“No thanks. Bahk, Jackson, do it.”

  They responded by triggering their rifles, sending twin gouts of superheated plasma into the room and washing it over the cocoons.

  The woman didn’t show any emotion. Her voice remained cold. “You will regret this decision.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. You want war? War it is.”

  Hayden pulled the trigger, sending a round through the woman’s skull. Only it didn’t do any damage, passing harmlessly through and hitting the wall behind her.

  “The Master is coming,” she said, nonplussed by his attempted murder. “The end of human freedom is at hand. Soon, this world will join hundreds of others under our dominion.”

  Hayden squinted his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. He found the holographic projector a moment later, little more than a pinprick of light on a sliver of dark alloy connected to the ceiling. Had the hologram been programmed to intercede in the event of outsiders entering the room? That couldn’t be. It had known they had killed one of the Relyeh in the tunnel.

  Was the enemy watching them right now?

  That was only the first of his questions. The next few to slip into his head concerned him much, much more.

  True-to-life holograms were Axon tech. The dark alloy was Axon metal. How long ago had it been placed here?

  By who?

  Did its presence suggest this Relyeh had conquered one or more of the Axon worlds?

  If that was the case, whoever was speaking to him through the hologram was right. He was probably going to regret this decision.

  He was still glad he had made it.

  He smiled at the hologram, aimed at the projector, and fired. The device popped free of the ceiling, sending the woman into a wild spin across the room before it struck the floor and went dark.

  Bahk and Jackson’s rifles went dark too. They stood and backed away, leaving the room awash in burning alien material.

  “Sheriff, the target is destroyed,” Jackson said.

  “Pozz that,” Hayden replied. “Rangers, let’s see if we can find our way topside through this place. We need to haul ass back to Sanisco.”

  “Roger,” Hicks said.

  “Solino, we’re on our way up. I’m not sure where we’ll come out, but I want Bronson here when we do.”

  “Roger, Sheriff,” Solino replied.

  “I don’t like any of this,” Ivanov said.

  “Me neither,” Hayden said. “But we don’t have to like it. We just have to deal with it.”

  He walked over to the damaged projector and picked it up, shoving it in his pocket. Natalia would be pissed if he left without it.

  He had known for a while now that the Relyeh invasion wasn’t over and that this day would come. The timing was shit, but was there ever a good time for something like this? Wishing, complaining, worrying. None of that would help.

  Fighting? The odds were ridiculously stacked against them.

  But even the Hunger couldn’t keep a good Sheriff down.

  22

  Caleb

  Caleb crouched beside a tree. It was early morning. Still dark. A slick of trife spread out across a field in front of him, nearly a thousand strong. It was a large group, out of place in the middle of the open field.

  He was more interested in the farm than the trife. The property was fertile and active, with bands of wheat and corn visible well into the distance. A windowless stone and steel structure sat beside the fields of grain, with a pair of large granaries on either side. Caleb used his Skin to zoom in on the granaries, spotting the guards standing at the top of the towers facing the trife. They had no doubt seen the creatures, but so far hadn’t taken any action against them.

  The whole scene was curious. Clearly, the farm had been designed to withstand the demons. Trife however had no interest in burning crops and starving humans, only slaughtering them wholesale. So the existence of the farm and the hardened construction was intriguing. It wasn’t newly made, that much was evident by the natural staining on the concrete. It also wasn’t the original build. It had gone up after the trife invasion, which meant there was someone out here who was not only surviving the demons but thriving in spite of them, and that someone needed enough wheat and corn to feed hundreds, if not thousands of people.

  After spending the last few months passing through towns and villages sparsely populated by ragged, struggling survivors and joining nomadic groups—continually trying to stay one step ahead of the next trife slick and quietly ending small bands of roving bandits and gunslingers, it was an incredibly welcome change.

  And it was about to come under attack.

  Leave it alone. The uluth cannot penetrate the stone, and the sentries know they are present.

  “We can take a bite out of them and lead some of them away. It’ll make the whole group easier to handle.”

  For all you know, this farm belongs to another random would-be warlord.

  “What does that matter? Humans help humans fight trife. That’s the way it should be.”

  That doesn’t mean it’s always the way things are. From what we have seen, humans are more likely to take advantage of one another than join together to fight the common enemy. It’s not surprising. Many worlds have fallen to the Hunger, and most have reacted the same way.

  “Well, this human is still a Marine. I took an oath to protect the people here. Just because that was two hundred years ago doesn’t make it any less valid today.”

  Even if they don’t appreciate it? Even if they would just as soon kill you as thank you?

  “Yes. I came back here to help humankind fight against the Hunger.”

  You can’t do that if you die before you deliver your message.

  “We aren’t so easy to kill.”

  We also aren’t invulnerable, and that is a great number of uluth. I understand our symbiosis has merged some of my arrogance into you, but now I warn you against giving in to it.

  “That’s your part of me talking.”

  Likely so. Let us remain cautious, Caleb.

  Caleb sighed silently. Ishek was right. He wanted to help, but his mission was bigger than a single slick of trife. It would be different if they were about to launch an assault on an unprotected group of travelers. But they were gathering to attack a defensible position.

  Which also made little sense.

  “What do you think they’re doing here?” he asked. “I don’t feel like this is a raid on the farm. That’s a lot of trife for as few people as may be hiding in that bunker.”

  Unknown. We can look into the Collective, but it’s risky.

  Caleb understood the risks. He tried not to tap into the Hunger’s mindshare more than was necessary. While he had learned to block some of the probes against Ishek’s link to the network, he wasn’t skilled enough to prevent a more powerful Relyeh from accessing the Advocate’s mind, and by extension his own. It was especially dangerous because of the package he was carrying—as Valentine had put it, a means to destroy every trife on Earth.

  That wouldn’t solve the Nyarlath problem completely, but if they could end the trife threat before the Relyeh Ancient made her appearance it would begin to put them on much more stable footing.

  But did they have enough time?

  “Reach out as quickly as you can,” Caleb said. “Don’t linger. I want to know what else is nearby.”

  A pressure built in Caleb’s mind as Ishek entered the Collective. The Advocate was only gone a few seconds.

  Multiple slicks are organizing nearby. You are correct. This isn’t about the farm. I only took a moment, but I believe there is a city close at hand, which is the target of their attack. They intend to move in on it as one group.

  “A single queen?” Caleb asked.

  No. Multiple queens are working together.

  “That’s unusual.”

  Agreed.

  “Did you get a count?”

  No. But the other slicks are more substantial than this one.

  “Best guess?”

  Forty-thousand. Maybe more.

  Caleb breathed in sharply. Forty-thousand trife all pointed at the same target? He had been on Earth during the worst of the original fighting, a member of the Marine Raiders. New York had fallen against fewer demons, and it was one of the most heavily defended cities in the world at the time.

  What the hell were they preparing to attack?

  “We need to warn them.”

  We don’t know who they are.

  “We still need to warn them. For that many trife to gather indicates the settlement’s population must be large.”

  And well defended. They might not need our help. We are only one.

  Caleb watched the trife. They had been static since he arrived, but now they started moving, a ragged line advancing north toward the bunker.

  We’re too late anyway.

  “We can still get ahead of them.”

  Caleb activated the Skin and scanned the back of one of the trife. Millions of nano-emitters embedded in the fabric cast out perfectly formed light, enveloping him in a holographic projection that perfectly mimicked the scanned trife.

  The advanced technology was created by the Axon to allow their artificial intelligences to infiltrate other civilizations. It allowed them to become duplicates of almost anything as long as it was a roughly similar size and shape. The Skin had been exceedingly useful to Caleb during his exploration of present-day Earth.

  Caleb ran forward, stooping a little to better match the trife’s gait. He came up on the back of the line, drawing a hiss from one of the demons that was more greeting than challenge. He hissed back, the Skin adjusting the sound through the cowl that covered his face so that it more closely matched the trife’s vocalization.

  He advanced with the creatures, marching a little faster to get further up the line. Once he was out in front, he could pull away and make a run for it. Between his conditioning and Ishek’s ability to flood him with chemicals to enhance his speed and strength, he would arrive at the human city ahead of the trife.

  He looked up at the sentries as the slick drew closer to the granaries. He used the Skin to zoom his optics in on them. Two armed guards stood on the top of each silo, looking down at the trife but not revealing any intent to attack. Their rifles sat on straps at their hips while their eyes remained fixed on the mass.

  They aren’t afraid.

  Caleb hadn’t realized it yet, but Ishek was right. The sentries weren’t afraid of the slick in the slightest. Did they know how many of the aliens were heading for their home? He had only been back on Earth for a short time, but he had never experienced such a complete lack of concern for the enemy before. What did they know that he didn’t?

  It was an unexpected and valuable discovery. Valentine had learned through the Relyeh Collective that humankind was still fighting this war. Still losing this war. Everything he had seen since had confirmed her report.

  Until now.

  Somebody was succeeding against the creatures.

  But who?

  And how?

  The Skin’s heads up display changed suddenly, outlining the shape of something approaching in the distance. Something airborne and mechanical, and coming in fast. Caleb turned his head toward its position in the sky. The craft was in range of the Skin’s sensors, but still outside his line of sight. But only for a moment.

  He located the UFO when two bright flashes lit up the sky ahead, giving him the briefest glimpse of the ship as it rocketed toward his position. The flashes descended even faster, dropping toward the front line of trife. The single bright light broke apart as it reached three hundred meters, splitting into nearly two dozen smaller lights that spread across the field.

  Incoming.

  Caleb’s heart started pounding and he crouched into a ball, pulling himself as tight as he could and activating the Skin’s shields. The missiles hit a split-second later, detonating across the slick. One of them struck only a few meters away, the sound of the explosion deafening, the force enough to lift Caleb off his feet and throw him sideways. The Skin’s shields flared, absorbing the otherwise killing impact. He landed hard, rolling to a stop amidst the remains of dozens of trife.

  Pulling himself to his knees, Caleb’s eyes swept across the suddenly decimated alien line. Hundreds of trife were already gone, leaving the slick a ragged mess of confused survivors.

  Gunshots crackled, and one of the surviving trife near Caleb screamed as it was taken out by a hail of bullets fired from the sentries on the nearby silos. The Skin’s HUD captured more activity from the bunker. The doors had opened and a squad of soldiers rushed out, shooting into the remaining demons.

  I told you not to get involved.

  “Shut up,” Caleb said. He got to his feet. The Skin had dropped the projection to activate the shields, revealing him as a dark humanoid shape in the middle of the battlefield.

  Would the humans see him as friend or foe?

  Bullets tore at the ground, quickly tracking toward him. He rolled aside as they cut the dirt where he had been standing, redirecting to keep him targeted.

  Foe.

  Caleb started reaching for the cowl of the Skin. Maybe they would stop shooting at him once he pulled it off and showed them he was human.

  Maybe they won’t. You were embedded with the uluth.

  Caleb gritted his teeth, realizing Ishek was right. Whoever these people were, he had severely underestimated their ability to handle the threat. Then again, why wouldn’t he? Whoever these people were, their capabilities didn’t line up with anything Valentine had led him to believe about the survivors on Earth.

  Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time Valentine had lied or withheld information, either.

  He needed to get out of there. Let the action calm down and then continue north in search of the city.

  He turned to run; at the same time he noticed the aircraft was coming back across the field, much lower than before. He looked up, surprised by the size and shape. It reminded him of the dropships on the Deliverance, only sleeker and more advanced—an iterative evolution of the centuries-old design.

  It screamed overhead, thrusters casting the entire field in a blue-orange hue as a large shape dropped out the back, its jets slowing its forward momentum and dropping it almost smoothly to the surface.

  Directly in front of him.

  The object straightened up. Nearly two and a half-meters in height, it was humanoid in shape, a large, powerful mass of heavy armor with an oversized head. A series of tubes ran from the base of the head to its back, toward the business end of a massive rifle mounted within easy reach.

  Caleb wasn’t sure if it was a robot or if there was a human inside. An opaque slit crossed its face, which could be either part of a visor or the protective covering for a series of sensors and cameras. The uncertainty left him unsure. The thing was blocking his escape.

  Fight or flight?

  He didn’t get to make the choice.

  23

  Caleb

  The armor lunged at Caleb, deceptively fast for its size. Even with Ishek’s ability to enhance his reflexes, he barely avoided the giant hand that tried to grab his shoulder, ducking aside as he activated the Skin’s weapons system. Energy flowed through the Skin, pooling at his fist as he threw a hard jab into the armor’s chest plate. The strike hit the armor, a flash of energy adding to the force of the punch, managing to knock it back a step. Off balance, it stumbled and then regained its footing, again coming at him.

  A flurry of jabs and hooks followed, the armor choosing a melee of punches when it had a rifle on its back. The intensity of the assault drove Caleb backward, ducking and dodging the blows. He tried to block one with his forearm, the Skin’s shields taking the hit, the force still throwing him back. At least whatever energy was absorbed was returned to the suit’s energy stores, regenerating its supply.

  Caleb rolled across the field and popped back to his feet. The armor didn’t hesitate, continuing after him. Caleb raised his hand and fired a blast of energy at his attacker, who reacted a split-second ahead of the shot, sidestepping before leaping at him, the thrusters on its back carrying it into the air.

  It landed directly in front of him, swinging interlocked hands like a giant club. Caleb tried to get out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough. The attack caught his shoulder, spinning him around and sending him sprawling on the ground.

  It fights well.

  “Thanks for the feedback.” Caleb grunted, scrambling back to his feet as the armor approached again. “This would be easier if I could destroy it.”

  So destroy it.

  He couldn’t. He didn’t know if there was a person inside the armor or if it was a robot. Either way, it was still a weapon against the trife. He didn’t want to do too much damage to it.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  He set himself in a defensive posture, hands up and ready for the next attack. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the armor flinched, hesitating for a moment.

  A sharp hiss drew the armor’s attention. It turned as a group of trife rushed it, the demons leaping at it to bring it down. It caught the first demon in one large hand, crushing its neck and tossing it away. It kicked a second one and punched a third. The rest of the group managed to climb on the armor, hissing and scratching at the metal to rip it apart.

  Caleb backed away as more trife began to regroup on the armor, recognizing it as their biggest threat. Out of the original thousand, only a couple hundred remained.

  The armor continued fighting back, grabbing trife and tossing them off it, crushing their bones and breaking them in half. Caleb continued watching for a few more seconds while he decided whether to use the distraction to run or to stay and help clear the field.

  If it’s a machine, it won’t identify you as a friendly regardless of your actions.

  If it was a machine, it was one of the most advanced human machines Caleb had ever seen. But he had been gone for a long time, sent halfway across the universe on a generation ship that had fled the planet two centuries ago. While most of what he had seen of his homeworld so far was the miserable acceptance of becoming the second most dominant race on the planet, he had no conception of humankind’s current military capabilities, at least not here on Earth.