As if the words were single-fingered insult to the gods of luck and malice, a loud, bestial roar came from somewhere within the jungle to the north. Maxwell couldn’t be certain, but he guessed it was no more than two or three hundred metres away. That sound was followed by a strange high-pitched shriek. Then, Maxwell heard rustling noises and the call of birds disturbed enough to take flight.

  “Nice one, Vaughan,” said Lowe, backing towards the water, with his gauss rifle aimed into the trees. “Real nice.”

  It had always been Maxwell’s intention to set up an ambush somewhere along the way, but the solid progress along the beach had been enough to make him overlook a couple of less than perfect locations the soldiers had passed. Now, there was no going back, and there was nowhere defensible within sight.

  He gave quick orders and the soldiers spread out three metres from the waterline.

  “Private Vaughan, deploy that repeater,” said Maxwell, pointing at a place to his left.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Vaughan kicked out the tripod on his repeater, laid the weapon on the ground, and dropped to his stomach, his eyes focused along the barrel. If anything came into the gun’s firing arc, it would be torn to pieces.

  Twenty seconds passed and nothing emerged from the trees. Maxwell heard wings, more rustling and then it went quiet. A full minute went by.

  “I reckon we’re being watched,” said Chau.

  “No shit?” said Diaz.

  Maxwell held steady, his eyes darting to and fro. Another minute passed and he was painfully aware that the Kijol destroyer’s sensors might be just able to penetrate the edge of the treeline and detect his soldiers. If he ordered the squads closer to the trees, they’d have less time to react to a fast attack.

  “We’re being screwed with,” said Corporal Fine.

  “What if it wasn’t the alien making that noise?” said Lowe. “What if it was…you know…a man beast and a lady beast doing stuff together?”

  For a time, nobody said anything. Diaz broke the silence.

  “Lowe, you’re an asshole,” she said.

  “It could have been,” Lowe protested.

  “Quiet!” said Maxwell, more angrily than he intended.

  Experience had taught him patience, but after five minutes, he was seriously wondering if Lowe was at least partly right. The jungle was a savage place – a place where the animals had to kill in order to eat.

  At last, Maxwell gave up waiting.

  “We’ve wasted enough time,” he said in disgust. “Five klicks and we’ll have outranged the Kijol jammer.”

  A few seconds later, the soldiers were on their way once more, though this time Maxwell led them closer to the waterline than the trees. The sand dragged at his feet, but with little risk of tripping, he was able to keep an eye to the north. He saw nothing that gave him any concern, though he was not at all reassured.

  Soon, the compass on Maxwell’s HUD indicated the soldiers were travelling more south-east than east and, when he called a brief halt to check on the destroyer’s relative position, he reluctantly gave the order for the soldiers to head once more into the trees.

  “We’ll stay three hundred metres from the beach,” he said. “The trees are densely enough packed that we should be out of detection range at that distance. Squad B – take the lead.”

  The soldiers entered the jungle once more. To Maxwell’s relief, the undergrowth here didn’t come up any higher than his waist and it wasn’t such a task to make progress, though the soldiers of Squad B, a dozen metres ahead, helped by trampling a rough path for him to follow. The ground too was fairly level and that made it easier for him to remain attentive to the space around without risk of falling and injuring himself.

  The sparsity of the undergrowth also allowed Maxwell an occasional glimpse of the ground beneath. On several occasions, he saw the rapid movement of small, unseen creatures as they scurried out of danger. Had he not been wearing his combat suit, Maxwell was sure he’d have trodden on something poisonous by now. As it was, the thick layers of advanced polymer - familiar like his own skin - kept him safe from anything which might have taken a liking to his flesh.

  Time passed and the soldiers said little. Once in a while, Maxwell spoke on the squad channel, to make sure everyone remained alert. The soldiers were tense, that much was clear, but they were holding it together.

  “Two klicks and we should be outside the range of the Kijol jammer,” said Barkley.

  “That’s thirty minutes at our current pace,” said Fine.

  “If we make contact with the Marauder, what happens to us?” asked Diaz.

  “I haven’t been thinking that far ahead, Private,” Maxwell admitted. “That destroyer is Captain Grisham’s opponent and we’ve got our own to worry about.”

  “I don’t want to be anywhere close by if those two warships start firing at each other,” said Fleming.

  They’d all seen fellow soldiers carbonized by Kijol missiles. Vehicles pulverised by Dasor fire coming from ten thousand klicks in high orbit. The enemy ground forces were determined fighters, but at least a foot soldier had a chance against them. Against a warship, that chance was non-existent. Death would come unavoidably. At least it would be quick, but that was scant consolation.

  “Watch that destroyer take off as soon as those Ghosts detonate on its flank,” said Chau. “Those Kijol aren’t going to stick around once there’re a few scratches on their shiny paintwork.”

  He was talking bullshit and everyone knew it. The Kijol might be alien assholes, but they were tough alien assholes. Even with a successful first strike, the Marauder would have a hard time against that destroyer.

  Since Maxwell couldn’t do much to plan for the immediate future, he didn’t waste the effort. He’d long ago learned that reacting to events could sometimes be as effective as trying to predict them. Whatever happened when the plasma missiles started flying, all the thinking in the world wasn’t likely to put in him in the right place to avoid an incoming warhead.

  At nine kilometres from the compound, Maxwell called a halt and instructed the soldiers to conceal themselves among the trees and undergrowth. As they found places, he ordered Private Barkley to attempt contact with the Marauder one more time, in case the Kijol destroyer had moved away from the compound.

  “We’re still being jammed, Sergeant,” said Barkley.

  “Damnit.”

  Maxwell held the soldiers in place. He had his back to the trunk of an enormous tree and kept low. Several minutes went by and the only sounds were those of the jungle. The alien didn’t appear, nor did any CES corpses.

  At five minutes, he called for the soldiers to move once more, only this time he took the lead along with Squad A. He kept going for eight hundred metres and then cut south-south-east, intending to arrive at the beach outside the jammer’s radius.

  Two hundred metres from the beach, and at what he hoped was on the cusp of the jammer’s effective range, Maxwell brought the soldiers to a halt once more.

  “Take cover,” he ordered. “Private Barkley – contact the Marauder.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The moment of truth,” said Valerio.

  Barkley crouched next to Maxwell, behind the same tree. After a few seconds, the squad comms man raised a hand with the tips of his thumb and forefinger pressed together.

  Contact.

  Maxwell didn’t smile at the news, but his heart thumped harder in his chest. Now that his squad was in contact with the Marauder, the real fun and games could begin.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Bring me into the channel,” said Maxwell.

  Barkley nodded once and, a couple of seconds later, Maxwell’s earpiece hummed and crackled.

  “Sergeant Maxwell,” said Lieutenant Lopez, her words barely understandable through the interference. “The link strength is bad – you should move further from the Kijol jammer.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we’ll do that now,” said Maxwell. “I’ll stay in the channel.”

  Gesturing with one hand, he indicated that the soldiers should stay with him. Then, Maxwell headed further south-east, not yet wishing to venture closer to the beach.

  Barely had he travelled a hundred metres, when the comms link strengthened appreciably. Maxwell stopped again, next to another tree. Quickly, he explained the situation to Lieutenant Lopez, while she listened.

  Although Lopez didn’t talk, Maxwell thought he sensed uncertainty. The destroyer was a superior opponent and some officers might be tempted to lay low until the Kijol had stolen whatever they wanted from the base and went elsewhere.

  Afterwards, it would be easy enough to compile a mission report that disguised the importance of the security console and the data array. Such a report might even go so far as to accuse Maxwell of ignoring a direct command to destroy the B-22 hardware when he was in a position to do so.

  “I’ll speak to Captain Grisham,” said Lopez, once Maxwell had finished. “Sit tight and I’ll get back to you.”

  Lopez cut the channel, leaving Maxwell wondering if Lyles had been right when she said Grisham didn’t have the balls to attack.

  Damnit no. He has the hunger.

  “What was the outcome, Sergeant?” asked Corporal Fine.

  “I’m waiting on it.”

  “We’re going to be left high and dry,” said Diaz. “I can feel it.”

  Maxwell didn’t criticise the soldier for her cynicism. “Let’s wait and see,” he said.

  The wait was a short one. Less than thirty seconds after Lopez had closed the channel, she opened a new one.

  “If you can provide us with exact positional data, we’ll attack the destroyer. Our main concern is that it might be equipped with a disruptor – if the Kijol react quickly enough, they’ll disable our missiles before they impact,” she said.

  “How likely is that, ma’am?”

  “There’s a real chance of it.” Lopez exhaled like she was feeling the stress. “We’ve got surprise on our side, so it’s a risk we’ll take.”

  “What about the compound?” asked Maxwell. “The security controller and the data array are there for the taking.”

  Lopez gave a short laugh. “We’re also planning to land a couple of Ghosts on B-22 – that should destroy our hardware, assuming the Kijol haven’t already stolen it. They’ve had the time.”

  Maxwell closed his eyes for a moment in relief. He’d been almost ready to believe Lyles over his own judgement and he was glad to find the Marauder’s crew were up for the fight.

  “I don’t have line of sight on the destroyer, ma’am. I’ll order my squads to the treeline. From there, we’ll be able to transmit the precise coordinates of the enemy vessel through the orbital relay.” Maxwell thought of a question. “How long will it take those missiles to impact after launch, ma’am?”

  “Captain Grisham is currently bringing the Marauder out of the Xaros atmosphere, so we won’t have to worry about the Ghosts burning up with friction for most of their flight. Unfortunately, they’ll have to slow when they re-enter the planet’s atmosphere directly over the destroyer’s position. It’ll be forty seconds from launch to impact.”

  “Forty seconds it is,” said Maxwell.

  “I wish there was something we could do to help you with your own opponent, Sergeant Maxwell.”

  “We’ll handle it, ma’am. Five minutes and you’ll have your positional data.”

  “Good luck.”

  Lopez cut the channel and Maxwell rose from his crouch. He spent a few seconds on the squad comms channel explaining what had been agreed.

  “There’re going to be some fireworks,” said Vaughan. “As long as they go off ten klicks from here, I’m going to sit back and enjoy the show.”

  “We’re heading to the beach,” said Maxwell. “As soon as we have line of sight on the destroyer, Private Barkley will transmit its position.”

  He set off into the trees. Even at this short distance, the illumination from the lake was completely hidden. At 150 metres from the expected position of the beach, Maxwell saw the first glimmerings of intense green and with each pace more of the lake was revealed.

  Although Maxwell kept referring to the beach as his destination, he intended to approach no closer to it than was required to gain visibility on the destroyer. Given the density of the trees, he guessed that forty or fifty metres from the sand would be enough. That way the trunks would offer him plenty of cover, but he’d still be able to see the enemy warship.

  He found a suitable location, where a clear gap granted him a view of the lakeshore as it curved towards the compound. As far as he could tell, the destroyer hadn’t changed position and his night vision allowed him to see its outline.

  “Shit, Sergeant, you’ve got to take a look at this!” said Chau on the comms.

  “What is it?” asked Maxwell, reluctant to move without some more information.

  His eyes found Chau – the soldier was behind a different tree, about fifteen metres north, and leaning out to stare at something.

  “Shit, shit,” Chau repeated. “It’s more of those things.”

  Maxwell hurried over, tearing his way through the ground level plants. “Where?” he asked, coming to a halt next to Chau.

  Raising a hand, Chau pointed north-west and then he stepped back to allow Maxwell to take his place. Putting his shoulder against the trunk, Maxwell looked to the north-west. A quirk of how the trees had grown allowed him a view all the way to the beach about 250 metres north-west of where the soldiers were in cover. He saw figures – many figures – just inside the treeline and pushing their way through the undergrowth. Their movements were rapidly jerky and strangely repulsive in a way that reminded him of insects.

  “They just came off the beach, sir,” said Chau. “I don’t know how long they were exposed, but that destroyer could have—” He didn’t finish the sentence and didn’t need to.

  Maxwell experienced one of those moments where he felt as if everything was on the brink of crashing down. He and his squad were teetering on the edge of the abyss, with an invisible hand trying to push them into the depths.

  “Are we going to shoot them, Sergeant?” asked Corporal Fine.

  Glancing right, Maxwell saw that Fine had moved to a tree nearby, where she could watch the approaching figures.

  There was no other option. Maxwell gave orders on the comms and the soldiers moved to positions where they had line of sight on the approaching enemy. The distance was such that he felt certain that, against a normal opponent, his squads would have remained undetected. Against this alien, Maxwell wasn’t nearly so sure.

  “Hold fire until I give the order - I’m moving back to where I can see the destroyer,” he said. “I’ll transmit its position.”

  “Sergeant, what if the destroyer—” Fine began.

  “I know,” said Maxwell, interrupting.

  He was aware of the risks. If the Marauder launched its missiles and then the destroyer moved away from the compound before the Ghosts impacted, the enemy crew would know there was a Human Federation warship somewhere in the planet’s orbit. If that happened, all bets were off.

  When Maxwell once again had line of sight on the destroyer, he narrowed his eyes and watched for a few seconds. It remained stationary.

  “Sergeant?” asked Fine, the first signs of agitation creeping into her voice. “The closest enemy is at two hundred metres.”

  Maxwell realised he couldn’t hold fire any longer, nor could he do anything to influence the behaviour of the enemy spaceship. He was on the brink of giving the order to fire, when suddenly the destroyer began accelerating south-east with the kind of effortless ease that could only be achieved with an enormously powerful Charos drive.

  “Shit, the Aeon is coming! Run! East-south-east! Deeper into the trees!” yelled Maxwell on the comms.

  The soldiers didn’t need to be told twice and they dashed from where they’d been hiding, heading away from the beach and deeper into the jungle. Maxwell ran too, using his strength to rip through the foliage.

  “They’re coming, Sergeant!” said Lyles.

  Maxwell glanced over his shoulder and saw figures sprinting jerkily through the trees. His foot caught on a root and he half-tripped. Using his free hand to halt his fall, Maxwell righted himself and ran. Only a few seconds had passed and already he could feel the increased pressure in the air from the destroyer’s propulsion.

  “Shit, they’re fast!” said Chau.

  A flash lit up the jungle in harsh white, casting shadows everywhere. Instinctively, Maxwell threw himself flat. “Down!” he yelled.

  The cracking detonation of the Apiar missile turned into a rumble of thunder and Maxwell waited for the deadly, searing heat to strip the flesh from his bones. The heat didn’t come and he scrambled to his feet once more, turning as he did. An area of the jungle closer to the beach was ablaze and, to his horror, he could see burning figures hurtling through the undergrowth at the farthest extreme of the blast. Those figures were heading directly for the soldiers.

  Maxwell fired a snapshot, though he couldn’t be sure if it struck his target. He ran again, his gaze sweeping about him for the position of the other soldiers. This retreat from the enemy destroyer was in danger of succumbing to panic and Maxwell couldn’t allow that to happen.

  “Slow down and gather up!” he yelled. “Join your squad and stick together!”

  Hardly had he finished giving the order when a second Apiar missile detonated to the north-west, closer than the first blast. Again, Maxwell dropped flat, smelling the tang of the soil, and this time the sensor in his suit helmet registered a spike in the outside temperature.

  A channel opened to his comms unit.

  “Everything has gone to shit, Lieutenant Lopez,” said Maxwell, before she could ask him when the promised coordinates of the enemy vessel would be coming. “The destroyer is out of position. I’ll update you when I can.”

  “Copy that.”

  Lopez cut the channel without another word. Already back on his feet, Maxwell urged the soldiers of Squad A towards him. He could see that Corporal Fine had gathered Squad B, and those soldiers had their attention north-west towards where the corpses from the Church of Everlasting Serenity were still charging through the forest, several of them still burning from the plasma missile strike.