“Assemble to me,” Arclyss instructed, looking to his lieutenants once he was up and in the saddle, in command of all he surveyed. Of the mutant masses he commanded there were yet those of some intelligence; a few, even, that seemed nearly human. They called themselves the Forgotten, known by the rest of the world as the Scourge, and chief among them were Arclysses’ lieutenants. Sharp; well-spoken; keen eyes. Galfar watched them atop their own, shifting mounts, the rest crowded near, ready to begin what promised to be a bloodbath.
“I go first to parley,” Arclyss told them. “Hold your armies at the gates,” he said. “I ride alone.”
Galfar wondered if he might help in this, but in the end chose to withhold casting his offer of assistance. Likely as not his presence would carry no weight with the Fist. Quite the contrary, he suspected. It would likely precipitate the war he now feared could not be avoided. He did not want to be the catalyst.
“My liege,” one of his lieutenants protested. “I do not trust them.” His voice was strong above the slavering horde—the Forgotten, Galfar worked to think of them that way, to grant them a being and a purpose beyond that which he’d known his whole life. It was a nasty din that drowned out most all other sound. Arclyss intended to lead his forces to the edge of the Necrops and continue on alone, out onto the open plain to meet Cheops one-on-one.
“Nor I,” said their ebon leader, shimmering in his gold plated armor. “But we must follow precedent in this. They hold. They do not yet attack. This is no determined assault. It is a siege, by all appearances, and I must attempt to sway them.”
Galfar had already been to the peak of one of the internal structures, taken there by Arclyss and shown what gathered outside the city walls.
The Fist had returned. And, from Galfar’s estimations, it was most of them. Perhaps even with the addition of one of the closer, Northern tribes.
They’d most definitely come with one thing in mind.
**
“So his confidence is high?”
“He feels there’s a good chance the core objective will be achieved.”
General Peterson looked at his aide. A good chance. And men were going to die.
“We received a scheduled communiqué from Drake this morning,” the aide went on. “They’ve finalized expectations. The superhuman, Zac, will execute along with the attached Delta and SAS units. That group will carry out the plant of the Trojan. They’ll be assisted in the disruption phase by a group of local militia, then guided and shielded on their ascent by the technical team.”
General Peterson nodded as the man spoke. These details were mostly confirmation of plans Drake had relayed at last contact.
“Their disruption target is the Grangemouth Refinery,” said the aide, “on an inlet just off the North Sea.” Further confirmation. “The militia and the Ops group will execute a joint strike on the refinery. This should draw down a response by the Kel, of a size and scope in line with what the team needs to carry out the rest of the mission. Once that’s done the core group will take control of the Kel response craft and head to orbit and, hopefully, a capital ship where they can plant the Trojan.”
The most incredible spoof in the history of Man, if they pulled it off.
“Do they expect casualties at the refinery?”
“They’ve arranged crew positions in advance. It should be a clean hit. Materials damage only.”
“And how will they power the attack?”
“A weapons stockpile, still under lock at RAF Lossiemouth. One that was overlooked by the Kel. They’ve got enough stuff there to make a lot of noise, blow things up and generally attract attention.
“They’re gathering those resources.”
“So the hack looks good?” That was the real question. The viability of the Trojan.
His aid nodded. “They were able to exploit the ancient Kel tablet to finish development of the code. We’re told the Trojan will work, if it can be inserted.”
Both men pondered the scope of the scenario. Everything was at stake, and their entire future, any possibility they might have of a future, depended on the outcome. It was a suicide mission, and it had to work. A few brave souls would die, but it would mean a ray of hope for billions.
“There’s something else,” the aide said. “Drake informed us in this morning’s communiqué that another, a free agent working with them, intends to stage a hit on the Bok.”
Peterson took a moment to process those words. “A hit on the Bok?”
“It doesn’t seem to be part of the specific plan, at least not as described. It does, however, contribute to the overall. While the main mission is going on the Bok will be hit by this free agent.”
“Wait. What? The Bok?” Then: “A single agent?”
The aide nodded. “Apparently. The purpose of that attack is to gather info believed to be in the possession of the Bok, and eliminate them if possible.”
“Eliminate them?” Peterson had no issue with eliminating the Bok, but was that strategically wise? And why? This was coming from Drake, so it was, perhaps, not as shocking as it might have been otherwise, but it sounded nuts. Everything was a little nuts right then. “And what info?”
“If possible, yes. And no word, sir.”
This sounded like a dangerous dilution of the other. Why attack the Bok?
The agent added his own speculation. “From Drake’s days with the Project you know the Bok were always their target.” Nobody knew that officially—not even unofficially just short months ago. But things had changed. “On his authority the agent will execute a hit against them simultaneous with the mission to plant the Trojan.”
An uncomfortably random twist.
“Who is this agent?”
“Unknown, sir.”
**
As Lindin went off to do the latest thing Nani asked, this time without question, it hit him that he’d now become fully invested in her plan. They just got off a teleconference with other key leaders—Nani was somewhere in the south, at one of their bases—and Lindin, and others, were off to execute her next round of instructions.
It was as if she’d become the new president of the world. She hadn’t, of course, and all current leaders remained fully in their established seats of power, executing their positions accordingly, but since this run-up to invasion everyone had been listening to General Nani. She wasn’t a general either, not officially, but she might as well have been, and it dawned on Lindin that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t something any longer to be alarmed about. From the beginning he’d been one of the more vocal voices of dissent, and he realized his resistance had probably been driven, at least in small part, by the jealousy he felt at what Nani did. When she stormed home from their adventure, after stealing a starship, a well-used and battle-scarred starship—his starship—bringing tall tales of alien races geared for conquest, issuing a call to arms, a mandate that was taken up with unprecedented global agreement—all at her insistence, once just a simple scientist who had been so shy, so demure and unassuming—when all that happened, so fast and right before his eyes, faster than he could apply the brakes …
Yes. He was a little jealous.
The rest of his resistance came from the fact that no current intel was possible on the situation on the other end—their target, Earth—and as each day slipped by they were making plans with increasingly dated information. A terrible strategy where any military effort was concerned. They could pop through on the other side only to have the Kel already on their way here, to Anitra.
But as the planet-wide operation gained steam, expanded and unfolded, Lindin knew it was mostly jealousy that continued to drive his resistance. It was no longer reason. For, as spectacularly immense as all this was, as impossible as it was to be certain, engaging the entirety of the global cavalry so they could be flung across space onto a battlefield for which they had no reliable intel and which could, quite likely, end in their destruction … it was what had to be done.
And so mostly he was fully
engaged in the plan.
**
“Come on,” Bianca tugged Nani’s arm. Trying, again, to get her to leave whatever she was doing. It was late in the day, late in another day, another long day of many days and many more days and too many super-long days and Bianca, ever trying to be supportive, ever trying to do her part, to assist in the vast preparations however she could had, finally, lost track of what exactly they were doing. At least right at that moment. Nani was talking to someone and they’d been talking to someones all day and Bianca was done and she wanted Nani to be done too.
Finally Nani relented. With one more parting comment to the guy she was talking to, made as Bianca was pulling her away, she left him behind and was finally done.
Bianca vowed not to let her speak to anyone else.
“You know there’ll be time for rest later,” said Nani. “I appreciate everything you’re doing, but we’ve got to stay on task.”
Bianca gave a harsh exhale of breath. “Even guys in a trench in the middle of war take a few minutes now and then to play a game of cards, or have a drink. Kick a ball or something. If you don’t balance this with a breather once in a while,” she gestured around the large space they were in, maintaining a brisk pace so Nani didn’t fall into some new distraction, “you’re going to burn out. And if you haven’t noticed, everyone around here is depending on you. So burning out is not an option.” Currently they were back in Venatres lands, at one of the larger southern military installations, practicing insertions with the Skull Boy units. Today had been filled with meetings, even a teleconference, talking to key officers, soldiers attached to the unit, going over what to expect and where they would end up on Earth and what they might find when they got there, what they would do after they secured the arrival points and so on.
For Bianca, this last conversation had finally been enough. It sounded so like all the others, something impromptu that interrupted their return to their quarters and some precious moments of sanity before they slept a few hours and got up and did it all again and Bianca had finally had enough.
So she was interrupting and dragging Nani away.
“You’re right,” Nani reluctantly agreed.
Bianca slipped an arm around hers as they walked.
The not knowing what was going on over there, on Earth, their destination, combined with the fear that the Kel could find a way here, to Anitra, at any moment … all that led to an air of urgency. Like a collective, global ass-pucker, everyone in a hurry and fearing imminent attack.
They passed a few soldiers heading across their path the other way. Bianca noticed their eyes lingering on her and Nani. She looked at Nani who was, of course, looking straight ahead, mind somewhere else altogether.
Bianca squeezed a little tighter and leaned in. “Have you noticed how everyone kind of looks at you?” Nani hadn’t, of course. “They can’t believe what a badass you are.”
Nani tried to observe what Bianca meant. All around the large hangar, soldiers at work, Skull Boys in various states of teardown, fitting-out, many of the guys already gone for the day. Bianca and Nani were nearing the large hangar doors and the fresh air beyond, but one last uniformed group working off to the side looked up as they passed, faces showing that same mixed look of curiosity and respect, maybe a little resentment or doubt, Bianca couldn’t always tell, but definitely mostly respect. And mostly for the uncanny Nani.
Nani looked away from their gazes as she and Bianca passed through the tall, wide doors into the cool evening air.
“They just look nervous to me,” she dismissed it as they stepped outside. “I know I am.” And before Bianca could stop it she was spooling out Nani-isms: “I mean, I’ve got locations for where most of the Kel ground units should be, what might be waiting for us, detailed terrain maps that will allow us to insert our units at precise locations. Our first sweep should be successful against the smaller, unprepared Kel ground forces. I expect that. But I’m worried about the squads tasked with boarding and taking their starships. What if our teams can’t find and lock them fast enough? What if they start moving? And then what if the teams can’t take control of them once they’re on? This is the part that’s got my stomach in knots. If we can’t do that … If they move, or if they too quickly start raining down annihilation from above …”
They were still walking but Nani stopped talking as she noticed Bianca staring at her, mouth hanging exaggeratedly wide.
Bianca blinked and found her voice. “Would you stop? I thought I turned you off.” She reached around Nani’s back for an imaginary switch.
Nani shook her head. “I can’t. I wish I could but I can’t.”
Bianca just kept them walking, guiding her as quickly as she could from the hangar, across the tarmac outside the large building and all the way over to some solitude at a railing fronting a river. It was a tranquil spot, near the wide, scenic river that wound right along the installation, the side they were on housing the military machine, now at their backs, the far side lined with trees and rolling pastures, leading to a beautiful set of hills in the distance. If you kept your eyes turned in that direction it was gorgeous.
Nani made exasperated motions with her arms and looked to the sky, and Bianca could tell she really did wish she could turn off her brain.
Bianca brushed Nani’s arms down by her sides. The sun was setting and there were no clouds, making for a beautiful evening. The entire dome of the sky arched unobstructed overhead, horizon to horizon, fading in color from that orangy kind of blue toward the sunset, more gray-blue and dark across the river. To think this wasn’t Earth …
It was sometimes hard to keep remembering they were on another world.
Bianca forced a soothing smile.
“We just haven’t found a good enough distraction,” she said.
Rather than disagree, however, or look perplexed, as Nani usually did, she just sighed.
Bianca looked into her face—they were nearly the same height—Nani’s skin soft and wonderful in the fading light. Nani was a pretty girl, though she almost always ruined it by looking so serious. Bianca had a thought.
“When’s the last time you had a good kiss?”
Nani hesitated. “A good kiss?” The reaction alone was enough to confirm what Bianca suspected. Nani hadn’t had a good kiss in a long time.
Shame.
“When’s the last time you had any kiss?”
Now Nani looked away.
Wow.
Bianca started to wonder if she’d ever been kissed.
Was that even possible? At her age?
It had been a while for Bianca herself, at least since before this whole adventure began and, without thinking about it further, without looking to see if anyone was watching or checking to see if Nani had a clue it was coming, or even making up her mind if this was, in fact, what she herself wanted to do …
She reached and took Nani’s face in both hands, pulled her close, in good fun and …
Gave her a kiss.
Not a quick peck. A real kiss, and while she intended it, at first, as a way to snap Nani out of her funk, maybe even a little joke, a “good” kiss to distract her, it suddenly, quite unexpectedly and in one monumental, shuddering rush of nerves, became much more.
Nani’s eyes closed and before Bianca realized what was happening they were going with it. Passion pulled them together and all at once she was really kissing Nani, really kissing her—I’m kissing Nani!—and they were locked against each other like two lovers, open mouth and hungry and … it was freaky, it was scary, it was totally unexpected and …
It was the most incredible thing.
When Bianca managed to separate her heart was racing. Nani’s lids flicked open, then went wide, and all at once she was looking deep into Bianca’s eyes like no one ever had. Searching. Trying to make sense of what just happened. Her emotions. Everything. Bianca still held her face, Nani’s lips loosely puckered, hanging a little open and waiting. Moist.
Ready for anothe
r.
Bianca tried to recover, tried to play it off as originally intended, to restore the joke. “How’s that?” she wanted to know, voice husky. “Distracted?” She tried to act like she meant nothing by it.
Even as she found herself suddenly, madly, infatuated.
Her hands were still holding Nani’s face. She couldn’t let go, she couldn’t seem to move, having no idea what to do next, even as her heart continued to pound and she knew exactly what she wanted to do.
What just happened?!
She expected Nani to remain mute, too shocked to speak, or to recoil or get shy again or something, anything, but ... Something had changed.
A lot.
“So distracted,” the blonde genius nearly whispered, pushing a little toward her. Now someone else altogether. It was yet another amazing transformation. Something had awoken. Nani wasn’t even looking around, anxious to see if they’d been discovered. Nothing, not any of the things she should’ve been doing after such an unexpected, bold, over-the-top action.
Bianca just kissed me, she should’ve been thinking, straight out of the blue, she should’ve been processing. Shocked. Pulling away …
Instead she was pushing closer, searching Bianca’s eyes, a mixture of desire and revelation, eager, a clear and desperate reach for more that had Bianca’s heart racing ever faster.
This was happening.
If the joke had been meant to loosen Nani up it had, somehow, boomeranged and now Bianca was feeling the heat. Nani wasn’t the one shaken; Bianca was.
Her breathing had become quite shallow.
“Can we do that again?” Nani breathed heavily. Impatient. Tired of standing around making little comments.
Then her hands were on Bianca’s face, pulling her lips to hers, and there she was again and they were kissing and … all the worry fell away. Nani, initiating, taking her to her, fully in the moment, and Bianca was straight over the edge, knowing this was it and it was right and it was exactly what she wanted and why had she ever waited and, in that crystallizing breath, all was as it should be. The world was passion. She burned with it.
Star Angel: Prophecy Page 29
