and his team directed search parties to inspect and clear every farmhouse along the route. As Vance feared, no people were found, though signs of a struggle were everywhere. They found signs of slaughter-bloodstains on chairs, walls, and floors throughout the many houses.
Since the Alliance was first notified of losing contact with their outpost, enough time passed that the crops were allowed to grow wild in the fields. Vegetable stalks were crowned with heavy blooms that normally would’ve been trimmed to avoid nutrients being drained from the edible parts of the plants. Holes perforated the landscape, a result of an underground rodent population left unchecked. Whatever happened to that part of the planet, it was awhile ago and left no possibility of taming the wild landscape.
As soldiers trudged through muddy creeks and climbed fences in various stages of disrepair, the city’s outskirts neared. Vance keyed the transmit button on his headset.
“Platoon One, this is Command,” he said softly, not wanting to betray the heavy silence in the air. That silence startled him, as they moved through the countryside. No birds chirped in the trees, and, even in deep grasses, the scurry of small wildlife was missing. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath for fear of retribution.
“This is Platoon One,” Warrant Harkund replied.
“Platoon One, I want you to cover the main highway leading into the city. You’ve got our six once we’re inside.”
“Roger that, Sir.” He cut transmission. A moment later, one quarter of the black-armored soldiers left the main group, falling in behind them, preparing to hold the entrance to the city.
“Platoons Two and Three,” Vance said.
“Yes, Sir,” Warrants Blythe and Onclav answered.
“I want you to spread out. Two, you take the west. Three, move east. Move over approximately six blocks, then move north into the city paralleling the main thoroughfare. You copy?”
“That’s a good copy, Sir,” Blythe said.
“Wilco,” Onclav replied.
Vance kept his radio on a channel that covered all internal platoon chatter. He listened to the commands that moved half the strike force in different directions, fanning out to cover as many southern entrances to the city as possible. With only one-quarter of the soldiers remaining, plus his own team, Vance gave hand and arm signals for Dallis and Decker to join him in the center of the column.
When they arrived, Vance held an impromptu huddle to ensure they were fully aware of the plan.
“We don’t have the personnel to do a house-by-house sweep,” he explained. “We have to stay vigilant while entering the heart of the city. Our objective remains the military outpost on the far side. Any records of what happened will be kept at that facility. If we run into trouble, that will also be our fallback position, since it’s the most defensible with its external defense system.”
He turned to Decker, who lifted his helmet’s dark visor to confirm eye contact. Vance was quickly learning to like the knowledgeable, charismatic Pilgrim. “Decker, I need two or your personnel on point a minimum of three blocks ahead at all times. The business district was the most heavily damaged. Once we reach it, I need your point men scanning every alley and building. I don’t want any surprises, like snipers ambushing us, when we’re trapped between skyscrapers.
“No problem, Sir.” He activated his microphone. “Roberts and Gythrun, rally on my position.”
Since all the soldiers’ helmets had a forward display built into the visor that showed the leaders’ position at all times, a command like Decker’s was easy to follow. The Wyndgaart infantry soldier and an armored Avalon soon joined them.
Decker quickly explained their responsibilities. Both nodded wordlessly before unslinging their weapons and moving to the front line of troops.
“They’re two of my finest,” Decker explained. “They’ll be safe on their own up front.”
“Let’s hope so,” Vance said, unconvinced. “I’d prefer not to bring anyone home in a body bag.”
With the point men in position, the group closed the rest of the distance to the edge of the city. The point men clambered over an improvised barricade at the edge of town. The barrier, built from destroyed street carts and piled furniture, had been burned in the distant past. Only the charred remains of the furniture’s framework remained, marking one piece of debris as a sofa as opposed to the round frame of what had once been a dining room table.
Fire damage extended to several squat residential buildings, too. Entire walls had collapsed in flames, leaving exposed, blackened stonework and allowing glimpses into the abandoned, simple lives of those who once occupied the homes. Roberts and Gythrun checked doors on different sides of the street, remarking that most were still locked despite the severe damage the buildings sustained.
Though the fires had long since cooled, the thick smell of ash hung in the air, as Vance and the rest of the team cleared the barricade. Tusque moved up to Vance while they walked, his large snout sniffing thoughtfully in the air.
“I got a bad feeling, Boss,” the Oterian rumbled.
“Why’s that?” Vance knew better than to second-guess the gut feelings of one of his team. “Because of the ash in the air?”
“It’s not the ash.” A distant look of concentration came to his eyes. “It’s what’s below the ash, more subtle but still there.”
Vance didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “What do you smell that I can’t?”
“Death,” he said matter-of-factly. “Burned and cooked flesh. Something a little more animalistic hanging in the air, like wet fur. An evil smell has settled over the city, Boss.”
“I didn’t peg you as the superstitious type, Tusque.” Vance tried to ease a rising sense of precognitive dread.
“It’s not superstition. It’s a statement of fact.” He turned to the much-shorter Pilgrim. “I know I can’t talk you out of going into the heart of the city, Boss, but I don’t think this is a simple reconnaissance mission.”
“Neither do I.”
Without replying, Tusque returned to his position, scanning the short buildings for any sign of movement. Decker, who watched the conversation from a distance, slid to Vance’s side, as they marched toward the tall buildings in the business district.
“What did he have to say?” Decker asked.
“The same thing we’ve been saying all along, that this mission has more layers than we were led to believe.” He turned to the younger Pilgrim, a sober look in his eyes. “Do me a favor, Decker. Keep your people overly vigilant. Don’t let them take anything for granted. Even if they accidentally spot one of the platoons paralleling us six blocks away, I want them to report it.”
“Will do, Sir. I already took the liberty of letting the point men know about our concerns.”
“Probably a good call.”
They walked past the first of the destroyed cars. The roof was caved inward, and it drooped down enough that its weight crushed the headrests on both front seats. The hood suffered a similar blow, bowing up around the blunt trauma in its center.
Something destroyed all the cars on the street in a similar manner, but it was the subtleties that he hadn’t seen from the air that concerned him. Across the hoods, paint was scraped away in even lines, like something was dragged across the metallic surfaces, peeling away paint. To Vance, it seemed like claws.
“Halo, this is Vance.” He switched to his personal command net.
“Go ahead, Michael,” Halo’s sweet voice replied.
“Are you tracking any movement or heat signatures ahead of us?”
“Negative. The coast looks clear all the way to the outpost on the far side of town.”
“Roger.” He hoped to hear that hundreds of enemies were closing in. He
“Keep watching for anything on the radar and let me know the second you find something.”
“You know I will, Michael. Halo, out.”
