More gun shots sounded from the opposite side of the ambush; Jacob knew it would be Rogers and his own team moving in. Jacob crouched and shuffle stepped forward, his rifle up while he surveyed the damage. Slowly he stepped into the spoiled ground of the ambush site. The alien bodies at his feet were mangled and twisted, still smoldering from the mine. The car where the golden glove had been was now folded and crumpled, all of its windows gone, and a tattering of Gold bodies lay strewn beside it. Jacob saw the remnants of the glove near the bloody pulp of an alien body. He reached down and held it up, showing it to Jesse.
“Hold on to it, maybe it’ll bring us good luck,” Jesse said.
Jacob stuffed the glove into a breast pocket and stood his ground, watching while Rogers came into view from the far side of the remaining vehicle. The leader had his hand up, pointing out positions and directing other soldiers into security zones. He looked at Jacob then put two fingers to his eyes and pointed at the remaining vehicle, the only one not burning. They merged on it from opposite angles, walking in arcs so that their rifles were aimed into the rear compartment. The back crew space was empty. With a steel box and bench seats along the bulkheads, it didn’t appear to be any different from human transportation.
The front is where things changed. An empty driver’s seat sat in the center, surrounded by flat-panel consoles and operators’ chairs, also empty. There were sparks and smoke coming from some of the stations, but the vehicle still floated at an anchored hover and appeared stable. Rogers looked to a soldier behind him. “Go fetch me our alien,” he ordered.
The soldier gave a quick nod and turned to run away.
Jacob shadowed Rogers as he moved deeper into the compartment, examining the cold metallic surfaces, and the monitors filled with foreign text and flickering images. Most of the seats were small and compact, apparently built around the small frames of the guides. “What do you make of this?” he asked.
Rogers stepped closer and observed the bench seats, running his hands over the plush fabric and looking down at golden uniform items left behind. “This isn’t a combat vehicle; looks like some kind of mobile command center or intel truck. Probably why the Gold fucks were in it.”
“Sergeant,” the soldier called from behind. He and another soldier had Karina locked in a grip between them. Her face was distraught and sickly from having just waded through the bodies of her own dead.
She turned to Rogers. “Why have you done this? Why must you continue this senseless fight?”
“This is war, sweetheart,” James said, pushing up beside her. “Just be happy you’re on our side now.” He grasped her by the elbow, taking her from the escorting soldiers, and led her deeper into the crew compartment then dropped her into a seat behind one of the consoles.
Rogers moved so that he stood over her. “You say you’ll help us? It’s time to put up or shut up.”
She looked up at him. “I’m not sure what you expect me to do.”
“I want to know what’s going on in that walled city.”
She nodded her head and moved her hands to a graphite black bar. Before her hands took hold of it, Rogers grabbed her wrist. “No tricks,” he said sternly.
She swallowed hard and continued her hand to the bar. “This is a musing transport. It is not designed for battle. Guides, like myself, use it for meditation, to gather information, and to interpret findings. You should not have killed these people; they wouldn’t have fought you.”
“Spilt milk,” Rogers said. “You might say your Goldies are friendly, but those other guys sure as hell aren’t.”
Karina scowled, glaring down in disgust before looking up at him. “My people are no friend to the Ursus.”
James laughed, moving closer and plopping onto an alien bench. “Oh, so now it’s my people, and hey, look at me, I hate them just as much as you do. Bullshit, you are happy as a pig in shit back in your little hippie commune, and now you want to feed us your sad story.”
She shook her head before powering up the console, moving her hands along the graphite bar. “Before Earth, the Ursus captured my home world. There is no human word to describe my people; we were given the gift of the message a millennium ago. The Ursus came to enforce the message.” She paused, looking away. “The Ursus are not of my race, even though we now all share a common creator.”
“Their creator is Ursus?” Jacob asked.
“No, the Creator is the creator; the Ursus are just another member of our communal. We all serve a purpose under the eyes of the Creator—the Ursus are warriors; we are spiritual and technical minded.”
James shrugged, leaning back and calling Duke up to his lap. “Well, I say kill ’em all and let God sort ’em out. And just to avoid any confusion, I’m talking about my God, not your hocus pocus man behind the curtain gibberish.”
Rogers grunted. “Enough. Karina… what can you tell me about their base?”
Her hand moved along the bar, the display changing light patterns as it scrolled from left to right in bouncing waves of green and blue. She was unable to hide a shocked expression and pulled her hand back as if it were on fire.
“What did
