The Parabiont Invasion Book 3

by Y. J. Gendron

He realized it was true and shook his head. “Sorry.”

  “So how does it work?”

  He gestured at the glittering decagonal machines. “It’s kind of complicated.”

  “Give me the short version.”

  He nodded, somewhat taken by her peevish expression. “The Snyl use a complex form of communication to coordinate their existence. They are but one mind, a collective entity dependent on a main nexus to govern their existence. Disrupt this nexus and they lose coherence, becoming scattered and leaderless.”

  “And brain waves will do that?”

  There was a brief hesitation before he nodded. “That’s what we hope. The disruptor will harness our brain waves and store them in this matrix. Then, using the most powerful Artificial Intelligence on the planet, we will write a new set of rules for the Snyl. The energy we have right here,” he touched his head. “is what makes us different from them. We each have an individual, separate, unique brain that processes data continuously. That is our advantage over them. We will wield this power to disrupt the Snyl and achieve our goal.”

  “To stop the invasion.”

  Eklan turned from the screens. There was a pleased expression on his face. “That is correct, Miss McKenzie.”

  Beatrice froze, stunned by the sight.

  For a fraction of a second, she could have sworn seeing Asher’s distinctive grin on the Amilaki’s features.

  But that was impossible.

  Wasn’t it?

  “There you go, good as new.”

  Beatrice sat back from the edge of her cot. Foxy stirred up from her prone position and shook her head from side to side, flinging away any remaining hairs that weren’t still attached to her skin. She licked her right foreleg a few times, then did the same with the other. Beatrice watched the maneuver with a knowing smile. Satisfied that the Sheltie was now groomed and somewhat presentable, she set the brush aside and made herself comfortable. Using a pillow to soften the wall behind her, she stretched out on the cot, at once tired from the day’s tribulations.

  It was late night and she ought to be sleeping but the encounter with Eklan still played in her mind, like a video on endless repeat. Had she imagined it all? Was Asher still in there, deep inside the Amilaki’s consciousness? Or where the two beings so intertwined that Eklan’s quirks and nonverbal expressions somehow mirrored Asher’s?

  Asalak had told her it was highly improbable, that Asher’s mind had been too damaged; yet her instinct said otherwise.

  There was a nudge to her right wrist. With familiar ease she raised her arm to allow Foxy access to her lap. The dog settled into place and fell asleep. Foxy’s snores soon turned into an impossible-to-resist lullaby and Beatrice found herself drifting into slumber, her eyelids at once weighted down by weariness.

  She closed her eyes.

  A voice hissed in the silence, barely discernible. Still groggy, she scanned the room for the source, not really alarmed by the disturbance.

  That’s when she noticed a shadow crossing behind the frosted pane of glass, the one set inside the room’s door. She gently rolled Foxy aside then got up. With outmost care not to make any sound, she pulled the door open, keeping it ajar just wide enough for her to peek through. She glanced down the hallway. Two soldiers were slowly walking away, their footsteps surprisingly subdued in the quietness of the night. Beatrice recognized one of the figures at once.

  “Paige?” She called, keeping her voice low.

  Twenty feet away, the soldier stopped. There was a moment of hesitation than the shadowy form slowly turned around.

  Paige Hillcox lifted her right hand and gave a little wave. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

  Taken aback by the blunt response, Beatrice called back, “Everything okay?”

  Paige nodded and gave another small wave. Then with one quick spin, she walked away, vanishing in the gloom at the far end of the hallway.

  Beatrice watched her go, confounded by her behavior.

  What’s gotten into her?

  She locked the door and eased back into bed, troubled by Paige’s dismissal.

  But as she yielded to sleep once again, it was the other soldier’s conduct that bugged her the most.

  For the man had never bothered to turn, remaining perfectly stock-still.

  9 Normalcy

  Corporal Paige Hillcox stared at the sun as it began its daily climb into the sky, a row of grayish-white clouds creeping along on its own itinerary. The first phase of their mission had gone as planned. They had returned late to the base, which had allowed them to evade any inquisitive questioning from the other soldiers. Only the guard on duty had asked about ‘their day’ and ‘how it had went’ but Paige had casually walked by, leaving him behind without a second glance.

  The morning was exceptionally quiet, with only the bird calls to disrupt its stillness. It was time for phase two. Their objective was out in the courtyard, just a grenade lob away. Hillcox indicated the shed to her companion. Kyle De Rozan nodded. Making sure the perimeter was clear, they approached the steel-clad enclosure with caution. There was a device positioned over the entrance. A security cam. Hillcox gripped a palm-sized object from her jacket and aimed it at the door. There was a burst of red light. She waited a second then made her way to the door. Picking out an ID card, she flashed it to a control panel that had been fastened to the wall. The panel’s color changed from red to green and the door popped open.

  The shed was a basic structure, with the one main door and a roll-up one for deliveries via pallets. There were no windows and the construction was anchored in place with oversized bolts, drilled directly into a foot thick concrete slab. Flicking the light on, she strolled without hesitation to the rear, to where the heavier weapons were stored.

  Two large carbon-fiber cases were fastened to the wall with a set of tie-downs, the only objects in the shed with such a special disposition. De Rozan gripped the straps with an assured hand and thumbed the release switch. Hillcox stepped over to the case and popped the latches holding the cover in place. There was a sound of air escaping, then, satisfied that she could proceed, she set the cover aside to expose the contents.

  The GS-777 RPG-7 launcher was an older model but it would do the job nicely. All they needed now was the grenades themselves. Turning to the second case leaning against the wall, she let the Private remove the fasteners. Half a minute later, she gripped one of the grenades from the lined interior. There were six grenades in the case.

  Plenty enough.

  De Rozan set his weapon aside and grabbed the launcher. It was lighter than it looked though he kept the observation to himself.

  The Corporal snapped the grenade into the launcher then stuffed two others inside her backpack. She felt the added weight dig into her shoulders but it wasn’t of consequence. De Rozan scanned the contents of the shelves, making his way toward the front door. There was a lot of stuff they could use. But they needed to be nimble. So, they had forego the use of claymores and other heavy ordnance, less advantageous in a raid-type operation. Along with their rifles, they each had a handgun, along with a belt of clips, a helmet, body armor, kevlar-plated gloves, combat pants with reinforced knee pads and assault boots.

  They were ready.

  Hillcox went to the door and looked outside. The way was clear so she exited the shed and hurried over to the other structure, 20 yards out. De Rozan followed, his equipment making a clicking noise as he jogged over to where she waited. Pointing with her M16, she gestured at the main building. There was a path leading out to a service entrance at the back of the building. Hillcox knew this entrance was used by the Amilaki traitors; and by those misguided enough to give them a hand. If they could make their way to that entrance without being spotted, their mission would have a greater chance of success.

  She waited for the Private to catch his breath then sprinted off.

  Legs pumping, she hustled up the hill that fenced off the courtyard and crossed over to a row of tall hedges. Hidden from sight, she allowed
herself a moment to breathe. From behind the hedges, the entrance was just a baseball throw away. She waved at De Rozan and a moment later he joined her, putting a knee down to the ground.

  All they needed to do now was to go back inside the building.

  There was a squeaking noise and the service door creaked open. Hillcox raised her weapon and peered in the scope to better make out what was going on.

  A woman with a pale complexion, a long coat and a mane of fiery red hair was holding the door open. Her name popped inside the Corporal’s head. Beatrice. The soldier hesitated for a second then immobilized the dancing crosshairs on her, aiming for the forehead. She slid her forefinger to the trigger.

  The woman in the doorway turned on her heels and vanished back inside, the door closing automatically with a sharp bang.

  Hillcox eased her finger away from the trigger. She glanced at De Rozan. The Private looked as annoyed as she was but nevertheless kept his position.

  The oversized steel door opened again.

  There was a flash of sable and white and an animal streaked outside, zooming over the ground with a burst of speed. The dog spun around in a wide circle a couple of times, its tail wagging with unbound enthusiasm as it found interesting scents.

  Hillcox brought her weapon up.

  The crosshairs darted left and right, up and down as she worked to keep the cavorting dog in sight.

  The door opened again.

  Hillcox pivoted sideways, changing the target in her sight. The woman from before stepped outside, accompanied by another young person. They walked slowly away from the entrance, coming to a standstill near a knee-high concrete border that delimited the courtyard from the forested area beyond.

  From her vantage point, the woman was partially hidden behind the youth, so Hillcox changed target. In the sight of her rifle, the kid’s skin blemishes and rare beard hair popped into view, as sharp as a high resolution image.

  Her finger found the trigger and she calmed her breathing, settling into the firing position.

  There was a loud bark, right in her ear, about six feet away. Jerking her head up to look over the hedge, she noticed the dog staring straight at her.

  “Foxy!”

  The voice exploded in the air like a firecracker.

  Hillcox turned her head back to the two humans. She realized they were coming her way and with a short nod to De Rozan, she plowed through the bushes with one swift lunge. The dog’s barks rattled in the air like a machine gun, the woof-woof-woof’s an uninterrupted barrage of noise. She aimed her weapon and fired. The bullets tore the ground between the animal’s front paws, throwing dark clouds of dirt in the air. There was a yelp of pain followed by a piercing shriek.

  The dog stopped moving.

  Hillcox levelled her weapon.

  “Paige!”

  The call hit Hillcox at full blast. Her finger froze. She turned to the woman rushing forward.

  “What are you doing for God’s sakes?” Beatrice screamed, eyes wide in terror.

  Noah came forward, a look of fear and incomprehension in his eyes. De Rozan burst into the open and using the butt end of the launcher, smashed it over the kid’s skull. Noah crumpled like a rag doll, unconscious. Beatrice gaped in horror at the Private. Shocked, she scooted over to the teen and knelt down beside him. There was an ugly gash on his head, a long jagged line that cut across his scalp. Blood flowed down the side of his face, pooling on the hardened ground. She removed her scarf and dabbed away the blood, then, in one quick gesture, wrapped the length of fabric around the wound. Her eyes fell to Foxy lying immobile on the ground. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She turned to Hillcox. The Corporal had her weapon aimed straight at her.

  “Paige?” Beatrice said, the fear exploding in her chest. “What are you doing?”

  She saw the Corporal’s face twitch.

  Is she understanding what I’m saying?

  Hillcox motioned for her to get up, the weapon jerking upwards. Beatrice straightened, lifting her hands up in the air. De Rozan grabbed her left arm and pinned it to her back, hard. Beatrice felt a burst of pain in her shoulder. She stifled a cry and stared with defiance at the Private. The young man gazed back at her with no outward emotion.

  “Kyle! My God! It’s me! It’s Beatrice!”

  The Private shifted his gaze to the Corporal. There was a wordless exchange and Beatrice wondered what was going on. Then, as if in answer, De Rozan pushed her forward with a rough shove. She stumbled and almost fell but managed to stay upright.

  “What the hell are you doing? Why won’t you answer me?”

  There was no answer but instead she was urged forward again, with the same brutal shove as before. Gritting her teeth, she shot a glance at Foxy. The Sheltie lay on the ground, unmoving. She had no idea how badly hurt she was. The only positive thing was that she still breathed, her chest rising up and down with a regular, though way too fast, rhythm. Beatrice’s heart went out to her and to Noah. There was nothing she could do for them, not now. Paige and Kyle were acting without reason. It was terrifying because she had no idea what they would do next.

  But she had the sinking sensation that she was about to find out.

  “We got a visual.”

  Tebayi’s stare shifted from the high mountains ringing the horizon to the gloomy interior of the houseboat. She crossed the doorway, waited a second for her vision to adjust, then took position to Violet Blake’s left. The plump woman with the dark hair and inquisitive stare indicated the monitor propped on the kitchen table. “They have entered the premises.”

  Tebayi nodded. The drone’s visual acuity was pitiful but it was all they had time to cobble together from the available parts they’d managed to retrieve. She sighed. The primitiveness of the humans grated on her nerves. Why the Universe had not managed to wipe them out was a total mystery. They were either the luckiest species in existence, or they had some intangible power that she didn’t know about.

  Of course the planet they lived on had a lot to do with their survival. Earth was a miracle place. One of the few in the Cosmos.

  Though, she knew, a miracle, too, could die.

  The image flickered as the drone shifted position, tracking the two soldiers who had fallen in her hands.

  They were so easy to manipulate, these poor beings. Their minds were feeble things, prone to suggestion and so utterly devoid of self-preservation.

  Hillcox and De Rozan where her’s now to toy with, to use, to exploit.

  Asalak and his followers were on a path that would lead to the annihilation of the Amilaki.

  They had to be stopped.

  Once and for all.

  10 Raid

  Beatrice heard the heavy door slam shut behind her. De Rozan walked past, holding the launcher close to his chest. There was another shove from behind and she was pushed forward again. They were hugging the walls of the short corridor that led out from the rear entrance and over to the open space beyond. The common area was probably already busy with people getting ready for the day, unaware of the impending menace. She needed a way to warn them or she feared a bloodbath was at hand.

  The business end of the Corporal’s weapon inserted itself between her shoulder blades. She froze. Paige’s face came into view, a foot away from her left ear. She had a finger to her lips, the universal symbol to ‘keep your mouth shut’. Beatrice sensed the cold determination of the woman and automatically nodded in acknowledgement.

  There goes one idea.

  Prodded again, she hurried up the corridor, trying to both keep her cool and find a way to defuse the situation. They were only twenty feet away from where the corridor opened up to the common area. It was already a minor miracle nobody had come their way to go out for a cigarette or check on the weather. Already, a low hubbub could be heard, the sound of people saluting each other while they walked away to the other sections of the plant.

  The light changed, turning brighter.

  They were seconds away from the open ar
ea. On the right, the dormitory’s private rooms would occupy most of the space while on the left, rooms and other hallways would fill up the remaining square feet.

  Beatrice scanned the opposite wall.

  There was a fire alarm box near the corner, on the left side of the corridor.

  De Rozan maneuvered closer to her, his right arm a few inches away from her left shoulder.

  A voice, louder than the rest, at once rolled down the corridor. “You can’t be serious, that gear is older than my grandma!”

  The owner of the voice, a large man wearing a navy-blue baseball hat with ‘NY’ stitched in white letters, crossed the empty space from right to left and came to a standstill, right smack in the center of the corridor. The white of his eyes shone in the low light.

  “What the?”

  Hillcox’s weapon jerked sideways. With a sudden and explosive burst of speed, Beatrice elbowed the Corporal in the ribs. The detonation of the M16 in the enclosed space was like a nuclear explosion. The bullets struck the wall a few inches away from the man, the impacts projecting bits of concrete in the air. There was a confused cry from the soldier. Beatrice recognized him as he dropped to the ground.

  One of the guards.

  Kowalski.

  To her left, she sensed De Rozan move. Without warning, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled. Beatrice cried out in pain. Ten feet away, Kowalski looked up as Hillcox came closer to him, her weapon trained on his head.

  “Corporal Hillcox?”

  The soldier’s voice was full of confusion. Beatrice’s heart leapt up to him.

  Hillcox motioned for the soldier to get up. Kowalski obeyed, eyes shifting to De Rozan and Beatrice and back over to Hillcox.

  “What is this?” He called, clearly upset.

  For all answers, Hillcox lined up her rifle directly to his chest. The message was unequivocal and Kowalski froze, eyes wide in disbelief. The Corporal made a small gesture with her left hand, specifying he should turn around and face the other way. Kowalski spun around at once. In one smooth motion, Hillcox eased the M16 over to her shoulder and pulled out her handgun. A millisecond later, the Colt’s business end was glued to Kowalski’s head.