“You don’t have to call me sir,” John said. “I’m a Private.” He smiled. “You don’t have to call Sergeant Card ‘sir’ either. He isn’t an officer.”

  He reached for the film around his throat. It still hadn’t sunk in that he could speak again. The damage to his throat and face was so extensive, he never thought he would utter another word out loud. He had barely been able to believe it when he had woken in the Space Force field hospital and they had told him he was going to survive.

  Only not all of him had survived. That was okay. He had become what he was supposed to become. He had done what he was supposed to do. As a Vulture. Search and rescue. Hundreds of saved civilians, thousands of dead trife. He would see Marla again one day. Until then, he would fight.

  “Yes, sir,” Kiaan replied.

  “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Paige asked, with a grin.

  “Sergeant, Private, whatever,” Kiaan replied. “You’re still a Marine, sir. That’s more than any of us are.”

  “You’re doing your part,” John said. He looked at Paige and Dante. “That goes for both of you too. The only difference between you three and me is training. We all have courage. We all have heart.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kiaan said.

  The door opened and a Translator Intellect walked into the barracks, along with an Inahri soldier John had never seen before. He was wearing the blue robe of an officer, his projected rank and hardware visibly impressive. He was taller and more sturdy in appearance than most of the Inahri John had seen. If it weren’t for the larger eyes and exaggerated facial bones, he could have passed as an ordinary Earther.

  “I’m Colonel Jax,” the Inahri said. “You will stand.”

  John hurried to his feet, eyeing the others to ensure they did the same. He stood at attention. Paige, Dante, and Kiaan mimicked his posture.

  “Better,” Colonel Jax said. “I will forgive your lack of haste this one time since you are new to our ranks.” Jax looked at John. “You are the one Sergeant Caleb calls Wash?”

  “Yes, sir,” John replied.

  “Congratulations. You are being promoted to squad leader, with the rank of Sergeant.”

  “What?” John said. He couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t a lack of skills or intelligence that had kept him from earning any kind of advancement in Space Force. They hadn’t even wanted to let him stay in because of his inability to speak, but between the desperation of the times and Caleb’s insistence that he needed a man like John on his team, the brass had been forced to acquiesce.

  “Sergeant Caleb is currently on assignment, and the Earthers need an Earther to lead them. Squad leaders require a rank of Sergeant or higher.”

  “Yes, sir,” Washington said.

  Colonel Jax let slip a small smile. John could see the others smiling too.

  “Not that we have that out of the way,” Jax continued. “We’re preparing an assault on the Seeker, our city-ship which has been grounded for the last five ens, and which up until you arrived was protected by an Intellect we could not overcome. Your defeat of the ship’s defenses has forced our hand, as the Relyeh are also moving quickly on the target. In fact, according to our Dancers they have already arrived, and are in the process of fortifying the position. Time is of the essence, which is why we need to keep this brief. Private Kiaan has spent the last quarter cycle with the rest of our secondary pilots, taking a crash course in Yun flight maneuvers.”

  “Yun?” Paige asked.

  “The transport-slash-fighter,” Kiaan said.

  “Private Paige, you will address me as Colonel or sir,” Jax said. “Private Kiaan, you will refrain from speaking out of turn.”

  “Yes, sir,” Paige and Kiaan said.

  “Private Kiaan’s scores were at the top of the group,” Jax continued. “It is a benefit to your squad, and brings honor to both Sergeant Tsi and Sergeant Caleb.”

  “Thank you, sir,” John said.

  Two more Inahri soldiers entered the barracks behind Colonel Jax. They were pulling a floating cart which had three suits of battle armor hanging from a rack, along with three crates of what John assumed were firearms.

  “Corporals Gunsh and Hori,” Jax said, introducing them. “They will help you get outfitted with your gear and provide basic instruction in its use. We are leaving in one-tenth cycle.”

  “How long is that, sir?” Dante asked. “In Earther terms?”

  “A cycle is approximately ten Earth hours,” the Translator Intellect answered. “One-tenth cycle would be one hour.”

  “Got it,” Dante said.

  “Your Yun is called the Mengin. It will transport your squad, including Gunsh and Hori, as well as Battle Command.”

  “Battle Command, sir?” John said. “I assume that means you?”

  “Yes, along with my squad.”

  “Sir, is that a good idea?” Kiaan asked. “I’m not very experienced.”

  “Our more experienced pilots are needed to run interference against the Relyeh. Private Kiaan is the best of our reserves.” Jax looked at Kiaan. “I’m sure you’ll do perfectly well, Private.”

  Kiaan’s face paled. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Private, I wanted you here for the basic squad briefing. You’re dismissed. Go out to the launch area. Captain Shri will find you and point you to the Mengin. Prep the yun and wait for our arrival. We will have a more detailed company-wide debriefing before launch.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kiaan said. He bowed slightly, glancing at John before leaving the barracks again.

  “Sergeant Wash, I leave your squad in your hands. Gunsh, Hori, and the Intellect are yours.” Jax removed the Intellect’s control belt from his waist and handed it toward John. He took it, almost laughing because there was no way it would fit around his much larger waist. He wasn’t even sure he would fit into the Inahri battle armor.

  “Sir, how do I use this?” he asked.

  “Preface your thought with ‘Intellect.’ It will interpret the next command.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I recognize it won’t fit on your waist. You can wear it around your neck, as long as some part of it touches flesh.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You are being given a great honor in the control of an Intellect. It is normally reserved for officers of Major and above. We have only three, and they are irreplaceable.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Of course, these are not normal times, are they Sergeant Wash?”

  “No, sir.”

  Colonel Jax sighed. “In many ways, I am glad for it, Sergeant. The hour arrives when we least expect it, but at least it has arrived. At least we can settle this once and for all.”

  “Yes, sir. Even if we lose, sir?”

  “Losing is not an option, Sergeant.”

  John appreciated the Colonel’s conviction. It was the kind of attitude that was needed to fight against the steep odds they faced. The type of mentality that made good Marines better Marines. It was one of the things he respected most about Caleb, and now he admired it in Colonel Jax.

  “Yes, sir,” John replied with equal conviction.

  “One hour, Sergeant. I trust you’ll be ready.”

  “We’ll be ready, sir.”

  John bowed his head the way Tsi had taught them. Jax returned a curt bow and left the barracks.

  “I just wanted to be a sheriff,” Dante said. “Not get mixed up in an alien civil war.”

  “Look at it this way,” John replied. “What we’re about to do might actually be easier than what Caleb’s trying to do.”

  “That doesn’t help,” Dante said. “I’d rather be in Metro.”

  “Me too,” Paige said.

  “Metro is depending on us,” John said. “Nothing has changed there. Only the venue has changed. We watch each other’s backs, we take care of one another, we stay alive. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Dante and Paige replied.

  “Gunsh, Hori. Show us the goods.”

  Chapter 35

  “Earther squad,” Colonel Jax said over the comm. “It’s time.”

  John turned his head to look at Dante, Paige, and the two Inahri soldiers assigned to his unit. Like him, they were all wearing Inahri battle armor. Unlike him, theirs was standard issue.

  He had always been big. Even as a kid, his family and friends had always told him he would be a football player one day. A linebacker, maybe. He had played in college too and might have gone pro if life hadn’t intervened. Another blessing in disguise. A torn ACL led to meeting Marla, which led to love, which led to realizing that living with chronic traumatic encephalopathy wasn’t something he was particularly interested in, regardless of how much money he might make.

  That had led to a career in marketing, which he’d liked well enough, and between his job and Marla’s job as a nurse, they were comfortable.

  Then the trife had come, and everything had changed.

  “Sergeant Wash, respond,” Colonel Jax said sharply, ripping John out of the memory.

  “Earther Squad online and ready,” Washington replied. There was a two-second delay while the Intellect translated the statement over the comm.

  “Depart for the Mengin immediately.”

  “Yes, sir. Earthers, move out.”

  John took a step forward, his battle armor a bulky extension of himself. The armor was similar to Marine advanced tactical combat armor, in that it held a self-contained suite of smart sensors, comm equipment, augmented weapons targeting systems, and the like. It was different in that it was much larger and bulkier, owing to the enhanced exoskeleton that rested inside the suit itself, which provided the wearer a nearly three hundred percent increase in strength.

  The wearer needed it too. The armor was twice as heavy as a suit of ATCA, but also much better armored. It was made of the same alloy as the Cerebus armor, but it was close to three times thicker. The thickness and composition made it impervious to most Earther weapons save for maybe a direct hit from a railgun or a hard strike from a missile and almost as impenetrable from Inahri weapons too. According to Gunsh, it could take a few hits from an ion rifle before it would buckle, and even the advanced mass drivers of the Inahri Yun had a hard time cutting an armored soldier down with one hit.

  The real challenge was in learning the interface. It was all written in Inahrai, which meant memorizing the symbols more than understanding what they were. He knew how to activate the comms, how to mark targets on the tactical, which was head and shoulders better than the Marine version, and how to lock his ordnance and his squad’s on a mark. Hori claimed there were fifty more subsystems they hadn’t touched on, but the small set of ten would be more than enough for a basic assault.

  John went to the door, where Pai was waiting. The small robot bowed to him as he neared.

  “Good hunting, Sergeant,” it said.

  John found the external comm. “Thank you,” he replied. He ducked and turned his body to angle it through the opening, the size of the door his first challenge in the suit. He bumped the frame on the way through, emerging into the cavern.

  The entire compound was a flurry of activity, especially around the two dozen transports that would carry the Inahri assault team to the city-ship. Each transport could hold up to four squads, twenty soldiers, as long as they squeezed in tight. Almost five hundred battle-armored Inahri were heading to the Seeker to reclaim it from the Relyeh. How many Relyeh were waiting to stop them?

  He was going to find out soon enough.

  “Sergeant, I’m about ready to wet myself,” Paige said through the squad comm, walking single-file behind him.

  “Seconded,” Dante said. “Is it too late to play sick?”

  “I understand you’re nervous,” John replied. “I can’t say I was ever scared because I lost that when I lost Marla. But I can tell you I spent two years fighting trife with Caleb in some of the worst conditions and situations you can imagine. Heck, you probably can’t even begin to imagine them. We survived by working together then, and we’ll do it today too.”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Paige said.

  John hefted his ion rifle in his arms, glancing down at the weapon. Two connectors ran from the gun to his armor. One was for the targeting computer, the other for the energy supply. The rifle had nearly unlimited ammunition as long as it remained linked to the battle armor. Even if it did run out, his kit had included an ion pistol and pair of xix, just in case he needed to fight hand-to-hand. Knitting jokes aside, the xix were serious weapons, and at full-charge powerful enough to to tear the helmet from a suit of battle armor and land a secondary killing blow.

  John wasn’t thrilled with the idea. He had never killed another human. He had only killed trife. Lots of trife. He understood this was war and the fate of the Deliverance depended on it. It still didn’t sit all that well.

  There were a few other Inahri along the squad’s path, and they stopped and bowed to the soldiers on the way past, showing their respect for the mission. John waved back to them, appreciating the show of support.

  The squad cleared the structures of the compound quickly and in better spirits than when they had left the barracks, reaching the edge of the launch area and navigating through the other assembled squads to where John’s armor told him Colonel Jax was standing. He made visual contact with the Colonel a few seconds later, easily identifiable in battle armor painted a deep blue with gold accents. He guided the rest of the team to the side of their transport.

  “Earthers, line up,” he said into the comm when they reached the colonel. He came to attention at the front of the line, the rest of the unit joining him in a neat column, with the Intellect taking up the last position.

  “Sergeant Wash,” Jax said. “I trust you’re accustomed to the armor?”

  “Yes, sir,” John replied. “We’re ready, willing, and able, sir.”

  “Good.” Jax pointed to the Mengin’s hatch. “ Your pilot and the rest of the assets are already inside. Join them.”

  “Yes, sir. Earthers, move out.”

  John led them to the Mengin’s entry hatch, climbing into the transport. He stopped to bow to the members of Battle Command, officers all of them, easily identifiable by the blue marks provided by the battle armor’s tactical systems and the blue lines painted on the shoulders of their armor.

  The officers nodded back, and John found five empty places near the front of the craft. He also found Kiaan standing beside the pilot’s seat. He had the metallic control-gloves on his hands and the AR goggles resting on his forehead.

  “Sergeant,” Kiaan said, bowing to John as he approached the front of the craft.

  “Private. Don’t crash.” He smiled. Kiaan’s face paled. “It was a joke.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kiaan replied, laughing meekly.

  John sat at the edge of the bench seat. Dante sat beside him, while Paige, Gunsh, and Hori perched on the opposite side. The Intellect moved to the cargo area in the back of the ship, tucking itself in as much as it could.

  John closed his eyes, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. It wasn’t fear that raised his pulse. It was anticipation.

  He turned his head to the right as Colonel Jax boarded the transport, his presence signaling everyone on board to come to attention and bow their heads.

  “Heads loose,” Jax said.

  The soldiers relaxed slightly, lifting their heads.

  “Opening a company-wide channel,” Jax said. “Transferring briefing visuals now.”

  John’s HUD flashed and showed a new set of alien symbols in the top left corner. The symbols changed color, and a schematic of the city-ship faded into view in front of his eyes.

  “This is the latest report from our Dancers,” Colonel Jax said, the city lighting up with red marks symbolizing Relyeh targets. “Three hundred enemy soldiers, four Abominations, and at least two automatons marked appropriately on the schematic.”

  “Abominations, sir?” John asked.

  “Like battle armor, only larger and more powerful,” Jax replied. “The Relyeh make them. Grotesque machines, piloted by the worst kind of slaves. The abominations are too complex to work like a yun or armor. They require a direct mind interface. When the pilot is selected, they are melded to the machine. Once they enter the Abomination’s cockpit, they never come back out.”

  A shiver ran down John’s spine at the statement. He couldn’t begin to imagine being a slave to a machine like that.

  “There are different kinds,” Hori added. “Each as frightening as the next. When we encounter them, the best thing we can do is run.”

  “The Abominations are unique to the Relyeh Inahri like the xix are unique to us,” Colonel Jax said.

  “That doesn’t seem like a fair trade,” Paige said.

  “There is a reason we are the ones in hiding. Regardless, we must persevere.” A pair of spots lit up on the schematic. “The Dancers have also identified engineering teams that have been deployed here and here. Our engineering team’s best guess is that one Relyeh team is focused on prepping power conduits and ensuring the modulator will deliver energy appropriately, while the other will be testing the ship’s thrust, guidance, life-support, and anti-gravity systems. There may also be a Relyeh commander present in the city.”

  John noticed the sharp, nervous exhale from the officer sitting beside Dante in response to the news.

  “Is that an added concern, sir?” John asked. “A Relyeh commander?”

  “It isn’t an immediate concern,” Jax replied. “Our primary objective is to route the enemy forces and seize control of the Seeker. Our secondary objective is to disable one of the two engineering teams. This will serve to delay any potential launch while we regroup and reinforce. Our tertiary objective is to destroy the portal chamber.” Jax looked at John after he said it, switching his comm to squad level in anticipation of the question. “I will explain if needed.”

  “Yes, sir,” John replied.

  “Each of your platoon commanders has been provided individual orders for the assault. We may have superior numbers at the outset, but don’t get sloppy. The Relyeh have proven their ability to overcome perceived shortfalls many times in the past. Good hunting to you all.”