Waiting out the enemy wasn’t an option. Royal knew those girls would be missed as soon as their unit reported back to the tumbler. He had enough weapons to maneuver to a secure location.

  He cracked open the door. From the eastern end of the grid, middle row of hothouses, Royal saw no activity. Either the unit continued to advance – might they keep walking into the open field? – or it had retreated toward the tumbler.

  Shit. The tumbler.

  Now there was a nice prize. A little on the big side, but it would get him out of the city under heavy armor. Maybe …

  He remembered the eyes in the sky. One word from this unit, and there’d be missiles bearing on his location. Being shot, he could handle. Burned to a crisp? Not so much.

  Move, asshole. Run like a fucking wolf.

  He did.

  Screams from behind preceded a barrage of laser streams flashing beyond him. He ducked, rolled, and returned fire against the pursuit. From the number of red scarves emerging out of the grid, Royal thought everyone must have been standing around waiting for him to make a run for it.

  They were lousy shots, which was a nice change of pace. Swarm FGs didn’t miss from this range. He’d taken thousands of impacts over the years, but Talon armor absorbed or deflected most. Royal took down the fast chargers, but he wasn’t stupid. There must have been fifty in the unit, and he expected to see more at his flanks.

  He turned and ran, his eyes on the corner of the nearest residential building. He had to cut off some of this fire. He had to …

  To Royal’s great dismay, windows opened on the second level of the building across the street. A new volley of flashes rained toward him. He genuinely thought he wouldn’t be killed again so soon.

  The blasts missed him. Two dozen. Maybe three.

  He never so much as felt their heat.

  Aces!

  The green zone wasn’t as civilian-secured as the Swarm thought. The Converted came under this wave of fire.

  Royal turned and added his own touch. Fifteen to twenty Hokkis died clinging to their faith in the Risen Church. Others retreated.

  The city street shook as thunder and fire rose from beneath the tumbler a block away. Its all-terrain wheels became projectiles as the closest hothouses collapsed, windows along the entire block shattered, and body parts smacked the pavement like a perverted rainfall. Screams and cheers blended in a strange cacophony rather than the usual silent shock that followed such an explosion.

  An old Hokki man and a boy no more than twelve but armed to the teeth waved at him from a covert beneath a building’s front stoop. He saw no red scarves and scorpions. He did, however, see a ship in the distance making its way toward the green zone. He recognized the configuration.

  Royal took a chance.

  He followed the Hokkis into a basement flat and through a false door, which took them down a flight of stairs until a sharp left turn brought them to the sewer system. His guides said nothing other than “keep up” as they raced for what Royal thought must have been a mile. Others joined along the way. Men, women, boys, girls. Royal stood out in the two-piece suit he crafted as General of the Splinter Vanguard, but no one seemed to care. They saw him fighting the Converted; apparently, that was good enough to join their ranks.

  He followed them out of the sewer, down a long dry tunnel, and into what looked for all the rings like a command center. They received a hearty welcome from Hokkis manning a series of plates which displayed holos. Within two minutes, at least fifty Hokkis of all ages filled the space, celebrating as if they’d won a war.

  Someone threw open a huge holowindow for everyone to see what was happening where the tumbler’s remains burned in a huge crater. Already, Swarm drones circled above. Converted Hokkis, all carrying rifles, kept a safe distance. The vid was being transmitted to Swarm HQ but intercepted by this group.

  “What’s your story?”

  The voice came from behind, right before someone set a hand on Royal’s shoulder. He reached for his pistol but thought better.

  He turned. The woman wasn’t Hokki. Her skin was brown and her braids as white as he remembered on Exeter.

  “You’re not native,” she said through clenched teeth. “And you’re not Swarm. They’d shoot you for that ugly shit on your skull.”

  “It’s called a wolf. My name is Royal. I’m a colonel of the Twenty Talons. I fight with the Septimus Brigade. Got displaced from my unit. And you?”

  She relaxed. Even allowed a morsel of a smile.

  “Alvara. Ninth Striker Brigade. Twenty Talons. At least I was. I’ve been fighting with this lot for a year now.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I walked away. Joined the only real hope these poor people ever had. The true resistance.”

  He had a few dozen questions even before meeting Alvara. Now, he stared into the face of something he did not realize existed: A Talon deserter. He didn’t have a chance to question further. A tall Hokki in front of the plates yelled above the crowd.

  “Settle down, everyone. Settle.”

  This Hokki was old enough to be Royal’s father. He displayed a black, well-coiffed beard and wore his hair below the shoulders, much like Ham Cortez before Mangum Island.

  “Congratulations. You executed the mission to perfection. We believe we killed at least fifty scalps. More important, SHQ knows we can strike anywhere. They’ll have to pay attention to the green zone. They hate fighting their flanks.”

  Royal leaned in to Alvara.

  “A scalp is a Convert?”

  “It’s the nicest term anyone’s come up with.”

  The bearded one continued:

  “Our allies to the north are ready to punch a hole through the DM barricade and push south at first sign of Swarm redeployment. So, we’ll have the usual short celebration with bottles and rolls in the galley, but we need to be on the mark to engage at first chance. Do we understand?”

  A rousing cheer followed.

  “The good news keeps coming. We’re hearing more about the ATB-5 that crashed in the Homaan District. Two hundred-plus dead. A few FGs but mostly officers. This was a big hit. SHQ is saying the ship was infiltrated by suicide bombers. We don’t know how many or how they did it, but for now it’s …”

  “Typical Swarm intel,” Royal shouted over the man. “Half the time, those assholes are just guessing.”

  All eyes turned his way. The leader barked back.

  “Ah. The wild man who was hiding in the hothouses but fought like a veteran. Your name?”

  “Royal.”

  “You’re not Hokki. What’s your home world?”

  “A long story.”

  “OK, Royal. You know something about SHQ’s intel?”

  “Fuck yes. One guy brought down the ATB, and he don’t go in for suicide. At least not lately.”

  “He survived?”

  “He’s me. How I’m here is a long story, too. We can have a chat. You’ll be impressed. But from the looks of things, you got a nice setup, and I got a skillset that ain’t like anybody else in this room. Oh, it’s called a wolf. In case you were wondering.”

  Judging from the awkward stares, they were. Or perhaps they weren’t buying the part about how he took down a Swarm transport and found his way to an underground resistance in about an hour. With no scratches.

  “We will talk,” the leader said. “As for everyone else, bottles and rolls in the galley. Return here for debrief in twenty.”

  Royal looked down. The boy who waved him into the covert stared at him with twisted lips. A scar ran down his left cheek starting beneath the temple. His egg-shaped brown eyes pierced Royal. He knew this kid, or at least others like him. The humanity was all but gone. This kid was a stone-cold killer.

  The boy extended his hand.

  “Reaper.”

  “Your name or a call sign?”

  “I tell the scalps, ‘Reaper don’t take prisoners.’ Then I blow their heads off.”

  Royal knew a psychopath when he saw one. He liked this kid.

  They shook hands as the crowd dispersed and the bearded one approached. Royal set his mind to work. Time for some fast talking.

  13

  H E CALLED HIMSELF BRECK. No family name. He had three children hidden far away from Sai-Por.

  “Official records say I died three years ago,” he told Royal after a handshake. “I’d like to stay dead.”

  Breck glanced at the boy.

  “Found Reaper about the same time. Alvara joined our happy band a year ago. Gave us a huge boost. Are you Talon?”

  “Six years.”

  “It’s a huge claim, like your story about the ATB. A Swarm agent could do everything we saw out there just to infiltrate our network.”

  Breck and Alvara shared a fleeting glance.

  “He’s telling the truth,” she said. “I can smell the difference.”

  Royal lifted a brow. “Smell?”

  “A Talon who kills FGs up close, gets their blood on him … there’s a musk you can never wash away. You’re swimming in it.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “How many?”

  “I stopped counting after the first thousand. I added a couple hundred today.”

  “Fuck yes,” Reaper said.

  Breck told the boy, “You’ve had a big day. Go eat.”

  “Sure, Breck. Hey, Royal, you gotta tell me everything. K?”

  “From the beginning. Promise.” When Reaper departed, Royal added, “A kid after my own heart. Is he as cold-blooded as I think?”

  “Reaper is a sweet boy until we let him loose. Yes. Cold-blooded.”

  “That’s the only way to survive the Swarm. Looks to me like you’re treating the scalps the same way. I’ve got to admit, I never thought I’d see the day where Hokkis would be slaughtering each other.”

  Breck replied with a mournful sigh.

  “It was a difficult decision, but necessary. The Swarm conditioning can’t be reversed. We’ve tried for years. We studied reports from other worlds. It led us to a simple conclusion: If we don’t kill our own, we lose the planet for good.”

  “Like I told you,” Alvara added. “This is the true resistance. The Talons try to hold the line, but they’re hard-wired to kill Swarm. They won’t make the tough choice about the scalps. They never have. That’s why they’ve lost fifteen straight planets.”

  Royal never heard that perspective amid intense Talon propaganda.

  “OK. So you’re playing a different game.” He looked at both. “If the Talons can’t get the job done with a hundred million fighters, how are you gonna change the equation camped out in the sewers?”

  “Slowly,” Breck said. “Our allies are growing. But before I go there, I’d like to know what really happened to you out there. Your ATB claim is exciting but hardly credible.”

  “A smart man shouldn’t believe it. But you know what smart people got in common with dumbasses? They don’t know what they don’t know. I think you’re smart, Breck, but there’s shit going on out there that would make you piss your pants. That’s where I come in.”

  “For instance?”

  No more song and dance, he decided.

  “I was up there today. I brought down that ATB. I jumped out because … well, fire’s not a good look for me. I crashed through a hothouse roof and I died. Then I woke up. Why? Because I’m immortal. I was engineered this way. Some sort of genetic reset program. Oh, and I wasn’t born in this universe. There are eight other universes, in case no one’s told you. That’s probably not in Scripture. Now, if you need proof, I can put on a show. Blow my brains out, and you’ll watch me heal. It’s an old routine, and I’d rather avoid it, if it’s all the same to you.”

  The light in their eyes didn’t flicker out, so Royal knew they were trying to be enlightened about his extraordinary claims. He really did not want to visit the abyss for the second time today.

  “I’ve never heard anyone say so many words I never expected. As lies go, that’s the worst one ever told. Alvara?”

  “I agree. He’s insane or he’s immortal.”

  “Some people say I’m both.”

  “You’re not lying,” she said. “I know liars.”

  Breck took a step back and studied Royal head to toe.

  “What about this uniform?”

  “My design. Different place, different army. I wasn’t expecting to be seen this way.” Royal reached into his back pocket and grabbed the golden globule. “Believe it or not, this is next-gen body armor, better even than the Swarm. I took their best shots before I jumped, but it retracted when I crashed. I hope it’s going through a self-repair cycle, but it might be worthless. There’s proof about everything I’ve said. It’s out there somewhere in the green zone.”

  “Proof?”

  “Yeah. A cube. We call it a Splinter. I lost it after I jumped.”

  “What does it do?”

  “Now that’s a hell of a bedtime story. But I’ll say this much: You’ll never be the same after you look through it. Nobody is. It’s not just important to me. If you’ve still got a fighting chance down here, the Splinter might just square up the odds.”

  “So, you want us to help you find this Splinter?”

  “Looks to me like you’ve got deep resources. The secure drones I saw buzzing about … any belong to you?”

  “We have a few eyes high above.”

  “Then let’s talk about what we can do for each other.”

  Breck and Alvara did not seem as receptive as they did to the bit about immortality and multiple universes. Breck turned toward the control center.

  “The first thing we can do for you, Royal, is find more suitable clothes. You notice we don’t wear uniforms.”

  “Not a problem. I want to fit in.”

  “We’re not built for search and recovery. Our agenda is to disrupt the Swarm’s plan to assimilate Sai-Por. We strike fast and hard. We limit our exposure. We lure the Swarm into rear-guard actions. We don’t have the power to take on the Swarm directly, but we can keep them off-balance for years. In time, with enough breaks, they might stand down plans for global assimilation and move on.”

  Royal heard all sorts of ideas over the years for how to “frustrate” the Swarm so they would “move on” to the next system. Every plan was pie-in-the-sky and doomed even as it crossed a dreamer’s lips. Breck’s game plan offered a new approach, but Royal didn’t believe anyone here actually thought it might work. He chose his next words carefully, not wanting to shift the tone against him.

  “I assume you’ll tell me you have a network of cells across the city, and it’s growing by the day. You’ve made contact with groups in other cities who are trying the same approach. A global insurgency.”

  “We have.”

  “And they all agree? Killing scalps is the way to go?”

  Breck smiled with a hint of hope. Idealistic crap, Royal thought.

  “Yes. If the Swarm can’t leave Hokkaido confident that civilians will hold it for the Empire, they’ll write it off rather than staying bogged down here indefinitely. The longest they ever took to assimilate a planet was nine years.”

  “If they pack up and leave, they’ll nuke the cities out of spite. They only keep infrastructure intact so they don’t have to pay the cost for a rebuild after assimilation.”

  “We know this, Royal. And yes, any retreat will no doubt come with retribution. But what is our alternative? Surrender to the assimilation and turn the Hokki people into scalps? We won’t even be Hokki anymore. Ask anyone on the converted worlds if they remember who they were before the Swarm.”

  Alvara stepped between them.

  “This life is not so bad, Royal. The network is strong. We always have enough to eat, and we operate out of sight. FGs don’t come after us down here. They know better.”

  “Why?”

  “We’ve armed the city’s entire substructure,” Breck said. “We can bring it down wherever and whenever we choose. Other networks are making the same progress. The Admiralty doesn’t take us seriously as long as they have Talons to kill and Hokkis to convert.”

  “Then it seems to me you could risk a small unit to help me search for the Splinter. We can’t lose it to the Swarm.”

  “You can’t lose it, Royal. Right now, we have leverage and time on our side. Your cube is valuable only in the abstract, and until you make a stronger case for it, I’ll have to say no.”

  Royal thought about his ace in the hole, but announcing the inevitable end to Beta universe would have to wait. He’d already sprung more than they were ready to handle. These people were fighting a lost cause, and Royal admired them for it. Even the Talons and their sponsors, the Orzed Confederation, never set their goals higher than fighting the Swarm to a standstill. The enemy was simply too massive, with an endless well of resources both human and machine.

  He heard the clanking of bottles nearby.

  “If I prove myself to you, Breck, will you reconsider?”

  “I’m an open-minded man trying to overcome odds somewhere between microscopic and why-bother. Be useful and show me a practical option, I’ll listen.”

  The clanking bottles reached a crescendo as Reaper approached. The boy bundled four thin bottles with green liquid and four hoagie-length rolls against his chest.

  “I figured you stayed back to talk shop. Everybody’s gotta eat.”

  “We do, Reaper.” Breck took the load off the boy and distributed the meal. “What did I tell you? A sweet boy.”

  “Mara-Sun said these rolls are stuffed with pressed river crab and infused seaweed. First time in two months we’ve had crab.”

  “Then we have a treat indeed. Savor every bite. Please. Find a comfortable spot and relax, Royal. I’ll see what I can do about a suitable change of clothes for you.”

  Alvara talked with her mouth full.

  “He’s my size, more or less. I’ll see to it, Breck.”

  She disappeared with her meal. Breck took his food to the plates and sat down before the holos. Royal didn’t realize he’d been abandoned until he looked around for the boy, who plopped against the wall in a dark corner and took a ravenous chomp at his roll.