by Alma Boykin
“Kssst, Sergeant Weber, if you’re in there, get your Teutonic ass out here,” she hissed.
A familiar voice called back, “Who the fuck is that?”
“Manx One,” and at that reassurance the Germans emerged. Mikitori pointed out the trip beam, and the soldiers very carefully stepped over it. Weber and a corporal stopped long enough to grab the Vreenahlwee’s blasters and ammo before the much larger unit hurried away to find cover and compare notes. One of Lee’s scouts had noticed a dark opening and led the group that way. It proved to be a chamber off a side tunnel, out of easy sight from the main passageway. Once everyone was in, Rada took a post at the door, listening and watching for pursuit, while the humans sorted themselves out. Weber and most of the other GDF people spoke fluent English, freeing Rachel from the task of translating.
She took the opportunity to hit the update stud on her armor’s mapping system. It would help them get back out if they left the main passage, since they didn’t exactly have chalk or breadcrumbs to follow. Or microtransmitter dots, or holosigns, or map implants, or—
Weber interrupted her list. “How’d you end up here, ma’am?” he asked, joining her at the passage.
“Got cut off after an idiot pulled me off my primary duty. You?”
The brown-haired German shook his head. “We were en route to reinforce the field headquarters when we got caught and hauled down into this hole. What’s the situation?”
Rada took a deep breath to start answering, then listened carefully. She heard scuffing and motioned for silence. She ducked and crept forward silently, the low-light portion of her monocle on full. Two more Vreenahlwee warriors moved down the main passage, coming from the direction of the entrance. She hesitated for a heartbeat, then drew her sidearm and clicked it to three-quarters power. She eased even closer and heard Wolf’s intake of breath as he guessed what she was doing. The woman sighted carefully and fired. Her monocle blacked, then cleared, and she bared her teeth at the two dead creatures. Weber slipped up beside her and scavenged the creatures’ weapons. “No, not the blades. Too dangerous,” she hissed and he withdrew with what he had. Rada dragged the bodies into a shadowed alcove before returning to her post.
“You heard that the German headquarters was destroyed in an attack?” she started.
“Shit, no! How many casualties?” Weber breathed, shocked at the news.
“Everyone who was there, from what I was briefed. Your medical officer took over command. The British came in and are on the western slope, evacuating every civilian they can find. The remnants of the German branch are to the east, backstopped by the Bundeswehr and some Americans, while the Polish branch is covering Berlin in case the city has to be evacuated,” Rada filled him in on what she knew. A hiss for attention called both warriors back to the cave.
The group had sorted itself out into two. Five of the German GDF personnel would return to the surface, meet up with the human forces, and pass on what the others had found. The reservists—now numbering twenty—and the German and British GDF people would pick up Lee’s mission. The two officers compared notes, and it turned out that Lieutenant Grauberg just barely outranked Lieutenant Marko Kinsky, who’s squad Weber belonged to. During a lull in the conversations Rada gave Wolf back his knife and his eyes lit up. “Where’d you find this?” That led to a quick return trip to finish clearing out the chamber where the Vreenahlwee had stored the captured human weapons. Now very well armed, the party started working deeper into the heavily modified mine. Well, at least their thermal-cutters left a nice, walkable route, Rada mused as they pushed on.
Meanwhile, as Rada, Sergeant Lee, and the Germans crept into the depths of the Harz mines, James McKendrick watched as Lieutenant Cluj crossed his fingers. The Serbian thought he’d found a way to break through the jamming enough to send data bursts, and he and Sergeant Ruiz had cobbled together a very small, but stout, transmitter. “Three, two, one,” and Sheep hit the switch. The lights inside the Brutus dimmed for a moment, then returned. “Baaaagh! We’re through!” Cluj exulted. He typed furiously, then waited. Almost instantly, a series of messages appeared on the computer screen, and the lieutenant set to work downloading them in case something went poof. Soon he turned the new device off. “I don’t want to let it go too long, sir, in case it overheats or the enemy tracks it,” Sheep explained around a large grin.
For the first time since he learned about losing Manx One, McKendrick felt as if things were looking up. “Very well done, Cluj! Very well done,” the Scotsman smiled.
“Thank you, sir.” The young man began decrypting the incoming messages. Fifteen minutes later, McKendrick looked at the updated map. The Austrians were starting to push in from the south, while the Germans and Poles had set up a cordon to the east and north and were slowly moving back toward the mountains. Ben David’s group had found an especially interesting, busy mine entrance, and he had sent Lee and several others in to see if they might have located the Vreenahlwee headquarters. So, our next objective is? General Joschka von Hohen-Drachenburg had sent a list of possibilities, all currently of equal value, leaving it for McKendrick to decide which to attempt and in what order. He cleaned his glasses, then returned to the map and thought about what he knew of the enemy’s strengths and supplies and his own. Several patrols reported that the armored Vreenahlwee tended to concentrate on the ridges, staying there unless absolutely forced onto lower ground. “Let’s start denying them that advantage,” McKendrick decided.
Far to the south, Joschka settled into the armored vehicle and tried not to shiver. After his last experience with convoys, he’d just as soon have ridden in the open turret hatch. That wasn’t an option and he knew it, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to be up there! Even walking would feel more comfortable. He told himself to stop fretting and get to business, turning his mind to things he had at least some control over. The situation had improved markedly over the past twenty-four hours, and he didn’t know quite what to think. The Vreenahlwee had pulled back and stopped patrolling outside the central highlands of the Harz. Their jamming continued, but the British and Poles both had found ways to punch through intermittently. It didn’t help as far as air resources were concerned, but it did make communications more reliable and regular. But why had the enemy pulled back?
It must be a trap was all he could think. They were luring the mammals into the mountains and would suddenly pour out and overwhelm the gathered forces, then probably head for the nearest population center to start collecting humans for fodder. That fit both Commander Ni Drako’s data and the Vreenahlwee’s behavior thus far. But despite his fears he couldn’t not pursue the enemy—a siege of the Harz was impossible with the forces available and without air superiority.
A radio message interrupted his speculations. “Sir? A report from the German Army,” the radio operator offered, handing Joschka the earpiece. The Graf-General listened, nodded, listened some more, gave an order, then sat back to process the new data. The British thought they had found an entrance to the Vreenahlwee headquarters, based on information from escaped German GDF soldiers. They were also detaching a group to join with some Bundeswehr commandos to infiltrate the enemy lines, attack the jamming transmitter, and recapture the Brocken communications node. The Germans concurred on the possible Vreenahlwee base location, and as a result were speeding up their plans to move into the areas east and west of the Brocken. Joschka summoned a mental map and tried moving his forces around in different configurations, thinking about their various weapons capabilities.
In the end, he decided to continue with what he’d already set in motion, although he added a warning to General Kohl, the Bundeswehr’s field commander, to remain prepared for a possible breakout and surge towards Berlin. Regaining air superiority—or any air support at all—probably should have been step two after evacuating the civilians, Joschka growled at himself. Then he’d have had the option of using some of those American ground-penetrating bombs, or even the Gehenna Protocol if need be
. Do you really want to be the third person on this planet to use nuclear weapons? his conscience inquired pointedly. No, but I’d rather that than explain why the population of Berlin was eaten. The HalfDragon sat back in his seat and wondered how all this had started. Well, that was for Helmut, Colonel Rahoul Khan, and the others at headquarters to sort out. Joschka’s task was the present, not the past.
Somewhere in the depths of the Harz Mountains, a group of humans plus one found a dry, fairly warm cave and settled in to rest. Their bodies needed to sleep, and the men shared out what provisions they had. Rada even sacrificed some of her precious jerky, wishing they could find some nice fat rats. Everyone drew cards for the shifts on watch, and she came up in the second batch.
“Sounds fine to me,” she said, noticing a side cavern that might afford some privacy. “And I need to get cleaned up, so if you’ll excuse me?” She was still wet from her discovery of the pond and she needed to dry off in places before things really started chafing. Plus, she wanted to get away from the humans for a moment.
No one fussed as she slipped off, although Lieutenant Kinsky watched suspiciously. He didn’t like caves, hated dealing with the unknown, and didn’t trust the heavily—and strangely—armed civilian. In fact, he’d decided to leave the GDF even before getting ambushed by three towering robot things and then locked in a lightless hole. That his sergeant and the reservists seemed inclined to listen to the so-called commander in preference to him didn’t help Kinsky’s mood.
Two of the German GDF men had been keeping an eye on the main passage while the others sorted the shifts on watch, and the first scheduled watch relieved them. One, a corporal, happened to walk back toward where Rada had wandered off, and he heard a strange noise, almost like something licking. “Sergeant, what’s that way?” and he pointed. Weber decided to have a little fun and suggested that he go check it out.
The corporal swiftly returned from his investigation. “There’s a great big black cat—I think it ate your advisor,” he told Weber in German, his eyes wide.
“Did you shoot it?”
“No. I didn’t want to attract attention,” the man said, drawing a sigh of relief from the sergeant.
“Corporal, what was the cat doing, exactly?” Weber asked, although he had a good idea.
The soldier relaxed a little since the sergeant wasn’t worried. “It was washing its nethers—had one back foot stuck into the air. Your advisor’s weapons belt, bag, jacket, clothes, and other things were scattered around it. When it saw me, it squeaked and trotted away.”
Weber started laughing quietly despite the seriousness of their position. The German corporal looked offended, and his sergeant made a placating gesture before explaining the report in English for the others’ benefit. The British sergeant and soldiers snickered. Wolfgang told his trooper, “Easy Fritz. You just surprised Commander Na Gael while she was taking a bath. Be glad she didn’t kick something at you or shriek into your head.”
Weber’s lieutenant froze, then turned to the men. “There is a giant cat also named Commander Na Gael?” he inquired in English.
“No sir,” Mackintosh corrected. “The cat is Commander Na Gael. She’s a werecat.”
Anything else he might have added was lost as the person in question, back in her customary shape and obviously irritated, walked around the corner and stopped a meter or two from where Kinsky stood. “What does a female have to do to get a little priv—” The sound of someone working the action on a pistol stopped her complaint, and Rada froze as Lieutenant Kinsky aimed his weapon at her head. “Problem?” she asked very quietly.
“Lieutenant, what are you doing?” Weber demanded, too startled to move.
“I’m eliminating a spy. You say that this creature is a werecat. That means it’s not human, in which case it has to be working for the Vreenahlwee.” He walked toward Rada, who didn’t move or try to respond. “What have you told them, bitch? Well?” He held the pistol to her head.
Rada stared at the wall of the mine and silently cursed. “Lieutenant, I’ve told no one anything. I work for the Defense Force, not the invaders.” Her steady, calm voice continued, “and I’ve been with you or Lieutenant Grauberg since we evacuated Seesen. Never alone, never around a Vreenahlwee.”
As she spoke, Weber, Lee, and Corporal Ford moved silently, coming up behind the officer. Rada didn’t seem to notice and neither did Kinsky. “I don’t believe you, Commander—or whatever you are.” His finger moved to the pistol’s trigger as he prepared to execute the xenology specialist.
As quick as thought, Rada dropped to the ground while Weber and Ford grabbed the officer, and Lee dragged her clear of the fracas. Kinsky fired but the shot went wild, bouncing off the mine ceiling to hit Sergeant Mackintosh. While the two NCOs grappled with Kinsky, Rada scrambled to get her hands on the British sergeant and stop any bleeding. A dull thud ended the struggle, and everyone looked over to see Weber shaking his head as he looked at the unconscious lieutenant. “Damn low ceilings. I told him to duck.” Lee, Mikitori, and a second British branch corporal stood between the alien and the rest of the soldiers, hands on weapons.
Mueller shrugged, went back to eating, and everyone else followed suit. The reservists had already decided that whatever or whoever she was, Commander Na Gael was on the side of the angels, at least for the moment, and several of the German GDF men knew of the alien by reputation. The few who entertained doubts decided that silence was the better part of valor.
But now Lieutenant Grauberg had a problem. He gestured to Lee, Na Gael, and Weber. “What are we going to do when he wakes up? It’s too dangerous to leave him alone, but I don’t trust him not to try again if things get tense.”
“Ah sir, I detailed Ford and Mikitori to keep an eye on Commander Na Gael. They’ll watch the lieutenant as well as the enemy,” Sergeant Lee offered.
Rada shrugged a little. “Forewarned is forearmed, Lieutenant. And I agree that we can’t leave him behind—unless he were to insist.”
The German considered his options. “Very well. Just watch him, and I’ll have him put under arrest once we finish and return to the surface.”
After Rada checked and ascertained that Kinsky would have a headache but nothing worse, she put him farther out. “He has third watch, anyway,” she sighed. She, Wolf Weber, and Tony Lee exchanged concerned looks but didn’t say anything more. This wasn’t the first time someone had tried to assassinate her, as the men well knew. Rada confirmed that Mackintosh had settled down for some rest, and yawned herself. “Right, I’m for a kip.” She curled up in an especially dark corner and was instantly asleep.
Weber frowned. “Is Manx One all right?” he asked Lee under his breath.
“I think so. She’s been incredibly focused and ‘hard’ since just after this started.” Lee rolled his head left and right, trying to loosen tight muscles. “Rumor has it that one of the staff officers has been giving her hell, but I don’t know specifics.”
Wolf grunted and found a piece of floor that looked a bit less hard than other spots, lay down, and tried to get some sleep himself.
When Rada woke for her watch, she gently deepened Lee and Weber and some of the others’ sleep, just enough so they could truly rest, but not so much that they’d have difficulty waking if need be. She relieved one of Grauberg’s men and took her post, then hung her helmet from her belt, freeing her ears for a while. The glue that held them on stung if she got too warm. Well, it’s not going to matter for much longer, she mused. She wasn’t going to kill herself or do anything stupid—she just didn’t see any point in trying especially hard to survive.
Four hours later, rested and sort of fed, the men moved forward again. Lieutenant Kinsky kept a wary eye on Rada, which she ignored. In turn, Ford and Mikitori discreetly watched him. Sergeant Mackintosh took over the job of sniffing in corners and side passages, and scored another batch of weapons for his efforts. Kinsky identified them as more from the GDF, which raised a number of disturbing possibilities in the
mammals’ minds. Rachel wondered if they would find any remains—and if they found parasitized GDF personnel, how she’d be able to grant mercy without getting killed by the others.
A shot and a clatter interrupted her spiral of depression as Mikitori grabbed her and hauled her back into a fold in the rock. Rada had her helmet back on and rifle at the ready, and she shook the corporal off and crept forward just in time to see a pitched battle start between the humans and a mob of Vreenahlwee, who were assisted by one in battle armor. The armored shape bent over, grabbing for Sergeant Mueller. Without thinking Rachel pushed the power selector on her rifle to “full,” knelt, and fired. The results were a little too good, and even the enemy ducked for cover at the sparking explosion as the suit’s power booster detonated. Several of the humans turned to stare at the source of the energy blast and she shrugged, resetting the weapon. “Problem?”
One of the Vreenahlwee recovered and attacked Johanssen, and the melee resumed. Mikitori and Ford realized that they couldn’t keep Rada out of the fray, and just watched her back as she picked off as many of the enemy as she could. Soon, a pattern developed as a wave of Vreenahlwee would surge forward, the humans would drive them back, and the tri-pedal creatures would retreat for a moment. Then it would begin again. Rada alternated between killing and healing, then concentrated on serving as medic. After fighting off at least four waves, Grauberg, Lee, Kinsky, and a lightly wounded Weber held a conference. Rada ignored it in favor of rotating fresh ammunition forward in her holsters and making sure the humans were all right. They’d lost a British corporal to a blaster shot, and several people were injured but still capable of moving and fighting.
The discussion ended with a furious Kinsky glaring at Grauberg, Lee, and Weber. His dark eyes snapped with anger, but he didn’t say anything. The reserve officer took off his helmet for a moment and ran a handkerchief over his sweaty, nearly bald head, then reset everything. “We let the next wave pass and continue on into the tunnel,” Grauberg informed the soldiers. A few of the men looked at Rada, who nodded her agreement. They pulled back and waited. Two minutes later a surge of purple swept up the corridor and kept going. Two armored warriors lumbered past without stopping, and the humans looked at each other.
