Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree) (16 page)

We set up in the forest around the Bright's cloaked tent. I sure as hell didn't want to fight the Mocains but I knew I’d do exactly what I was ordered to do.

Δ

"Ruthie is here, landing. Get your asses over here," Bird said. It was dark now and it was starting to rain again. My heart was pounding. I was in the cloaked tent with Bees and the Brights. The Brights were grasping the cloaked hot line tightly. They knew the unthinking dead were coming after them.

"Now!" I said. "Go!" I burst out of the tent pulling the hot line with me. Everybody followed, five Bright females with Bees at the rear. I went charging through the underbrush between those mighty trees, towards the little clearing where the
Ruthie
had reportedly just arrived. I was terrified – not for myself, but for the Brights, and for ConFree, and even for Earth, and the UMC. I knew how important it was that we get these Brights out of this madhouse and safely on board the
Vampire
.

"Keep moving, guys," Doggie urged us. "Blackie advises us there are no Mocains on this side of the swamp. They're all over near the wreckage of the Golden Summer." I felt a lot better knowing that.

"Ruthie is ahead, as marked," Honey advised me. I entered a ragged clearing that appeared to contain nothing but a little cyclone that was blowing leaves around wildly – I could see some stars above. I approached closer and an entrance ramp appeared out of nowhere. I ran in and the Brights followed. Once Bees was in, we dropped the hot line and the Brights became visible, looking around in surprise at the interior of the
Ruthie
.

I ran back down the ramp and leaped down to the forest floor and the
Ruthie
disappeared behind me.

"God bless you, Prophet!" Bees cried out on the tacnet.

"You too, Bees!" I felt great – the Brights were safe! The cyclone was swirling away to nothing as the
Ruthie
powered its way up into the night sky just like a giant, invisible bat.

Done! Now we could deal with the Mocains.

Δ

The techs tell us that the science of cloaking is now so complex and advanced that personal cloaking can never be defeated by any known means. What this means is that if your enemy is cloaked it is impossible to see or detect him. Both the Prof and Doctor Dimension maintain that established science is always wrong – because we don't know everything and never will. And so we always assumed that cloaking has weaknesses that can be exploited. The Legion had already confirmed that by detecting the presence of minute quantities of quantum uncertainty waves that signaled the presence of cloaking units, but it did not precisely locate the targets or make the targets visible and the detection range was so close to the target that it was less than useful. However, an advanced science outfit named Delta Research had recently resolved the problem.

We slithered through that black swamp like snakes, all our phantom senses probing ahead of us. A cold rain pattered down all around us. It was pitch black, the stars covered by sinister rain clouds, but we could see just fine. There was a very faint glow from what was left of the
Golden Summer
. I lay at the edge of the swamp in a mass of soggy debris. The Prof and Doggie were ahead of us, prone, out of the swamp and looking over the enemy. We were all cloaked, of course, but our tacmods kept track of our positions and outlined the positions in white dashes. That was only because they were all Deltas, and Dolly was preset to track us wherever we went, cloaked or not. But Dolly could not actually see us. And she could not see the enemy either. They were all cloaked, and impervious to detection by any human or electromagnetic means.

"All right, they've set up a commo command portmod," Doggie said. "We've got a couple eyemotes inside the mod, views A and B. Now, outside they've got a squad reaction team well dispersed, eight of them, fully cloaked, believe their squad leader is in the portmod. Another four cloaked troopers are watching over what's left of the Golden Summer, see the views from Blackie." A portmod was a portable hut, deployed in moments. The exterior was fully cloaked but you could remain uncloaked inside – just like our cloaked tent.

Blackie's view appeared on a little rectangle on my faceplate. It roamed over the terrain and showed all twelve of the cloaked UMC troopers, ghostly figures standing around in their armor, SG's at the ready, looking around alertly into the dark and the rain. What a wonderful view! We could see every detail. They looked like ghosts. Doggie had been right all along. During advanced combat training on Planet Hell he had claimed that dogs were more reliable and dependable for detecting the enemy than technical means. And Delta Research had proven him right. Blackie was right by Doggie's side, just as cloaked as we were, panting in anticipation, alerting to the enemy. And his neural images were flowing into the mini brainscan mounted on his collar, and relayed right into our tacmods. Blackie could see those cloaked Mocains clearly. We had done a lot of research on Blackie. We knew dogs could see ghosts, beings from another dimension, when we couldn't. So what else could dogs see? We were astonished to note that our wolf Blackie could see cloaked humans as well. And now we could see those cloaked troopers, through Blackie's eyes. Nobody had ever been interested in doing brainscans on dogs – or wolves – before Delta Research showed up. Blackie was our secret weapon. He was our lifesaver.

Eyemote view A showed the interior of the portmod. A very large A-suited Mocain was standing over two kneeling captives by a starlink unit, his helmet off. Two other A-suited soldiers flanked him, visors closed, SG's at the ready. The big Mocain had a shaved head and several gold earrings. His skin was of a pale greenish tint. The two captives were the pirate leader Monk and the Mocain woman Miss Octopus, hands tied behind their backs. Monk was almost as large as the Mocain. He had a bushy black beard and a tangled mop of thick ratty black hair. The eyemote brought us his voice.

"I told you I just got here," Monk muttered. "I don't know anything about who's been raising hell with us. I told you what I know. Ask Octo. She knows."

"Speak, bitch," the Mocain ordered, pointing a shockrod at Miss Octopus.

"I've already told you what I know," she said. "They wore black Legion A-suits with that strange insignia – except for one Cyrillian female who was in a silvery A-suit that was not familiar to me. And she had the same insignia, the white hand with that funny – overlay. They were cloaked until they slaughtered us and the action was over. I was the only survivor. They released the Brights. Wanted them for themselves, I guess. I offered to share the proceeds, not having much of a choice, but they were not interested."

"They never said who they were?"

"No. But they were bloodthirsty psychotics. That was for sure."

"And when your second ship – the Hellcat – landed, they ambushed your guys as they were disembarking?"

"That's right. A stunstar and xmax. Not too many survivors."

"Where did they go? Where did the Brights go?"

"Don’t ask me, I don't know. When I came to I couldn’t see much. They were preparing to bind us, but then they seemed to change their minds and took off quickly with the Brights. Just left us. And then you folks showed up."

"They headed across the swamp," Monk said.

"Boots, Fly." The voice came from a tacmod on the starlink beside the Mocain.

"Fly, Boots. Go," he answered.

"Engagement is over. We did a stunstar, detained three hostiles, killed four. One of the detainees is a Bright."

"Good work, Fly! Get everybody back here now. Take good care of that Bright, you hear?"

"Will do, out." We had seen the UMC troopers ambush the pirate column from an eyemote. I was glad to hear the Bright was unhurt, because that had not been clear earlier.

"Heritage, Boots." The Mocain was on the starlink, calling somebody.

"Boots, Heritage, go."

"Heritage, Boots. The interrogation continues. Word is that the intruders here are Legion. Looks like at least one Legion squad, with unusual equipment. They're fully cloaked, and appear quite formidable. Maybe Recon. I'll just bet their starship is in orbit right now. Cloaked of course. Fair warning! Be on your guard and report anything unusual. This is a very serious intrusion, and it sure as hell has something to do with these Brights. I've got a feeling we've got a big fight coming up. And it's not pirates we'll be fighting."

"Boots, Heritage. Thank you. Will do. If we detect them, we will attack immediately."

The Mocain officer spread a tacmap over the tac-table by the starlink. "Untie the bitch," he said. One of the other troopers released Octo's field cuffs and roughly yanked her to her feet and pulled her over to the tac-table.

"Show me where the alien ship is," the Mocain officer said. "And tell me why we did not detect it."

Δ

Scout and I were chosen to accompany the Prof on his suicide mission. I thought of it as suicidal, although the Prof did not. Or maybe he did, but was willing to take the risk anyway. I never would have done it. Or would I? The longer I spent in the Legion, the stranger my thought processes became.

The three of us walked carefully, one slow step at a time, through the dark towards the portmod. The rest of Delta – Doggie, Ice, Saka, Smiley, and Nitro – had dispersed around the Mocain perimeter and were prepared to take out the enemy squad if it proved necessary. The rain was letting up slightly but it was still very dark and increasingly cold. Neither the dark nor the cold concerned us. Like the Mocain troopers, we were immune to both. The Mocains were well dispersed but there was one standing only a few marks to our left as we approached. He was a very big guy – undoubtedly a Mocain, the warrior race that had been the power behind the throne of the original System. Blackie's vision showed he was on his guard, SG ready to fire, all his A-suit's phantom senses scanning for the enemy – and coming up with nothing. It was incredible, walking right past him without result. I was sweating but I felt my blood was ice cold in my veins. I was getting high on the adrenalin cocktail that Honey was feeding me.

Another Mocain trooper appeared, also clearly on high alert. Good, good, I thought, good troopers. I wouldn't mind serving with a squad of these guys. But he didn't see us either. We were invisible, ghosts, phantoms, drifting in slowly with the wind and rain, on a spooky night.

There was another trooper just outside the portmod's doorway. The doorway was open because no human could see in and the uncloaked people inside probably wanted to keep an eye on the outside. Scout and I took up positions that allowed us to target everyone inside the portmod. Blackie could see right through the cloaking of the portmod and so we could, too. Our two eyemotes were relaying sound and motion as well from inside, so we had the place pretty well covered. Cloaking didn't deter xmax or laser so we could kill everybody inside in a matter of instants if we decided to do so. But that wasn't the plan.

The Prof entered the portmod, passing within arm's reach of the sentry by the doorway. He was cloaked and his entry went unnoticed. The big Mocain officer was standing over the two pirates, helmet off, questioning them. His two companions were still in armor, helmets on, visors down, SG's at their chestplates, ready for action.

"What kind of weapons did these intruders carry?" the officer asked.

"Boots, Fly," the starlink called out.

"Fly, Boots, go," the officer replied.

"We'll be landing in five with our catch. Stand by."

The Prof was standing right next to the Mocain officer. We watched as the Prof raised his hands to his helmet, snapped open his visor, deactivated his cloaking, and left his arms up in the universal signal for surrender. "Hello," the Prof said, standing there in his black armor. "We're the people you've been looking for."

The reaction to the Prof's sudden appearance was both comical and terrifying. The officer jumped back as if shot, tripped over a little chair, and crashed to the deck with a shout. The other two Mocains pointed their SG's right at the Prof's head, bathing him in a flickering pool of red laser light, screaming orders at him.

"I'm unarmed!" the Prof said. "I'm an official delegate from ConFree and I'm here to talk – to talk! I am unarmed! Check me to confirm it. Do not shoot! We don't want a shoot-out. You are completely surrounded and if you shoot me you will all die immediately."

The big Mocain was on his feet now, and shoved the barrel of an SG right against the Prof's forehead. "Don't move a muscle, you psycho bastard! You want to talk and you threaten to kill us all? You'll die first, you lunatic! Field cuffs – now!" One of the other two troopers fumbled at his beltpouch while continuing to aim his SG right at the Prof.

"I wouldn't do that, Captain," the Prof said. "My men are under orders to fire if my personal liberty is infringed." Scout lit up the Mocain's head with his laser sight and it turned the Captain's face a glowing crimson. "Hold your fire, guys," the Prof said. "We're going to talk." The laser light vanished abruptly.

The Mocain captain hesitated, as if stunned by the laser spot, then spoke. "Boots, Fly, Heritage, general alert. We have been infiltrated by cloaked Legion units, prep for battle. Red alert. Who the hell are you, Legion?"

"I am a ConFree Legion Commander. My war name is Professor. We are here to discuss the perilous situation that we are all in on this planet. The future of all humanity is at stake here."

"It's going to be perilous for you, not us! If your troops fire, they will die!"

"I should warn you that your cloaking does not work, Captain. We can see clearly all eight troops that you have deployed around this installation as well as the four you have stationed near that burning ship. We have targeted them all but we have no intention of firing. We are here to talk and my mission has been personally approved by the Director General of the Confederation of Free Worlds. I suggest you listen carefully before initiating any action against us. We are the very least of your problems – and if you take action against us and screw up this situation, you'll be answering directly to the Chairman of the UMC's Council of Ministers – assuming you survive the event, which will be unlikely. "