Past piles of corpses cleansed of life by the sledgehammer’s sweeping plasma wave Reaper and Bull walked, active sensors illuminating the spaces around them. All was still, for nothing weaker than a tank had survived the collateral damage from the enormous combination strike. Enemy maintenance bots and war drones alike stood fused to the floor. Every control panel now showed at least one gaping hole where nonmetallic parts such as polymer screens used to be. Even thin walls displayed irregular gaps where they had melted, sagged and run like wax.
Eventually the Marines found what they were looking for: an armored blast door, relatively unscathed. Fire suppression sprinklers continued to drench the corridors nearby with water spray, reducing the dust and improving visibility. After the fog of combat, the rain showers made for a surreal scene.
“Cutting charges,” Bull said, gesturing. Two sappers quickly began laying out the shaped explosives. As they did, Bull ordered the rest to spread out and keep watch. Repeth figured he was just being careful, for she could hardly credit the possibility of a counterattack. Any force not accounted for undoubtedly waited behind the blast door for a last stand.
“Listen up,” Bull said. “We need to take this command center intact. That’s the whole point of the assault, and the lives of our friends we just lost. Use frag and shock grenades, but no plasma or heavy rockets unless you absolutely have to. You hear me, Massimo?” Ben Tauros pointed a finger at the warrant officer.
“Sure, boss.” The Italian smiled disarmingly through his transparent faceplate, now beaded with spray. Repeth knew the gunner enjoyed blowing stuff up...perhaps a bit too much for even a Marine.
“Charges set,” one of the demo NCOs reported.
“Take cover,” Bull ordered. “We go in fast and heavy.”
Once they were ready came the warning: “Fire in the hole.”
A moment later the blast threw fresh dust into the air to compete with the falling spray, and Bull led the charge into the smoking breach. “Stun grenades!” he yelled, and Repeth rolled several of the flash-bangs past her commander’s feet. These explosives would hardly touch a Marine in armor, but would shock and confuse lesser threats.
Ignoring the slight danger of the grenades, Bull strode forward with First Squad at his back. Repeth took Second Squad rightward down a corridor. She heard the blasts on her external pickups, but encountered no opposition. Moments later she led her troops into a large, round, deserted command center, meeting Bull’s squad entering from the other side.
Three pools of briny sludge showed where Meme had been before escaping down their flush tubes – but to where? Had they withdrawn to the Weapon redoubt and died, or did they have a hypervelocity escape drone?
“Why didn’t they blow it?” Bull asked conversationally, looking around. “With no one here, what do they have to lose?”
“Are we sure there’s no one here?” Repeth asked, eyes roving over the consoles, some made for Meme pseudopods and eyeballs, some for the manlike hands of Purelings.
“Quarter and search by twos,” Bull snapped. “Take prisoners if you can.”
Massimo got to play with his heavy laser once more, using it to cut open another armored hatch to expose a separate room filled with human-style consoles...and people. When Bull burst in, with Repeth right behind him, three men and two women, garishly outfitted in pure yellow-gold clothing, raised their hands and stood silently next to powered-down control boards.
“Jackpot,” Bull said, slapping down a Marine’s rising weapon next to him. “Cease fire!”
“Now we know why they didn’t self-destruct,” Repeth remarked, sliding her pulse gun into its slot on her armor. “Blends.” She keyed in the command to open her faceplate and fold back her gauntlets. Otherwise, to the people in front of her she would appear a faceless metal golem.
“My God,” one of the women gasped, raising a hand. “Jill Repeth.”
The other Blends turned curiously toward the speaker, then back to Jill and nodded in agreement. “It does appear so,” one of the men said. “My received memories are very clear.”
Bull moved aside and told the Marines behind him, “Spread out and secure the complex. The Smaj and I got this.” Once they had gone, Bull pointed at the woman, watching carefully. “You. Talk.”
The tall, dark-haired woman who had first spoken kept her hands in view and moved to her right, away from her fellows. Once she was well out of reach, she said to Repeth with a steady gaze, “Welcome home. I’m Leslie Denham.”
“Holy shit,” Repeth replied. “One of Skull and Rae’s kids?”
As she spoke, one of the men in yellow moved with lightning speed, plunging a hand into his sleeve to retrieve a pistol, which he pointed at Leslie. “Traitor!”
Leslie was already moving behind Bull, who stepped in front of the muzzle, apparently confident nothing that size could penetrate his battlesuit. The bullet spanged off his chest, adding a small ding to the Star of David painted there.
At the same moment Repeth drew her own backup weapon, an ancient PW5 Needleshock pistol, and drilled the Blend in the gut before he could get off a second shot. The man folded as the electrical charge stored in the round caused his muscles to convulse, knocking him unconscious to the ground. “Anyone else want a little taste?” she asked as she swept the pistol left and right.
The others backed away, shaking their heads. Leslie stepped out from behind Bull and kicked the man’s fallen pistol into a corner. “You certainly took your time,” she said.
“A little thing called the speed of light got in the way,” Jill deadpanned. “Humanity has a colony at Gliese 370 now.”
“I know. I’m highly placed. My siblings and I have been working for decades behind the scenes, preparing for your arrival and our liberation.”
“You buying this, Reap?” Bull asked.
“For now...but she might be an imposter. How can we tell, with Blends? They could have caught the real Leslie Denham and stolen her memories. The only one who will know for sure is Ezekiel.”
“My brother’s alive?” Leslie asked, her face delighted.
“Yes, he’s fine. At least, he was a few days ago.”
“Do not listen to the traitor,” one of the yellow-clad women said with venom.
“If I’m a traitor to the Empire, obviously they should listen to me, Fiona,” Leslie retorted.
“Unless you’re just pretending to be a traitor,” the woman replied, “and I’m helping convince them...Llewella. Or should I call you Leslie now.”
Leslie sneered at the other Blend. “You’re not nearly as clever and twisted as you think you are.”
“That’s not what you said the last time you shared my bed.”
“I fooled you in to thinking I enjoyed it, didn’t I?”
“Ladies, ladies,” Repeth broke in. “Don’t make me shoot you both.” She gestured with her PW5 at Fiona, who had taken a step toward Leslie.
“We should have brought a Blend with us,” Bull grumbled.
“As I recall, you vetoed that yourself. You said you didn’t want to trade a Marine away for a noncombatant,” Repeth said.
“Let’s just get them to Conquest and we can confirm her identity,” Bull replied. “Leslie, here’s your first test. Patch us through to Captain Absen on the following frequency,” and he gave her confirmation codes and a freq for voice comms.
Leslie took a seat at a console and switched it on. Jill watched her with growing confidence. Something about the way the woman moved reminded her of Skull Denham, and more pointedly of her mother Raphaela. Also, Blends, like Meme, were notorious egoists, unlikely to suicide no matter what the gain. That also made their loyalties questionable...but Rae’s children had been born Blends, not made up of Meme and mind-wiped humans. They lacked the memories of life as a Meme, and hopefully, their amoral attitudes.
“Io Base, this is Conquest,” came Michelle’s smooth tones after a few moments. “Drop your ICE for cyber verification.”
“Done,” Leslie replied after inputting a code and waiting for the signal to make its round trip. Repeth knew Conquest was probably swooping toward their position now that the Weapon was out of commission, but doubted they’d use the TacDrive. In normal space, the boat would take at least an hour to arrive.
Moments later, all the boards lit up and froze, with one icon blinking. Leslie looked to Repeth for permission, and then reached out a manicured finger to tap it. A male voice then spoke.
“How’s everyone there? The captain would like a SITREP, ASAP. We’ll be there in fifty-seven minutes, over.” Commander Rick Johnstone’s tones betrayed his strain. Repeth realized that of course her husband would be worried, especially as the most Absen would know at this point was a brief summary of the mission results, with its horrendous casualty report.
“Patch this data through,” Repeth said to Leslie, and dumped her suit’s mission record raw and unencrypted into the ether. Not only would it provide what Absen needed, but would reassure Rick.
“Retransmitted...they should have it shortly,” Leslie reported. “What now?”
“Now we wait,” Bull said.
“I have one question,” Repeth said. “Where do the Meme flush tubes go?”
Leslie replied, “To the backup control center at the Weapon. The laser.”
Repeth glanced at Bull and half-shrugged. “Damn. They’re vapor now.” Then she looked more closely at her commander. “Boss, you okay? Bull?” She was glad of her armor as she grabbed him before he toppled heavily to the floor.