order him back like this. Or was this another test? It was possible. He had not yet figured out General Mansfeld, although he had long ago divined the nature of the fawning Captain Olsen. Humans were interesting subjects. They were also one of the key ciphers to the most interesting contest of all: the North American war.
Sergeant Hans Kruger had never been more terrified in his life. The Turkish bullies had frightened him in high school. But the Turkish gangbangers hadn’t marched up and down a chamber, murdering everyone in sight.
The grenade explosions, the smell of gunpowder and the stench of urine shocked Hans. He wasn’t used to this kind of battle; this wasn’t like a video game. He’d cowered under his desk as the battalion operators died horribly one by one.
Now not one but
Hans tried to swallow, but he couldn’t. He stared into Luger’s glassy eyes. His friend was dead on the floor. He could have reached out and shut the eyelids, but Hans didn’t dare. Everyone here—
Hans groaned. He pressed his hands over his mouth and sealed in the second sound. But it was already too late.
An American barbarian knelt on one knee and aimed a gleaming bayonet at him. The American wore a helmet and he had the cold blue eyes of death. Hans had never seen eyes so brutal. This was a nightmare.
The American snarled words. Hans trembled, certain that death would claim him now. He never should have abandoned Freda. If he’d stayed with her, they would have married and he would have found a corporate job somewhere in Munich. There would be a crying brat in the apartment, but he could go to the bar most nights and get drunk. He might have even slipped away to the brothels sometimes…
Hans quailed as the American reached in and grabbed him by the shirt. Feebly, he struck at the man’s wrist, but this one was like a superhero in the movies. The blue-eyed American had irresistible strength and dragged him out. Then the American shouted and threw him face-first onto bloody tiles. The barbarian stood. Expecting the worst, Hans looked up at him.
“Stand!” the American said. “Get up before I plug you with a bullet.”
“Please,” Hans whispered. “I didn’t—”
A savage steel-toed boot smashed against his ribs from the other side. It knocked the air out of Hans and stole his ability to speak. Slowly, in agony, he turned his head. What he saw boggled the mind. The hardest eyes in the world—brown eyes like stone—stared down at him. The second American wore a blood-speckled feather from his right ear. Hans saw death in those eyes, and the remaining strength oozed away from him.
“Kick him again,” the first American said.
Something else struck Hans, an intense desire to live. He scrambled to his feet, and he stood there panting, hunched over. He clutched his ribs where the eagle-warrior had booted him.
The first American prodded him with the tip of the bayonet.
“Please,” Hans whispered in English. “Don’t kill me.”
“You understand me?” the blue-eyed American asked.
Hans bobbed his head up and down.
“You’re a drone operator?”
Hans was too terrified to lie. “Yes, yes, I run a Sigrid drone, a 12.7mm.”
“Sure,” the American said. “You know all about the equipment, right?”
“I know everything,” Hans said in a rush. Would they let him live? He’d do anything to keep on living. His gaze slid away from the dead surrounding him. These two—
“Download the critical stuff,” the American told him. “Take the codes, cycles, whatever, and put it on a memory stick. If you do it right, you’ll live. If you screw up any part of it, I’m sticking this into you.” The American showed off the bloody bayonet. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand,” Hans whispered, with his mouth dry. And he did understand. This attack made total sense now. This was the drone weakness. It surprised Hans the Americans hadn’t tried something like this sooner, or the Canadians maybe. Yet the GD battle-superiority had been too much for the backward enemy to try this.
“I don’t care if I live,” the American told Hans. “Just so I can make your last hour in life a living Hell—if you fail me in any way.”
Hans nodded miserably. He believed the savage American. These people had fought off the Chinese and the Brazilians. They had won battles through animal courage and ferocity. These two must be little better than monsters. What would their lives mean to them? The chance to destroy a civilized man like himself must fill them with brutal joy. Look at the way these two had murdered everyone in the battalion. It was horrible, sick and depraved.
Yes, it was one thing to kill with a Sigrid and with a video set. But to come here in person…this was inhuman. The man staring at him was an animal with a gun and a knife. Hans wanted to groan. He hated knives and this creature would likely slice open his stomach from navel to ribs. The American would pull out his intestines…
“You’re scaring him,” the eagle-warrior said with a laugh.
“Yeah, well, we’d better hurry.”
“Hurry,” Hans agreed. He didn’t want to get caught in the middle of a firefight. Survival at all costs. He believed that and was committed to it. He’d survived the threat of marriage with Freda, well, by avoiding the legal and binding contract. He would survive this, too. There would be a way out. He could show them things. Yes! He needed to survive long enough to get away from these two. Surely, someone in America thought in a civilized manner. They
Hans flinched as the first American shoved him at an operator set. He banged his knuckles on it so they throbbed, but he kept himself from sucking on his hurt hand. What would he need to show an intelligent American so he could escape this horrible war?
An hour ago, Hans wouldn’t have believed something like this possible. Now… He never wanted to witness such butchery again. Heaven was a fable, but Hell could become all too real. He had just walked through Hell and survived it by hiding out of sight. That was the way to survive such madness.
“He’s a shifty looking Kraut,” the eagle-warrior said. “Let’s kill him and find a different bastard.”
Hans turned around in horror. “No, no, I’ll get you what you need.”
“Let him work,” the first American said, the one with the horrible bayonet. “Then we need to figure out a way back to our side.”
Eagle-feather nodded, causing the blood-speckled thing to jiggle.
Hans swallowed. By grabbing what he’d need, he could buy himself the softest future possible. He sat down at his station and began to gather data and figure out which pieces of equipment he should take along for his new employers.
-6-
Lake Ontario
“Watch him,” Paul whispered. “I’m thinking we need to get this Kraut back to HQ alive.”
First Sergeant Kavanagh had been gauging Hans Kruger. The drone operator had collected gear and data with an obviously careful eye. The thin German had acted scared, he might even have whizzed himself during the firefight. Yet that didn’t instantly disqualify the enemy soldier in Paul’s eyes. Many men voided themselves in combat.
The human body was a funny thing. In the heat and squalor of combat, events seldom resolved themselves
