on your finger.” Then she whirled and dove into the briny water and she was gone.
Chapter 9: Food of the Gods
We rose into a dark dawn in our aircars, speeding north, facing a blue-black sky full of rainy grey clouds. The horizon tilted below us and rain spattered against the canopy. All of Beta was crowded into the aircar, and Taka warriors were squeezed into the aisle between the seats, their narrow faces streaked with sacrificial death paint, their crude edged weapons cutting into the padded fabric of the cabin’s ceiling. We were in litesuits and comtops. We no longer used the A-suits for scraps with the Taka. The bulky and heavy armor was more trouble than it was worth. We saved it for the exos. It was good, for exos. If it had been twice as bulky and heavy, we would have still used it for exos.
It was a beautiful morning for an assault, cold and wet and grim. Lightning flashed to the east. We were flying over a great grey forest, laced in rain. I hugged my E closer to my body. Priestess was sitting beside me. The morning sun broke through the clouds suddenly and illuminated everything: a sky full of silver aircars, manbirds of pure, deadly beauty, slashing through sparkling showers of raindrops, glittering golden reflections from the sun.
Deadeye was sharpening his stabbing spear with a flat, dark stone.
Close your eyes and accept your fate. Valkyrie had come to me out of nowhere, an icy angel in the midst of Hell. I did nothing to deserve her. And then, in another world, I went down an evil tunnel to face my death and suddenly Priestess was there, out of nowhere. Both had come to me amidst pain and death. I loved them, but would it be the same if we were no longer fighting? Maybe we’re just desperate for life.
The op was all planned. We’d learned where to find the Hand of God, the high priest of the Cult of the Dead. CAT 24 had been given the honor. We figured seven squads would bust the last stronghold of the Cult, and hopefully capture the genocidal lunatic who thought racial suicide an appropriate response to a crisis.
The Cult operated out of a crumbling fortress called Stormport, located on the bleak, rocky coastline of the Northern Ocean. The Sunrealmers called the area the Cold Coast. It had once been the capital of a seafaring empire. Now it served as a refuge for cowards. Priests of ambition. Killers of children.
As we neared our objective, Redhawk dropped the aircar suddenly and the earth rushed up wildly to meet us, then wobbled dizzily and leveled off. Now we sped over a wild barren wilderness of shattered grey granite. Ahead a fierce grey ocean hurled itself at the sheer stone cliffs, bursting into white spray.
Suddenly we saw Stormport, a massive stone fortress built right into the cliff, a home for mighty Gods. It was a huge mound of rubble.
“Faceplates down. Tac mode.” The target would soon be reeking with gas from our probes. Deadeye and the auxiliaries had breathers. Breathers and death paint. The squad ZA was right in the heart of the fortress. The main courtyard was overgrown with wild grass and surrounded by great mounds of rubble. As we approached, waves exploded far below against a shoreline of giant boulders scattered like pebbles in the surf.
Probes streaked and buzzed around the ruins.
We reached the courtyard. “Beta-decar!” The assault doors snapped open. A wave of cold air and mist rushed in, and we leaped out.
Strewn about the wet, roofless stone rooms were dozens of unconscious Soldiers of God, but their companions were on the run. The tacnet hissed with commands and comments.
“Any sign of the High Priest?”
“Not so far. Beta, see that group that’s moving to the north?”
“Tenners, we’ll take ‘em.”
“Thinker, take one auxiliary and neutralize the group by the port,” Snow Leopard said.
“Tenners. I’ll take Deadeye.”
“V-min or gas. Let’s not be shy.”
Deadeye and I split off from the others and moved along a stone road at the bottom of another crumbling wall. I had gotten to know Deadeye very well. I had been on many long, exhausting patrols with him, and we had grown as close as possible for immortal and mortal to be. His tribal name was Standfast, and his every waking moment appeared to be devoted to the fight against the exosegs and the Soldiers of God; however, I’d been surprised when I discovered more in his head than the killing of his enemies.
“I am your shield, Slayer.” Deadeye spoke in Taka, which I had absorbed thoroughly by now. Atom spun it magically around my brain every night, level upon level. She gave us no rest. She wanted us to be smarter.
The stone road ran along the fortress side of the sea channel that led to the anchorage. I could see our targets up ahead on the tacmap. The ships had come in right here, I thought, through this narrow channel. The road was lined with deeply weathered statues, Taka soldiers, in full armor, facing the ship channel. Larger than life, their heads had all been lopped off by some nameless foe, leaving a long line of headless warriors standing against the winds of time. But when the statues were new, it must have been quite a sight for the sailors on those ships, strange ships from distant ports, full of exotic goods.
In my comset, I could hear Snow Leopard pressing the attack. Beta ran into a deadly hail of missiles: stones, spiked balls of metal, tridents and spears. But the engagement would be over shortly. It was an unequal contest. For us it was just a mopping up operation, but for them it was the end of their world. They couldn’t win, no way at all. They knew it, and yet they would not quit. I had no sympathy for the Cult, but I admired people who would not quit.
“Soldiers of God, Slayer!” Deadeye had his sling up and poised. The port lay ahead. We kept low, sprinting from statue to statue. The images of the Cultists appeared on my faceplate, seemingly unaware of our presence. Deadeye grinned at me, in his element. Waves crashed against the shore and covered us with frigid spray.
Several Cultists moved up ahead. Deadeye had his loaded sling draped back over his shoulder, his sling arm cocked and trembling. Another wave boomed up ahead.
“I see them, Slayer!” Deadeye spoke just as I saw them myself, two soldiers with spears, scrambling up the cliff from the water. Two more, according to my tacmap, still near the water.
“They do not see us, Slayer, not yet. But they know we come. Tread softly.” We approached carefully, shoulder to shoulder now, crawling over wet slimy rock, great slabs of cut granite hiding us from the Scalers.
“I’m going to fire gas,” I informed Deadeye. “Put on your breather.” Deadeye complied quickly. A Cultist suddenly appeared, climbing up out of the rubble by the shore, clambering up the hillside, followed closely by another.
I aimed just between the two, and gently squeezed the trigger. Deadeye let loose with his slingshot simultaneously. The Cultists vanished in the shattering blast of the explosion and the great green cloud of gas that quickly formed. Rock chips ricocheted all around us.
“Up above, Slayer! Shoot them!” A new group of Cultists had emerged from the rocks above us, throwing rocks and spears. A metal spike shattered the rock at my feet, striking sparks. I switched to v-min auto and sprayed the hillside above us. The rain of projectiles ceased.
“Get these two.” I rushed forward, into the gas cloud.
“Get!” Deadeye acknowledged, following close behind me. A painted form loomed in the green mist. I shot him in the face with a V bolt and his head snapped back, limbs flying. He rolled down the slope into the waves. His nose and mouth had been covered with cloth, to protect him from the gas. They were getting smarter.
I saw Deadeye slip and slide down to the rocky shoreline, setting off an avalanche of loose rocks. The ground suddenly crumbled beneath my feet and I slid down a steep wet slope. The gas cloud thinned, and a great wave of black water burst into foam before me, filling the air with mist. Deadeye grappled with a Cultist, but it was over before I could help, and Deadeye released the corpse to slide down into the swirling water. Large rocks began tumbling down the slope above us.
“Look, Slayer! Above!” The Cultists were positioning a broken length of column at the edge of the slope. If they succeeded, it would take out half the hillside. The gas swirled around in mad fitful circles, but it did not reach them. There were at least three of them up there. I switched to xmin auto. When the echoes ceased, the column was still balanced on the edge of the cliff, but there was no more movement from the Soldiers of God.
