Chapter 59
Chapter Fifty-Nine
The woods were a nightmarish landscape of gray and black, broken by jerking flashlight beams and the occasional switch to ultraviolet and infrared. When Connor did that, everything became green or a palette of deep blues.
The rotting smell was even more thick with sulfur now, dense as the suffocating air. It was in Connor’s sweat, on his tongue, in his clothes and armor.
Blood. That stench came from the bugs’ blood.
It wasn’t just bug blood, though. Martienne was a dead weight on his shoulders, compressing his spine with each long stride.
At least the itching from the pollen or spores or whatever had stopped.
He twisted his head around to be sure the crack and scrape behind him was the others crashing through the woods. Rudy wasn’t there anymore to kick stragglers in the butt, to keep them all together.
Connor had a hard time making sense of that: Rudy wasn’t there.
The sergeant was too tough, too shaped by the horrors of war to die.
But he had. It was as if the bugs had specifically targeted the grizzled veteran. Except they were only bugs. They couldn’t be smart enough to do that.
Croaking from somewhere off to the right brought Connor around.
His light caught the gray of tree trunks, then the flash of blue-green tending toward midnight.
The coloring, the shape, the way it moved…the lizard things were pursuing them.
If he held his breath and slowed, the strange chittering sounds were there, too.
Connor connected to the entire team. “We’ve got an escort. Stay sharp.”
Selen was on the connection next. “The bugs?”
He glanced to the sky above. One of the black shapes flitted around up there, but it was high up now and alone. “I think they’ve given up.”
Vicente keyed his mic. “Those things ain’t giving up, Boss.”
“For now. The lizard things are the problem now. We’re in their territory.”
“Should’ve asked for a pass.”
Before the heavy weapons expert’s words died, Selen was on again. “Maintain communications discipline. Keep the line clear.”
Harsh discipline was appropriate at that moment, but it was something Rudy had been good at. The team expected it from him. From Selen, it was going to come across as surly and punitive.
That was something Connor could talk to her about later. One of a million things.
What had happened?
How did she let the team break apart when the bugs attacked?
Why hadn’t she let him save Drew?
Later. When they were safe. For now, the bigger question was if the bugs had really abandoned them and why.
He suspected it was the lizards, a respect for territory. That was every bit as big of a problem as the bugs pursuing, though. It meant the bugs perceived the lizards as a big enough threat not to challenge them, and after losing Rudy, the team wasn’t in any condition for such a threat.
Someone caught up to his left. He recognized Kalpana’s shorter, athletic frame. Her bun had come undone, allowing some of her long, dark hair to spill out.
She glanced at him—cold eyes, a face of stone. “Can’t make the ship.” There were gasps in between the words, same as there was a sag to her back.
“I know. We’ll have to take a break.”
The scout had her focus on the way ahead again. She nodded. “I’ve got the point.”
With that, she jogged ahead.
Connor was in no condition to challenge her. Martienne was a small enough woman, but she was still another sixty kilos to haul around. Taking her armor off might strip away eight kilos, but the risk wasn’t worth it.
He switched to infrared, found Kalpana’s golden glow, and kept his focus on that, making her his guiding light.
A loud huff slowly grew closer, drowning out Connor’s own gasps and the croaking the lizards had switched to. Just beneath that huffing, there was a recognizable clatter of armor and weapons and a soft squeal that identified itself quickly enough: the small wheels of one of the litters.
“Boss.”
Connor took his eyes off the scout for just long enough to twist around and get a look at Vicente. “How’re you doing, big man?”
The muscle-bound giant was almost white-hot in the infrared. “Hurting.”
“You take a hit?”
“Nah.” The muscles of the big man’s upper arms bunched as he shifted his load. “Losing the sarge.”
“Rudy was a good man.”
“The toughest.”
The two of them jogged in silence, their breathing falling into a comforting rhythm. It was the eternal camaraderie of the mercenary, the silent mourning of a fellow lost in battle.
Then Vicente sniffled. “The kid’s taking it hard. Thought you should know.”
“Aubriella?”
“Yeah. Tim and Tom ain’t liking it, either, but they’ll get by.”
Connor should have thought of that. “I told her once that if she wanted to live—”
“—stick by Rudy. You told us all that, Boss.”
Maybe that had been too much pressure to put on the veteran. Invincibility, infallibility—no one could maintain that sort of aura forever.
The realization weighed on Connor more than the pilot’s body. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Good idea, Boss. After she mourns, maybe.”
“That’s the right call. Thanks.”
Vicente grunted and shift his weight again. “We gonna rest soon?”
“Kalpana’s got her eyes out for a good spot.”
“I shouldn’t have had so much water before. Guess I didn’t think we’d be in a big fight.”
“None of us did.”
Somewhere behind him, Mosiah was stumbling along beside the rest of the people who’d survived the encounter he’d led them into.
That was how Connor saw it now. The old man had known what was in the ruins.
Had Selen? Had the client told her what to expect, and she’d sat on the information because she worried the team would refuse to go in?
The idea was absurd. He couldn’t figure where it had come from.
Selen could be described as a lot of things, but irresponsible when it came to her team?
Definitely absurd.
And yet, something had brought the thought into his head.
That was something he’d have to figure out later, when they were back to the safety of the ship.
If they could survive that long.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
