by James Axler
If there were raptors in the area, then there was also a likelihood that Vanth wouldn’t even need to send actual troops to bring them down. A bird of prey hitting with its claws at over 50 miles an hour, up to 120 in some instances, was more than sufficient to slice through shadow suit and flesh easily.
“I’m watching for patterns among the birds.” Sinclair spoke softly, only truly audible thanks to the Commtact’s jawbone microphone pickups and inner ear stimulation. “They’re not acting as observers. If one bird passes, it doesn’t come back this way, not even making a wide berth.”
“You’re going by twentieth-century unmanned aerial vehicle surveillance tactics, right?” Edwards asked. “You had like…what? One or two up at a time?”
Sinclair nodded. Domi could hear her hiss of disgust as Sinclair realized that with all of the night flying, one bird wouldn’t need to circle them to keep track. Not with waves of sets of eyes that could be in the air. Even so, the flights overhead didn’t seem to be particularly concentrated. The whole thing reminded Domi of the sweep of that line on the circular radar screen, illuminating targets with each pass.
As long as they continued their slow crawl, as long as their shadow suits matched the ground beneath them, and as long as they only really moved quickly in the lulls between the mind-controlled eyes in the sky, they wouldn’t be found.
As if that hopeful thought summoned down the wrath of Charun and Vanth, Domi spotted a flicker in the distance, the glow of multiple torches illuminating the movements of a patrolling group. Domi kept the team still. CAT Beta and Smaragda used the telescopic aspects of their shadow suit hoods to zoom in on those distant lights.
Three hundred yards away, they saw a group of ten people. They were locals, dressed in simple, handmade clothing, but each of them had either a brutal farm implement or a firearm. They were searching; a party of mixed men and women thralls.
Edwards spoke up first this time.
“They’re actively searching for us,” he subvocalized through the Commtact. “Their eyes are at least more animated now.”
“Maybe Charun figured out that you were camouflaged near the Manta’s landing site,” Sinclair offered.
“It’s weird. They’re just below looking human,” Smaragda mentioned, her voice also a low whisper. “Like…”
“Robots. Zombies,” Domi muttered. She was put on edge by all of this, as well.
If there were people and birds out in the night searching, then there could have been other hunters. Domi swept the closer terrain. They were in waist-high grass, which meant there could be all sorts of smaller mammals present, but if there was one thing the feral girl was good at, it was spotting those little morsels that would keep her alive and surviving for another day, be it in a forest or a desert. Her instincts looked for mice, voles, rabbits and, with some relief, she came up with nothing. That didn’t mean the tiniest of animals was ignored by the demigods, but it did tell the wild woman that those miniature mammals weren’t being used as spies and seekers right here.
It was a small measure of relief.
“Do we wait for them to pass?” Edwards asked.
“No. But we stay slow and steady,” Domi returned. “Birds, Sela?”
“None,” Sinclair returned.
“Move,” Domi ordered.
And she took the lead, her petite form crawling out, slender arms and legs carrying her along in a crawl that would approximate a fast walk as long as she wasn’t among tall grasses that would sway with her passage. It was an achingly slow process, pausing every time Sinclair hissed and indicated something was in the air over them.
By the time that they reached the road where the search party patrolled, the thralls were out of sight, the glow of their torches having disappeared around the bend of trees. Even so, Domi flicked on her infrared vision and was able to capture the heat sources of those burning brands even through intervening foliage. She returned to her normal, natural vision, and waved the others onto the road with her. Their shadow suits shifted, blending into the dirt road, taking on tones of brown and rust to match the well-trampled earth that made up the path.
“There’s a canopy of trees,” Sinclair noted. “Sweeping for heat sources.”
Domi nodded. They didn’t dare move until they were certain that nothing was waiting on a tree limb or in a knot hole, serving as a living security camera for the Etruscan godlings.
Once that was cleared up, they continued moving, picking up their pace. Sinclair remained on infrared, counting on the heat given off by Domi’s bare feet to mark a safe walking path, all the while keeping her head on a swivel. Tension, living and moving in the shadows or the breaths between moments without birds in the sky.
This was nothing new to Domi. This was where she was born, skulking in the shadows against authority and predation that would slam down upon her and end her existence. It was tense, it was tough, but there was one thing that would make this worth all the anxiety, all the stealth.
Freedom for those currently hounding them, freedom from Vanth and Charun’s domination of their lives.
This deadly game of hide-and-seek had only one acceptable outcome for Domi and her friends, and that was the fall of the winged conquerors.
Chapter 11
Brigid Baptiste tested her weight on her foot once more. It had been an entire day since the others had left for Italy via interphaser. She’d been bedridden, eating aspirin and trying to relax her strained system thanks to a psychic battle against the song of Vanth. EKGs immediately after showed that her heart had irregular rhythms, rendering her in less than optimal condition to penetrate into enemy territory.
The aspirin pills were meant to bring her heartbeat back into normal parameters. They must have worked, since it was the morning after her friends had left and her EKGs over the past eight hours had proved normal. The acetaminophen had also worked wonders on her tender sprained ankle, as she was able to walk securely on it.
Of course, even if she wanted to take the interphaser, Kane and the rest of the Cerberus teams had thirty-six hours’ worth of a head start on her. No, what she needed to do was to wait. Kane and Grant had done plenty of work making certain she was checked out on the Mantas, and she could fly them adequately enough. She wouldn’t be an air combat ace, but she could land a Manta in a clearing, and keep control of it as it skimmed ten miles above the Earth at supersonic speed.
Her role was rapid response, so being “stuck” back here minding the store was a necessary evil. So far, the only thing reported from the field was Kane and Grant’s encounter with the cyclops. The others had gone into radio silence, which made Brigid feel a little more edgy than normal. She was not a sit-back-and-wait kind of woman. She was an explorer, an adventurer. Her hunger for new knowledge, as well as her obligation to assist the helpless, demanded that she be up and around.
Diana had informed Brigid that she was free to keep herself in condition, mentally and physically, making use of the Olympian library as well as physical rehabilitation.
After ice baths and hot wraps, Brigid’s ankle was feeling as strong as ever. She could put her full weight on it, and her ligaments had returned to full limberness. While there were medical facilities and a gymnasium back at the Cerberus Redoubt, New Olympus had far more cause and need to engage in physical rehabilitation. There were those who were catastrophically injured, to the point where amputations were needed to prevent suffering from gangrene. Then there were others with less dramatic wounds, so that Olympian doctors became a well-oiled machine when it came to pulled and sprained limbs, as well as broken bones.
Brigid continued flexing her ankle, pivoting on it to make sure she hadn’t merely numbed it.
“You keep working that ankle at that rate, you’ll ruin it again.” Diana spoke up. “Then again, what would I know? I lost my feet years ago.”
Brigid sat, laying a towel around her neck. She’d worked up a good sweat, hoping that her body’s exertions would distract her. There was no such luck, and
she was starting to grow sick of the walls around her. “Thanks for the use of the facilities.”
“I’m surprised that you haven’t been in the library,” Diana noted, rolling closer.
Brigid smirked sheepishly. “There isn’t much that I haven’t already read there.”
“Even in the original Greek?” Diana asked.
Brigid nodded. “I ended up learning Greek while doing background on the Annunaki’s presence in ancient Greece. It’s where I managed to pick up so much information about your country.”
“And since you can read both languages…”
“Speed read,” Brigid returned. “Whatever I hadn’t read through in the past, I’ve been checking out since yesterday morning while sitting in the tub.” Brigid casually gestured over toward the therapy tub and the two stacks of books next to it.
“You’re that anxious about your friends,” Diana said.
“I’m that obvious?”
The queen of New Olympus chuckled. “It kills me that I can’t go out as a commander anymore in the field. The first few days stuck running this place, even with Ari’s help, I was getting ready to chew my own leg off to escape this trap.”
“Looks like you succeeded,” Brigid noted.
Diana’s laugh was loud and long. “Aristotle’s about the only one who rides me and jokes about me anymore. I needed that.”
“I figured. I’ve been watching and seeing how uncomfortable you are with all the adulation,” Brigid said.
“And despite everything, I can’t really order them to stop,” Diana added. “They need someone to fight for. A standard to live up to. Which hurts, because I used to lead from the front.”
“And you’re looking for me to give you a means to feel like one of the boys again?” Brigid asked.
Diana shrugged. “Maybe.”
Brigid nodded.
“It’s hard to explain…I thought, maybe since we share a similar background…”
“You want to feel like you’re doing actual work,” Brigid said. “And you’ve been wired to feel like administration and being the leader isn’t sufficient employment for you.”
“Yes,” Diana said. “I mean, I hardly get time to rest, but…”
“Do you have a cabinet, through which you can free up time?” Brigid asked.
Diana tilted her head. “A cabinet?”
“Maybe even make it more democratic, or representative. That might give you room so that you’re not overstressed, but you’re also not slacking in leadership. You and Aristotle are in charge. You want to engage in activity that may threaten the continuity of government. But, if you have someone to fill in, so there is no chaos should something happen…”
“I get back to being Diana, warrior queen,” she replied.
“Technically, Hera,” Brigid responded. “The inertia of recent history and the logic of Greek mythology do dictate that Zeus and Hera must sit atop the throne of New Olympus.”
“Except Ari isn’t much like Zeus. No sprinkling down into town as gold dust or mating with women as a swan,” Diana added.
“You’d prefer that?” Brigid asked.
Diana shook her head. “No. But, hey, Zeus got to spend time away from the halls of the Pantheon. Why can’t Hera be like that?”
“There is no reason you should allow yourself to be marginalized,” Brigid returned.
The armrest on her chair beeped. “Hey, Di.”
“Fast.” Diana greeted her mechanic, Hephaestus. “Word on the Manta?”
“Yup. We managed to rig together a cowling,” the top technician said over the radio. “Any time that Ms. Baptiste needs, she can hop in and get moving.”
“That much is a relief,” Brigid admitted. “Can I come down and see her?”
“Sure, if you have the time,” Fast answered.
“Give me fifteen and I’ll be right there,” Brigid said. “Your Majesty…”
“Go. You’ve been idling around here long enough,” Diana told her.
* * *
THE SUN HAD risen a half hour earlier and, judging by the distance Grant and Kane had “jumped” with the interphaser, it still would not be the break of dawn for Brigid and New Olympus for another several minutes. This wasn’t much of a concern, at least for the two men, because they had managed to get snippets of rest.
Whereas they had sent Domi and the others along in a stealthy fashion, neither Grant nor Kane was actively trying to avoid patrols or detection. They continued their steady approach to the site of the “missing” parallax point, obviously armed and wearing their shadow suits.
The full capabilities of Vanth and Charun were unknown, but they hoped to provide CAT Beta with as much obfuscation as they could. They were the bait, the lamb in the trap to draw in a lion. So far, they’d pulled in enough attention in the form of a cyclops, but at this point, they were not certain of exactly how much they were facing.
They had managed to outpace the monstrosity left behind, so that gave them some feeling that they’d distracted the demigods so far. During the night, Grant informed Kane that birds were flying overhead, sweeping past their position as they’d encamped. Neither man needed nor wanted a fire in the dark, thanks to the environmental features of the high-tech shadow suits.
Even so, they built a small fire just to make themselves easier to find.
Now Kane could see, in the distance, a group of people walking along the road. They had torches, still lit in the morning gloom. Grant picked up on them, as well, and the big man flicked off the safety on his shotgun, just in case.
“I count eight,” Grant stated.
Kane nodded in agreement. “And they’re armed.”
“Not quite a band of coldbloods, though,” Grant added. “It’s a mix of long arms and really sharp farm implements.”
“Cover me. I’ll try to talk to them,” Kane said.
Grant glanced at his friend. “Well, we are hanging our asses out here for Charun and Vanth to grab.”
Grant took cover behind the trunk of a thick tree. Part of what gave Kane hope was that the less-lethal shotgun slugs would fly far and true, unlike conventional shot, which would disperse and lose power over even thirty yards. From his standpoint, Grant could easily snipe any of the gunmen should things grow dangerous.
Kane slung his shotgun. If necessary, the Sin Eater on his forearm would flash into his palm, but as there was very little in terms of less-lethal ammunition for the Magistrate’s signature side arm, he would only use it as a last resort. The day he couldn’t protect himself from a group of farmers, especially ones under mind control, was the day he felt he’d have to hang up his shadow suit.
It was a mix of men and women, but there was no division among the sexes for the weapons they bore. There were only two torches among them, and already, having cleared the canopy of the forest, the bearers were dousing them in the dirt, grinding them out and smothering them. Later tonight, if they were still on patrol, then they’d be relit, but for now, they were annoyances.
The group locked eyes on him; sixteen orbs drained of color and vitality, with a milky appearance that glimmered in the sunrise, all aimed toward him like the sickly pustules. Kane swallowed, shaking off the unease at the slack, emotionless faces those blank orbs resided in.
Definitely under control, Kane thought. He wondered what kind of response he would get, burying the niggling fear of the “uncanny valley” before him. The people were absolutely normal in appearance, except they didn’t act, didn’t have emotion. This produced a kind of fear in most people, known as the uncanny valley. The closer to human an artificial entity appeared, the more disturbing it was. Every instinct in Kane informed him that these were not humans, more like something that wore people the way he wore clothing.
Though not a single gun was leveled at Kane, those eyes dug at him, relentless drills of eerie, silent inhumanity. He made certain the Commtact was set to Italian translation and spoke. He was glad for the fear, because fear produced adrenaline, and adrenaline not
only boosted blood flow and reaction time, it also sharpened senses and made thought clearer. If they truly were a deadly threat, then he could explode into instantaneous action.
“I am Kane, of Cerberus Redoubt,” he announced.
The faces were unchanged in response to his statement, but the person closest to him, a pallid woman with black curls spilling down to her shoulders, began speaking.
“Welcome to my land.”
Kane’s nose twitched as she spoke clear, perfect English without the necessity of the translation matrix. Her voice, however, was deep, resonant. The black-haired woman was far too wispy for such a tone of voice. Of course, the reverberation and tone were very close to the words of an Annunaki overlord, something that seemed projected across multiple wavelengths.
That made Kane all the more on edge, especially for the fact that the demigods were very much like the godlings he had been battling since the arrival of Tiamat and the evolution of the hybrid barons into their true forms.
“We come in peace,” Kane offered, fighting off the thrash of thoughts suddenly racing through his mind. Thinking ahead, or solving mysteries, was one thing he could do, but not when he was within arm’s length of a group of potential opponents.
The woman nodded. “And yet, you come knowing that something is wrong. Or do you merely come to retrieve your aircraft?”
“A little of both,” Kane answered truthfully, frustrated that there was no emotional reaction to let him know what was going on behind those pale eggs that were supposed to be her eyes. “We came armed, because this is a dangerous world.”
“As we are armed, as well,” the woman told him.
No movement. No coughs. No shuffling of feet. Right now, the eight people were as motionless as statues, save for the lips of their spokeswoman. Any change only came when Kane shifted his own weight from foot to foot, because even without the black spots of pupils in their eyes, he could feel their eyes follow his motion. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about giants in the area, would you?”
