Rolling the .445 projectile between his thumb and forefinger, Saul said, “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen them panic. Not even the null-field scares them as much. Whatever it is about these godsends, they are capable of doing what our advanced technology can’t.” Addressing the ninth group in particular, he added, “That’s why we sought the Architect’s help to bring you through. We didn’t need any more useless Tec. We needed cold steel.”
“You need iron,” Cathal MacNoimhin bellowed. “And we have plenty of that too—”
“I’m sorry,” Ayria Solram cut in, “why iron in particular?”
The Caledonians looked to each other as if the doctor had lost her mind. “Iron. Is it not obvious, woman?” Cathal repeated. “Blood metal. The bane of furies and devils. How can you not know this?”
The rest of the clansmen murmured assent.
“The painted warrior speaks truth,” said Jishnu Kuruk—also known as Victorious Bear —chieftain of the Apache tribe formerly allied with Snow Blizzard. “We of the first peoples also have our stories of the fey metal that demons fear to touch.”
The assembly began to buzz.
Saul motioned for order. Once it was restored, he tossed the bullet in his hand toward his second-in-command. “Mohammed? I want you and Ayria to get onto this immediately. Full spectral, chemical, and whatever else you can think of, analysis. Find out why iron has this affect on the Horde. Involve the Archive. We need to know what oxides, magnetite, and hematite deposits this planet has, and where they are.”
He turned to the clansmen and tribesmen. “I’d be grateful if you could spare one or two of your own people? We need to understand everything you know. Your knowledge, legends, stories. Anything you feel might be helpful regarding the mythos of this particular element. There’s a connection here somewhere. Possibilities we need to exploit.”
The mood was becoming more jubilant by the second.
Yet Saul was puzzled. I wonder? Is that why the Architect brought these particular people to us? Did it know? If so, how? I’ve got to think about this more deeply. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Saul returned his attention to the briefing, and the new amendments in particular.
“Okay everyone, listen in. Our latest breakthrough aside, we still need to protect the city. It looks as if the Horde has had long enough to lick its wounds. The arrival of the ninth has stirred them up again, and any day now they’ll be throwing themselves at the wall with fresh abandon.” Opening the report, Saul presented the proposals. “In anticipation of that, a new strategy has been devised as follows:
“John Edwards? Sebbi Farah?”
A man and a woman raised their hands at separate ends of the table. Acknowledging them, Saul continued, “You both represent the factions taken from the Husker-Trent oil platform. Put your animosities aside. We desperately need the skills and expertise your teams can bring to the table in the everyday running of a city this size. In fact, your assistance will be invaluable, because you’ll free up over a hundred other people who are trained fighters. Please liaise with our quartermaster, Jagpal. He will assign your staff appropriately. Jagpal?”
A gentleman of Indian origin identified himself, and signaled for the opposing leaders to come find him once the meeting had ended.
Saul pressed on. “By far the largest contingent of new arrivals are the soldiers and officers of the Ninth Legion. Colonel Marcus Brutus? I’d like you and your men to speak with Sub-Commander Shannon De Lacey over there.” Saul pointed out an athletic-looking woman with piercing eyes and hawk-like features. “City defenses are in her charge. Arrange with her the best deployment of your men. Emphasize the skills and expertise you can offer, and ensure an appropriate watch schedule is devised so the enlarged teams can stay fresh and alert. Something, I’m sure, which won’t take long.”
Marcus nodded and began threading his way through the crowd.
Saul resumed. “Captain James Houston? Your arrival means we can now start to take the offensive. As most of your horses and equipment survived the transition unscathed, I’d like you to organize your platoons to form flying pickets. Your skills lie in long range patrol and reconnaissance. While we can’t promise you’ll ride as far as you used to, we can ensure your experience provides us with the intelligence we’ve sorely missed since the last of the flyers were zapped. Please, report to Commander De Lacey as well.”
Houston beamed with pride. Surging to his feet, he swaggered through the press, slapping his gloves on his thigh with every step.
“Flyers?” interrupted Mac. “Manned or unmanned?”
“Unmanned drones. Eyes in the sky, to be exact. The sentinels now operate within the city confines as a safety precaution. They’re a coherent mass of pure energy, you see. The further from the Rhomane they travel, the more power is required to maintain their matrix. In the past, they could roam at will because of the abundance of booster-stations scattered across the planet. Obviously, the advent of the Horde ended that. However, we were able to facilitate the use of over a hundred flyers which had been stashed in a hangar within the city’s own commercial grav-port. Sadly, attrition has taken its toll. One by one, they were either destroyed or drained. Municipal archives show a massive stockpile of them out at the spaceport, twelve clicks south of here. The trouble is getting there. We can’t risk a land run, as there’s a sea of monsters between us and it. There used to be a direct link via underground shuttle and surface transporter platforms, but we disabled them and filled in the tunnel for good measure.”
“Transporter? You mean matter teleportation? We were only just beginning to lay the foundations for that.”
“Yes. Back on Earth in my day, we’d solved the conundrum of signal degradation which had bugged scientists for over a hundred years. They were in common use in all military, commercial, and private luxury facilities. But as good as they were, they didn’t employ anything like the sophistication of those we have here. The Ardenese were . . . are incredible when it comes to technical marvels. And that’s a pity. If we could only get our hands on some of the kit holed up in the port, it would make life so much easier, especially as we know how to adapt quite a lot of it.”
“Are the Horde capable of using the pads, then? I thought they were mostly energy?”
“We’re not sure,” Saul acknowledged. “Although they’ve never been known to risk the quantum flux, it doesn’t mean they can’t. We’ve seen them use sneaky tactics before, so we’re not going to take a chance with them again. But . . .” He glanced toward the clan leaders, the native chiefs, and back to Mac and his team. “. . . Actually, this is where you and the other specialist squads are going to help us. Come with me, I want to run something past you all in person.” Saul called to his sub-commander. “Shannon? Take over, would you? The rest of the deployments are listed in the outline.”
Saul led the smaller contingent into an ancillary room. Once they were seated, he activated a small box positioned at one end of a long oval table. A barely discernible whine thrummed into existence, which rose in pitch until it was indistinguishable. A tingling sensation crawled across his skin.
“Just a precaution,” Saul explained. “This is for your ears only. And those of Vice-Commander Mohammed Amine. Unlike everybody else, you and your people will be reporting directly to him, or me. Is that understood?”
Nobody replied. Some inclined their heads, while others raised an eyebrow or two in surprise. Most just sat still and waited patiently for Saul to explain the situation. At that moment, Saul knew he’d made the right choice.
Look at them. They’ve been torn further than any of us, and yet you wouldn’t know it by the way they act. He thought back to the earlier assignments. The legionnaire took his appointment in his stride, too. Cool, calm, efficient. I could use him in the future. Unlike that cavalry officer with a king-sized ego. Thank goodness not all his men are like him . . .
. . . Right, let’s see how they take the news.
Aloud, he said, “If you’re
up for it, I have some off the grid tasks for you. Think of them as missions that will employ the very specialized skills you all posses. Guerilla warfare and living in harmony with your environment. Moving silently. Escape and evasion. We’ve never been in a position where we can put the Horde on the defensive, but I think we are now.”
Speaking to the highland and native contingents in particular, Saul stressed, “I don’t think you need to worry about the lack of sophistication of your weapons. If they’re made of steel or plain old iron, those fiends will sense it and avoid you. But if they don’t, a single shaft will travel — what? Over a hundred yards?”
“Easily,” Victorious Bear answered. “Why?”
“I was just thinking how many spooks the arrowhead would be able to penetrate before falling to the earth. Especially if you cast it into a massed charge. Remember what I told you about Simon before he died? He was standing in the back of a skimmer and shooting downward. Every single entity a bullet passed through was instantly destroyed. Those that were grazed or in very close proximity seemed to . . . I don’t know. . .unravel. It was as if the very presence of concentrated iron acted as anathema to their existence. Look, it will require experimentation, but I want to discover just how much of the stuff needs to be in the mix to cause a rupture of their biometric fields. If your warriors are willing to play, the next week or so should be rather fun.”
The Caledonians came to a decision almost instantly. Ullas Ferguson, Searc Calhoun, Red Buchan, and Kohrk Underwood each looked to Cathal MacNoimhin and nodded once, assuring the participation of their respective clans.
Cathal’s eyes and nostrils flared with pride. “It would seem you have the support of my tribe, Commander Cameron. We are keen to test our mettle against these devils.”
The highlanders then stared toward the Native Americans who, in turn, appeared to be studying each other closely. After some minutes, they came to an unspoken agreement. Amazingly, it was Stained-With-Blood who stepped forward.
Indicating each respective chief in turn, he said, “I speak on behalf of Snow Blizzard, White Bear, Diving Hawk, and Victorious Bear. For Cree, Lakota, Sioux, Apache, and my own family, the Blackfoot. Whatever our differences in the past, the People would be honored to strike a blow against Chaos and his dread spirits. In this we are united.”
Bowing formally, Stained-With-Blood drew his dagger and scored the tip across his opposite palm. Allowing everyone to view the cut, he declared, “We Cree so avow.” Then he clenched his fist and held it to his heart.
“Thank you,” Saul murmured. “You must forgive me. I am unaware of your customs, so I don’t know if there’s anything you require from me to accept your pledge?”
Neither faction responded.
Apparently not, he thought wryly.
Turning to Mac and his team, Saul found it difficult to hide his excitement. “Gentlemen, I have something quite radical for you. I’d like you to take a look at this.”
Activating a projector, Saul brought up a 3D image of a complex structure spread over a vast area. He allowed the representation to rotate slowly through the air before fixing it into position above the tabletop in front of them. Once it had steadied, he said. “This is the spaceport I mentioned earlier. While certain aspects appear similar in many ways to the aerodromes of your time, there are some major differences. The first being the absence of runways. The Ardenese employed the use of retractable anti-gravity scallops along the edges of their craft. They would use them to shuttle out to the launch area before gaining altitude. Once in flight, they would fire up the Aqua-Cell engines and boost themselves into orbit for FTL initiation.”
The picture rippled and the perspective changed. Now everyone had a clear view of a massive edifice of shining glass and metal. “This is the main terminal,” Saul said as he continued to manipulate the controls. “To the right, you can see the shuttle dome that links the facility to seven other major cities within a thousand mile radius: Cumale, Floranz, Locus, Genoas, Napal, Elan, and of course Rhomane.”
“Are you joking?” Mark Stevens gasped. “They sound . . .”
“Yes, they sound familiar, don’t they? Too similar for it to be a coincidence. It made us chuckle when we found out.”
Mark was stunned. “Did the Ardenese ever admit to visiting Earth in their past?”
“Not that we know of. But as you might appreciate, we’ve only uncovered a fraction of their history. Even their space faring epoch stretches back thousands of years. So, we’re still—”
“Er, the mission?” Mac interjected. “I’d appreciate it if we cut the chitchat until after we know what we’re doing.”
“Ah yes, sorry!” Saul adjusted the settings once more. “I tend to get a bit carried away when I consider the amazing comparisons that keep popping up between our two cultures.”
He began a slow aerial circuit of the facility. “To the right, behind the terminus, we have the pens and hangars where each craft was refueled and prepared for travel. That area was once awash with rippling energies. Obviously, it was one of the first places to become depleted when the Horde first emerged from their ships. The original liners are still there, even now, like a beached flotilla of Marie Celestes. Very spooky. However, we don’t need to concern ourselves with them just yet.”
Tweaking the scene once again, Saul made a gradual approach toward the far side of the facility. “Now this is what I’d like you to pay particular attention to. The eastern zone facilitated maintenance, emergency services and stores.” One building glowed red. “And according to the inventory, that warehouse contains over a thousand flyers, still in their crates. To avoid damage, such items were always packed inert. All the Ardenese had to do was add good old aqua-pura, and the fully integrated AI/diagnostic systems would initialize and power them up ready for final program download. If we could get our hands on them, it would make life a lot easier.”
“In what way?” Mac probed.
“Let’s just say, they weren’t designed only to hover in the air and look pretty. Depending on the encryption package, they could be tasked to observe, map, gain intelligence, repair, or even defend strategic locations. Now you’re here, I’m hoping to extend the possibilities.”
“And how many were you hoping we’d appropriate for you?”
“First, we’d like you to complete a test run. Remember, I mentioned earlier that we had a problem converting the null-shield applications to our portable units. That’s entirely down to the differences within the hardwired security software. Think of it as two different sides not speaking the same language. They just don’t communicate as freely as we want them to. However, we noticed your tactical armor is equipped with a most intriguing form of stealth technology. Primitive by current standards, and yet perfect for our needs.”
“Because it’ll do as it’s told if you start tinkering with it?” Mac caught Saul’s meaning instantly.
“Exactly.” Saul beamed. “It should be much easier for our guys to adapt its frequency to one that will mesh with the existing generators. If it works, I’m told there’s a high probability we can reduce the size of the cells down to something you’d be able to carry individually. Just imagine it. Being able to do what you do best, without having to worry about Horde ghouls materializing out of thin air trying suck you dry.”
As an afterthought, he added, “Mind you, even if they did, I don’t see them trying it on for too long, especially with the firepower you have at your disposal. If they turned tail and fled when Simon popped off a few rounds at them, how are they gonna react when they meet you?”
“Let’s hope they don’t start getting brave then,” Mac grumbled. “Don’t forget, we only have the ammunition that was brought through with us. Even with the U.S. Cavalry and our nuclear-happy friends out there, all those bullets will soon disappear without proper fire discipline.”
Saul didn’t appear too upset by the statement. Instead, he ushered everyone closer and said, “You let me worry about that. We’re not wi
thout our . . . resources.”
Without explaining his statement further, Saul expanded the holographic projection to present a topographical overview of the surrounding region. Satisfied he had the correct resolution, he addressed them all once more. “Right, you’re the experts in this kind of situation. Let’s talk tactics . . .”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A Testing Time
(Sengennon Strait—7 miles northwest of Rhomane)
Lex wasn’t happy to be under the command of a traitor.
But what can I do? Everyone’s circumstances have changed drastically over the past week, and now it’s a case of ‘better the devil you know.’
Tearing his gaze away from Houston’s back, Lex scanned the countryside about him. He was reminded of a recent journey through rolling hills and sweeping plains full of hidden dangers. Except this wasn’t Montana. And the savanna here was lifeless, devoid of the buffalo, birds, and myriad other critters that brought the prairie to life about you. Even the strange purple-green hue of the grass had been stripped back to bare bones in a way that was unsettling.
And it won’t be Red Indian braves jumping out on us if we do find anything.
He reached up to adjust his chromatically active eyepieces. Provided only three days ago when the patrol started, Lex soon discovered that Samson’s gait made them slide down his nose.
Strange things, pity we didn’t have them in my day. Although it’s a little odd, looking at everything through a dark tint, you soon get used to it.
He glanced over the top of the rims and squinted. Mind you, it’s a question of having to. The Ardenese must have had exceptional eyesight.
The sun was incredibly intense, especially at midday, when it cast a harsh blue-white tinge through the air that glared back off every bright surface. Even the horses had to wear specially designed blinders to protect their eyes.
They’re obviously forcing us into a ‘put them through hell together’ scenario in the hope it will make us gel into a team again.
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