt stomped across the Bridge in front of the screen, stopping in front of Judge. Lowering his arms, he mimicked shooting him. “Deaaaath.”
“I was never good at this game,” Rok said. “What’s he trying to say?”
His worse fears had just been confirmed, and he glanced at Judge, sharing a worried look with him. If he understood charades correctly, then Grunt was warning them about their real enemy. The blue jumpsuit wearing aliens weren’t the ones they would be fighting, instead there was a far more dangerous soldier they had yet to meet.
Judge nodded at Grunt and then turned to Rok. “Do you think Grunt would need shields to fight the preppy blue guys?”
“Never thought about it.”
“Well, you should have, Rok. In fact, you should do a whole lot more thinking than you do.”
Judge’s angry tone wasn’t really about Rok being lazy, and everything to do with the realization they probably weren’t going to win. If Grunt’s enemy turned up, then they were woefully underpowered.
Walking across to Grunt, he slapped his scaly shoulder. “What do you say we get your buddies out?” When Grunt looked at him blankly, he said, “Joker, put up an image of the stadium.”
Grunt’s snarl was all he needed to know he was right.
CHAPTER TWENTY: Friendly Fire
When fifty Dead Force troopers materialized on top of the rows of boxes, they caught the robot gunners by surprise. Without waiting for them to get with the program, thirty armed men and women ran to the edges, firing down on the gunners. Five more troopers began dropping pulsers in a circle approximately a hundred-foot in diameter, while the remaining fifteen flicked the latches open on the boxes. Grunt stood on the middle of the what he estimated to be two hundred boxes, all so tightly packed together they created a wide platform. With his arms inside the harness, Grunt was fully shielded from the gunfire streaking across the top of the boxes. A hundred robot gunners had opened fire and the stadium was filling with smoke and heat.
Walking behind the line of troopers lying on the platform, he kept up a steady stream of what he thought of as battle babble. “Weapons free. Do not waste ammo. Aim then shoot. Do not stand up. Do not kneel.”
On the other sides of the hundred-foot wide platform of boxes, Judge, Rok and Ash were directing the same babbling chatter at their troopers. Bullets fired from the gunners grazed his helmet and armor, giving off tiny sparks of red light. Robot gunners on the ground and in the surrounding stadium never paused to reload, so they maintained an unrelenting tempo of gunfire. Satisfied his side of the firefight was well underway, he turned his attention to the troops high-crawling across the boxes. Every few steps they would pause to flick open another latch.
So many bullets were firing across the top of the boxes, he was forced to drop into a low crouch. The sound of bullets leaving a hundred chambers filled the air, echoing around the stadium until it became deafening. The soldiers freeing the reptilians were unable to lie completely flat, meaning the bullets were hitting every part of their body. Several fell and, when they didn’t get up again, they disappeared as Joker teleported them back to the ship.
As the latches were flicked open, lizards identical to Grunt were launching out of them. Some were caught by the wall of bullets and dropped on top of the boxes, never to move again. Grunt was in the center of the platform, howling something he hoped were orders.
More bullets thudded into his back, making him drop to his belly until he was lying flat. A reptilian exploded from the box in front of him and landed next to his head. Clearly seeing him as the enemy, it raised its claws and swiped at him. He rolled onto his back to avoid the blow which only made lizard drive toward him. Before it could land another strike, its muscular arm stopped midflight. The scaly skin was stretched tight over its face and the yellow eyes were glinting. Its lipless mouth opened revealing rows of sharpened teeth. Lowering its arm, he heard claws scrape across his helmet as it patted his head.
“Thanks, Grunt,” he mu
ttered sarcastically.
Joker replied, “Say again, Tag.”
“Not talking to you.” Rolling onto his front again, he did a quick headcount of how many reptilians were free. “Joker, teleport the harnesses.”
They could have brought the harnesses with them, but Judge hadn’t wanted to put the weapons at risk until the situation was under control. With a hundred robot gunners still firing at them, he couldn’t honestly say they were completely in command, but it was close enough.
“Need ammo,” Rok called from his side of the boxes.
Ash was on the other side and he called, “Need ammo.”
Ten harnesses materialized at Grunt’s feet and for the first time he felt jealous of the smelly alien. In the middle of a hail of bullets the big guy was standing tall. Not a single bullet had penetrated his shield. Although the harnesses had appeared out of nowhere, Grunt’s troops didn’t appear surprised to see them. Rolling and crawling toward their weapons, the air filled with snarls, which he now knew wasn’t a sign of aggression, but one of delight. It was a lizard’s way of laughing.
Despite their bulk, the reptilians were fast. After quickly grabbing the harnesses, they slid into them and rose to their feet. He was impressed by their confidence and speed of adaptation, it implied they weren’t just any army, but were an elite fighting force. Where moments earlier they’d been prisoners, now the reptiles strode across the top of the platform as if they were in control.
Joker’s voice sounded in his earpiece. “Tag, do you need air support?”
Hawk and Jack had assured him the flight squad were up and running well enough, but he had a better idea. “Negative, Joker.”
More reptiles were leaping from opened boxes and the sound of gunfire from his troopers was slowing, meaning they were running out of ammunition. Some soldiers were sliding backward across the roof, trying to get out of the line of fire. As his troops retreated from the never-ending barrage of bullets, they were pulling closer to Grunt at the center of the platform.
Joker’s voice sounded again. “Tag, do you need ammo?”
“Negative, Joker.”
Panicked and frustrated voices were talking in his earpiece.
“I’m out!”
“Pull back!”
“Pull back!”
At least eighty boxes were open, but not all of them had been occupied. Another thirty reptiles were clinging to top of the boxes, keeping their heads low.
“Joker, teleport more harnesses.”
When the next batch of harnesses appeared, the reptiles scrambled toward them. They slithered into harnesses and then rose to their full height of seven feet. Grunt howled again, and they strode forward to join the others at the edge of the boxes. While the Dead Force pulled back toward the center of the platform, Grunt’s troopers advanced onto the edge.
Sounding worried, Joker said, “Tag, I have ammo and air support ready to go.”
Still lying on his stomach, he crawled on his elbows across the top of the boxes until he was behind the reptiles wearing harnesses, where their shielded clawed feet gave him cover from the robot gunners. Grunt howled again and his troopers dropped to the ground, marching purposefully toward the squat robots. Bullets from the gunners were slamming into their shields, but that only slowed them down until they were useless lumps of metal. The robots didn’t have the good sense to leave when they should have, and Grunt’s soldiers raised their arms and extended their invisible blades. Slashing with blades he couldn’t see cut, they cut through the gunner’s bodies as if they were made of butter. Robot gunners were falling in two parts, revealing their honeycomb interior.
Clawed feet ran past his head as more reptiles joined the fight and the sound of gunfire diminished. No more than fifty harnesses had been teleported, but the shielded reptiles had turned the lethal robot gunners into useless piles of carved up metal. It hadn’t even taken very long, and he rolled onto his back staring up at the blue sky where he knew Joker was watching the fight.
“That’s not good,” he remarked, not knowing who he was talking to.
“No, it’s not,” Joker agreed.
When the gunfire all but stopped, the Dead Force rose to their feet, confused by what had just happened. Usually they were the most able on the battlefield, but the reptilians had just outfought them.
“What’s the problem?” Rok asked.
He sat upright, looking over the edge of the boxes where Grunt’s army was forming a tight group. Grunt was standing in front of them, growling in what he assumed was their language. There was no way he would ever learn to speak the way they did, but Grunt was a quick learner, which only added to his worry. Forming into rows of ten, the small army was more like a good-sized platoon. It was hard to believe only minutes earlier they’d been held prisoner inside of boxes too small for them. Every single one of them had come out of their prison fighting and ready to follow orders, making them one of the best platoons he’d ever seen.
“They’re capable.”
“More than capable,” Judge agreed.
What sort of enemy had managed to capture them and why were they prisoners? Grunt had tried to warn them about another enemy, one more dangerous than the blue-suited aliens. Although the blue aliens spat acid, even the Dead Force could kill the hybrids. The robot gunners could put up a decent fight, but they were no match for the reptiles, so who was the enemy Grunt had warned them about and where were they? Not having answers to his questions meant he still didn’t know who he was at war with, but he was running out of time to find out. They would have to go in with what they had and pray lady luck was on their side.
Rising to his feet, he walked to the end of the platform of boxes where he was joined by Judge. The rest of the Dead Force made their way to the edge and stood looking down at the reptilians. Grunt was standing in front of his platoon, looking up at them with his yellow eyes.
They might not look like anything he’d ever seen before, but he knew good soldiers when he saw them. Raising his hand, he gave a slow and respectful salute.
Grunt pulled his arm from the harness and returned his salute.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Game Over
Joker was on his feet and he seemed worried. “Lolo is here. She wants to see Judge.”
He’d left Grunt’s platoon with Ash, who was still distributing the armor and weapons they’d stolen from the production city. They’d returned to the ship with Rok and, even though he would rather have left him with Ash, Judge had been keen to plan their attack on the cities. Hearing Lolo was with them, Judge immediately walked over to the robot version of Jessica and looked down at her. Throwing himself into the command chair, he rested his chin in the palm of his hand, hoping to express how fed up he was with Lolo.
Robot Jessica was standing in front of the main screen and Judge smiled at her. “Lolo?”
Smiling in a way Jessica never would, she nodded. “We need to talk.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” Judge asked, but he didn’t sound serious.
Joker hunkered next to his seat. “This is worse than a cheap-assed soap opera.”
“When did you ever watch one of those?”
“Broke my leg.”
Still looking down at Lolo, Judge asked, “Are you ok?”
Lolo nodded. “It’s ok here…” She looked away as if unsure why she’d even asked to see him.
Touching her shoulder, Judge asked gently, “What’s wrong?”
“Hope he’s not going to kiss her,” Joker whispered.
“Why?” He asked.
“She’s a machine, dude. It’s freaky.”
Lolo sighed and then she looked up at Judge. “They know.”
“About what?”
Glancing at him, she replied, “About him.”
Judge half-turned to look at him. “You mean Tag?”
“Yes, but more than that.”
Rising to his feet, he crossed the ten feet between them in an ins
tant. “How much more?” He grabbed Lolo’s arm, twisting her around until she faced him. “Do they know about Jessica?”
Pulling away, her expression became resentful. “You betrayed her.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You stole their clones, freed their enemies, destroyed beacons, kidnapped the Dead Force, and attacked the city.” Waving her hands in the air, Lolo’s tone mocked him. “What did you think was going to happen?”
“I thought they’d ignore me. They think I’m a chicken.”
“You did too much.”
“Now what happens?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “You die.”
“I’m already dead,” he replied contemptuously.
“You can be deader.”
His upper lip curled into a sneer. “I don’t plan to be.”
Judge pushed himself between them, keeping his back to him. “Lolo, what’s coming?”
“Interfectors.”
“And what are they?”
“Killers.”
Pushing Judge aside, he leaned into Lolo. “And who do they work for?”
Pulling back, Jessica’s usually smooth brow crumpled into a frown. “What do you mean?”
Never dealing with their real enemy was getting old. They never showed their faces, preferring to use one prisoner after the next to fight their battles. Why would he believe the Interfectors were the real aliens pulling the strings?
“Who controls the Interfectors?”
“Immortalis.”
“And where is this Immortalis?”
Lolo’s eyes grew vague, and she shrugged. “Everywhere.”
“That’s not an answer,” he replied sharply.
“Leave her alone, Tag,” Judge growled.
“Fuck off, Judge. This is bigger than you.” Pushing Judge aside, he asked, “What about Jessica? What will they do to her?”
Frowning as if confused, Lolo shrugged. “She is Captivus.”
“You mean she’s been captured?”
Lolo nodded.
“We know she’s a prisoner, so what will they do to her?”