paint. It was midafternoon when they left the riverbank and entered the sun-dappled world of the forest. The fi?rst thing Santana noticed was the almost complete absence of the raucous jungle sounds he had grown used to. In their place was the sound of his own breathing, the steady swishswish of his pant legs as they rubbed against each other, and the occasional snap of a dry twig. Was their presence responsible for the change? Or was something else at hand? Unfortunately, there was no way to tell as the scouting party continued to weave its way between spindly vine-wrapped tree trunks.
But as the threesome continued to advance, and paused every now and then to look and listen, Shootstraight became increasingly concerned. Because the legionnaire had an extremely acute sense of smell, and as a light breeze pushed its way in from the west, it brought something with it. A scent so faint the Naa wasn’t sure what it was, until the chittering sound began. “Nymphs!” Shootstraight said urgently. “Quick! Climb that tree. . . . It’s our only chance!”
In spite of the fact that nothing had registered on his senses Santana had a great deal of faith in the Naa and reacted accordingly. Though not an experienced tree-climber, the offi?cer was in good shape, and there were plenty of footholds. Not to mention vines to pull on, which made the ascent easier and helped the legionnaires make their way up to the point where fi?ve branches shot out like spokes in a wheel. That created a natural place to stop as the fi?rst wave of nymphs passed below.
The offi?cer half expected the juveniles to pause and look upwards. But judging from the way they moved, the juveniles had a specifi?c destination in mind. Which, given the way they were headed, was the camp itself. That hypothesis proved accurate fi?fteen minutes later, when gunfi?re was heard, aerospace fi?ghters roared over the treetops, and a series of ground attacks began. “Holy shit,”
Bozakov said feelingly. “The little buggers are attacking their own kind!”
“And being killed by them,” Santana observed.
“What about the POWs?” Shootstraight wanted to know. “How will they fare?”
“They’re inside the fence,” the offi?cer replied optimistically. “So that should offer some protection.”
The Naa wasn’t so sure, especially given the fact that the bugs could fl?y, but decided to keep his doubts to himself.
The sounds of battle died away eventually, the sun went down, and there was a loud rustling as hundreds of nymphs retreated through the forest below chittering as they went. That was very frightening, especially since the bio bods couldn’t see and were so lightly armed. But while the juveniles were aware that protein things lived in the branches high above them, they also knew how elusive such creatures could be and made no attempt to scale the tree. Once the rustling noise died away, and usual night sounds began to reassert themselves, the scouts returned to the ground. Then, with Shootstraight in the lead, they continued the journey north. It was impossible to get lost because the swath of destruction created by the nymph army was like a superhighway that led straight to Camp Enterprise. Which, understandably enough, was very well lit. The lights were their cue to climb another tree and scope the compound from above, which Santana did with assistance from a pair of powerful light-gathering binos. That was when the offi?cer saw the way the fence had been breached, the crews working feverishly to repair it, and the less obvious activity beyond. But even with the illumination provided by the pole-mounted fl?oodlights it was diffi?cult to make out the fi?ne details of what was going on, so there was very little Santana and the other scouts could do but get some rest before the sun rose.
It wasn’t easy, but having tied himself in place with some light cord, the offi?cer eventually fell asleep. There were dreams, lots of them, and one face haunted them all. But Vanderveen was dead, as were his hopes, and all of the futures that might have been.
Bozakov heard the offi?cer mutter in his sleep and understood, because he had nightmares of his own, dreams so bad his squad mates had to wake him at times. But the bio bod knew it was important to let the offi?cer rest. Because the entire team agreed that if there was any one individual who could get them off Jericho, that man was Captain Antonio Santana.
16.
Wars are fought in many ways—and in many places.
THE THRAKI PLANET STARFALL (PREVIOUSLY ZYNIG-47) The Drac embassy consisted of a ten-story-tall block of windowless concrete that seemed to crouch between the high-rise buildings that rose all around it. But though not especially interesting to look at, the structure’s fl?at roof was the perfect place for VIPs to land and take off. And, given that Triad Hiween Doma-Sa qualifi?ed as such a person, his air car was immediately cleared for landing. There was a solid thump as Runwa Molo-Sa put the Hudathanmade vehicle down on the well-illuminated pad. Heavily armed Drac security offi?cers hurried forward to meet the Hudathan dignitary and his aide as they stepped out onto the surface of the fl?at roof. The Dracs wore headto-toe black pressure suits. And, because their faces were obscured by breathing masks, it was almost impossible to tell them apart. Not that Doma-Sa wanted to become better acquainted with the treacherous breed. Though offi?cially neutral, it was well-known that the Drac Axis was at least psychologically aligned with the Ramanthians, which put them in the same lowly category as the Thrakies insofar as Doma-Sa was concerned.
But the methane breathers had a navy, and therefore the ability to project power, so it would be foolish to ignore them. Especially given the fact that Doma-Sa’s race had been forced to forgo having ships of their own in order to gain membership in the Confederacy and thereby escape their dying planet. Which had everything to do with Doma-Sa’s presence. Because if the triad could do or say anything that would help prevent the Dracs from actively entering the war on the Ramanthian side, then the painfi?lled evening would be worth the sacrifi?ce. Having confi?rmed that the Hudathans were invited guests, the seemingly interchangeable Dracs led the giants into a featureless elevator that fell so fast the 350-pound triad wondered if his feet would come up off the fl?oor. The platform slowed quickly and coasted to a stop. The door opened onto a public area already crowded with partygoers. Most of the guests were Thrakies, which made sense, given that Starfall belonged to them. The rest of the crowd consisted of humans, a couple of Finthians, four exoskeletonequipped Dwellers, and a handful of other aliens. They all stood around and pretended to like each other as they sipped, snorted, and siphoned intoxicating liquids into their bodies.
Like the building’s exterior, the interior had a utilitarian feel, and because Dracs were color-blind, there was nothing to brighten the atmosphere. The human partygoers were sure to notice, but it was of little interest to Doma-Sa, who could perceive color but wasn’t especially interested in it.
