The Silent Army

terms with it, but right then at that moment, I felt it. I could see it. That woman I saw in the green room all those years ago, the one that looked rich and strong and together …that woman was me. I could see it. It could be my life. I didn’t have to be a pathetic shut-in, and I didn’t have to be a lackey either, getting used while I waited and hoped for a scrap of approval. I could be something bigger.

…but what about the first one? A nagging voice said. What about Noelle? What made her betray them? If Penny’s right about everything, what made her leave?

She messed up. Maybe she wasn’t in her right mind. She was a junkie. I didn’t have to end up like her.

Don’t cross Ai. That was what Penny said. It was one simple rule. Even I could handle that.

Calliope Flax—KM Senopati Nusantara

Footsteps came from the right up ahead. As soon as we hit the bend, something grabbed my number one. A shot went off and it got pulled around the corner, while my second took the lead. Shots boomed down the hall.

They kept them busy to the right. I went left. In the feed, I saw number one facing off with four jacks. The view pitched as it took a few hits, but one of its targets went down.

Two, stay with me; cover the rear. One, keep them under fire. If they get past you, detonate.

I slipped past and kept my head low. A shot clipped my boot and another hit the wall next to me as I banked left and covered the ground to the hatch up ahead. I spun the wheel and opened it, then ducked through. As the jack followed me in, I watched over the feed while the one I left behind took a volley that put it down. One arm ripped free at the elbow and spun to the floor. When it hit, it snapped open and the blade shot out.

I shoved the hatch shut as I looked back and saw its head get blown open, painting the deck behind it black. The feed went out. I locked the door and made for the next one, across the room.

Through here.

I was already down to my last jack. There were more out there, but they were on to me. I was locked out of their network. It was going to have to be enough.

The hatch opened into a big room full of bunks. No one was in them.

Watch the door.

I checked the place out. It was empty. I saw a set of clothes on the deck, shirt still tucked in the pants. They were shot through with holes. Down the rows of bunks, there were more of them.

Some of the crew got caught sleeping, it looked like. There was dried blood on the bedding. One pillow still had the dent from a head in it. A fucking JZI sat in the dent like a big, fat bug.

The lockers hung open. If any of them had guns or ammo, it was gone now.

I checked my route to the med wing; I was close. Bomb or no bomb, I could use the backup. That’s if Wachalowski made it there.

The pain hit again, and I grabbed the bunk frame to keep from going down.

They rigged you with a bomb.

I peeled up my shirt and looked at my belly. Tucked in the crease of my abs were four red dots. I ran my fingers over them. They were sore and scabbed over.

Shit …

I leaned in and used the backscatter. Inside I could see the bottom of my ribs. Lower, under the scabs, something stood out. It looked like wires under the skin.

I followed them under my belt line. There was something down there, down in the bones of my pelvis.

Cal, how long?

Almost there. I was still staring at it. It was just like we used to do with the jacks back in the grind. It was in me. The fucking thing was inside me.

You don’t have much time. Hurry.

Someone knocked me out and wired me up. How long had it been there?

“Goddamn it …” I knew what those things could do. I’d seen them go off. I’d set them off myself.

There was no way for me to shut down a bomb like that, and I knew it. If Wachalowski had a plan, it was my best bet—maybe my only one.

I pushed myself off the bunk frame and ran for the hatch on the far side of the room.

Nico Wachalowski—KM Senopati Nusantara

The entry point into the ship put me in a stairwell where a major firefight had taken place; the walls were scarred with gunfire, and blood spatter that was equal parts red and black. Two sets of clothing were draped down the steps. Another set was crumpled on the landing. The revivors made their entry there. The crew made a stand, but from the look of it, they weren’t successful.

I headed down the steps and passed two more sets of clothes on the landing. Shell casings littered the floor. The air in the stairwell smelled of decomposition, but it was faint. Whatever happened there happened a long time ago.

I found the med ward on the blueprint and sprinted down the hall alongside an old blood trail. At the junction, they’d piled up metal cabinets that were crimped and bored through with holes. More remains were piled behind them.

The route took me through a hatch, past the barricade, where I passed different sets of clothing bundled in rough rows. Tied plastic bands lay on the floor near each one.

Wrist ties. They lined them up here.

I saw shorts, tank tops, and brightly colored shirts. They probably didn’t belong to the crew …pirates, maybe, or local mercenaries. If they used hired guns, then they must not have had the numbers to take the ship alone. Either way, no one got off the ship alive. The weapons and ammo were gathered up. The corpses were dissolved, eaten, or went over the side.

The deck drummed faintly under my boots. Over the sound of the engine, I could hear movement in the halls of the ship below me, a lot of movement. I couldn’t pinpoint locations, but the number of signatures I was picking up was off the chart.

In the corridor past the hatchway, moving walkways hummed along in opposite directions.

They’ve diverted power. They’re on the move.

Roger that. Wachalowski, we’re picking up signatures approaching from belowdecks.

I checked the blueprint again. The signatures were jumbled, but it looked like most originated from the hold and were spreading out from there. I stepped onto the walkway to the right and crouched. As it sped me down a long corridor, I heard a burst of gunfire coming from another part of the ship.

A revivor signature came up suddenly on the display, with a second one right behind it. Up ahead, two sets of eyes flashed in the dark.

We’ve got contact, one of the team called in. Surface-to-air missile teams spotted on deck at points B and C.

Roger that. Locking on.

A big boom shook the floor underneath me, and the emergency lights flickered. One of the revivors up ahead fired, and a bullet glanced off the deck next to me. I targeted the first one and fired a burst. Its left knee exploded and as its leg went out from under it, it went facedown on the walk. The conveyor jerked it back and it bowled over the one behind it. I caught the second one in the forehead as it tried to get up, and its gun clattered across the deck.

The revivor with the ruptured knee pushed itself off the walk and took aim down the hall. I fired three shots. It