by Wesley Chu
Two thousand new reinforcements and outnumbering the enemy nearly three to one might have something to do with it.
Zoras might have a small point. Dramatically outnumbering the enemy did give Enzo a slight tactical advantage as well. With plenty of manpower now, Enzo could afford to go on the offensive. For the past few days, his scouts had pushed deeper and deeper into the forest to establish a larger zone of control. With the proper manpower and constant surveillance of a five kilometer radius, there was no longer a threat of surprise attacks.
There had been one raid since, which had ended in disaster for the Prophus. The Genjix were prepared and flanked the attack from the forest. Enzo even came out of that last melee with prisoners, including two vessels. With additional breathing room, he ordered construction of the airfield to begin. Until then, heavily escorted convoys delivering small numbers to the Langtang Airport in Nepal ensured the uninterrupted progress of the ProGenesis project.
Right now, an hour before dawn, Enzo, with a contingent of nearly five hundred men, was pressing northeast through a mountainous forested area a day’s journey from the camp. When the Genjix expanded their zone of control, they discovered several Prophus camps numbering anywhere from twenty to a hundred. These camps were loosely spread out, allowing them to cover large tracts of land. It was an effective tactic for intercepting Enzo’s convoys. His men were now systematically hunting and destroying these camps, taking prisoners when they could and killing the rest.
Yesterday, one of his scouts reported what they believed was the enemy’s main base camp, and Enzo had personally led a sortie. His forces were less than fifteen minutes from the coordinates and had already killed two lookouts. They still had twenty minutes until dawn, which meant that if he timed it correctly, the Genjix could sneak in under the cover of darkness and attack at first light. He ordered his men to spread out into attack formations, and then signaled for Palos and one of the scouts to accompany him to reconnoiter the camp.
After a brief protest about how he exposed himself too much to risk, Zoras acquiesced to Enzo. It was how their relationship had developed. It took time but his guardian eventually realized that Enzo was not like most other fervent vessels who obeyed their blessed ones like automatons. His guardian had come to understand that Adonis Vessels were vastly superior to mere humans. And it was for this reason that Zoras consented that, especially at his young age, Enzo needed to experience what his training could not provide. They were now more like partners, working toward the same goal, if not always seeing eye to eye.
The three crept along the thickets up a hill. Already, the forest was coming to life, and the cover of darkness was beginning to lift. The scout signaled for a stop and pointed at a shadowy figure standing on top of the reach. Enzo nodded and motioned for Palos to stay at his position. This lookout he wanted to take care of by himself.
Again, your youthful foolishness can ruin your great potential.
“Most vessels earn their guardian. I was groomed to be one. I still intend to earn my place.”
A breeze from the mountains swept in, rustling the leaves to mask his movement. Enzo crept behind the lookout and came to a stop six meters away. There, he waited. And just as the lookout let go of his rifle with one hand to pull his jacket tighter to his body, Enzo went in for the kill.
With a lightning first step, he launched himself at the lookout, smothering his mouth with one hand and jamming a knife into the back of his neck with the other. He held the man still for a second and then slowly laid him down on the ground. Enzo focused on the lookout’s eyes as the life left them and then signaled to the others.
They continued up the steep terrain until they reached the crest of the hill. Peering down at the valley below, Enzo saw a sprawling camp, neatly organized and situated under the forest canopy to avoid aerial surveillance. He counted sixty small tents and a larger central tent hung from an old tree. Less than a dozen figures wandered outside.
Large camp. Estimated numbers at four hundred.
“I need some men on the northeastern side. Our flank won’t reach there in time. Need to cut off their escape.”
No time. The sun is rising.
Enzo looked up and cursed. His men barely had time to get to the crest for the attack. He peered over the edge. Sixty meters at a twenty degree angle. The only way to prevent the Prophus from fleeing east would be to get the drop on them and attack at close range. They had the numbers to easily win a sustained battle. His losses would be higher, but he had the men to spare. It was worth the gamble.
Enzo muttered into his comm and ordered his men up. He had originally anticipated a larger enemy camp than this and had brought more than necessary. Still, it was better to assure victory through sheer numbers than have to win an equal battle through finesse.
“No incendiaries until the vanguard reach the camp. Then only onto the far edge,” he ordered as the first line of men crept over the top and began to make the descent. Enzo waited with the sniper teams as everyone got into position. Still, with several hundred people, it was nearly impossible to avoid detection. At about thirty meters from the edge of the camp, the closest Prophus guard opened fire. Several guns must have been trained on him since he was instantly cut down by a barrage.
We are not as deep as we should be. Order the right flank to disengage and circle to the rear.
Enzo did so and proceeded to move with the second wave of men. With the outcome still in contention, the first few seconds of this battle would be key. During the medieval days, Zoras would never voluntarily engage in a fight unless he had more than half the number of the opposing army. With technology becoming so deadly, the number needed to guarantee victory had increased.
The first row of tents was shredded by machine gun fire. Enzo was halfway down the hill when he saw several groups of Prophus flee eastward toward the forest line. Some were caught by his men, but more got away.
Where is the right flank?
“Tomlinson, where are your men? They’re escaping,” Enzo yelled into his comm. There was no response. “Tomlinson, report!” Still no response.
Something is wrong. Prophus numbers are too low.
Enzo stopped near the base of the hill and took a quick count. His men were a quarter into the camp by now. He had seen less than sixty Prophus total. Then he looked up at the ridge line as his men continued to pour into this basin.
“Teams on the ridge, hold position,” he ordered. “Teams on the ground–.”
The forest came to life as machine gun fire ripped from the thick trees. Panic ensued with Enzo’s ridge teams reporting an attack from the rear. Two of the tents exploded into plumes of fire and debris. The Genjix were suddenly being attacked from all sides.
It is a trap!
Enzo looked around wildly. How could he get his men out of this situation? Coming back the way they came in was out of the question. Pushing forward would force them deeper into the camp, which was laden with explosives. North was an even steeper climb than west. That left only south.
Leave them. Have the men lay suppression fire. Get all the vessels to safety.
“I’ll lose the battle then.”
The fight is already lost. Suppression fire to cover the south. Now!
Reluctantly, Enzo gave the orders, and six other vessels, with Palos and his personal guard at his side, began to make their way south as his troops were realigned to punch a hole through the enemy trap. They barely made it a hundred meters when the Prophus responded. Within the thick forest, the fight became up close and ugly. Soon, Enzo lost his guards among the foliage and found himself alone.
Suddenly, two Prophus agents attacked, the bursts of their rifles blinking like yellow stars. Enzo returned fire, strafing as he slid behind a tree for cover. Tree bark exploded into hundreds of small fragments. Enzo listened to the rhythm of guns. One was using an M model rifle with the loud hollow metal sound of the casing ejection. The other was using a G3 variant. He timed his attack perfectly, first pinpoin
ting their positions, then attacking when the magazine expired.
The M reloaded first. Enzo stuck his arm to the right and then turned left, shooting with precision and taking the M gunman out with two hits. Then an image flashed in his head of where the G3 gunman was kneeling. Enzo fired blindly on faith and was rewarded with a kill shot to the chest.
He continued south alone, abandoning his men. Zoras’ life was more important than all of theirs anyway. It stung to have walked into this trap, though. This Prophus commander had a lot to answer for when Enzo got his hands on him. He continued through the thick forest and ran into Palos and two of the vessels pinned down by enemy fire.
He spoke into his comm. “Palos, I have eyes on you at your nine. You’re caught in the crossfire at eleven and three. Take out the three. I’ll take care of the eleven. Out.”
Before Palos could respond, Enzo charged behind the firing nest and took out three of the enemy before they could respond. He saw a shimmer in the air as a Quasing left one of the dead soldiers and floated away into the air. This vessel must be a person of rank. Enzo searched the body and found the vessel’s comm. It came alive.
“Jackson, this is Stephen, you got more incoming your way. Fall back. Jackson, report!”
Enzo picked up the comm. “Hello, Stephen.”
The only Stephen we have on file with Prophus Command is their Field Marshal. His standing is just below the Keeper’s.
“Who is this?” Stephen said.
“I’m the mouse that got away,” Enzo replied. “Your trap failed.”
Stephen laughed. “It’s messy, but I’d hardly call it a failure. Who am I speaking with?”
“The only person worth trapping,” Enzo snarled.
“Let me guess,” Stephen said. “You sound young. And pretty high on yourself. And you’re a little pissed off.” There was a pause. “Did Zoras’ new boy toy leave the hidey hole for our little party?”
“The name is Enzo,” he replied haughtily. “And Stephen, I thank you for letting me know who my enemy is. You have been a worthy opponent so far.”
“I’ve been kicking your ass is what I’ve been doing.”
“Maybe today, but not as of late. I’ve swept over a dozen of your camps the past few days.”
“Well, hell, let me outnumber you five to one, boy, and let’s see how you fare.”
Enzo bit his lip. “We’ll see, Stephen. You have failed to rescue your fellow betrayers. Rest assured they will all die well for the Holy Ones.”
“We’ll see about that. Oh, by the way, I just captured a whole bunch of your guys, including several hosts. I don’t have a nice camp to hold them in and can’t really follow the Geneva Convention right now. You wouldn’t be up for a trade, would you?”
Enzo threw the comm against a tree, shattering it into pieces.
THIRTY TWO
ADVANCE TRAINING
The history of the war is well documented. Both the Prophus and the Genjix suffered and gained equally in it, having lost much of our European networks and influence. There was a lull in our war after the Second World War. Both sides were weakened and we worked to reposition ourselves in the world.
The Genjix moved their influence to Russia while we stayed to rebuild Europe. Both fought for control of the vast lands in China and for the unblemished industrial might of the United States. The Genjix came out victorious in with their support of the Communists and fought us to a standstill in the United States.
Baji
Jill frowned at the row houses in the affluent part of the Georgetown neighborhood. She checked her watch and then took out the small piece of paper he had left in her mailbox. It was two in the morning and this was the right place. She looked down the block at all the attached homes, then back at the note.
“Says third floor. They’re all two stories.”
Marco is just being cute.
The transition to city training was not all Jill had hoped. Now that they no longer had to commute outside the city, they held two practice sessions a day. The new early-morning workouts were kicking her ass. And to make matters worse, Marco was always so chipper in the mornings. She just wanted to break those perfect white teeth of his. It should be illegal to smile that much before dawn.
She was also acquiring an impressive collection of bruises. When she wasn’t diving on the concrete or practicing changing directions like a stripper spinning on a pole, he made her hang off ledges and scamper up walls. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was making her jump through hoops for his amusement. And then when her arm muscles failed, he had her sprint intervals. Jill could jog practically forever, but interval training was pure torture.
“I think being in labor was less painful,” she had said.
Oh really? You should tell Roen that. Remember when he said he knew what being in labor was like when he had to hold his...
“He said that to my parents!”
Jill scanned the roofs. That guy had to be up there somewhere, waiting to spring one on her. Well, hated to disappoint him. It was too risky to scale the walls from the front. She walked around the back and trespassed through the backyards, easily scaling wooden fences. Training was starting to pay off. She still couldn’t melee worth a damn, but her agility had improved, literally, by leaps and bounds.
It is the house with the blue trim.
She reached the backyard of the address on the paper and looked up. Marco, leaning against a chimney, gave her a lazy wave and beckoned her to join him. Jill scanned the wall and noticed the neighbor’s gutter pipe. A moment later, she scampered up the two-story building and sat down next to him.
He was sipping a cup of steaming coffee in an open Styrofoam cup. “Nice of you to join me. Ready?”
Jill wondered how he had gotten that up here. She smirked at his cat burglar outfit, half-cap and all. Somehow, he still made it look stylish.
“Give me your best shot,” she said.
He stood up, dumped the contents of the cup and wiped his hands. “Right then, let’s give it a go,” he grinned. He touched her shoulder. “Tag, you’re it.”
He took off, sprinting south haphazardly across the tops of the row houses. A second later, Jill was nine steps behind, trying to keep pace without stumbling on the uneven surfaces, assorted pipes, satellite dishes, and vents littering the roofs. She was surprised that he was running at full speed. It would be a minor miracle if one of them didn’t sprain an ankle or break their neck falling off the sides. Regardless, she wouldn’t let him get the better of her. Besides, they were six houses down from the end of the block. Where exactly did he think he’d go next? She found out the hard way.
Just as they neared the edge, he turned on a dime and launched himself at her. Her training and instincts kicked in as she ducked to the side, feeling the whoosh of his fist brush her hair. She tumbled onto the roof and skidded along the descending slant but was able to stop from falling over the edge. She put her hands down to maintain her balance and palmed a small piece of roof tile. Watching her closely, Marco feinted to the right and cut her off from getting away from the ledge.
“You’re trapped,” he grinned. “What are you going to do now, little girl?”
Little girl? That smirk again. While Marco had a beautiful smile, he used it far too often. And not only that, those oh-so-confident words grated on her. He obviously considered her harmless. Well, she’ll show him.
“Here’s what I’m going to do,” she said, hurling the tile at Marco. He stumbled as it smacked him in the face. She then grabbed his arm and yanked. She watched with satisfaction as he yelped and toppled over the edge, landing on a row of shrubs below.
“I hope he isn’t dead.”
His legs moved.
“Good. I’d have a hard time explaining to Paula how I killed James Bond.”
A minute later, she climbed down and found him sitting on the grass at the side of the house rubbing his forehead. There was a two inch gash from the center of his temple down to his cheek. It was turn
ing a nice plum red. He shot her the same look that Cameron did every time she gave him a bath.
“Not a bad arm,” he forced a smile, albeit not so wide this time around. “Could have picked a less beautiful place to mar.”
“Good lord,” Jill rolled her eyes and pulled him to his feet. She looked at the time. “So, how did I do?”
“Oh, we’re not done yet,” he said, drawing a very high-tech looking pistol. He pointed just to the left of her head and squeezed the trigger. The gun popped softly and a small puff of smoke exploded from the wall behind her, leaving a red circular imprint the size of a marble.
“Training gun. Fires projectiles that hurt,” he warned, aiming it at her chest. “Can break bones at close range.”
“You wouldn’t!” Jill gasped.
Duck left!
Jill dove just as Marco pulled the trigger and another puff of smoke splattered the wall.
“Thirty seconds,” he yawned, pretending to dig dirt from his fingernails.
Jill looked for cover. They were in a suburban block filled with houses! Where would she hide?
Quick, around back and up.
“How long do I have to escape for?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I got two clips worth, so until I run out of pellets.”
She took off, hopping over the fence and sprinting through the back yard. She found another drain pipe three houses down and scurried up. She heard a soft poof and a puff of smoke exploded at her feet just as she pulled her leg over the side. Those thirty seconds went by really fast. Jill felt another zing past her ear and saw Marco scaling the wall. He couldn’t be more than fifteen seconds behind.
Topple the piping.
Jill suddenly saw an image of a medieval siege. Baji’s host at the time, a foot soldier by the looks of it, was on the parapet defending against a horde of armed soldiers with large red crosses emblazoned on their chests. Then her host used his pike and pushed against a ladder leaning against the castle wall. The ladder tipped over and crashed back to the ground, taking the nine men climbing with it.
