He wasn’t going to make it.

  Yes, you are.

  Caleb’s feet touched down on the deck, and he pitched forward, tucking his left shoulder under as he hit the deck, the impact still dislocating his shoulder. He lost all sense of direction as momentum sent him rolling across the deck. Thankfully, he lost most feeling too. He finally slammed into the steel cable taffrail at the edge of the deck, hitting it with the opposite shoulder and adding a broken arm to the damage to his body.

  Waves of pain shot through him despite Ishek’s best efforts, the crash landing more violent than he had expected. There was no time to linger. No time to nurse his injuries. Caleb forced himself up, stumbling across the deck.

  Civilians ran toward him, eager to help and amazed he was still alive, never mind able to stand. They froze when he got to his feet, stopping to stare in amazed surprise.

  One of the people didn’t freeze. He was the only one in a uniform, though he was dressed more like a tech than a soldier in stained blue coveralls. “Wait. You need a doctor.”

  “No time,” Caleb said, turning his head. “I need the Badger.”

  This is going to hurt.

  Caleb’s shoulder wrenched, a loud pop sounding as it slid back into the socket. Burning pain went up from the area, and he clenched his teeth, taking it in silence.

  The tech hesitated, unsure what Caleb meant.

  “Badger,” Caleb repeated. “Big metal thing, guns for hands.”

  The tech smiled. “Oh. You just jumped from the dropship.”

  “I know. I was there.”

  “You should be dead.”

  “I’m not that lucky. If you don’t mind, I need that damn Badger. Now.”

  “It’s on the lower deck, but the elevator is lowered. The stairs are that way.” The tech pointed to the carrier’s island.

  “I’ll take the shortcut,” Caleb replied, already familiar with the layout of the carrier. This wasn’t his first time on board the George H.W. Bush. He had toured the carrier during one of his trips to the city over two hundred years ago. “Keep firing at that thing until I get back. Aim for the eyes on the central mass.”

  He began running away from the civilians, toward the carrier’s elevator, limping at first as Ishek worked on healing the damage to his muscles.

  This will hurt again.

  Caleb slowed as his other shoulder spasmed and jerked back into place. He cried out this time, grunting from the pain.

  Infant. It hurts me as much as it hurts you.

  Caleb doubted that.

  He was at a full sprint by the time he reached the edge of the elevator, already positioned at the lower deck. He found the emergency access ladder, hurrying to it and expertly sliding down.

  The deck below wasn’t as empty as he thought it would be. Hundreds of civilians were crowded across it, huddled together near the interior bulkhead. His sudden appearance took them by surprise, and he could taste their fear as he breathed in.

  Delicious.

  It wasn’t the time or place, but Caleb couldn’t argue. His symbiosis with the Advocate gave him the same reaction.

  A group of civilians came toward him from his flanks as he started scanning the deck for the Badger. They held their rifles awkwardly, unaccustomed to carrying or using the weapons.

  “Who are you?” one of them asked. An older man in black pants and a white shirt that was stained with sweat, grease and blood. He had an open cut on his cheek.

  “Sergeant Caleb Card, Space Force Marines. A xaxkluth is closing on the ship. I’m going to fight it.”

  “A what?” another of the civilians asked.

  “Alien,” Caleb replied. “Where’s the Badger?”

  “What’s a Badger?”

  A loud clang disrupted them, followed by another. The ship shuddered, and the people up top started to scream, their gunfire intensifying.

  “Big humanoid mech, guns for hands,” Caleb said again. He could taste the increased intensity of the fear. It was more potent than anything he had sampled since he had bonded with Ishek.

  They were running out of time.

  The man nodded. “This way.” He ran past Caleb, toward the civilians. “Move aside! Move aside!”

  The people scattered, mothers grabbing their children and lifting them away, wounded men and women hobbling to the side. Their effort revealed the Badger sitting against the back bulkhead on its knees and leaned forward with its hands splayed to the front as if it were bent in prayer.

  It wasn’t. The machine was in its default rest position, aligned to make it easy for the pilot to enter the cockpit in its head.

  “You need to get these people out of here,” Caleb said, approaching the cockpit. A control pad rested on the side of the large, squarish head, and he tapped on it to activate it. The machine was locked.

  “And go where?” the man asked. “We’re on a boat.”

  “It’s a ship, not a boat,” he said, returning his attention to the Badger, quickly entering the access codes he knew. It took three tries before the heavy faceplate of the machine slid open, revealing the chair behind it. He jumped into the Badger’s cockpit, dropping into the chair. He looked back at the man. “Find an interior hatch. I don’t care where, but you’re all open targets down here.”

  “We aren’t here because we want to be. There’s no more room. The ship is full, Sergeant.”

  Caleb stared at the man. Up top, the clanging continued, the sound reverberating on the ceiling above as the xaxkluth gained the upper deck. The gunfire had lessened somewhat, the shooters succumbing to the monster’s attack. He had to hurry or there wasn’t going to be anyone left up there.

  So many civilians. Why didn’t Stacker have more soldiers? “Just do what you can to get everyone out of my way, okay?”

  The man nodded and hurried toward the nearest crowd of gawkers “Back up!” he shouted. “Back away from the mech!”

  Caleb snapped his feet into a pair of actuators at the base of the unit and slid his arms into two raised slings that ended in a set of control sticks.

  Interesting machine. Horribly inefficient.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  There were eight buttons at the end of each control stick. Sixteen in total that controlled every command for the machine. Caleb tapped in a three button sequence, and the front faceplate slid closed, the interior of the semi-transparent material lighting up with a large heads-up display ahead of the world outside. Another few taps and the machine came out of its rest position, torso lifting the head up and back. Caleb brought the monster all the way up from a knee, putting Caleb five meters above the deck.

  It had been a long time since he had driven a mech. He took a couple of tentative steps forward, working the actuators cautiously as the muscle memory returned.

  There was no time for caution.

  A line of tentacles dropped over the edge of the deck.

  36

  Caleb

  Caleb turned his hands in the slings, the arms of the Badger executing the same move. Each arm of the mech ended in a large swappable pod.

  He had noticed this one was armed with the same munitions on both sides—a plasma cannon in the center, a pair of railguns on the top and bottom and a set of machine guns on either side. Ammo ran to the pods through the arms from a central store on the back, which was protected by extra thick armor. The feeding mechanism was the weakest link of the machine, the mechanism allowing the rounds to flow through the armored limbs—regardless of their position—overly complicated. It would have been better to lock the arms straight or stick with energy weapons that utilized flexible wires and wouldn’t run out of rounds. But desperation and loss of top engineers had led to bad decisions and underthought, overengineered and hastily produced designs. It was all part of the trickle down effect that had started with the deadly virus and ended with the loss of the war.

  And the planet.

  Caleb picked up the pace, stomping forward toward the tentacles while the civilians filled in behind him, hiding behind the mech. The gunfire had stopped on the deck above, the only sound the wet slapping of the xaxkluth as it slid to the edge of the ship.

  A pair of large reticles floated on the HUD in front of him, each one featuring smaller crosshairs for each specific ordnance. Caleb lined up the railgun crosshairs on the tentacles, slid his thumb over to the control stick and pressed down on the trigger.

  Titanium flechettes spewed from the four barrels in rapid fire, the first salvo cutting off six of the hanging limbs in less than a second, the ammunition count on the left side of the HUD reflecting the decrease. Caleb stopped shooting as the tentacles dropped to the deck, oozing ichor and still twitching. The xaxkluth groaned loudly above, slamming its other limbs on the upper deck in anger and pain.

  The civilians behind the mech cheered in response to the outcome, their shouts getting louder when the remaining tentacles retreated.

  “That was easy,” Caleb said.

  Didn’t I tell you xaxkluth don’t retreat?

  He could hear the Relyeh moving across the upper deck, headed toward the carrier’s large island. If there was no more room for people down here, how many were hiding up there?

  Caleb moved his feet, working the actuators to run across the deck. He headed onto the elevator and looked up in time to see the rear tentacles of the creature vanish from sight. He pivoted his body, the motion reflected by the Badger, twisting to find the controls for the lift.

  The man in the white shirt was already there. He tapped on the control pad. A loud clunk followed, and the elevator started to rise.

  Caleb stood in the center of it, turning to face the island as it rose. He lifted his arms, bringing the guns up and over his head in anticipation of the moment he had visual on the Relyeh.

  The Badger’s head cleared the upper deck, and Caleb found the xaxkluth waiting for him. It was still facing away, but it had backed up a few meters and its rear tentacles lashed out, one of them wrapping around the mech’s arms and pulled them askew. It yanked him sideways as he started shooting. His rounds went wide of the mark, the powerful tentacles nearly lifting the mech as it took him off balance.

  Caleb cursed, his shoulders hurting as the motion outside was reflected inside, bringing his arms out wide. He gritted his teeth as he pulled back, trying to overpower the creature and get the reticles back in line.

  One arm was more successful than the other, and he loosed a barrage from the left-hand machine guns as the reticle crossed the xaxkluth’s flesh. Bullets chewed into the back of the creature’s central mass, distracting it just long enough for him to bring the other arm back in. He fired from both sides, forcing the alien to let him go. Momentum threw the Badger sideways, and his feet danced on top of the actuators while he tried to keep himself upright.

  It didn’t work. The mech toppled sideways, the fall jolting him in his restraints. He tapped on the controls, commanding the machine to reset its position by calculating the movements needed to return to rest. The action took seconds he didn’t have, and the xaxkluth closed on him again, whipping its tentacles hard around and catching the mech in the side. The force threw him across the deck, metal scraping metal as he flailed, trying to get the machine upright again. He turned his head to get visual on the creature, which appeared to have gotten bigger from the time it was in the water.

  It feeds, and it grows.

  “Awesome,” Caleb replied. And he had thought the Reapers were bad.

  He turned the mech over, planting an arm and using it to push the machine closer to upright. A dozen tentacles were racing toward him. He opened fire, sending bolts of plasma and flechettes into the oncoming limbs. The defense tore through the xaxkluth’s arms, removing four of them in rapid succession.

  But there were still eight more.

  They grabbed the Badger, wrapping around the legs and pulling him onto his back. The mech hit hard, jolting Caleb and eliciting a painful grunt. He tapped the controls to get the machine back into a sitting position, only to have two more tentacles wrap around the body of the mech, holding it still while a second pair again grabbed the arms.

  The xaxkluth flipped itself over the mech, the central mass hovering above him. Half its eyes had been blown out during its approach, leaving oozing holes across its disgusting face. Its mouth was a dark, gaping cavern directly above the cockpit, its hundreds of grinding teeth threatening him as another pair of tentacles reached for the protective faceplate.

  “Any ideas?” Caleb asked.

  Yes, but it might kill us.

  “We’re going to die anyway if we do nothing.”

  Very well.

  Caleb winced ahead of the pain he presumed would come.

  It didn’t.

  The xaxkluth howled instead, as a half dozen bolts poured into it from the sky, tearing deep into its limbs and central mass. The pressure on the Badger lessened. Caleb gathered the mech’s feet and kicked the Relyeh’s central mass. It knocked the xaxkluth back and off him, limbs releasing as it tried to back away.

  “You said they don’t retreat.”

  They don’t.

  Caleb looked up. The dropship was swooping in, low and slow, still firing on the xaxkluth.

  Too low and too slow. The creatures was bunching itself on its tentacles, preparing to jump.

  “No!” Caleb shouted, charging forward.

  He aimed and fired, pounding the xaxkluth with everything he had. Large gouges tore out of the monster, flesh and blood spraying away from it. The creature groaned in response, shoving itself into the air, tentacles stretching for the dropship.

  Caleb shifted the mech’s left arm, firing the railguns in a sweeping movement across the line of its tentacles, cutting them off one by one. He targeted the center of the creature, continuing to rip into it with every weapon in its arsenal.

  Its reach for the dropship missed, but only because the limbs were no longer there. It hit the top of its arc before falling limp and crashing back to the deck, the disgusting mess of oozing wet flesh remaining still.

  Caleb stared at the creature, heart pounding, body tingling. He kept the guns trained on it, waiting for it to move again.

  It’s dead, Caleb.

  Caleb exhaled sharply, suddenly exhausted. “Too close.” He looked up. The dropship was circling back around, approaching the carrier’s deck to land. The Truxton was on his right, headed toward open water. There was no sign of the other xaxkluth. It had to be dead, too.

  He wanted to relax. He wanted to celebrate the victory. He couldn’t.

  This new war—this new invasion—was only beginning.

  37

  Nathan

  Nathan waited for Pyro to button down the dropship’s systems and set the reactor to begin its power-down sequence before leaving the bridge. He knew he was keeping Caleb waiting outside, but he needed the time to come down from his battle high. To shake off the fury that roared through him at the destruction the alien creatures had caused, at the lives that had been lost.

  And at the loss of Edenrise.

  His city. The shining star of the planet. The symbol of hope for a future free from trife. It had offered shelter for almost a century, and just like that it was gone.

  He could shake off the battle high, but he couldn’t shake the anger. It was his job to protect the city. His mission, handed down from the original General Stacker across generations of clones, and from the last Stacker to him. Edenrise should never have fallen.

  But it had. There was nothing he could do about that. Not right away. At least the evacuation had gone according to plan. At least the ships had gotten away. How many survivors were on board? How many of the thousands had escaped? No matter the number, it was too few.

  He clenched his hand on the armrest of his chair, the augment crushing the padding and bending the metal. The trife were a threat he had learned to manage, but these new creatures had changed the game. Why here? Why now? And under whose orders?

  He would find out.

  And then vengeance would be his.

  “We’re all set, General,” Pyro said, slipping out of her seat and standing in front of him.

  He didn’t look at her right away. He breathed out some of the fury. He couldn’t change the past. He had to move forward. They all had to move forward.

  He stood up, looking down at her. “You did exceptionally well today.”

  “Thank you, General,” she replied. “I feel a little sick.”

  “Me too.”

  He led her off the bridge. The surviving soldiers were already gone, having hurried from the dropship to search for their families. He descended into the hold, glancing at his armor as he headed for the open ramp. It had taken a beating and would need some repairs.

  “Pyro, once we get organized, we need to see if we can round up any of your team to look at all the armor.”

  “Yes, General,” she replied.

  His eyes trailed along the bulkhead and down the ramp to the deck of the carrier. He could see some of the survivors standing outside, lined up and waiting for him. Each face was a reminder of a face that hadn’t made it. A family member who had died. His failure.

  “I don’t know if I can go down there,” he said.

  “Nathan, you did everything you could possibly do,” Pyro replied. “And then some. They aren’t there to blame you.”

  She took his hand and squeezed it before letting go. He glanced over at her, and she urged him forward.

  He sighed again, trying to release some tension as he started down the ramp. More people were waiting for him than he initially thought—hundreds of weary, ragged survivors.

  He was halfway down the ramp when someone in the crowd started to clap. It was a solitary, lonely sound, but only for a few seconds. Someone joined the first and then more joined the second. By the time Nathan reached the deck, the entire gathering was clapping and cheering.

  “See?” Pyro said beside him, smiling.

  The reaction didn’t salve his anger. It intensified the fury and added a layer of guilt. He waved to the crowd, accepting their desire to cheer for him, but rejecting his worthiness of the accolades. He had too much work to do to get caught up in their relief.