Like The Never Army, each battalion under Olivia’s command was able to stay in communication with ear pieces she’d provided, compliments of Mr. Clean. Jonathan’s men could warn the perimeter if a large gathering of Ferox were headed their way, but for the most part Olivia and General Delacy understood it was their job to turn back or kill whatever got past his men.
While the airspace around Seattle had been empty for days, everywhere else around the globe, planes were dropping out of the sky.
At first, most of the world would assume their power outages were local. Some would realize sooner than others that this wasn’t the case. They would go to pick up a phone they knew to be charged and find it wouldn’t turn on. They would go to start a car, and unless that car was very unsophisticated, the engine would not turn over. If it was day in their part of the world, the sky wouldn’t tell them much, but if it was night, they would look outside and see the same display in the sky as Jonathan did now.
Over the next few hours, the planet would begin to panic. Those responsible for maintaining their cities’ power grids would realize that they had no explanation for the failure—and even more frightening, they would have no way of telling anyone. Somewhere, right now, the shadow of Jonathan’s mother was likely sitting on a cruise ship that was dead in the water.
Hopefully, by now, she wasn’t alone. His roommates would be standing in her room explaining how Jonathan was a drama queen and had taken them out of a battle they had been helping him prepare to fight for months.
He imagined Paige would be the one to understand it first. See that he’d sent them to a place where panic would take longer to set in. Safe from looting and rioting that might begin shortly after power outages in major cities. The cruise ship would be cut off from all of that, floating out in the Mediterranean off the coast of Italy.
Only The Cell and The Never Army knew for certain that this wasn’t simply an EMP nor the effects of a neutron bomb. Jonathan turned his attention back to the portal as he got Anthony on the comm.
“Anthony, Margot,” Jonathan said. “I’m hoping you have good news for me.”
“The Mechs are functional,” Hoult said.
“And the packages?” Jonathan asked.
“The Cell’s containment fields are holding, diagnostics confirm all hardware functional, all systems go as far as I can tell from the equipment,” Margot said.
“Good . . .” Jonathan trailed off a moment, as he saw new movement at the portal, and reports of visual confirmation came over the comm. “Stay safe.”
While it’s been phrased a number of ways since mankind started fighting one another, it is a widely accepted truth that no plan survives first contact with the enemy.
Which was why, Jonathan’s opening strategy was intended to deny the Ferox making any contact with his forces for as long as possible.
The first enemy to step through the conduit was alone. A single Ferox walking out of the arch into an empty city intersection. It was green, young, and small for the species—only a little larger than an average human male.
For his army, the city had been so empty over the last few days they frequently had the surreal sense usually reserved for dreams when one finds themself the last person on Earth.
Jonathan knew this Ferox wouldn’t feel anything of this nature. From the looks of the Green—small, with no visible scars, he doubted the Ferox had ever been on Earth. Yet, this lone Ferox possessed something he’d never seen on a Green or any other of the species. Thick rubbery looking strands that ran down from its head to its lower back. Almost like a mane of dreadlocks.
Dammit, female, he thought.
He’d always known it was a possibility. Malkier might spare no available soldiers when he made his play for Earth. If this foretold that he intended to send in the females, the number of enemies they were dealing with had at least doubled. For the moment, what was more troubling was that it remained to be seen what the female of the species was capable of. No one in his army had ever encountered one.
She took a few steps away from the portal and sniffed at the air. She seemed to only be putting enough distance between her and the gateway to ensure the next one through wouldn’t step into her.
“Anyone ever seen a Ferox look like he does?” Perth asked.
“It’s a she—young from the looks of it,” Jonathan said.
“So . . . that’s a damn She-rox?”
A second female came through—its behavior much like the first. Soon, they stopped coming one at a time, began to trickle in by smaller groups until there were fifteen standing in the empty intersection. Somewhat mysteriously, no more arrived.
While he couldn’t hear them, the She-rox were obviously communicating, and as he watched, he had a pretty good idea what they were discussing.
“Olivia,” Jonathan said. “Hold tight. We got a development, and I don’t want to get this party started just yet.”
“Received.”
He opened a channel to every team leader.
“Change in plans. No one engages this batch,” Jonathan said. “Stay out of sight and let them through.”
The She-rox—Perth’s name had apparently stuck—were quick to reach a consensus. They broke into five groups of three, one of which remained at the mouth of the conduit. The four other groups each took one of the paths out of the intersection and shot out into the city’s dark streets.
Jonathan opened another channel. “Bodhi, you and three others use the gleamers, stay out of sight, keep an eye on each group.”
“Received.”
He’d lost sight of them, but Bodhi didn’t leave him waiting long.
“On them, but they’re quick,” Bodhi whispered.
Jonathan had no doubt.
No Red or Alpha to lead. The youngest Green males had always been the most comfortable running on all fours. Their greatest strength was their speed, while their greatest weakness was their hot heads.
From what he’d seen, he was betting the She-rox were faster, and less bloodthirsty. If his instincts were wrong about this—it was a small gamble. One group of Gremlins would hit the waterfront soon. The other three would eventually hit Olivia’s perimeter. That might not be a bad thing.
If the human soldiers were going to stand their ground against an incoming pack of Ferox, he’d prefer it not be a large Red or an Alpha on their first engagement.
“Wait, they stopped—they’re talking again,” Bodhi said. “Okay, now they’re turning around. Heading straight back the way they came.”
“Scouts,” Jonathan said. “Let them report back.”
They had not encountered any resistance—so let Malkier entertain the possibility that the city has been abandoned.
When the four scouting parties returned, there was another exchange, then one from each of the group stepped back through while the rest took up sentry positions around the archway.
“Now we wait,” Jonathan said.
“Standing by,” Olivia said.
The wait became an exercise in patience as they watched. Jonathan felt the weight of it most. He was trusting his instincts to make this first call of the battle. He knew the morale of the men would either be bolstered or weakened by how it panned out. He wanted to give them an early win.
When activity picked up around the conduit again, he smiled and took a vindicated breath.
They came shoulder to shoulder—twenty across, likely the maximum number the conduit would accommodate without shearing limbs at the edges. One row was followed by another and another. These were males, they varied in size and color, and though they obeyed orders he could see the discipline of holding lines was new to them.
Looks like the prophet has been teaching Ferox to march, Jonathan thought.
“Olivia, you’re up,” Jonathan said. “Roll out the welcome mat.”
“Received,” Olivia said. “Detonation in ten . . . nine . . .”
When the count began, every face shield in his army that hadn’t already been locked d
own snapped into place. They left their duct tape squares and took to whatever cover was closest to their position, each man counting silently along with Olivia as they watched row upon row of Ferox come through.
“Five . . . four . . . three . . .”
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
ONE OF THE non-negotiables that came with the US Government’s agreement to the covert partnership with The Never Army, was that any explosives provided would remain under their control. Due to the worldwide failure of human technologies, this was a bit of grey area, as while the explosives may have belonged to the military, Mr. Clean had to provide triggers that would function.
In the end, Jonathan agreed, as long as Olivia was the one who controlled the triggers. He didn’t want someone he didn’t know second guessing him when he said go—which was ironic, seeing as how their relationship’s first real hurdle had been about whether or not to press a trigger.
Communications, the necessary city-wide monitoring equipment, everything that allowed Olivia a command center to support her perimeter and The Never Army—were all Borealis tech designed to work independently of Mr. Clean the moment he went offline.
Three . . . two . . .
Olivia flipped a switch on a control board. “Detonation.”
The explosion shook a four-block radius around the conduit. The marching Ferox stopped, some immediately dropping to all fours in preparation of attack. The cause of the quake took a moment to become obvious, but once it did all those white eyes turned up the street. Straight out in front of the conduit’s opening, the road ended in one of Seattle’s tallest buildings.
The building’s height wasn’t what made it special tonight—but its unique proportions. While it was very tall it was also rather skinny as far as skyscrapers go.
When the lower floors burst forth with fire, the street was pelted with broken glass and debris as two thick clouds of smoke rose up into the night. For a moment, there seemed to be no consequence—the building simply became a roaring inferno around its sidewalks.
The Ferox didn’t immediately see a threat—but to be fair, with every light out in the city, what followed was a tad slow at the start. Framed by that surreal light show in the sky, the entire building looked like just another dark obelisk standing amongst hundreds of others. At least, until it began to lean.
Soon, the tower was looming, growing larger as it plummeted toward the conduit. This was where its uniquely skinny nature came into play. As the pull of gravity took over with increasing speed, the building didn’t crash through all its neighbors on each side. Rather, it was as though it lined up perfectly with the street. The skyscraper fell between the buildings and came crashing down on the first Feroxian wave.
The Ferox were disorderly in their attempt to scatter when The Columbia Center collapsed onto them, but it didn’t stop there. The top half of the building was literally sliced through as the tower crashed down on the conduit.
Grant opened his face shield as he peeled the wrapper off a fun size Milky Way headed for his mouth.
His armored suit was good camouflage against the obsidian-like stone that covered the Feroxian Plane. For the moment he was hidden, lying flat beneath a tarp at the top of one of the black rock towers that protruded from the planet’s surface.
He had no explanation for the pillars; the closest thing he’d ever seen on Earth were the hoodoos in Utah’s deserts—and that was a loose resemblance at best. Whatever, he wasn’t a geologist.
He’d had to climb the tower four days ago. Well, four Earth days if he went by the passing of hours. Walking across the surface of the Feroxian Plane as he followed the pilgrimage to this massive pit, he’d soon discovered the cycles of light and dark didn’t seem to obey any set amount of time here. How the hell one day ended in twelve hours and the next thirty-six—was outside his wheelhouse. Whatever, he wasn’t an astrophysicist.
Without the Alpha Slayer device active in his chest the climb would have been a challenge. However, the need for stealth had increased with every step closer to the pit. During the trek he’d had to keep a great deal of distance. The cloaking device Heyer had given him—some alien artifact Jonathan had apparently taken off a Ferox prisoner—had a limited life span. They needed Mr. Clean to recharge it, which meant Grant had to use it sparingly.
They both knew he would need as much time as possible once they reached the pit. He’d had to activate the cloak and the gleamers to make it up the tower. One loud noise or dislodged rock might have drawn the attention of the Ferox horde spread out around the pit. The gleamers helped, though he hadn’t had as much time as he would have liked to get used to them once he got to the Feroxian Plane.
At the tower’s summit, his HUD indicated he was only a hundred and fifty feet above the creatures.
The Ferox seemed to take no interest in the towers, and luckily, much of the other wildlife he’d seen didn’t pay them much attention either. That was a good thing; it would only take one curious Ferox, noticing a smell or a noise and coming up to investigate his perch to bring his mission to a swift end. One Ferox screaming whatever guttural growl meant, “Abomination!” in their language and he’d have thirty of the damn things up here with him in less than a minute.
Thing was, only having to deal with thirty was wishful thinking. The entire pit was surrounded by thousands.
He’d chosen a tower far enough away from the pit that his scope gave him a largely unobstructed view. Paired with HUD built into his helmet, tracking single individuals in the mass of creatures was an easy enough task. In fact, having now spent days behind enemy lines, the constant fear of discovery had waned. His surveillance of the pit had become a somewhat eventless slog.
Until the last two days, the goings on below had been like watching one of those Discovery Channel documentaries on the building of the pyramids on loop. Thousands of Ferox, performing relentless amounts of labor to construct a massive object, all driven by a leader who proclaimed himself a god.
Swap the prophet for a pharaoh and it was a decent analogy. Though to be fair, the Ferox seemed far more willing than human slaves.
At the center of the pit there was now a massive circular platform of black stone. From this distance, Grant couldn’t be sure, but it appeared to be made up of the same black stone as the gateways that ringed the pit’s interior. The platform was far more massive, could not be brought down as a single piece. Rather, sixteen slices of the rock had been hauled down the ramp and fit into place. From Grant’s vantage, it looked like lizards putting a giant pie back together.
Grant remembered—or his shadow remembered, the distinction had grown rather fuzzy—standing on the gateway before he’d entered The Never. According to Heyer the individual platforms hadn’t been moved for centuries. Only at the onset of the pilgrimage had Malkier given the Ferox tribes orders to move them. For the tribes, this was to learn that these sacred relics they had believed to have been literally sculpted by their gods out of the stone where they had stood, could be carried off if the prophet permitted it.
In the previous Feroxian cycle of light and dark, the platform had been completed. Today, swaths of the creatures had begun forming into what looked like ranks. Something was commanding them to form into those units, but how those orders were being communicated remained a mystery to him. While the effort fell far short of a human military parade, the Ferox seemed to be attempting to form lines and move in unison. After days of observing them, the sight was very unnatural.
While the marching Ferox might have been weird, a little over an hour ago the conduit had begun to open. That had been a spectacle.
It started with one long low thundering tone. The sound had kept building until he could feel the land vibrating for miles around the pit. Unlike those on the ground, he’d had the vantage point to see how the effects stretched out over the landscape. The pit taking on a look of a large subwoofer implanted beneath the surface. His teeth chattered as he watched the particles of dirt around him hover off the ground in sync
with the frequency.
Around the same time, the air began to fill with the smell of ozone. Electricity started to jump about within the gateway fields. The arcs seemed random at first, but slowly began to fall into a pattern.
Borealis energy, that red-orange glow given off by portal stones, began to build at the ends of the sundial-like tips on each gateway. Starting with those furthest from the platform near the pit’s edge, lines of energy began to link with neighboring gateways. A network building until each of the seven gateway fields was one closed grid of power lines. Finally, each field sent a massive orange line of energy to feed into the platform.
When this happened, the vibrations stopped, the sound faded off into the distance, and the conduit began to take form on the platform. Beginning as a fixed dot over the center, it grew in surges. As each of the seven fields gave up their stored energy, the brightness of their grids dwindled, until each fell into what seemed a sustained state. By that time, a half circle of red and black had formed a dividing line across the platform’s diameter. Grant’s HUD estimated the opening’s size a little under 30 meters, about the length of a basketball court.
Grant noticed then that most of the Ferox had fallen to a knee. Frankly, he couldn’t blame them; had he not already been lying on his stomach he might have joined them. The whole event had felt like watching the eye of a god open to stare back at him.
One Ferox remained standing inside the pit. Not a difficult task to figure out who, he was the only Ferox below covered head to toe in alien steel armor. His entire body seeming to reflect more light than there was to catch.
The prophet walked toward the platform through the kneeling masses, his posture more human than Ferox at times. The stark difference between him and everyone else in the pit laid bare as most of the Ferox horde were naked beasts armed only with claws and teeth.
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