The IX (16 page)

“Are the Horde capable of using the pads, then? I thought they were mostly energy?”

“We’re not sure,” Saul acknowledged. “Although they’ve never been known to risk the quantum flux, it doesn’t mean they can’t. We’ve seen them use sneaky tactics before, so we’re not going to take a chance with them again. But . . .” He glanced toward the clan leaders, the native chiefs, and back to Mac and his team. “. . . Actually, this is where you and the other specialist squads are going to help us. Come with me, I want to run something past you all in person.” Saul called to his sub-commander. “Shannon? Take over, would you? The rest of the deployments are listed in the outline.”

Saul led the smaller contingent into an ancillary room. Once they were seated, he activated a small box positioned at one end of a long oval table. A barely discernible whine
thrummed into existence, which rose in pitch until it was indistinguishable. A tingling sensation crawled across his skin.

“Just a precaution,” Saul explained. “This is for your ears only. And those of Vice-Commander Mohammed Amine. Unlike everybody else, you and your people will be reporting directly to him, or me. Is that understood?”

Nobody replied. Some inclined their heads, while others raised an eyebrow or two in surprise. Most just sat still and waited patiently for Saul to explain the situation. At that moment, Saul knew he’d made the right choice.

Look at them. They’ve been torn further than any of us, and yet you wouldn’t know it by the way they act.
He thought back to the earlier assignments.
The legionnaire took his appointment in his stride, too. Cool, calm, efficient. I could use him in the future. Unlike that cavalry officer with a king-sized ego. Thank goodness not all his men are like him . . .

. . . Right, let’s see how they take the news.

Aloud, he said, “If you’re up for it, I have some
off the grid
tasks for you. Think of them as missions that will employ the very specialized skills you all posses. Guerilla warfare and living in harmony with your environment. Moving silently. Escape and evasion. We’ve never been in a position where we can put the Horde on the defensive, but I think we are now.”

Speaking to the highland and native contingents in particular, Saul stressed, “I don’t think you need to worry about the lack of sophistication of your weapons. If they’re made of steel or plain old iron, those fiends will sense it and avoid you. But if they don’t, a single shaft will travel — what? Over a hundred yards?”

“Easily,” Victorious Bear answered. “Why?”

“I was just thinking how many spooks the arrowhead would be able to penetrate before falling to the earth. Especially if you cast it into a massed charge. Remember what I told you about Simon before he died? He was standing in the back of a skimmer and shooting downward. Every single entity a bullet passed through was instantly destroyed. Those that were grazed or in very close proximity seemed to . . . I don’t know. . .unravel. It was as if the very presence of concentrated iron acted as anathema to their existence. Look, it will require experimentation, but I want to discover just how much of the stuff needs to be in the mix to cause a rupture of their biometric fields. If your warriors are willing to play, the next week or so should be rather fun.”

The Caledonians came to a decision almost instantly. Ullas Ferguson, Searc Calhoun, Red Buchan, and Kohrk Underwood each looked to Cathal MacNoimhin and nodded once, assuring the participation of their respective clans.

Cathal’s eyes and nostrils flared with pride. “It would seem you have the support of my tribe, Commander Cameron. We are keen to test our mettle against these devils.”

The highlanders then stared toward the Native Americans who, in turn, appeared to be studying each other closely. After some minutes, they came to an unspoken agreement. Amazingly, it was Stained-With-Blood who stepped forward.

Indicating each respective chief in turn, he said, “I speak on behalf of Snow Blizzard, White Bear, Diving Hawk, and Victorious Bear. For Cree, Lakota, Sioux, Apache, and my own family, the Blackfoot. Whatever our differences in the past, the People would be honored to strike a blow against Chaos and his dread spirits. In this we are united.”

Bowing formally, Stained-With-Blood drew his dagger and scored the tip across his opposite palm. Allowing everyone to view the cut, he declared, “We Cree so avow.” Then he clenched his fist and held it to his heart.

“Thank you,” Saul murmured. “You must forgive me. I am unaware of your customs, so I don’t know if there’s anything you require from me to accept your pledge?”

Neither faction responded.

Apparently not,
he thought wryly.

Turning to Mac and his team, Saul found it difficult to hide his excitement. “Gentlemen, I have something quite radical for you. I’d like you to take a look at this.”

Activating a projector, Saul brought up a 3D image of a complex structure spread over a vast area. He allowed the representation to rotate slowly through the air before fixing it into position above the tabletop in front of them. Once it had steadied, he said. “This is the spaceport I mentioned earlier. While certain aspects appear similar in many ways to the aerodromes of your time, there are some major differences. The first being the absence of runways. The Ardenese employed the use of retractable anti-gravity scallops along the edges of their craft. They would use them to shuttle out to the launch area before gaining altitude. Once in flight, they would fire up the Aqua-Cell engines and boost themselves into orbit for FTL initiation.”

The picture rippled and the perspective changed. Now everyone had a clear view of a massive edifice of shining glass and metal. “This is the main terminal,” Saul said as he continued to manipulate the controls. “To the right, you can see the shuttle dome that links the facility to seven other major cities within a thousand mile radius: Cumale, Floranz, Locus, Genoas, Napal, Elan, and of course Rhomane.”

“Are you joking?” Mark Stevens gasped. “They sound . . .”

“Yes, they sound familiar, don’t they? Too similar for it to be a coincidence. It made us chuckle when we found out.”

Mark was stunned. “Did the Ardenese ever admit to visiting Earth in their past?”

“Not that we know of. But as you might appreciate, we’ve only uncovered a fraction of their history. Even their space faring epoch stretches back thousands of years. So, we’re still—”

“Er, the mission?” Mac interjected. “I’d appreciate it if we cut the chitchat until after we know what we’re doing.”

“Ah yes, sorry!” Saul adjusted the settings once more. “I tend to get a bit carried away when I consider the amazing comparisons that keep popping up between our two cultures.”

He began a slow aerial circuit of the facility. “To the right, behind the terminus, we have the pens and hangars where each craft was refueled and prepared for travel. That area was once awash with rippling energies. Obviously, it was one of the first places to become depleted when the Horde first emerged from their ships. The original liners are still there, even now, like a beached flotilla of Marie Celestes. Very spooky. However, we don’t need to concern ourselves with them just yet.”

Tweaking the scene once again, Saul made a gradual approach toward the far side of the facility. “Now
this
is what I’d like you to pay particular attention to. The eastern zone facilitated maintenance, emergency services and stores.” One building glowed red. “And according to the inventory,
that
warehouse contains over a thousand flyers, still in their crates. To avoid damage, such items were always packed inert. All the Ardenese had to do was add good old aqua-pura, and the fully integrated AI/diagnostic systems would initialize and power them up ready for final program download. If we could get our hands on them, it would make life a lot easier.”

“In what way?” Mac probed.

“Let’s just say, they weren’t designed only to hover in the air and look pretty. Depending on the encryption package, they could be tasked to observe, map, gain intelligence, repair, or even defend strategic locations. Now you’re here, I’m hoping to extend the possibilities.”

“And how many were you hoping we’d appropriate for you?”

“First, we’d like you to complete a test run. Remember, I mentioned earlier that we had a problem converting the null-shield applications to our portable units. That’s entirely down to the differences within the hardwired security software. Think of it as two different sides not speaking the same language. They just don’t communicate as freely as we want them to. However, we noticed your tactical armor is equipped with a most intriguing form of stealth technology. Primitive by current standards, and yet perfect for our needs.”

“Because it’ll do as it’s told if you start tinkering with it?” Mac caught Saul’s meaning instantly.

“Exactly.” Saul beamed. “It should be much easier for our guys to adapt its frequency to one that will mesh with the existing generators. If it works, I’m told there’s a high probability we can reduce the size of the cells down to something you’d be able to carry individually. Just imagine it. Being able to do what you do best, without having to worry about Horde ghouls materializing out of thin air trying suck you dry.”

As an afterthought, he added, “Mind you, even if they did, I don’t see them trying it on for too long, especially with the firepower you have at your disposal. If they turned tail and fled when Simon popped off a few rounds at them, how are they gonna react when they meet you?”

“Let’s hope they don’t start getting brave then,” Mac grumbled. “Don’t forget, we only have the ammunition that was brought through with us. Even with the U.S. Cavalry and our nuclear-happy friends out there, all those bullets will soon disappear without proper fire discipline.”

Saul didn’t appear too upset by the statement. Instead, he ushered everyone closer and said, “You let me worry about that. We’re not without our . . . resources.”

Without explaining his statement further, Saul expanded the holographic projection to present a topographical overview of the surrounding region. Satisfied he had the correct resolution, he addressed them all once more. “Right, you’re the experts in this kind of situation. Let’s talk tactics . . .”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A Testing Time

(Sengennon Strait
—
7 miles northwest of Rhomane)

Lex wasn’t happy to be under the command of a traitor.

But what can I do? Everyone’s circumstances have changed drastically over the past week, and now it’s a case of ‘better the devil you know.’

Tearing his gaze away from Houston’s back, Lex scanned the countryside about him. He was reminded of a recent journey through rolling hills and sweeping plains full of hidden dangers. Except this wasn’t Montana. And the savanna here was lifeless, devoid of the buffalo, birds, and myriad other critters that brought the prairie to life about you. Even the strange purple-green hue of the grass had been stripped back to bare bones in a way that was unsettling.

And it won’t be Red Indian braves jumping out on us if we do find anything.

He reached up to adjust his chromatically active eyepieces. Provided only three days ago when the patrol started, Lex soon discovered that Samson’s gait made them slide down his nose.

Strange things,
pity we didn’t have them in my day. Although it’s a little odd, looking at everything through a dark tint, you soon get used to it.

He glanced over the top of the rims and squinted.
Mind you, it’s a question of having to. The Ardenese must have had exceptional eyesight.

The sun was incredibly intense, especially at midday, when it cast a harsh blue-white tinge through the air that glared back off every bright surface. Even the horses had to wear specially designed blinders to protect their eyes.

They’re obviously forcing us into a ‘put them through hell together’ scenario in the hope it will make us gel into a team again.

Lex snorted.
As if we have any choice.

He watched as the highlanders loped easily along beside them. Glistening with sweat, they appeared to revel in the challenge of keeping up with the rest of the patrol. From time to time, they would range out onto a hillock to survey the land ahead or behind. Adjusting the magnification on their sunglasses, they would then look for telltale signs of Horde activity, and communicate with each other by whistles and hand signs.     
They’re a fierce bunch, and tough. I think we’ll be very glad to have them at our back in a fight.

Peeking toward his captain out of the corner of his eye, Lex couldn’t prevent himself adding,
and they might even protect us from cowardly snakes-in-the-grass like him when things turn nasty
.

The rumble of approaching hooves resonated through the air. Wilson Smith’s platoon was returning from their latest sweep, and the second lieutenant was making no effort to remain quiet. Horses came into view. Shouldering their way through a patch of head-high grass, they broke free and made a beeline for the main body of the patrol.

“What news?” Houston snapped.

Wilson shook his head and cast his eyes downward in resignation. “We cleared the ridge leading onto the Thunder Plain, but we didn’t see a soul. I even managed to make out the hills rising toward the Rainbow Cathedral, but nothing’s moving there, either. If the Horde is about, and these glasses work like they said they would, the monsters must be hiding.”

“They’re there, all right,” Red Buchan grumbled, “I can feel it in my bones. In the air. Can’t you? Fey creatures have our scent, and the bitter tang of dark metal holds them in thrall. They dread its presence and keep their distance, but not for long. Their hunger is rising. Soon, it will outweigh their fear.”

Rumblings of agreement echoed through the tartan-clad warriors who had heard the statement.

“Well, I don’t give a damn about their hunger.” Houston’s tone was condescending and unfriendly. “Let them come. They’ll find our Spencer carbines picking them off before they get within a hundred yards of us.”