by Scott Moon
“Saying a thing doesn’t make it true,” Ace said.
“Please, Ace. I am trying to negotiate for Kevin’s life,” Amanda said in her best Miss Manners voice.
“Kevin’s too smart to get caught in that trap,” Ace said.
Cronin spread his massive hands. “There is truth in your brother’s confident words, Amanda-Margaret. I need do nothing.”
She turned to watch Kevin and the other soldiers. She crossed her arms, reaching up with one hand to wipe a tear from one eye, then the other. “Come on, Kevin,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
The Nix warrior moved close, casting a shadow over her with the intensity of his presence. She could see the big alien anywhere he went, she thought. His void-galaxy eyes and the glowing seams to his armor were unique, he claimed. They had become linked the first day he stole her from the Siren party who had stolen her and Ace from home.
The Nix was open to her without knowing how much she could see and know. Despite their bond, she could not love this fierce creature. His kind were death to humanity unless the Sirens brought them under control.
“You terrify me, Cronin.”
“Good. It is my purpose to terrify enemies of the Nix.”
“And enemies of the Siren,” she said, knowing the words would send him into a rage. Maybe he would draw the attention of the Rock Trolls or the humans and be forced to take action.
Her plan worked even as it failed.
Cronin snatched Ace up, squeezed him almost to death, and dashed into the hills.
Amanda was the fastest of the Connelly family, although she doubted she could sustain the chase for as long as Cronin.
I am sorry, Kevin. Ace needs me now. She raced after the fearsome alien roughly carrying her twin.
32
Siren Pursuit
HELL had a way of lasting forever. As artillery bombardments went, Kevin thought this must be the worst in history. The concussion of a near hit slammed him up the hill despite the weight of his armor. It was like being hurled into the air, but with the indignity of getting kicked in the face halfway to the top. Impact buffers redlined. By the time he opened his eyes and breathed, he was rolling into a newly formed crater.
Landing on his face and getting smashed was growing old. Without armor, he would have died three times already, and he hadn’t fired a shot in anger.
Msg:SSgtDavis:Turn-on-your-radio-receiver:Soonest.
Kevin shook his head, opened and closed his mouth inside of his helmet, and tried to make his ears pop. He thought his ears would ring forever, which was going to be really annoying. With dreamlike slowness, he mentally wrestled the steps to activate his radio link. He felt like his brain had been kicked around inside of his head like a European football.
“God damn. It’s about time, K. C.,” Davis boomed. “I am fifty meters to your right. Is your team alive?”
Dazed, he glanced around until he located Chaf and Edwards. “Roger that.”
“Fantastic. I have eyes on Siren and Nix units possibly making a supply drop to the DU / Void Troll Alliance. We will investigate. Play your cards right and we might snatch one of the Sirens. Get some answers about your twins.”
Kevin fought down emotion. Random scenes of his family and military training intermingled in rapid, overlapping succession. He hadn’t realized his sergeant even knew he was looking for his siblings among the Siren assholes. Or had he?
Spots swarmed his vision. His head hurt. He didn’t remember puking but thought he must have. The salty taste of blood ran over his upper lip, down from his nose — battle candy, Corporal McCraw had called it.
“I am closer this time, so catch up,” Davis said.
Thinking his boss sounded old, Kevin rallied his team and gave chase. “Chaf, how are you doing?”
“Hanging in there, Kev,” Chafalote said. “Couple of minor injuries. Lot of blood in my helmet. Can’t decide where it is coming from.” He panted as he ran. “Feel good, actually.”
“Edwards?” Kevin asked, realizing his armor had ran out of pain medication.
“Good, Kev. Are you going to get us killed?”
“No.”
“Fantastic. No blood in my helmet, because I am a better marine than Chaf.”
Kevin laughed through his building excitement and swirling exhaustion. “That’s funny, but let’s stick to business. Davis wants us to nab prisoners.”
“A Siren or a Nix?” Edwards asked, barely sounding out of breath as he ran. There was a rhythmic bumping of his helmet communication, but little else. He had his radio settings adjusted like a pro.
“I’d prefer taking a Siren,” Kevin said.
A hundred and fifty meters ahead, Davis and four marines — the medic and communication corporal were still with him — changed the mission again.
“K. C., I know this means a lot to you, but duty calls. When you reach the top of that hill, you will see what I mean. Goddamn it, I hate when I am right. Fucking Nix bastards,” Davis said.
Kevin slowed his stride and approached his assigned position. “Chaf, Davis — let’s low crawl to the summit and look over. If whatever is on the other side doesn’t see us, we will have options on how to proceed.”
“Okay, Kev,” Chaf said.
Edwards nodded and took the lead, moving with surprising confidence. For the kid they all teased in training and during the transport to Brookhaven, he was proving to be a natural on the ground. He made everything look easy now that he wasn’t following Chaf like a scared little brother.
Kevin wondered what had changed, wondered why Chaf now seemed to follow Edwards. The role reversal confused Kevin at a time when he wanted to find a Siren to capture.
He crawled, checking in with Davis on the way and reviewing text messages and number codes sent to the entire company, details that kept the overall mission from going sideways as battlefield conditions changed. None of the terrain was steep in this area. With such a gentle slope, it took a long time to belly-crawl to the summit. His armor gouged a crazy snake path in the short, soft grass.
At the top, he peered over on a scene that made him curse like Arthur on a bad day. Hopes of snatching a Siren slipped away.
About four dozen Nix warriors herding Void Trolls from a landing craft larger than anything Kevin had ever seen in life or on training videos. Dissident Union officers took control devices from the Nix and drove the mob of hard-faced, alien giants as though they were actual soldiers — really big, dangerous soldiers.
“K. C., report in,” Davis said.
Kevin gave a detailed count as he saw it and listed terrain and equipment factors.
“That’s about what I am seeing from my hill,” Davis said. “Void Trolls are solitary creatures. The reason they are so violent when used this way is that they drive each other crazy. Only the Nix could herd this many together. Damn, I hate those freaks.”
“Where did the Sirens go?” Kevin asked. “And the trolls I see are organized into squads, or some kind of controlling unit.”
Davis pointed with an infrared target indicator Kevin could see using his helmet visor.
“The Sirens still think they have control. This could go badly for them,” Davis said.
Kevin watched until he saw the Sirens. Clenching his jaw, he compared their regal bearing and battle armor to what he remembered from the Greater Kansas City street. Memories of Ace and Amanda threatened to overwhelm him.
As armor went, the Sirens looked lightweight, almost ornamental. Even from this distance, he could see or sense something different about their gear, something that made them far more dangerous that their slim forms appeared next to the monstrous battle ready Nix. Long, densely braided hair hung to their waists. They stood like a procession of queens as the leader pointed at the Nix and the Void Trolls the Nix were delivering to the DU.
For a moment, the vast panoramic scene paused with disturbing completeness. Something was wrong with the landscape. Flicking his vision across groves of trees lining the near side
of the river delta, his stomach quivered with nausea — and he hadn’t puked once during the entire space flight to Brookhaven, and may or may not have lost his lunch during battle.
“Are you seeing this?” Edwards asked.
Kevin yanked his attention back to the Siren versus Nix showdown.
The universe seemed to grind to a halt as the fate of an alien race balanced on a precipice. The Nix almost submitted to their Siren masters. One started to kneel. All of them lowered gazes and released weapons.
The smallest and youngest of the Nix lunged forward, driving a sword into the face of the Siren standing next to the leader of the Siren delegation.
Chaos exploded across the scene.
The Void Trolls swarmed from the transport, obscuring Kevin’s view of the Siren versus Nix showdown. Dissident Union officers drove their battle slaves toward the SMC control zones at a run.
“That is a lot of Void Trolls,” Chaf said, his voice quiet with awe.
“Goddamn Nix!” Davis cursed.
Lovejoy overrode the squad links and gave clear, stern orders like an officer who understood he was about to lose control of his squad. His voice, hard as it was, felt distant and obscured by static.
“Move back to the rally point to link up with the main SMC battle line,” Davis ordered.
“You heard him,” Kevin said, but when he led the team, he veered as wide as he could and still be en route to the rally point.
“What are we doing, Kev?” Chafalote asked.
“Following orders,” Kevin said. “But also grabbing a Siren.” He watched three surviving Sirens flee a dozen Nix fighters, angling away from the chaos on a path parallel to Kevin’s movement, give or take a few hundred meters.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Edwards said.
“Listen to him, Kev.” Chafalote ran next to him, tension venting from him like his armor was full of the invisible, untouchable non-substance.
Kevin was glad his friends couldn’t see his face as tears of frustration streamed down his cheeks. He thought of Ace and Amanda and throwing away all that he had worked for in the SMC. Voices barked urgent commands and updates over the Battalion Command Link. He allowed his armor computer to cycle priority messages rather than synchronize to his squad leader and fire team as normal. Micro-text scrolled in the boundaries of his vision, easily ignored but a constant reminder of how busy and convoluted the battlefield had become in a short time.
The icon of Ruby McGuire’s unit caught his attention. For some unexplainable reason, he felt a pang of guilt that her unit was in the wrong place. Nothing he had done or would do could affect her squad leader’s incompetence. Arthur’s face shadowed his thoughts like a ghost, weighing down Kevin with irrational guilt. He thought, but didn’t vocalize, a nearly forgotten prayer that Ruby would be all right.
Void Trolls surged forward in growing mobs of violence, giants that endured concentrated small arms fire as they smashed armored soldiers aside like toys. His platoon raced around the worst of the conflict to get in position on the defensive line. Modern infantry soldiers were expected to cover a lot of ground during even the hottest fighting.
Davis, running with the larger fire team of the squad, traveled a greater distance than the rest of Lovejoy’s platoon. Kevin and his friends traveled twice as far as that, grabbing at the heels of three Sirens. From time to time, he saw the Nix on a parallel intercept course. Fear exploded in his spine, surging into his brain with a euphoric effect.
The Nix would kill him and his team. He could see the rage and determination in their expressions from a quarter mile away.
“I can run ahead and try to grab one of these Sirens,” Edwards said. “Then we can get back to our unit.”
Kevin cursed. He knew Edwards was fast enough to do it — catch the alien child-stealers at least. “No, stay together. We are out on a limb here.”
“That… is… the truth,” Chafalote panted through the radio.
“Stay sharp. I am getting a lot of reconnaissance information that will help with our defensive line,” Kevin said.
“If we ever get back to the line,” Edwards said. “Let me grab one of these freaks so we can be done with this crap.”
“No,” Kevin said. “Stay together. We are going to take a prisoner and still do our job.”
“I can’t go any faster, K. C.,” Chafalote said.
“I need you when the fight starts. We stay together.” Kevin swallowed hard. He would fail his brother and sister and his unit.
Priority messages alerted every unit in the Marauder Division. Msg:Void-Trolls-breaking-through: hold-the-line.Command Authority:highest.
Kevin turned the fire team toward Davis and the rest of the squad. “We are coming in.”
“Roger that. About fucking time,” Davis said.
33
Face to Face
LOVEJOY pulled 1st Platoon together as Davis led the squad through a thousand square meters of Void Troll controlled hell. The monsters were in such a frenzy that even their DU officers had left the sector, preferring to command from hastily dug fortified trenches facing the Marauder line. Giants killed anyone they caught, smashing them against the gentle hills until bloody divots scarred the landscape. Shooting dying victims and corpses wasn’t uncommon. Kevin saw one troll peel a man out of his armor, grab him by legs and shoulders, and rip him in half.
Blood sprayed in silhouette against the darkening sky. Another of the monsters held two rifles, one in each hand, and fired at Kevin’s team on the defensive line.
Kevin and his friends ducked lethargically. It had been a long day.
Night lasted forever. The assault never stopped. Void Trolls, it seemed, were immune to hunger or fatigue.
Lovejoy moved behind Kevin’s position and kneeled close. “How are you holding up?”
“I am keeping my fire team on the recommended nutrition schedule and rotating one out for sleep three times an hour,” Kevin said.
“Are you in that sleep rotation?” Lovejoy asked.
“Not the last time. But I have slept.”
“Take your turn or I will write you up. Good work, K. C.” Lovejoy patted him on the shoulder and moved down the line.
Kevin felt the weight of enormous guilt.
Lovejoy stopped and spoke without looking back. “You are doing good work now. You were not earlier. Are we clear on that point?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You have a girlfriend from GKC named McGuire?” Lovejoy asked.
“My brother’s girl, sir.”
Lovejoy laughed in surprise. “Sorry, I bet that’s a touchy subject. I had a brother once, so I know.” He paused. “She claims she was responsible for the gap in our formation that allowed the Void Trolls to penetrate our defenses. I tried to tell her it was your fault, and you know what? She proved redheads really are the angry type.”
Kevin opened his mouth to speak several times. No words came.
“Davis took a crack at responsibility as well, which I could believe if I hadn’t seen what you were doing with my own eyes,” Lovejoy said. “Your boss will keep you on a shorter leash from now on.”
The lieutenant waited for a response, received none, and moved away without another word.
Kevin stared at the ground. The Earth-like but still strange alien grass was trampled flat. Hundreds of armored feet had been this way as the lines shifted. Trenches didn’t take long to excavate with modern tools. The engineers had little else to do until the area was secure.
To a young private who had made a mistake that cost lives, the accusatory patch of trampled ground seemed flattened by Lovejoy’s judgment and disappointment. He should have heard the admonitions of Arthur or his parents, perhaps a sneer from Grandfather O’Donnell Connelly, but all he could see were Amanda’s tears in a dream.
The odd thing was that she was running, chasing something with Connelly determination as her endurance failed.
He checked his fire team and reported his readiness up th
e chain of command, then toured the line of a freshly cut trench. Stepping onto the other side, exposing himself to danger felt like penance. Opening his helmet visor allowed the fresh evening air of Brookhaven to cleanse his senses. Someone with authority had paused the bombardment and the scorched earth lay in another direction.
Something moved closer to the line, something trying not to be seen. He prepared to sound the alarm with the activation of a screen icon that would be available for use once he shut the visor. Seconds passed. His heart rate increased. The figure coming toward him was a Siren.
He had no doubt.
I need to talk to it.
Taking one of the beautiful aliens captive had proved impossible. Words flooded into his mind. He had a thousand questions and demands.
“Kev, are you out there?” Chaf asked.
Kevin didn’t answer; better not to get his friend involved in something that would probably go horribly wrong. Guilt from his earlier irresponsibility nagged, but he lowered himself into the shadows of the bulwarks fortifying the trench.
“Come on, Kev, I saw you hop out of the trench,” Chaf said, looking in the wrong place because Kevin was on the move.
“Is that Connelly?” Edwards asked. “That guy has no fear.” The tone of his voice bordered on hero worship, something new that hadn’t been there the day before.
Kevin moved toward the Siren but stayed in the shadow of the defensive works of the Marauder line. He didn’t want to be seen by anyone from the SMC or the DU commandos hiding in the night. The Siren moved sinuously closer, looking like a dream of a shadow in the moon light.
“You are Kevin Connelly,” she said, voice strange and darkly musical.
He wanted to remove his helmet and walk toward her.
“Come to me, Kevin,” she said.
“How do you know my name?”
“Is that not what your friends call you?” she asked.
Kevin watched her as he thought about it. No, they don’t. Not often. He wanted to take a step back. All he could manage was to close his visor.
