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Infinity Squad

Copyright 2012, Shuvom Ghose

Thanks to my incredible writer's group, Chandler, Rich, Rick, Dale and of course my wife Llalania, for motivating me and helping me to finish this book. It wouldn't have been possible without you guys!

All names are fictional, all similarities and likenesses accidental.

Chapter One

Hell-Spiders have always been hard to kill.

They're fast; I bet Private Fredricks won't be able to raise the food tray in front of his chest before that foot long razor claw- yeah, he's done.

They're tough; I watched the chef dive over the counter and break his carving knife on the horse-sized spider's black shell even as I drew my equally effective Colt .45 and started forward.

And they're mean as hell; the Hell-Spider who had managed to sneak into our base cafeteria in the middle of night knocked the chef down, stepped on his head with one tree-trunk-sized leg and THEN turned back to finish disemboweling Fredricks as the private screamed and screamed.

But luckily, besides wearing his wife-beater and sweatpants, Fredricks was wearing his buffering band around his head, five lights green, and would live again. The chef was not. I hoped Fredricks knew how to cook.

I jumped onto the cafeteria table and started running diagonally to the intruder. I could see the fucker tracking me even as three other soldiers fell on it. It's uncanny how the Hell-Spiders are able to multi-task like that. The Spider ducked its head just enough to dodge the lead pipe Sergeant Ashoka was swinging at it from behind, then mule-kicked Ashoka into the wall even as it cut some female quartermaster in half and blocked a chair another private was thrusting at it. All while tracking me with its four calm, black eyes.

The Spider threw the chair at me after wrenching it from the private's warm, dead hands- really dead; the private wasn't wearing his buffering band, no matter how many times we officers had told him to.

But I knew it didn't matter how fast, tough or mean this Hell-Spider was. Not when he was standing right in front of a full propane tank.

I rolled under the flying chair and came up lying on my side, in a perfect firing position. The propane tank was sitting there as big as the moon behind the Spider's legs and it was all I thought about as I pulled the trigger smooth and steady. A perfect shot.

The Spider moved its leg as if it knew where I was aiming all along and my bullet hit its armored shin instead of the tank. And then it threw a table at me.

The table broke my arm and I was switching the gun to my left hand when the Spider jumped over to me and, with a look of pleasure, brought his injured leg down to collapse my chest. I felt the clawed foot pass through my ribs, my heart and spine before coming to a hard stop on the linoleum floor.

***

I woke up in a tank of luke-warm water, screaming.

There were wires coming from my head, my aching head, and I was naked. I grabbed at what should have been a gaping hole in my chest and felt only smooth, undamaged pecs. With unfamiliar, brown-skinned hands. I started screaming again.

A red-headed woman in a lab coat rushed over and put her hand on my shoulder.

"Calm down, trooper, it's okay, you'll be fine. You were just killed and you have been resurrected, just like they covered in Boot Camp."

That at least got me breathing again. "Hell-Spiders!" I gasped. "Fucking spiders-"

"Are gone now. You're safe here. Now, what's your name, trooper?"

I looked at her again. Clear green eyes, a long, elegant neck, and a smile that made you feel like home. Heck, if you took off her glasses, she could even have been prom-queen. Unlike me. Now I'd look like half the idiots in this army. No, correction- ALL the idiots in the army. The smart ones didn't get killed.

"Jonah... Second Lieutenant Jonah Forrest," I sighed, sinking back into the warm water. "Second in command, Infinity Squad."

She smiled and looked down at her clipboard. "Okay, good, I've got you in our records. Now, what is your Key Phrase, so that I can confirm your identity?" When I didn't say anything, she looked up from her digital clipboard. "What's wrong?"

"I just...it's... I really expected to get through my tour and get back to Earth. Whole."

She smiled again. "Trooper, everything that is important to who you are has been preserved. Your memories, hopes and dreams, even your thoughts right up until you died were transmitted perfectly into this new clone body. You're still you in every way that matters."

I sighed, then said, "War does not determine who is right, only who is left."

"What's that?"

"My key phrase."

"Well, that's quite profound for a front line soldier, isn't it?" she said with an amused smile, looking at her clipboard and pressing a button. "Yes, that matches what I see here. I confirm you are Second Lieutenant Jonah Forrest."

She hit a button on her clipboard, then pulled a barcode scanner-like device from a deep pocket of her lab coat and pressed it over my heart. But instead of reading a barcode, it burnt one into my skin.

"Ahh! Dammit Doc! Warn a guy!"

She put a soothing lotion on the singed flesh right away, and when her gloved hand pulled away, a barcode and "Lt. Jonah Forrest" were printed in black ink on my chest.

"Sorry, soldier. Now can I have your wrists, please?" I offered them up. She held the scanner up again, then paused and said, "Now this may sting a teensy weensy bit."

"Thanks Doc. That makes it so much better." I frowned, but didn't give her the satisfaction of crying out as she singed both my wrists.

The corner of her mouth turned in a wry smirk and she turned away. "A person's first death is always the toughest. Take all the time you need, Lieutenant."

As I watched what her low heels did to her bare calves under her lab coat as she walked away, I considered doing just that. I hadn't seen a real woman since we had gotten planetside a month ago. Well, there was Ann-Marie, but she didn't really count, did she? I settled deeper into the warm water.

"So... how long was I gone for?"

The doctor gave me a strange look as she checked the vitals of one of the other of the thirty clones waiting in half-filled tubs. "You've forgotten a lot since Basic, haven't you, Lieutenant? We always have the tubs on automatic stand-by. The download and imprinting shouldn't have taken more than a few seconds after your buffering band detected your dea-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

What I was doing was ripping wires from my head, leaping from the tank nude, and throwing on my standard-issue fatigues soaking wet.

"WAIT! You shouldn't even stand up yet! Your brain is still adjusting to the new body!"

"Everything's still in the same place, right? Then I should be fine! I'm getting this fucker back!"

I caught a look at myself in the mirror. I was taller than before, a few years younger, and a mix of Black, Hispanic, and Asian origin. The light brown skin made my lean, wiry muscles stand out even more. I felt lighter on my feet, but stronger too. The perfect all-around athlete. And then the dizziness hit.

I gripped the side of the tub and the doctor ran back to steady me. "See? You're not ready for duty just yet-"

I shook her hand off and stood again. "I don't need to go far, Doc, just the cafeteria!"

Her eyes got wide and she clutched the clipboard to her chest. "Wait- THEY'RE INSIDE THE BASE? RIGHT NOW?"

"Of course! Can't you hear the sirens?"

"What sirens?"

The annoying buzzing in my ears since I had woken up had grown into an emergency klaxon I couldn't ignore anymore. In fact, it was still getting louder. I slapped at my ears. "The clones," I yelled, "are their implants deeper than normal bodies?"

She nodded. "Yes, we can implant them right at birth, directly into the ear canal- WAIT! Please, just stay until a security team arrives!"

But I was already at the door. I grabbed another buffering band and put it on my head, just in case. "Keep those tanks warm, Doc, I'll be back in less than two minutes!"

"Why? Where are you going?"

"To get my real body back!"

***

There were soldiers running every direction in the hallways, most in their sleep clothes. It was 3 AM in Greenwich, England, 78 light years away, so of course most of our base had just been in bed.

The emergency klaxon being transmitted directly into our ear canals had thankfully switched to a baritone voice repeating "Intrusion in the cafeteria. Single Hell Spider. All troopers arm yourself and respond," at ten second intervals. So at least I could think again.

One minute for waking in the tank and talking to the doc. One minute to get back to the cafeteria. Thirty seconds to deal with the eight-legged bullet catcher. And one minute to get back to the doc. Three and a half minutes; the human brain could live without oxygen for four. I would just make it.

At the end of the hallway, a group of soldiers were lining up to get rifles and body armor out of the armory. A sign to the right said "Hangar" and one to the left said "Cafeteria". I turned right at a full sprint.

***

I had to pound on the hangar door and yell my name three times before the techs let me in. Because, you know, Hell-Spiders always announce themselves before coming in to slaughter you. That took ten seconds I didn't have.

"Halon canisters!" I yelled at the tech who finally unlocked the door.

"Wha-"

"HALON CANISTERS!"

He jumped back and pointed with a shaking hand at a stack of metal cylinders on a rack, each about the size of a breadbox. I grabbed one and an oxygen mask and sprinted out the door.

***

I put on the mask as I ran past the group of soldiers still getting equipment out of the armory. The group outside the cafeteria was a different story. It was a ragged collection of cooks, troopers and pencil pushers, armed with baseball bats, shovels, or even chairs and metal cafeteria trays. They were clustered around the glass cafeteria door, looking in with trepidation. I felt a small twinge of pride that the only one who had both his buffering band and sidearm on him was Private Rex Grimstone from Infinity Squad.

Rex pushed his glasses back on his nose and replied back to the walkie-talkie in his unsteady hand.

"General, he's not coming out. But he's... he's... just sitting there, waiting. And he's stacked the bodies around him and the propane tank for the stove."

"PRIVATE!" General Oakley's voice barked from the walkie-talkie. "I don't care what he's doing! You lead those men IN THERE and GET ME HIS SKULL!"

Grimstone looked like a lost sheep. "But General, some of the people against the explosive tank are still alive. And I've only got..." He looked at the motley collection, including a few rifle-armed soldiers who were just arriving. "It's... a bad situation General. It's going to get messy."

"I DON'T CARE IF IT-" the General was yelling as I turned off the radio in Grimmy's hand.

"I've got this," I told him, my voice muffled through the mask. Then I stole the sidearm out of his holster and kicked in the door.

I heard Grimmy call out behind me: "Wait, who was that?"

***

The spider was sitting on the floor, legs folded like it was meditating, with bloody bodies piled all around it. Most of the still moving bodies were draped around the propane tank I had tried to blow up before. When I kicked the door in, the spider looked right at me, then tilted its head like a dog watching TV and even through the gas mask I heard a low, gravelly voice between my ears.

"Is... that you... again...?"

That spider did not just fucking talk to me inside my head.

I shook my head to clear it, causing another short dizzy spell even as I jumped up on the tables and started running diagonally towards it again. The spider sprang to his feet, tracking me. Then it grabbed a chair and threw it at me. I rolled under it just like I had the first time, then rolled immediately again, dodging the table that landed where I would have stopped.

My new body was longer than the old. So when I came out of the roll into a firing position, I had traveled farther than before and had a piss-poor shot at just the corner of the propane tank. A hopeless shot. But it didn't matter. I sighted along the barrel.

The spider moved to block the propane tank again, with his whole body this time. At the last second, I shifted my aim to the Halon canister I had thrown on the ground between us before starting my rolls and shot it instead. White, powdery gas filled our half of the room instantly.

"It IS you..." the voice said again, deep between my ears, and then the Hell-Spider wobbled on its legs and collapsed in a heap. I kept my gun trained on the fucker for another second, then holstered it and ran to my body. What was left of it.

But the head was all I needed. Everything else was just an organ donation, right? I looked down on my beautiful, sleeping face and blond hair as I started dragging the body towards the door. With my new body, my smaller birth frame seemed amazingly light. I was easily halfway to the door when I saw him.

The wounded soldiers piled around the tank were gasping like fish out of water. One of them, a red-headed sergeant, reached for me, begging with his eyes as he struggled to breathe. God damn it.

I gently lay my body down and sprinted over to the sergeant who was bleeding from both legs.

***

"What the hell happened in there?" Grimstone demanded when I emerged from the glass door, dragging the sergeant. Grimstone tried to enter the room, took one step inside and started coughing. Then gasping. He stumbled out again. "What did you do?"

"No air in there!" I yelled, lifting the sergeant into a waiting stretcher cart. "Take a deep breath and get the wounded out!" I ran into the room again, still wearing the oxygen mask.

"Seriously," Grimstone demanded behind me. "Who IS that?"

He still didn't know as I burst out ten seconds later, dragging my original body out. That he recognized.

"Oh god... Lieutenant..." Grimstone shook his head, then took a deep breath and dove into the cafeteria with the other waiting soldiers.

As I was muscling my own body onto a second stretcher cart, two medics were looking at the sergeant I had dragged out. One put a buffering band on him while the other checked his legs.

"Leg trauma, probably some broken ribs. Looks pretty bad," the second medic said.

"Probably be months before he's ready for patrols again," the one attaching his buffering band said, checked that all the lights were green, then drew his sidearm.

I heard three gunshots behind me as I was sprinting my cart down the halls.

***

I raced my cart past two confused looking guards back into the Resurrection room.

"I'm back, Doc! And less than four minutes total!"

"GAAAH!" she cried, recoiling from the bloody mess on the cart. "What is THAT?"

"It's my body- my original one!"

"What do you want ME to do with it?"

The lights on one of the resurrection tubs changed from green to red and the clone in it came alive with a rush of breath and splashes.

"God-damn medics!" he yelled, sitting up and feeling his chest.

The doctor started towards him. "Look, Lieutenant Forrest, was it? I can't deal with that now. I've got others to attend to."

"Doc, they can wait- this is my life! MY body!"

Another clone woke up in a tank, cursing the medics just like the first.

"Lieutenant, look- I can't put you back in. We don't have the tech for that, and even if we did..." She glanced over my body on the cart. "No heartbeat, no HEART, barely one lung, a severed spine and foot-wide trauma in the middle of your chest... it wouldn't be much of a life."

She gave me a weak smile. "The best I can do is take some...um... samples from it. So that your kids can still look like you." She pulled out a foot-long needle and syringe from her cabinet. "But you don't want to be here when I do it."

I sagged forward, holding the cart for balance.

Damn it. So this was going to be it? Goodbye to the body I had worn since birth? I looked down at my sleeping blond face, still ruggedly handsome even in death. And how many miles had I logged on the running trails outside of boot camp, day after day near the Wyoming space port, or in the weight room, or everything, to give it up now? There was the scar from when that dog attacked me when I was ten.

God damn it. I'd have to learn how to shave again.

The Doctor put her hand on my shoulder. "I'll make sure your body is taken care of properly. You should head back to your barracks."

I sighed, then let go of the cart and walked towards the door.

"So, did you want me to take a sper-... um, sample?" she asked.

"No Doc, I gave at the office."

"What's that?"

"Earth. They've got my sample back on Earth." I sighed, then looked up at the red-headed woman. "Hey, Doc. What's your name?"

"Shannon Murphy. Nice to meet you, Second Lieutenant Forrest."

"Yeah, likewise. Hey, Doc, do soldiers ever complain of hearing strange... voices in their head the first time they come back?"

"The tactical implants would be much deeper in your new ear canal than your old one. It may seem like a different voice at first."

I shook my head. "No, this wasn't like the sirens. This was more... personal. Like a voice talking just to me."

"It's probably just nerves, trooper. You've had a rough ten minutes, your first death, and it's still the middle of the night. You should go back to your barracks now, and get some rest."

"Yeah. Rest. That's exactly what I'll get there."

***
Chapter Two

I took a meandering path back to our barracks, thinking. Okay, I was moping. Okay, I was being a little bitch. But the walk helped take me down from "I'm going to cut myself until people care" to "I think I'll write some poetry about rain." Eventually I ran out of places to loiter and came back home.

I could hear the thumping bass line ten steps from our barrack's main door. "Break on Through" by The Doors, which meant Zazlu was in charge of the sound system tonight. Or had bribed the person who was, which was the same thing. I looked up at the gold sideways "8" infinity symbol painted on the metal door and sighed as the synthesizer solo started up, shaking the floor. Yes, the perfect place to calmly gather one's thoughts and rest. Our barracks. I put the barcode on my wrists under the scanner and the door opened.

The music got as loud as being inside Jim Morrison's throat, and the scene was equally tame. Our squad gunner was in his bunk, furiously trying to work the blouse off of that cute blonde radio operator from Flight Control. On the bunk below, our medic Steve was furiously trying to work the pants off of wide-shouldered Trent from the Hangar. Good for Steve; Trent was a total cocktease.

In the center of the room, my eyes and ears, my instrument of discipline in the squad, Second Lieutenant Zazlu Mohammed, was directing a competition on which type of private first class could do the most push-ups: one blasted drunk or one high on cocaine. Cocaine was winning. Our squad's Intelligence Officer, our expert on tactics and recon, Second Lieutenant Ann-Marie Butcher, was making book, announcing odds and writing chits to the gamblers. Which was the entire rest of the squad, five more privates, gathered in a militarily appropriate hooting mob around the competitors.

I started charging towards the sound system hanging on the wall. With First Lieutenant Ridley detached to follow Immortal Squad on patrol tonight, I was supposed to maintain the honor of the squad. Military honor, which stretched in an unbroken string from Ridley, back through the unflinching West Point class where he had graduated, back through the professional, disciplined Prussian army and the fearsome Roman Le-

When cocaine private started imagining cockroaches crawling on his skin just moments from victory and handed the win to the drunk private who was just beginning to dry heave on the deck, I couldn't help but laugh. Really laugh, from my gut. Something my moping self of just ten minutes ago was sure I would never do again. I reached the sound machine and turned it up.

That got Zazlu's attention, and through all the guitars and drums, he boomed at me "HEY! CLONE HEAD! AREN'T YOU IN THE WRONG PLACE?"

Everyone turned to look, even the blonde radio operator and Trent. That's why Zazlu was my instrument of discipline. That, and he was five-foot six, two hundred pounds of Iranian muscle that men would follow into the gates of hell. I turned the music down to elevator levels.

"HEY! I SAID-"

"It's me Zaz," I said, cutting him off with a quiet tone. "Jonah."

"Is it...? Grimmy said that-" he ran up to me, read the name burned into my wrist and looked into my eyes. Then he held my arm up for the squad. "Our Second Lieutenant has returned from the dead!"

Cheers. Even cocaine private stopped scratching his back long enough to clap.

"Look at you!" Zazlu beamed. "Taller, stronger than before! We must celebrate this!"

"No, Zaz, I'm okay, I just want to rest-"

"I will bring out my finest heroin!"

I tried to head towards my bunk. "Really, don't go to any trouble-"

"Cocaine then! White powder for the white man's return!"

"Look, Zaz, I just got into this body! I'm not going to destroy it the first night!"

He stopped me with a grip on my arms, his eyes deadly serious. "Well, we've got to do SOMETHING."

***

Ten minutes later I took my third hit of the joint and passed it left to a grinning Zazlu. He took a deep drag himself and passed it left around the table to Ann-Marie. She barely made effort to reach for it, leaning back in a chair with her lean runner's legs propped up on the table, her eyes half-closed in a relaxed high. But as much as she looked like a stoned sorority girl in her tight t-shirt and short running shorts, I knew that Ann-Marie could still draw the Glock semi-auto strapped to her bare thigh and wield it like a scalpel at a moment's notice.

Our squad gunner, Private Juan Rodriego, was another story. He would be useless for hours off of what he had already inhaled. His spiky black hair was mussed, his wife-beater and sweatpants askew and rumpled. The movements of his tall, lanky limbs were clumsy, imprecise. That's why we always gave him the big weapons. And I knew he'd be extra eager to use them the next few days, after the blond radio operator had left him high and dry tonight.

Ridley had broken the mold putting this squad together; four lieutenants, no sergeants, and only five privates and a medic to make up the rest. The other squads had two fewer officers to do the thinking, two more NCO's to do the whipping, and five more privates to do the smashing. But Ridley always preached 'lighter, smarter, faster', Zazlu was almost a drill instructor by himself, and I'd rather have ten people around me I could fully trust than fifteen I could trust halfway.

The music was low and the rest of the privates were sleeping off what ever they had drunk, snorted, inhaled or licked before I had gotten there. I would have to check each one for presentability before letting them out for breakfast in the morning. This is the stuff a Second Lieutenant has to keep in his mind, if he wants to keep First Lieutenant's squad running smoothly. Speaking of which...

"Don't worry about that radio chick, Juan," I said. "She didn't look like she was much fun anyway."

Zazlu nodded sagely. "She had very chubby ankles."

"I wouldn't fuck her with YOUR dick," Ann-Marie added, then passed the joint.

"It's okay guys," Juan said. He waved the lit joint in the air, in a sweep covering all of us at the table. "If she doesn't like what the Squad does to celebrate the Second Lieu's homecoming, she's not good enough for us!"

"That's the spirit," I chuckled. "She and Trent should write a book. Speaking of which..." I turned to my left. "Zazlu, we're on a highly guarded military base. In an active combat zone. On another planet, 50 million fucking miles from home. And you still get better weed than I did in the middle of Detroit!"

The Iranian smiled, his bald head wrinkling. "Supply and demand, my friend, supply and demand."

"Supply of what? Demand from where?"

Zazlu held his smoke sagely in his mouth for a few seconds, making us wait, then puffed it out and said, "What do we have more of on this planet than we could ever use or want in our lifetime?"

Ann-Marie snorted. "Hell-Spiders."

"Prudes," Juan spat.

"Assholes with officer's bars?" I asked.

"Weapons!" Zazlu cried. "Revolvers, rifles, grenades, bullets! And every month they ship us more! We must constantly build new warehouses to store it all!" He held up the weed in front of him and squinted at it.

"And in the parts of Earth where such things are grown, what do the hard-working people living there want the most?"

"Cable TV?" Juan offered.

"Clean hospitals?" I shrugged.

"Rape-free afternoons?" Ann-Marie asked.

"Weapons!" Zazlu said. "We have weapons, they want weapons! We want certain chemicals, they have these chemicals! Supply meets demand! Everyone is happy!"

I rubbed my forehead. Either the weed was getting to me, or I was really dense. "But how are you getting the weapons out of the armory, off the planet, onto a starship and through the wormgate without anyone knowing about it?"

"That is the genius! I do not have to! The switch is made back on Earth!"

"Wait," Ann-Marie Butcher said, sitting up, "Do you mean that out of all those crates that say 'Rifles, Class-A' sitting in the armory-"

"Two out of a hundred have something very special for Zazlu," he beamed, propping his feet on the table.

"Genius indeed," I chuckled.

"Until another Hell-Spider sneaks on base," Ann-Marie said. "And we break open one of the crates in the armory and try to fight him off with one hundred pounds of weed." Zazlu tried to pass the joint to her but Butcher waved it off, annoyed. "Alright, Lieutenant, we've buttered you up enough," she said. "It's time you told us what it was like."

"What what was like?"

"Dying. Coming back. The new body. What's it feel like?"

"Ah, you don't want to hear-" Then I looked around, and noticed even Juan sitting more attentively. Zazlu too. I sighed. "Okay. Well, first of all, the only things that saved me were this- " I tapped the buffering band around my forehead, "and this." I patted the Colt .45 in my holster.

"So like the First Lieu says, never leave the barracks without them. I mean it- all of you, all the time." I gave them my best Serious Lieutenant Look. The most important thing I had learned in Officer Candidate School, and that was from the janitor.

"In fact, with spiders breaking into the base now, it might be a good idea to wear them to sleep, too. I'll suggest it to Ridley when he gets back from patrol. Which would be when, Zaz?"

Zazlu thought for a moment. "Should be already past. Immortal Squad guys started getting back a few hours ago, I saw."

I nodded. "Anyway, wear 'em. All the time."

"Lieutenant?" Juan prodded. "The dying?"

I sighed. "Fine. First of all, it sucks. Pain like you've never felt before. And you're there. The bands don't take you away until AFTER it happens. You're awake the whole time you're dying, you know you've died, and it feels... wrong. Like it shouldn't be. And then you wake up again, and..."

I looked at my young, strange hands and flexed them. "You feel loss. You know you can't go back. Ever. So, no matter what the Immortal Squad guys tell you, no matter what the General says- you guys try to stay alive and in your real bodies, no matter what. It's not worth it."

The group sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating my words somberly.

Then Juan said "Should we say no to drugs too, Dad?"

"Juan, I swear to god..." I began, but then I was laughing too.

He was young, he didn't know. And I was alive when by all rights I shouldn't be, so how bad was it really?

From the bunk nearest the door, Private Rex Grimstone leaned out past his makeshift privacy curtain. One data feed was projecting right to one lens of his coke-bottle glasses, another on the conformal screen he wore wrapped around his wrist, another to the stiff datapad he held in his hand. "Someone's coming! Immortal Squad!"

Smiles turned to straight lips.

"Which one?" I asked.

"Lesko Crulan," Grimmy replied.

I relaxed. "Ah, let him in. He's one of the good ones."

Zazlu frowned. "Are there such things?"

I patted his huge shoulder. "We can't live in isolation, Zaz. We may actually need the other squads some day, to watch our back. You know, if we ever actually got into a real battle."

Zazlu frowned more and waited, his thick weightlifting arms crossed over his chest. I looked around the room. "Okay, let's put the coke away, definitely, and I guess the weed too. But bring out some beers- some regulation beers- and at least make it look like we've been drinking them."

Ann-Marie, Juan and coke private and drunk private moved to follow my commands, as did Steve. And when Rex unlocked the barracks door thirty seconds later, I walked in. Well, my cloned body did. Well, my cloned body if I had done nothing but lift weights for the past month. The shoulders were bull-like, the thighs massive, and his head was shaved like Zazlu's. And despite being in a cloned duplicate of the body I was in, Lesko still walked like a Russian.

"I heard that one of Infinity Squad had a little run in with a spider and finally popped their cherry!" he laughed, walking over to me, then slapped me solidly on the back. "Welcome to the Brotherhood!"

"Thanks," I coughed, trying to get my head to stop spinning from his slap.

"The Brotherhood of Death." Lesko reached out with one blackened fingertip and pressed it to my neck. It burned. It burned like a bitch.

"GODDAMN IT!" I screamed, grabbing my neck. "What did you do?" I looked at my hand. Now it had a black spot burning into it, in the same ink Doctor Murphy used to put on my barcodes. Lesko was laughing even as Zazlu moved behind him, preparing to separate his head from his shoulders.

"Zaz, it's okay! It's just ink- it will stop burning in a second," I said, clutching my neck. "I hope."

Lesko grinned, a big toothy grin that was definitely Russian, even if his body was not. "But the mark on your mind," he said, "that will stay. And you will always remember the number of times you have cheated death itself." He pulled down his shirt collar to show three black marks burned in a line running around his neck.

Then Lesko dug into his fatigues and pulled out a flask. "And after death comes celebration! A treat. I have squeezed the still for three shots of my finest grain whiskey! The strongest diversion you will taste on this miserably sober planet."

We all started laughing. Even Ann-Marie.

"What?" Lesko demanded. "What is funny?"

***

Ten minutes later he was taking his third hit of Zazlu's weed and his fourth shot of Jack Daniels. A line of cocaine stretched in front of his seat at the table, waiting. His eyes were wide, like a baby's at the bottle.

"This is.. unbelievable! This is better than... how do you do this? Past the customs agents?"

Zazlu grinned. "Squad secrets, my friend." He pulled the joint from the Russian's fingers, took a drag, then passed it around the table to Ann-Marie. She pulled as well and took another swallow of her beer. Even I wasn't sure she could touch her finger to her nose now.

Ann-Marie sighed with pleasure and propped her bare feet right on the middle of the table, letting her lean, tan, runner's legs stretch out in front of all of our eyes. Only Lesko looked for more than a moment.

I pushed my elbow into his arm gently. "Hey, so, about these marks? All Immortal Squad wears them?"

"Yes," he nodded, still sneaking peeks at Ann-Marie's legs. "The marks are how we track bravery and honor of the warriors in our squad. They will never fade, never wear off, until you die." He grinned. "And then we add another one."

"Well, one's all I need."

His looks had turned less sneaky. Normal Ann-Marie would never have allowed it, but she was currently giggling at the tiles on the ceiling.

"In my squad," Lesko said, rubbing his chin, "the warriors with more marks are awarded more honor. Greater... benefits from other members."

I knocked my elbow into him harder. "We tend to be more egalitarian here, Lesko."

"All for one, one for all?" Zazlu added. "A team of brothers? All of us?"

"But there is always competition between warriors, no?" Lesko said. He looked at Butcher again. "For desirable objects?"

Zazlu coughed. A warning. "Not in our squad."

"You know," I said, "the First Lieutenant had one rule when he put Infinity Squad together." I sat up and clasped Lesko's shoulder even harder than he had slapped mine. That finally got him looking at me instead of Ann-Marie. "No assholes."

"No assholes," Zaz repeated.

"Meaning no posers, no schemers, no bullies," I continued. "Anyone with assholic tendencies, we shipped them out. Why do you think we sent you Cornish?"

"But Cornish is an honored warrior!" Lesko cried. "He has the second most kills amongst us! Fearless, a master of all weapons, and five marks already!"

"And one grade-A asshole," Zazlu said.

"A weasel," Juan added.

Ann-Marie giggled. "A bully."

"The First Lieu saw it right away- traded Cornish out first chance he got. Luckily, we couldn't be happier with Grimmy here."

Lesko huffed. "With a name like Rex Grimstone, we expected-"

"A stone cold killer?" I laughed. "Not a one-thirty pound kid with glasses who could hook a printer to a coffee machine?" I shook my head. "You guys lost the best tech on the planet. But we're happy to give him a home. That's how Ridley keeps the squad copacetic: everyone does the job they're best suited for. Whether it directly kills spiders or not."

"What else is there but to kill-"

Grimmy leaned out of his curtain again and screamed. "GUN OIL GUN OIL GUN OIL!"

All of us at the table exploded into action. Zazlu gathered up the cocaine and weed and threw it under the false tile below his bunk. Juan loped to the exhaust fan in the window and started venting the hemp-scented smoke out at full blast. Steve gathered the beer bottles and Ann-Marie started spraying gun lubricating oil on every surface, then on her own hand gun which she already had in four pieces on the table.

Only Lesko stood frozen, a speed bump in the flurry of motion around him. Even the privates waking up and leaping from their bunks knew what to do better than Lesko. As they settled around the tables and started disassembling their firearms, I turned the sound system to soft classical jazz and pulled the cylinder out of my Colt just as the door opened and the General's advance guard came in. Black shirts, black pants, black boots, automatic shotguns on their shoulders and more medals than MacArthur on their chests. The BlackShirts also made that ridiculous double foot stamp whenever they changed direction or stopped. I've always hated MPs, no matter what the uniform.

Two BlackShirts entered, flanked the door, then snapped to parade attention.

"A-TEH-SHUN!" one screamed. "General Oakley on deck!"

We looked up confusedly from the hand guns we were cleaning, then shuffled to our feet and saluted as the General strode in. Puffy and somewhat out of shape, but the two stars on his collar made him second only to God on this planet. He strode in with a bulldog look on his face and fired his steely gaze on us.

"Good morning. Infinity Squad, I have some good news and some sad news to relate to- WHAT IS THAT SMELL?" he cried, stopping and pinching his nose just two steps in.

"Gun oil, sir!" Ann-Marie, Zazlu and Juan barked in unison.

"Weekly cleaning of our service weapons, as per regulations, General," I said. "The gun oil may be a little pungent."

"It's overpowering! Put them away, now! Put it all away!"

I nodded at Ann-Marie and she did, collecting the weapon parts, and using a rag to wipe up most, but not all, of the gun oil puddles on the table. I loved gun oil. You could hardly smell the weed in the air now.

General Oakley started walking up and down our line, inspecting god knows what since it was 5 in the morning and we were dressed in our nightwear.

"As I was saying. For the month we have been deployed on Angie's Star II, Infinity Squad's record has been unique, to say the least. You have never lost a soldier in battle. You have also not recorded a single Hell-Spider kill."

He paused to squint into a bloodshot private's eyes. Cocaine private, now also stoned, tried to stand at attention more stiffly. The General moved on.

"But now you have finally achieved something of note. Tonight, your Lieutenant Forrest has recorded the first confirmed capture of a live Hell-Spider!" He began clapping, but no one joined him.

"You may applaud," he said.

The rest of the squad joined in tepidly.

"Sir?" I asked. "You didn't kill it? It's still alive, inside the base?"

He beamed. "Of course Lieutenant. I could not pass up this chance to study our enemy in captivity. I have sent an urgent message through the wormgate to Earth, asking UN High Command how best to proceed." He waved his hands dismissively. "I assume they'll want us to test the effects of starvation first, then poisoning, with serial amputation saved for last. But we'll let the experts decide. No one is allowed to see the spider until then."

Then he leaned in close to my ear. "And I'm tired of every soldier on this base being afraid of the damned things. When they see that beast weak and dying, crying out in pain, think of how that will help our fighting spirit!"

As my stomach was turning, the General stepped back and raised his voice to parade announcement levels again. "And, for his meritorious action this evening, I am hereby field promoting Second Lieutenant Forrest to the rank of First Lieutenant!" He pulled a second silver bar from his pocket and started pinning it on my fatigues, next to the first.

"Sir," I whispered to him, "we already have a First Lieutenant in command of this squad."

"Ah yes. That is the other piece of news. Tonight, the Immortal Squad on patrol was ambushed by a hundred or more spiders. The patrol fought very well, killing many times their number before themselves being overrun and killed."

We all waited, deathly silent.

"Unfortunately, First Lieutenant Ridley did not resurrect with the others. His buffering band, while operational, did not initiate a transfer. Based on the testimony of each surviving member of the patrol, we know Lieutenant Ridley was the last to remain alive in the field, with a massive number of enemies closing in."

The General stared at our barracks wall like it was the horizon. "Alone against insurmountable odds, Lieutenant Ridley made his last stand fighting hand-to-hand with the enemy, and in the vicious action, his buffering band must have been knocked off his head at just the wrong moment. His actions tonight doubled the kill count of the patrol. It will be a great loss to the squad, and to the Army."

I clenched my fists. It couldn't be true. Preston Ridley had recruited me right out of Basic, nominating me for Officer Candidate School even as my hair was still growing back. He had hand picked every member of this squad, been the calm voice all through off-planet prep when everyone else was wetting their pants about horse-sized alien spiders. And now he was gone?

I gave Lesko and the stupid purple Immortal Squad logo on his fatigues a dirty glance. I saw Zazlu and Juan doing the same.

The General looked at me. "But, First Lieutenant Forrest, as your first official act, I will allow you to take up where the brave Ridley left off. Satellites have tracked the ambushing swarm north from the patrol zone. You have a chance to get your revenge on them! Right now, tonight."

My head was swimming, and not just from the new body or the drugs. No, no, no- there were too many variables to process here.

"General, with all due respect, my squad is in no condition to go on assault right now."

I looked at the stoned Ann-Marie, the drunk Juan, and the two privates barely on their feet. "What with the sudden news of our First Lieutenant's death and all. We'd like at least a day to mourn-"

"That wasn't a suggestion, Lieutenant." Oakley growled. "Take the Heavys. And bring me back some skulls!"

I snapped to attention. "Yes sir!"

"And promote a new second in command before you leave. I believe Lieutenant Mohammed and Lieutenant Butcher are your most senior."

Oakley paused and looked at me, and it took me a second to realize what the idiot was asking of me.

"You want me to choose right now? In front of the entire squad?"

"The table of command must be set before your squad takes the field, in case you fall."

I looked at Zazlu and Ann-Marie, who were both looking back at me with sympathy.

I leaned forward. "Sir," I hissed. "This isn't done! Not in public-"

"Snap decisions are the bread and butter of higher command, Lieutenant! If you are not ready to make them, perhaps another squad's Lieutenant would be willing to take over here-"

Ann-Marie stepped forward out of line. "Sir, I remove myself from consideration for this post, sir! I do not feel I have yet earned the respect to be this squad's XO, sir!"

Oakley smiled. "Well, there you go. I wish my first command decision had been that easy. You and Lieutenant Mohammed find a way to bring me back some skulls- and leave within the hour! That is an order."

He turned on his heel and started marching towards the door, stopping in front of Lesko. He reached behind the Russian to pull the badly hidden flask from where Lesko had stuck it in his waistband.

"And don't think you can pull anything on me, soldier! I could smell your guilt from across the room! Contraband leads to contradicting orders, and I won't tolerate it on my base! Write yourself up for three days of restricted meals!"

He stormed out of the room, the BlackShirts yelling for ATTEN-SHUN and doing their stupid double boot stomp before we were left in peace again. With too many things to do. But first things first, I went up to Ann-Marie.

"Thanks Butcher. You shouldn't have had to do that."

"No sir, YOU shouldn't have been put in that position in front of everyone. General's an idiot."

"Even so, thanks. And don't worry, you'll get your turn. You deserve it as much as Zaz."

Zazlu joined our private talk. "Hey, it's no picnic for me, either! Now it's MY job to look for holes in this crazy idiot's plans!"

"Thanks Zaz. Nice to know what your friends think of you," I sighed, then looked around. Everyone was looking back at me- waiting for orders. Yeah, that's how it was going to be from now on. I remembered what the janitor had said back in OCS about 'a commanding presence', so I started pointing each time I said a name.

"Alright- Zaz, take Lesko back to his squad and find out what really happened on that patrol. Lesko, you'd tell us if any of your guys were stretching the facts a little, right?"

The Russian nodded. "Their pride may be damaged, since your Lieutenant lasted longer in battle than they. But yes, I will tell you if they are holding anything back. Even if you cost me three days of bread and water!"

"Don't worry. Zaz has stuff that will make your water taste like wine, right, Zaz?"

"Roger."

"Good." I pointed at Ann-Marie. "Butcher, take Grimstone to get two heavies. Loaded for bear."

She frowned. "Grimstone? Are you expecting a lot of computer hacking on this kill-and-destroy mission?"

"We're not going after the swarm. That's suicide. We're taking a short squad to retrieve the First Lieu's body. Outfit Grimstone's heavy to be able to diagnose a broken buffering band in the field. Outfit yours to kill anything that moves. Steve-"

The medic stood up. "Yo, sir."

"Get everyone I named as sober as you can. Stimulants, but not too much. I'll be back in ten minutes and we're rolling out."

"Wait," Zazlu said. "Where are you going, sir?" The title stuck a little in his mouth but I didn't have time to notice.

"To get some intelligence on the area."

"Want me to come with you?" Ann-Marie asked.

"No- not this time. Suit up with Grimstone and I'll be back."

I caught Zazlu and Ann-Marie giving each other looks as I left, but this was the kind of intelligence only I could get. From a fucking alien voice in my head.

***
Chapter Three

I burst into our holding cell, a sanitary white tile room with a four-inch thick glass partition running down the middle. On my side there was a table and chairs. On the other side there was nothing but white tile, white walls and a Hell-Spider. They didn't even give him a leafy branch and a rock to make him feel at home.

The Hell-Spider was sitting in that same damned yoga pose he had been in the cafeteria, calmly looking at the horizon like he was meditating. He didn't even twitch when I burst into the room and started pounding on the glass.

"HEY! YOU! Talk to me again!"

The spider turned his head to look at me, but nothing more.

"Hey! Talk to me like you did before!"

The spider appeared to be watching a mote of dust drift slowly to the floor in front of him.

"I know you can talk! And I need information!"

I slammed both fists against the glass, making it shudder, but he still barely reacted. There wasn't time- the squad was suiting up right now- I had to know! I started pacing the room.

"Look," I said, "My squad is going to patrol the same mountain you just came from. Patrol- do you understand? Walking around in pointless circles, with guns?"

I tried to pantomime the words, but the spider still looked at me like a goddamn mute sheep.

"And I need information! How many of you guys are out there and how to avoid them. I don't want to kill them, see I want to miss them- do you understand?" I made my two hands miss each other in front of me, but the spider just cocked his head at me. No voice.

I approached the glass again. "And they're going to do stuff to you here. Bad stuff. I can tell you, so you can prepare. So you can be ready, but I need information from you!"

He was watching that dust mote float to the floor again. I wished I could slap him.

"Fine! I don't care! Let's take all day to do this!" I jumped up on the table on my side, then sat cross-legged like he was. I touched my middle fingers to my thumbs as I saw Ohhhhmmega Squad do every morning and exhaled deeply. "I can wait you out," I said. "I've got ALL day."

I inhaled slowly, then exhaled again. Then again. "Yep. All day. Got nothing else to do."

I let another few breaths pass, trying to appear calm. No response. I closed my eyes, took one last deep breath before I was going to-

"It. Is. YOU again!" The shock of hearing that gravelly voice right between my ears almost knocked me from the table. I broke the yoga pose and slammed my fist on the table.

"Of course it's me! What- why didn't you say anything before?"

The spider tilted his head. "Your thoughts were muddy. Unclear. Many words, no message."

"I was babbling."

"Yes."

I rubbed my hand over my face. "How is this possible? Are all Hell-Spiders psychic?"

"Of course."

"Then why did you not talk to us before?"

I didn't know how the spider did it, sitting, with a hard shell for a coat, but I swear to god he shrugged. "Unknown animals show up, want the same hunting grounds my clan owns. We have seen this before. We do not talk to our competitors." He focused his four eyes on me. "Or to our prey."

"Fine, but how did you learn English? By watching Sesame Street while your parents were away at work?"

"I think in my pictures, send them to you. Your brain translates into pictures you know. And in reverse."

"So I can even think of things you've never seen and you'll understand? Like if I said... 'Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue', you'd picture..."

The spider tilted his head for a second. "Recorded images of your females in heat, used to start your mating rituals?"

I chuckled. "Okay, not a perfect translation. Look, I know we're supposed to be enemies but I need information. They're sending us back to a mountain." I closed my eyes and pictured it in my head. "This mountain."

"The Night Hunting Grounds. Yes, I know it well."

"They're forcing us to go there, to try and kill as many of you as we can- but I'm not going to do that. I just want to get in and out without seeing any of you. How can I do that?"

He suddenly drew his razor sharp claw out, the one that had killed Private Fredricks, and used it to scratch a spot on his back. Then he looked at the ceiling. "If the sun has risen... hunting parties will return home at dawn. But they will be drawn back by any noise carrying down the mountain. If you do not use one of your spinning machines..."

"Helicopters."

"Yes. And if you make no noise- none\- then you should not be detected. If you stay in the shadows. And leave well before the sun approaches its highest point." He pointed straight up.

"Noon."

"Yes. You do not want to be on the Night Hunting Grounds then."

I jumped off the table to my feet and started towards the door. "Okay. No noise, no choppers, stay in the shadows, leave by noon. Got it."

My hand was on the doorknob when he said, "And when will your leaders enter, so that we may discuss the terms of a peace treaty between our two races?"

"Um... I'll have to get back to you on that. Soon. But thanks again!"

***

I was actually pleased with myself and feeling better about the mission until I exited the room and saw Ann-Marie leaning against the wall in her battle fatigues, smiling.

"So the Hell-Spiders can talk, huh?"

"How the hell did you know where I was!"

She laughed. "Wouldn't be much of an intelligence officer if I didn't."

I ran my hand over my face again. "And you heard everything?"

"Well, just your side, obviously. That room's got five cameras in it, recording 24/7."

"Fuck! Fuck! I can't let anyone see those recordings-"

"Already done," she said, pushing off the wall and falling in by my side as we walked back to barracks.

"You erased it? Without a way to trace it back to you?"

"Wouldn't be much of an intelligence officer if I didn't."

"Okay good. And Butcher, look, I know breaking the news that the Hell-Spiders are psychic would get you a medal or something, but could you keep it just between us for now?

"Wouldn't be much of an-"

"Yeah yeah. Come on. We've got a long hike and not much time."

***

Grimstone was in the Mech Bay, wearing five hundred pounds of powered exoskeleton jam-packed with sensors and weapons. It responded to his motions with no delay, like he was wearing a metal coat. The floor shook with every heavy step he took, and he threw the test weights around with ease.

He yelled over the sound of the hydraulics, "THIS IS AWESOME! Why don't we wear these things ALL THE TIME!"

A bored looking technician looked up from his readouts. "Because there's only five of them on the whole planet. And one of them is worth a hundred of you."

Grimmy pointed his arm towards the test targets at the far end of the range, and five different types of weapons emerged from the suit's arm, one after another. Each made a really cool, ear-scathing SNICK-SCWING! as it came out, aimed automatically, then retracted without firing.

"THIS IS AWESOME!" he cried.

I had seen enough. "Grimmy!" I yelled from the doorway, Ann-Marie next to me. "Get out of the suit- we won't need them today!"

"Awwwwww!"

***

We popped our head into one last room on the way back. It was a small office, filled with a large desk, a rifle leaning against the corner, and file cabinets and folders everywhere else. A worried man sat behind the desk, behind mountains of paperwork.

"Hey Captain Morse," I called around the mountains. "The General's sending us on a bug hunt on the big mountain."

The captain of the infantry looked up, and I could just feel his eyes dying to look back at the form he was filling out. "Very well," he clipped. "Carry on."

He returned to his paperwork and Butcher, Grimmy and I looked at him for a few seconds. "It sounds pretty dangerous," I added.

Morse made absolutely zero motion to get out from behind his desk. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

I looked at Butcher and shrugged. "Okay. Just thought you should know," I said as we left.

***

The sun was dawning as I gathered my motley band inside the main gate. Ann-Marie had sobered up sharply, as I knew she would. Zazlu always imbibed lightly of his own products, and now with a field promotion to my second in command he had to come, to lead the squad if I fell. Juan was still mostly gone, but we needed both him and Zazlu's carrying power if we wanted a chance to bring Ridley's body back. Zazlu would give Juan his rifle back after a few hours and a sobriety check.

Grimstone and Steve were coming too, even if they were going to slow us down. We needed their skills. I sighed, then began.

"Soldiers, as the bravest, most dedicated and most... sober... members of Infinity Squad, we are about to take on a mission of the highest importance. We are not going on a bug hunt today. We are going to retrieve one of our fallen, to discover his true end, and to make sure he gets a proper burial."

"We may encounter enemy today, but my plan is to avoid them, totally if we can. Anyone who fires first without my order, I'll have you shipped to Immortal Squad by nightfall. After I spend the afternoon kicking your ass up and down the length of the barracks, hear me?"

They nodded.

"We're going in on foot, we're going in far, and we're going in quiet." I gave them my best Lieutenant look. "Stealth and noise discipline will be paramount to us coming back alive. So, for gods sakes... put your cellphones on vibrate!"

The squad laughed, ready to go. Then Juan's eyes got big. "Shit!" he cried, reaching into his pocket to shut off his phone. "Sorry sir!"

I sighed and rubbed my face. "Grim, are our implants activated?" Grimstone hit some buttons on the device he carried, then gave me the thumbs up. "Check check implants check," I said, speaking into the mike clipped to the collar of my fatigues in a normal voice. Grimstone was still giving me the thumbs up. I took ten steps back and whispered into my mike, "Zazlu's mother was a grilled cheese sandwich."

"Hey!"

"Alright, mount up!" I laughed, turning. I motioned to the guards and the twenty-foot tall steel gate in the security wall started cranking open. And with a wave of my arm, we were off. It was a good feeling.

***

Even 'impassible' trails on Earth are somewhat friendly to Earth creatures. They have a logic to them, an Earth logic. Here, everything was wrong.

If the tree branch wasn't too small to hold you or too prickly to touch, it was too large to grab with one hand. If the rocks weren't flaky or too slippery to walk on, they were at the wrong angle for your boots. Mud puddles that looked ankle deep were knee swallowing traps. You couldn't squeeze between the trees- they grew at weird intervals and we were always walking around them. Even in the cleared area in front of the gates, strange alien roots grew up to catch your boots or make holes to twist your ankle in. In short, I'm saying we made horrible time.

The day was getting hotter when I signaled for a break an hour later, at the foothills of the Night Hunting Grounds mountain. The squad all took a knee in the shadows, as I ordered. Zazlu came up to my shady spot, panting and drenched in sweat.

"Sir? Any way we can go a little slower for the next hour? For those still in our old bodies?"

"You know, I hadn't wanted to say it, Zaz. But this body... I feel like I could run flat out for another hour!"

"Well, I can't," he panted. "Grim's looking pretty toasted too."

I looked over. Our tech expert was collapsed on his back, tongue hanging out. Butcher was pouring water on his head, while marshaling a panting Juan into the shadows. "Ann-Marie's not having a problem."

"Well, in my next life," Zaz gasped between breaths, "maybe I'll play a real sport like women's college soccer."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Zaz," Ann-Marie whispered, the radio implants carrying her soft words to us from twenty meters away. She was barely sweating, like me. "Grown men groping each other in tights is a real sport too."

"Grappling," he panted. "It's called grappling, not groping."

The exhausted Juan resisted her efforts to move him deeper into the shadows. "Why do you keep pushing me into the shade all the time?"

"A psychic hell-spider told the First Lieu it was a good idea."

"Just once Butcher, I want to get a straight answer out of you," he complained, but did move into a darker spot.

"Quiet!" I hissed. "All of you! Right down that slope are hundreds of spiders waiting to rush up and eat your brains at the slightest noise. Five more minutes rest and we move out." I turned to my second. "Zaz, point taken. I'll slow the pace from here out." He nodded and went to throw up in peace.

The squad sweated in silence, their heavy panting occasionally tricking the mikes into transmitting like we were talking. Ann-Marie picked her way toward me, staying in the darkest shade at all times.

Next to me, she extended the arm of her camouflaged fatigues into the light for just a second. In the direct alien sun, our camo pattern glowed with a yellow hue I had never noticed before. It was green like the forest, yes, but our yellow tint would make it MORE visible at a distance than not. She pulled back into the bluish-tinted shade and became hidden again. Then Ann-Marie pointed silently out at the wide valley stretching below us, the valley we had just circled a third of a mountain from our base to see. A valley which could see anything on this side of the mountain. The valley were the Hell-Spiders theoretically lived.

"So it looks like our intel was good, huh?" I whispered, hand over my mike.

She nodded. "Or it's luring us quietly into an ambush."

"There is that. But we can't turn back now."

I gave everyone six minutes instead of five, then growled into my mike. "Everyone up! Moving out. And keep your eyes open, we're getting closer!"

It did get more claustrophobic from here up, the rocks and dense bush barely letting us see past the next bend. I had a gnawing, growing feeling that Ann-Marie was right. I fought not to fire at every wind-blown branch as Zazlu lead us by GPS deeper and deeper into perfect ambush country, to the Immortal's patrol's last known position.

We were 90 minutes behind schedule, sweat pouring off of all of us, except the glistening Ann-Marie, when Zazlu held his fist up, indicating a tactical stop. We crouched and readied our weapons. Zazlu was looking down his rifle barrel at something intently, finger on his trigger. Then he relaxed and stood up, waving us forward.

The Hell-Spider looked alive, crouching behind a tree. But a second glance showed the part of his head hidden by the tree was blown away, blue blood soaking the ground around it. The squad pulled up to look at it.

"Well, I guess we know they don't bury their dead," Grimstone said.

"Or enjoy bullets," Steve said, inspecting the head trauma. "It took a lot of bullets, though. At close range."

"The close range wasn't part of the plan," Zazlu said, lifting a large leafy branch to reveal a dead, gutted Immortal soldier hidden under it. He still had his rifle, all ammo, and all grenades. I looked at Ann-Marie.

"Surprise attack. Rest of squad couldn't come back for his weapons."

She nodded.

"And he's the First Lieutenant," Zazlu added. "Hector. Probably didn't give many orders after first contact."

"Look around," I whispered into my mike. "Look for other clues. But stay with a buddy, and stay sharp."

We found a second Hell-Spider body further on, legs and half its thorax grenaded off. And bullet wounds all through it.

"Squad in good firing formation," I said. "Maybe only ten seconds later, but either their Second Lieu or Ridley had taken charge by now. They were ready for this one."

"And this one," Ann-Marie said, pointing out a third dead spider in line with the first. Then she pointed at a separate blue blood stain on the ground, lacking a corresponding spider body. "But not this one."

"Or this one," Zazlu agreed. He pointed at nothing but a deep, fresh claw mark in a rock. "Or these." Enough claw marks for ten charging adult Hell-Spiders.

I took a good look at the terrain, the trees, the rocks, the slope. What would First Lieutenant Ridley have done? What would anyone have done?

"Higher," I said. "They would have fallen back up the slope. Let's go."

We followed the trail of claw marks, blue blood, shell casings, then red blood and bodies up the side of the mountain. Bullet holes always told a story, and this story wasn't pretty.

Yes, there were spider bodies. But the squad was losing bodies too, choosing offense over defense when the chance presented itself for kills.

"Ridley would never have done this," I said, shaking my head. "It's a waste, a war of attrition that we'd lose. Their Second Lieu Samson had to have been in charge."

"He was, up until now," Steve said quietly into his mike. I could see him looking at another two gutted, dismembered clone bodies about twenty feet away. I looked at Ann-Marie.

"So Ridley's down to what, five grunts now? He takes command. What would he have done?"

She nodded even higher up the slope, and I agreed.

The heat was really pouring on us now as we broke tree cover, climbing and climbing the mountain. Now there were only spider bodies, very few bullet casings, and only grenade damage.

"No turning back to fire," I said. "Ridley was having them toss grenades behind them. Smart retreat."

We continued higher up the mountain. Now the damn root holes were everywhere, one of the squad would drop their foot in one and quietly curse every minute or so. And then we saw it.

A crag of car-sized rocks, with a clear field of view in front of it. Not the highest point on the mountain, but on the ridge leading there.

"That's a last stand spot if I've ever seen one," Ann-Marie said.

"There are certainly enough spider bodies in front of it," Zazlu added.

I nodded. "Let's go see if our First Lieu's up there."

As we climbed the last hundred meters, the air had gotten noticeably hotter and more humid. And there was a quiet hissing I heard off and on, but that went away if I stopped to listen for it.

"Sir," Ann-Marie whispered to me. "Look at the time."

"I know, I know."

"We've got to go before-"

"I know!"

"Have we got somewhere to be?" Zazlu asked, twenty yards ahead.

"Damn implants," I said. "We'll explain later, Zaz. See anything up there?"

"Everything," he replied.

And it was true. Spider bodies, with bullet holes in them, two, three in a row. A mass charge, met with accurate fire. And another row, on the other side. An attempted flanking maneuver. I looked the scene over.

"Zaz, did the Immortals you interviewed say anything about making a glorious last stand inside a bunker?"

"They did."

I pointed. "Then why are their bodies out in front of it?"

Three bodies lay twenty feet in front of the bunker. Well, parts of them. The parts that the grenades hadn't incinerated. Spider parts were tangled into the bloody, charred mix as well.

"A suicide charge," Ann-Marie spat. "Stupid."

I nodded. "Buffering bands will do that. Grim, can you see if these all transmitted well?"

He pulled out some fancy looking electronic gear, checked the bands around the decapitated heads. The lights on the bands glowed warning red, spent. "They're fine," Grimmy said. "All transmitted at 1053 Zulu. One message, signal received."

"And the ones farther down the slope?"

"They transmitted at 1041."

I frowned. "We climbed the same distance in five minutes. And I imagine a pack of Hell-Spiders behind you would make the climb go somewhat faster. But that short a fire-fight? In a strong defensive position that's easy to extract from?"

"Ain't no thoughts of extracting, sir," Juan whispered into his mike, standing at the crag of rocks. "There's so many casings in here, these mo-fos were on full auto. Blasting away. And the Lieutenant's up here, too."

The whole squad climbed around to see, standing around or on the car-sized rocks and looking down at the natural bunker inside. And the body. He had his knife in one dismembered arm, a shattered rifle in the other. And blood everywhere else.

"Steve," I whispered. "What did that?"

Even the medic looked a little sick, but stepped into the bunker to check the bloody mess. He tried not to step on anything that had once been Ridley, but it was almost impossible. He bent closer to look. "Claws. A lot of them."

"Any bullet holes?" All of them turned to me, shocked, but I didn't flinch. I had been thinking about it for a long time. "It had to be said."

Zazlu ground his teeth. "If those Immortal bastards..."

Steve was doing a deeper inspection. "No, not that I can see. But there's SO much flesh missing... still... no. No foul play."

"Except the guys watching the Lieutenant's back decided to Pickett's Charge themselves," Ann-Marie said. "Leaving him exposed."

"Grim," I ordered, "inspect Ridley's band. Then we'll take his body back for burial."

As the tech reluctantly stepped into the bloody mess that Steve was vacating, I walked away to look at the scene again. That hissing had gotten a little louder, but I still couldn't find its source. Ann-Marie came up, pulled on my sleeve and covered her mike with her hand. "Sir. Time. There's no taking him back."

"Then we'll bury him here!" I hissed.

"Sir, it's almost noon. I don't know what scares a Hell-Spider, but I don't want to see it," she whispered, barely audible.

"Is there something happening at noon that the rest of us should know about?" Zazlu said, loudly and clearly, from twenty feet away where he was using his K-knife to saw through a Hell-Spider neck.

I looked down and cursed. Ann-Marie had covered her mike, but not mine. I turned to face the squad. "Shit. Okay, Grim, keep working while I have a talk with Zazlu. Juan you keep... what are you doing?"

Zazlu pulled the dead Hell-Spider's head off its bullet-riddled body with satisfaction, then started tying the bloody, TV-sized prize over his pack. Juan was halfway to doing the same. "General said he wanted skulls," Zazlu replied. "He didn't say where from."

I shook my head. "Fine. That will work. But come here a second."

Zazlu trotted over to where Butcher and were, and I made sure to cover his mike and mine. "What I'm about to say doesn't leave this mountain. Or the three of us. But..." I sighed. "The Hell-Spiders can talk. Telepathically. In English." Zazlu was frowning. "And the one I captured told me it would be safe to come back to this mountain, as long as we left by noon." I thought a little harder. "Actually, 'well before noon' is what he said."

The hissing was noticeable now. And it didn't go away when I turned my head.

"Everyone else hears that, right?" Steve asked.

"Squad, prepare to haul ass! Grim, report!"

The tech popped out of the bunker. "It's strange sir. The time code meta data says one thing but the-"

"Just grab the band, Private!" Ann-Marie barked. "Sir, we've got to go!"

I looked. The grasses around the tree line were rustling. All around us. Juan had the second head on his back, Grim popped out of the bunker with Ridley's band in his hand.

"Down the ridgeline!" I ordered, leading us down the hopefully quicker, if more exposed, path back to base. "Stay in the open until we can see them!"

The squad fell in behind me, running haphazardly down the treacherous rocks. It was not a good feeling.

***

The rustling followed us on both sides and behind, and it wasn't until we came across a long barren patch that we saw them. Snakes. Hundreds of them. And more pouring out of those root holes every minute to join them.

The ones coming out of the holes moved slowly, sluggishly. But as they got some of the baking sun, they moved faster, following us like river water around rocks.

"Cold blooded," Zazlu panted, trying to keep up with the group. "Like on Earth!"

Ann-Marie with her nimble, untiring legs was at point. Juan with his long ones was second, even with the spider head on his back. Zazlu, Steve and Grimmy were lagging, even as I brought up the rear, prodding them faster. This wasn't going to work.

And then one of the snakes snapped out like lightning and bit Steve in the calf.

"Owww! Damn it!" he cried, starting to hobble.

"NO! Faster!" I yelled. "Grim! Zaz! Carry him!" They pulled his arms over their shoulders on the fly and kept going as I started to fire my rifle at the snake pack. "Weapons free! Fire but keep moving!"

Bullets weren't super helpful against the quick, flowing shapes the thickness of garden hoses. The snakes seemed unimpressed by the firepower we unleashed, pressing in even closer on all sides as we struggled to keep running.

"Grenades!" I yelled. "Grenades!"

These were effective. Huge gaps opened in the surrounding swarm, snake bits flipping high into the air with each explosion. But the gaps were filled quickly as more snakes poured from the holes as we descended the mountain. It was a little cooler under the tree cover, but the new snakes were warming fast.

I keyed my mike to the base frequency.

"Fire control! Fire control! This is Infinity Squad Actual! We need support!"

"Roger, Infinity Squad," a bored voice said from the other end. "This is Fire Control. We are triangulating your position now. There we go... just another few seconds now... got it. We are ready to fire. Are all of your squad's buffering bands green?"

I checked quickly. "Yes they ar- DO NOT FIRE DIRECTLY ON OUR POSITION! REPEAT! Fire ONLY on the enemy, behind us!"

There was a confused few seconds on the other end as we continued to run, hopping small streams and rocks. Zazlu and Grim were still three-legged-racing with Steve in between them. I tried firing my rifle on the snake pack again with little effect. They were snapping at my heels now.

"You seem to be moving a quite a speed," Fire Control finally said into my ear. "And not in a straight line. It's tough to place an accurate rolling barrage in that case."

"Nothing in this jungle is in a straight line! Fire anyway! Behind us!"

"Roger," the dispirited voice said. "Test barrage, coming up."

Off in the distance, drums boomed. Thirty seconds later, a group of huge explosions ripped up trees and dirt where we had been forty seconds ago. And killed maybe the five slowest, dumbest snakes in the pack.

"Closer! You've got to fire closer to our position!" I yelled, using my hot rifle tip to knock away a snake that lunged for my ankle as I passed.

"That's going to be tough, Infinity actual. We'll need some sort of stationary point to target."

Shit. Shit. Shit. This was going to hurt. A lot.

"Prepare to fire on ONLY my radio position," I said, then switched to the squad frequency. "Everyone, throw grenades on three! Zazlu! Get them back to base safely!"

To his credit, Zazlu kept running as he asked, "Sir? What?"

"Just get them back! One! Two! Three!"

Grenades arced out to all sides of us, and the explosions bought us a little space. I stopped, turned 180, and started running back into the snake pack. "Fire Control! Barrage on me! NOW!"

As I hoped, most of the snakes followed me. As I hadn't hoped, they started biting me immediately. I got one or two with my swinging rifle but the others wove right past and sunk fangs into my knees and thighs. Each bite burned like a cattle prod.

"Sir! No!" someone yelled. But I was too busy swinging my rifle like a club at the snakes lunging at my head, neck and eyes. I felt bites all along my spine. Then I heard the whistling overhead.

And then blissful searing heat ripped the flesh from my body even as the snakes were eating it.

***

I awoke in a resurrection tank, screaming.

"SNAKES! FUCK!"

"It's okay trooper," the calm, red-headed, Doctor Shannon Murphy said from next to me. "You've just been killed and have been resurrected, like they covered in Boot Camp."

I sighed and sunk back into the luke-warm water. "We've got to stop meeting like this, Doc. War does not determine who is right, only who is left."

She looked confused and concerned at the same time. "Wait, is it you again, Lieutenant Forrest? You shouldn't have resurrected again so soon after your first time."

"It wasn't really part of the plan, Doc."

"This isn't a video game Lieutenant! I expect this from some of the younger privates, but you're an officer!"

It was hard to give her my Lieutenant Look while naked in a tub, wires trailing from my wet head, but I managed it. "It was a necessary sacrifice. To get my squad out of a jam. Speaking of which-"

I grabbed the Doc by her shapely hip and pulled her against the side of the tub. She was about to slap me when I lifted the walkie-talkie from her belt and released her.

"Base Comms, patch me through to the implants of Infinity Squad," I snapped into the walkie. "This is First Lieutenant Forrest. It's a Field Emergency."

"Roger sir. Connecting now.... Almost..... Got it. Here you go..."

I heard ragged breathing on the other end, like a horse being ridden too fast.

"Zazlu! It's Forrest! Are you guys clear?"

"Sir! Yes, it looks so! I took us across a stream after you bought us the time and the snakes are too cold blooded to follow. We are still hurrying back to base. Without stopping. Butcher and Grimstone are helping Steve with his leg."

I slumped back in relief. Zaz would get them back. In the field, he was good. Maybe the best. I felt mountains of fatigue pulling at me.

"Roger Zaz. Get them back safe. I'll be waiting for you. Out." I dropped the walkie on the floor and almost started falling asleep right then. He would get them back.

I opened my eyes with great effort to see Doc bending over to pick up the radio. But it was worth the effort.

"So, Doc," I sighed happily, "You gonna burn me again, or just let me off with a note?"

She caught me looking at her legs but only gave an exasperated frown as she stood up and pulled her hem down. "I was serious about that, Lieutenant. You can't go through bodies like disposable pens. Or resurrect again so quickly without sleep."

I waved at the rows of zombies in the tanks. "These guys are sleeping all the time," I said, almost giggling. "Shouldn't I feel refreshed?"

"Your consciousness hasn't slept since I saw you last, and that's what got transferred over, fresh body or no. That's why you're so punch drunk right now. You really need to get some sleep, soon. Now, are you ready to be identified?" She was holding that damn name burner again.

"Sure, Doc. Fire away."

It still burned like a bitch, but it wasn't so bad this time. This time I enjoyed the feeling of her gentle hands turning my wrist over, of a strand of her red hair tickling my skin as it brushed my shoulder, and of the light, barely-there smell of her perfume as she got close. Since I was sitting naked in the tub with her leaning over me, this led to some very obvious results.

"Lieutenant!" she gasped, shielding her eyes from my midsection. "Control your thoughts!"

"I'm sorry Doc. I guess this new body just has a thing for redheads." I got out of the tub, making her blush and turn away even more.

"That's NOT how it works, Lieutenant. Those... preferences are all in your mind!"

I toweled off quickly, then started pulling my standard issue fatigues up over my standard issue body.

"So you're saying we were each other's type even before?"

"I'm saying that you should put your thoughts and that thing away, or I'll report you to your Captain."

I laughed, looking at the rows and rows of naked clones just like me sleeping in their tubs. "Come on Doc, give it to me straight. Of all the guys you see come through here, how do I stack up?"

She waited until I had zipped up before turning back around, then flicked her eyes up from my crotch to my face with a wry smile. "You're about average."

"See, Doc, I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"Get some sleep, Lieutenant, that's an order."

"Heard and received. That's my first priority," I said, smiling at her as I left.

***

I tracked the squad's return from the Comms tower while writing up the after-action report. Using squad code language over the open channel, Zazlu and I compromised on how many spiders had been killed by our brave action this morning. I wanted five, he wanted ten, so I made the report say seven. In the air-conditioned office, I had all the forms spell-checked and filled out in triplicate by the time the squad staggered back into the Cleared Zone. I snapped my fingers twice to make the Comms private get me my third cup of coffee since I had come straight from the resurrection tanks, then headed down the tower steps to the main gate with time to spare.

Maybe there was something to the way Immortal Squad officers did business.

The gate area was surprisingly crowded for the unscheduled return of half a squad. And the crowd was surprisingly dainty. One of the three news reporters I had never seen before was wearing four-inch high heels as she adjusted the camera man to get her best side. Our Press Relations Officer was next to her, eating a croissant. The rest of the crowd were in suits. Business suits, not battle suits.

Diplomats? Reporters? Croissants? Here? A new transport must have just delivered them all through the wormgate. And then I saw the reason for the fuss.

The General, of course, was holding court in the middle of the crowd. But more important were the two wiry robo skeletons rolling next to him. Encounter bots for the Benefactors.

"And here they come folks," Oakley boomed, waving his arm towards the opening gate. "Soldiers returning from another successful hunt in our expanding struggle to make this planet safe for human colonists, returning with their heads held high!"

The metal gate cranked open and Zazlu stomped in first, three colors of mud caking one side of his body and blue spider blood dripping down the other from the decapitated head he carried. Ann-Marie came in next, looking somewhat presentable except for the exhausted Steve draped on her shoulder, his fatigues cut open to make room for the leg which had swelled to twice its normal size. Grimmy staggered in and fell to his knees, starting to dry heave. Juan loped in, also covered in blue blood and mud, dropped his skull with a thud and leaned on his rifle sucking wind, but still found the energy to look up and wink at the high heeled reporter.

Mouths were hanging open.

"Squad, attention!" I barked, stepping forward through the crowd. It hated to do it, most of the squad was falling down exhausted, but just too many muckety mucks were watching. The squad snapped to despite their screaming muscles, even Steve. I allowed just enough time to let the cameras click twice and the videos to get their opening shot, then snapped, "At ease! MEDIC!"

"Here," Steve whimpered, collapsing.

"Another medic!" I yelled, Ann-Marie and I catching and helping him to the floor. I slung Ann-Marie the sack of cold water bottles I had brought and when the base medics rushed over, I left Steve to them and went to the kneeling Zaz.

"Great job," I said, patting his shoulder, then helped him wipe grime from his arms. "You got them all back."

"Thank you sir. But it was your sacrifice which got us out of trouble." He looked at me. "The trouble you put us into by not telling me about your secret spider friend."

"No more secrets, Zaz, I promise. It's my first time being the double bar." He nodded, then grinned as Butcher poured cold water on his head. He lifted his mouth to drink as she kept pouring, and when the bottle was empty he wiped his bald head then smiled at me.

"It was my first time being the single bar. I should have challenged you more. Now, go," Zaz said, slapping the bloody head resting on his knee and motioning towards the immaculately dressed Oakley with a grin.

The general was already storming towards me so I met him halfway. The reporters would be able to hear us that way.

"Sir, may I present the first Hell Spider skull collected by any armed forces on Angie's Star II! Long may humans hold this planet!"

With my parade quality stance and formal looking offering of the head, Oakley had no choice but to reach out and take skull from me, holding it at arm's length to keep the dangling neck bits from leaking onto his polished boots. I snapped to attention and Oakley smiled weakly for the whirring cameras, then immediately motioned for one of the BlackShirts to take the skull away.

"First Lieutenant Forrest, I accept this trophy and commend your actions," he boomed to the cameras more than me as he handed the bloody mess off. "You and your Infinity Squad embody all that humans are trying to accomplish on this planet."

Still smiling widely, he leaned in close to my ear and growled, "Next time you WILL be dropped off and retrieved by helicopter so that your squad does not look like a band of goddamned homeless butchers when you return! And clean up the fucking skulls before you present them! Laugh and salute me you sorry excuse for an officer."

I broke into deep belly chuckles and then snapped to, smiling at Oakley like he was my hero. "Yes sir! You are an inspiration, sir!"

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said, smiling at me like a wolf. "I look forward to the next five skulls you will get to me by the end of the week. Dismissed." He saluted, then turned stiffly away.

He tried to direct the crowd away from the squad and most followed, until the two Benefactor robots started rolling towards us. And then every camera was jostling for position, eager to capture what the aliens who had given humans access to the stars might say to us.

Humans had never seen a Benefactor in the flesh, but had been assured that they looked somewhat like their tele-operated encounter bots, tall bipeds with spindly, fragile limbs and a thin, oval head. They also assured us that they were not the same tall, spindly biped aliens that humans had reported being abducted by for decades.

The first Benefactor bot rolled to a stop right in front of me, its camera eyes panning over the squad, the gate, the spider skull, my sidearm, and finally my face. It looked right at my eyes, paused like it was going to say something, then just nodded and started rolling away.

The second bot was looking closely over each member of my exhausted squad, then turned its emotionless face to me as well. "It was a difficult mission?" it said in its slow, perfectly unaccented English.

I gulped, looking at Oakley and the other frozen diplomats who were as shocked as I. A First Lieutenant should not be talking to a representative of the species that controlled the wormgates. One wrong word, one gesture taken a bad way, we'd be trapped here forever, cut off from Earth, hundreds of people slowly starving. What did it want to hear? The truth? The official line? A gung-ho sound bite?

Now the silence was getting awkward. The bot was still looking at me, perfectly still, waiting. But there were huge implications here, political, economic... I tried to remember everything I had ever heard or read about the Benefactors, every nuance of their culture, real or theorized.

"Answer him," Ann-Marie hissed into her mike, the voice barely registering in my implants.

The bot stood motionless, head tilted, still waiting for my answer.

"Yep."

Fuck. Did I just say 'yep' to the most powerful aliens in the uni-

"You will have to tell us more about it sometime."

Double fuck. The inflection could have been annoyance. Or sarcasm. Or mirth. There was no way to tell. You don't really miss emoticons until you're trying to communicate with the robotically operated representative of an alien race you've never seen with your life hanging in the balance.

I slowly, very slowly, pulled my completely fake, full of lies, folded up mission report from my back pocket and extended one copy towards him. Metal fingers accepted the papers from my hand, brought them up to its camera face and flipped through them faster than my eye could follow, like an industrial machine. Then he handed them back to me as slowly as I had to him.

"Thank you," it said, then turned and wheeled away. The crowd followed, the reporters taking pictures of my shocked face, the diplomats pissing themselves and consulting their etiquette guides, and the General fuming. The medics wheeled Steve away, alive, as one of the eight BlackShirts ringing the tour, a real prick named McCloud, stomped over and ripped the report from my shocked hand and boot-stepped off after the General. And then we were alone.

I coughed to keep my voice from shaking, then said, pointing with each name, "Juan, Grim, back to quarters, R&R for the rest of the day. Ann-Marie, Zazlu, two hours for rest and clean up."

As the privates slumped out of earshot, Zazlu looked up at me. "Just two hours?"

"Yep. Then we've got a spider to talk to."

***
***

FLEET INTER-SERVICE COMMUNICATION: PRIORITY 7C

FROM: UN HIGH COMMAND, DEPGENSEC, SWITZERLAND

TO: GENERAL OAKLEY, COMEARTHFOR, ANGIE'S STAR II

RE: ORDERS FOR THE CAPTURED ENEMY

MESSAGE:

YOUR RECENT MESSAGE ABOUT THE LIVE SPIDER CAPTURE WAS CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION IN THE OFFICE. IT IS QUITE A HISTORIC ACCOMPLISHMENT. YOU ARE HEREBY PROMOTED TO THREE-STAR GENERAL, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.

AS FOR ORDERS REGARDING THE PRISONER, DEPENEMYINTELL CONCURS WITH YOUR TESTING PLAN, WITH THE CHANGE THAT DISEMBOWELMENT FOLLOWS BREAKING OF THE SPINE, NOT PRECEDES IT. YOU MAY BEGIN IMMEDIATELY.

AS BEFITTING YOUR NEW RANK, WE ARE MOBILIZING TWO MORE SQUADS OF INFANTRY TO DEPLOY TO YOUR COMMAND, TO BE SENT WITHIN THREE SCHEDULED WORMGATE SHIPMENTS. A SERGEANT MAJOR HUGHES WILL ACCOMPANY THEM AND MAY PROVE HELPFUL IN THE MORALE PROBLEM YOU HAVE CITED IN PREVIOUS MESSAGES.

SGMAJ HUGHES IS AN EXPERT IN TRAINING WILLFUL OFFICERS TO FALL IN LINE, AND WITH THE EXTRA MANPOWER, DISOBEDIENT PERSONNEL OR LARGE PORTIONS OF SQUADS CAN BE DEACTIVATED FOR RETRAINING WITHOUT AFFECTING YOUR OPERATION SCHEDULE.

KEEP UP THE EXCELLENT WORK.

END MESSAGE

***
Chapter Four

"Are we sure this is a wise idea?" Zazlu asked, pulling at his clean uniform. "Couldn't he just psychically melt our brains or something?"

I stopped with my hand on the doorknob to the Holding room. I hadn't thought of that. I looked over at Ann-Marie, also in a newly cleaned and pressed uniform.

She shrugged. "They wouldn't have claws if they could."

I looked back at Zazlu. "She has a point," he agreed.

I nodded, then asked Ann-Marie, "How long for you to disable the cameras in there?"

She pulled out her smartphone and hit two buttons. "Done."

When Zazlu and I just kept looking at her in shock, she added, "What? Where did you two go to Counter-Intelligence school?"

"The wrong place, obviously," I said, opening the door.

The Hell-Spider was sitting there like before, all eight legs tucked underneath it, in a serene pose. And just like before, it did not react when I walked in, or even when Zazlu and Ann-Marie followed me in on eggshells, like the bulletproof glass wasn't there.

"It's okay," I said. "I've seen this before. It won't react until it recognizes me." I turned to the glass, tapped it gently. "Hello, it's me again. From before? The Halon tank?"

The spider was looking exactly a foot over my shoulder, at a blank wall.

"Hello! The mountain? You told me how to avoid your hunting parties on the Night Hunting Grounds?"

"You are different," he said, snapping to look at us.

"Fuck," Ann-Marie said, grabbing her head.

"Fuck!" Zazlu said, grabbing for his sidearm.

"No, it's okay! That's how it feels!" I said, grabbing his arm. "It's not mind control, just words! You get used to it." Zazlu was slowly backing off his sidearm. I turned back to the spider.

"Yes. Different. I have brought new people. These are my-"

"No. YOU are different," the gravelly voice in my head said. "YOU have changed."

"You have resurrected since you saw him last," Zazlu whispered.

"But into the same cloned body," Ann-Marie whispered back. "You're saying he can tell the clones apart?"

I shook my head. "That'd be bizarre." Then, to the spider, "How have I changed?"

"You ARE different. You look... different to me."

I shook my head again. Cleaner uniforms? This was the trouble dealing with alien species. Especially ones that walked around naked.

"That's fine. But it is me again. We don't have much time before we are noticed. I wanted to tell you, you can talk to these two humans as you talk to me. I trust them."

I pointed to my left. "This is Ann-Marie Butcher. That is her name. Do you understand?"

The Hell-Spider considered my five-foot-three Intelligence Sergeant for a second, then said, "Yes. Butcher. One who slaughters animals with precision. Yes, I understand this name."

I pointed to my left. "And this is Zazlu Mohammed. That is his name."

The spider tilted its head strangely and said nothing.

"Zazlu Mohammed," I repeated. "My Second Lieutenant."

"Your words are... muddy again."

"Mohammed probably won't translate," Zazlu said, then stepped forward. He crossed his huge, muscular arms over his chest. "When I was a wrestler they called me-"

"Wrestler," the spider interrupted. "To grapple. To pin to the ground and kill. Yes, this I understand." He nodded to Ann-Marie. "Butcher." He turned to Zaz, nodded again. "Wrestler."

I looked at them. "Close enough. And so you can recognize me again, I am First Lieutenant Jonah Forrest."

"Forrest. A... collection of trees?" The spider looked down at me. "A strange name for one who leads a Butcher and a Wrestler."

"Oh yeah? And what's your great warrior name?"

The spider drew one of his razor claws in a flash, causing Ann-Marie and Zaz to jump back. But he just tapped his head with the impossibly strong, needle-sharp tip. "We use the image of our mind to recognize each other. The complete image of who we are. It would be impossible for you to see. Or know."

He scratched his head, then continued. "But when our hatchlings are young, before their minds can see well, we let them use markings to call us. These markings." On his spotted black skull, he tapped three yellow spots which stood out more than the rest, then put his claw away.

"Three Spot? That's your warrior name?" I laughed.

"He did call it a name for children," Zazlu whispered.

"Fine, whatever," I said. "We don't have tons of time. First of all, Three-Spot, thank you for your advice before. We got on and off the Night Hunting Grounds without needing to kill any of your brothers. And we got most of what we needed." I started digging in the backpack I had brought. "And we would have gotten everything we needed, if you had bothered to tell us about these!"

I slammed a dead, crispy snake up against the glass like a defense attorney. It didn't have the dramatic effect on Three-Spot that I had pictured. It also left a smear on the glass.

"Yes, the lightning snakes appear when the mountain is warmed by the sun," the Hell Spider said, calmly looking at the sample Zazlu had snagged on the trip back. "That is why it is the Night Hunting Grounds."

"You stupid EIGHT LEGGED-" I yelled, pounding the glass. "Do you have any idea how much their bites HURT?"

Three-Spot took his razor claw and pointed at his foreleg, at the tough skin behind his armored shin and two small, long-healed, puncture marks there.

"Yes. I do. At a certain age, the males of our species are disposed to ignore the warnings of their elders and go exploring." He rested back onto his legs. "Many new hunting grounds are found this way. But also many painful scars."

The two fresh burn marks on my neck throbbed. Lesko had crossed me in the hall and I don't know why I had let him mark me again. To teach myself a lesson, I guess. I held my neck and dropped the snake on the table. Three-Spot looked at it with interest.

"Would you mind if I... It has been a while since I have eaten," he said into our heads. I looked at Ann-Marie and Zaz.

She shrugged. Zaz crossed his arms and said, "We can provide many lightning snakes. Many. But we need information first. On where your young males may have ventured recently and not returned."

Three-Spot looked him over, tilting his head one way, then the other. "You wish to collect their skulls."

Zazlu's negotiating face was legendary in the barracks. No human, private to admiral, could read those impassive muscles to tell if the deal being offered was a lemon or the chance of a lifetime. But I saw it flicker for an instant then, as the Hell-Spider looked right through him.

"Zaz, he's psychic, we can't buffalo him," I said, collapsing into the chair. "Yes, Three-Spot. Or General, our commanding officer, wants us to return with skulls to prove we have killed more of your kind."

"But you do not wish to engage us in battle."

Finally.

"That's right. We do not want bloodshed on either side. We will leave your kind alone if you direct us to where they will not be."

The spider considered this, staring at the far wall. We waited politely. It seemed to be taking a long time until-

"This is acceptable," he said. "We will not kill your kind if you do not attempt to kill us or our prey."

"That's great, now where-"

"Our hunting grounds must be respected. You and I will clear 'patrols' with each other, to keep our sides separate."

I stood up, rubbing my forehead. It was starting to ache. Caffeine crash? "Yes, that's fine. Now, for the next time we need skulls-"

"Your thoughts are muddy again," the voice said in my head, but it was wavering in and out like a weak radio signal. And I was so tired. I leaned on the table for support, holding my head.

"Sir, we'll take it from here," Ann-Marie said. "You look like you really need to get some sleep."

"Yes, boss," Zaz agreed, clasping my shoulder. Then he started cutting the lightning snake up into pieces on the table. "This type of discussion I can handle."

I staggered back to our barracks. The last thing I remember before pulling my privacy curtain was seeing Juan hoisting a giggling news reporter into his bunk as her four inch high heels fell off.

***

When I woke up in the cloned body, I tried to fall asleep and wake up again.

I had been dreaming of riding Hell-Spiders through the jungle chasing salty, juicy steaks. First I was a soldier, riding Three-Spot as we hunted wild porterhouse, then I was a civilian, galloping with a whole pack of spiders, and finally I dreamed of being a Hell-Spider myself, enjoying the juicy, medium-rare results of the hunt.

The taller, brown-skinned body just seemed like another dream and I closed my eyes again, looking forward to waking up and getting my real body back. I also could have really gone for a steak right then. Until I remembered. I sat up with a pang of sadness. I pulled my privacy curtain and Zazlu and Ann-Marie were sitting at the table, drinking coffee. They looked unhappy.

"What time is it?" I croaked, blinking and pulling on my shirt. They could have told me anything and I would have believed it.

Butcher checked her watch. "0613."

"I meant local."

Zaz shrugged. "Sunrise was an hour ago. You have slept for quite a while."

"Twelve hours," Ann-Marie added.

I got out of my bunk and stretched, looking at their frowns again. "Is there a problem?"

They looked at each other, then Zaz said, "General Oakley is very pleased about the two skulls we brought back from the mountain."

I checked my buffering band and grabbed a cup of the coffee. "That's good."

"He has had them cleaned and mounted in the cafeteria."

"That's... exactly what I'd expect Oakley to do."

"And he wants five more by the end of the week," Ann-Marie took over. "Omega squad's patrol ran across two spiders last night but couldn't bring one down. So Oakley ordered us out again as soon as you woke up."

I sighed. Let no success go unpunished. "Fine. What were Three-Spot's recommendations on-"

"There's something else, sir," Butcher interrupted. She looked over her shoulder to check the bunks. Most of their owners were out at breakfast, only Juan remained, starting to stir. She turned back to me. "We were reviewing what the Hell-Spider said to you."

I sat down at the table with them as Juan pulled his privacy curtain and bounded out of his bunk, a huge smile on his face. "Yeah, what about it?" I said.

"The spider said they recognized each other by how their mind projects, every part of their being and consciousness represented in a visual image."

Juan was dancing around in his boxers, whistling as he poured his coffee. "So?" I asked.

"We look at faces," Zazlu said. "They look at souls." He gripped my forearm. "And it had trouble recognizing you after your second resurrection."

That got my attention. "What? Seriously- what?"

"The spider said you looked different after your second time in the tub," Butcher said to me. "Not your body- your mind."

I felt the blood draining from my face. "Fuck."

Juan plopped down at the table with us, just grinning his ass off. "Great morning, isn't it?"

***

"No, that can't happen," Doctor Murphy said, shaking her head. She leaned around her door, her curly red hair and flannel pajamas disheveled in an adorable way. "The bands capture your consciousness exactly for transmission to your new body. End of story."

"Now when you say 'exactly' Doc," I replied from the hallway, with Zazlu, Butcher and Juan behind me, "you're measuring this by some sort of brain thermometer or..."

"Packet loss. Goodput. CAT scans, MRIs," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose where her glasses would have sat. "It works. We've tested it. End of story."

I looked back at my squad. Who were we going to believe more? Her or the Hell Spider? And how could we explain where our doubts came from?

"If you're so worried about it, Lieutenant, just keep a log of your thoughts, hopes and dreams," Murphy said. "We can review it from time to time, to see if it changes."

"A diary?" Juan laughed. "You want him to write a dairy? Maybe we all should have a sleepover and-"

Juan shut up with one cold look from my eyes. I turned back to Murphy. "It's not that we don't believe you Doc, but maybe I could just talk to you privately about it sometime." I looked at the solid door she was hiding behind. "You know, your room looks a lot more private than our barracks, what with this big steel door that we could close if-"

"Good night Lieutenant," she said, closing the door in my face and locking it.

No one said anything until Juan whispered, "I bet this is totally going in his diary."

***

Captain Morse looked up as we ducked our heads into his office.

"Oakley's sending us out again, sir," I said. "Another bug hunt."

The pile of papers on Morse's left side had shrunk somewhat. The one on his right side had grown a little. "Very well," he nodded, then went back to it.

"It sounds a little more dangerous than last time," I added. "I was wondering if we could take two Heavies. Oakley said it was okay last time but we didn't."

This time he didn't look up as his pencil kept making marks on the paper. "Approved."

After a few seconds, I said, "Sir, he's mainly sending us out for trophies to hang in the cafeteria. It may not be the best way to actually win the war."

He still didn't look up. "General Oakley dictates the overall strategy, Lieutenant. We just choose the tactics. Carry on."

I looked at the others. "Aye, aye sir. Carrying on."

***

The technician powered up two Heavy exoskeletons and looked at his computer readouts. "So, besides the standard load out," he asked the four of us, "what type of special weapons do you wan-"

"Flamethrowers," we all said at once.

***

I decided to have Zazlu and Juan drive the Heavies, and Ann-Marie and I would be on foot. They would be the squad's firepower, Butcher and I would be its speed. We would leave all the privates in barracks. The fewer people who knew about our secret spider informant, the better.

Juan was grinning like a Muppet as he stomped the thousand pound skeleton down the halls with easy motions of his arms and legs. "Why don't we use these things ALL THE TIME?"

"Because you'd die of the awesome," I replied as we entered the hangar. "Now be quiet for a second." I whispered into my mike, "Zaz, did Three-Spot mention any restrictions on taking helicopters this time?"

The Heavies technician had also tuned our four implants to a private channel since Grimmy wasn't there to do it this time. I wanted Grimstone in the barracks analyzing Ridley's band non-stop until he figured out what had happened to him. What really happened. So far each new piece of data had conflicted with every previous one.

"No restrictions," Zaz replied. "In fact, the distance requires that we take them. And Oakley ordered us to do so at the main gate, if you remember."

"Yeah, I remember," I growled, waving the Hangar Master over.

She pointed us to two idling helos at the front of the flightline. But as I ran up to the first cockpit to talk to the pilot, there wasn't one there. There weren't even seats to have pilots. Just a metal box the size of a Rottweiler with blinking lights and cables stretching from it.

No. Hell no. I backed away and waved the Hangar Master over again.

"Where are the human pilots?" I yelled over the noise of rotors.

She shrugged. "Only use them for emergencies! The auto-pilots are safer; they'll get you where you want to go!"

And report right back to Oakley where we did or did not go, with electronic precision.

"No!" I yelled back, shaking my head. "Where are the humans?"

She looked kind of angry and pointed to the far corner of the hangar where four idle guys were playing cards.

***

Zazlu helped me pick our pilot out. We wanted someone who could be bought by us, but not bought by Oakley. Someone loyal to soldiers, not to orders. Jinx thanked us all through his pre-flight check.

"Damn boxes are taking all our work," he yelled back to us while spinning up the rotors. "Flight Control loves 'em because they never deviate from course and never crash. But you'll never be able to remove the human element, I say. Thanks for picking me again, sir."

"No problem," I said, strapping in. "What kind of pilot name is 'Jinx' anyway?"

He grinned at me through the gap between the cockpit and the open cabin. "An old and sacred one. You all set?"

I looked; Ann-Marie was seated and belted in next to me, Zazlu and Juan were standing in their Heavies on opposite skids of the helo, hard points harnessed to the frame. "Yep, let's fly."

"No one else?" Jinx asked. "Most squads take at least five. The Immortal boys don't travel in less than packs of ten."

"Only one else I'd want is a medic," I replied. "And ours is already hurt."

Jinx gave me a wise and meaningful look. "Should I be wearing a buffering band for this mission, sir?"

I smiled. "It wouldn't be a bad idea."

***

We took off and headed north and west, right towards Hell-Spot's valley where the spider sightings were the most numerous. After we had gotten past the Night Hunting Grounds mountain, Jinx dropped to fly just above the tree line.

"The mass of the mountain blocks the base radar," he said into the intercom. "I've heard the Flight Control guys bitching about it all the time. They'll assume we kept on going to one of the usual patrol drops."

"Good," Ann-Marie said, then leaned forward to show Jinx a rarity in these modern times, a paper map. "Because here's where we're really going."

***

Jinx hovered the helo fifty feet over the desert. There were some stretches of sand, but also rocks and some light scrub bushes for as far as I could see. I turned to Zazlu skeptically.

"It looks pretty hot down there."

"Yes sir, but this is where Three-Spot directed us to go. As close as we can guess. Hell-Spiders think in landmarks, not 2D maps. The translation was...challenging."

"Lightning snakes love hot weather."

"Three-Spot says no snakes in this area. I inquired specifically."

"They need water to survive," Ann-Marie added. "This area doesn't have flowing water for lightning snakes to lay their eggs."

I unbuckled my harness. "And no Hell-Spider hunting parties?"

Zaz did the same. "Not today."

I looked around again. A rolling desert with barely any tree cover. From one of the small hills, we'd be able to see a threat coming for miles in every direction. And we were carrying enough firepower to crack open a tank. I tapped Jinx on the shoulder. "Okay! That flat spot there! Combat drop and dust off!"

Jinx handled it great, the skids barely touching the sand long enough for us to jump off, and then he rocketed up to a safe altitude again. I'd be damned if I was losing our ride home.

"Stay safe but stay within a few minutes range," I told him through our mikes.

"Roger. Climbing to overwatch height."

***

Ann-Marie led us forward, looking every minute at her paper map. We made good time. She was light on her feet, my new body felt like I could run for hours even in the stifling heat, and the Heavies did the work for Zazlu and Juan, even though their footpads sunk into the soft sand. If the Heavies had had calves, they would have been burning.

"Too bad about your reporter friend," I told Juan as he ran along beside me.

"Why's that, sir?"

"Benefactors never stay planetside for more than a day. Once the bots have toured the base, I'm guessing all the news teams will leave on the same transport they came in on."

He beamed while his machine muscles whirred and pumped. "Oh no, sir. Dakota's staying until the next transport at least. She's gonna cover that first farm colony thing."

Ann-Marie snorted. "Dakota."

"It's a cowgirl's name," Juan fired back. "I know because that girl sure knows how to ride a-"

"All right, all right," I interrupted. "Butcher- how much farther?"

She stopped and wiped off her brow with her shirt, then checked her map again. She looked up and pointed to a Joshua tree-like-thing standing alone at the top of the next hill. "That tree. Three-Spot says it's one of the last things the hunting party saw."

We stopped to drink some cold water, the four of us kneeling in a circle facing outward, weapons ready. I was looking towards the Joshua tree, about a two-minute jog away.

There was no noise but the breeze rustling sand and our breathing.

"They're still going ahead with volunteer farmers starting colonies here?" I asked no one in particular. "With Hell-Spiders sneaking into our base?"

"The transport was probably already underway before that news got back there," Ann-Marie said. "It takes a week to get from Earth through to our wormgate."

"And if they are like normal farmers," Zazlu added, "they are already in debt to pay for their equipment. They are probably eager to start planting, no matter the security situation."

"And I'm sure Spider skulls on the walls will make them feel safer," I snorted. "Everyone ready?" My team nodded. "Then let's go."

***

We jogged the valley between us and the Joshua tree, but slowed as we approached it. Ann-Marie went first, creeping forwards with her rifle on her shoulder. Zazlu covered her, weapon ports open. I went around the tree the other way, looking up, down, over, but not seeing anything. We formed another circle around the tree, weapons out, and listened. Nothing.

"What did Three-Spot say killed this hunting party?" I asked.

"He did not," Zaz grunted. "And we had no more lightning snakes to offer in trade."

"We'll have to fix that. Anyone see any dead spiders?"

"I see a live one," Butcher said, looking through the sniper scope on her rifle.

We turned back in the direction we had come. A lone black dot was clearly visible on the sandy horizon, scuttling towards us. As soon as I pulled up my binoculars to look at it, it stopped and sat down, folding its legs below itself just like Three-Spot did. I stared at it for thirty seconds, but it didn't move any closer, just sat there.

"Great. Juan, you watch it watching us. Butcher and I will start searching. Zaz, you cover us."

***

Ann-Marie and I started spiraling outwards from the Joshua tree while Zazlu stomped around the crest of the hill, keeping us in sight. Ann-Marie was glistening pretty heavily at this point, her shirt sticking to her, and she rolled up her fatigue legs to let the dry breeze cool off her calves. I did too. The sand felt just as soft as Earth sand, and was a nice change from the muck and streams near the Night Hunting Grounds.

We were most of the way down the hill when Juan heard a very faint buzzing, as he told me later. He had been looking through the electronic sights of the Heavy, practicing placing the crosshairs of his long range mini-missile on the Spider's torso.

"Come on punta," he was muttering to himself. "Move. I dare you."

That's when something that looked like a slightly larger Earth bee circled and landed on his exoskelton's arm. Juan told me he looked at it annoyed, shook his arm once, and it buzzed off. He continued keeping the distant Hell-Spider in his weapon sights, putting the crosshairs right between its eyes. "That's right."

***

By this point Ann-Marie and I had found the dead hunting party, mostly covered in sand. I brushed it away to reveal the tops of five adult Hell-Spiders.

"Pretty well preserved," I noted. "They could pass for fresh killed if we cleaned them."

"Dry desert air will do that," she agreed, then bent closer to one of the skulls. "Sir... look at this."

One of the Hell-Spider skulls already had a bullet hole in it.

"There's no way," I gasped. "No one would come out this far." I looked at Ann-Marie's buffering band. Instead of five green lights, there were only four. "I mean, we're already losing signal. No one would have come out this far."

She was looking at another spider body, and pointed out a cluster of round holes on its side. The size of the entry wounds looked bigger than anything we carried by hand, and there was a burnt ring around each hole.

".50 cal chain gun?" I asked. "From a helo?"

"We would have heard about kills made that way," she said. "All of Immortal's and Omega's kills have been on the ground."

I sighed and started cutting through a neck with my knife. "Easier to explain than lightning snake bites on the bodies, I suppose." I keyed my mike. "Zaz, we've got them. Bring the Heavy and we'll start loading you up."

***

At the top of the hill, Juan was still watching the Hell-Spider when the bee returned, landing on the same spot of his arm and crawling around. He shook his arm again but this time the bee stayed. Juan brought that part of the exoskeleton near his face and blew it away. We were loading up the cargo rack on Zazlu's heavy with a second severed head when the bee settled on Juan's arm a third time and he raised the other metal hand of the exoskeleton up and slapped it down on the bee, hard.

***

Ann-Marie and I dropped into firing positions when we heard the single CRACK from the top of the hill, ringing out like a rifle shot.

"Juan! What's going on?" I demanded as Zazlu deployed his weapons, one bristling arm facing each way. "Is it the spider?"

"Naw, it was just a bee or something," he said. "Just dazed me a little."

"You fired a rifle at a bee?" Butcher asked.

"No man, it was the bee that fired on me!"

"That doesn't make sense," Zazlu said. "Have you been drinking your water?"

"I'm not seeing things! I'll show you the burn mark on the armor when you get here!"

I looked at Butcher, then at the round holes in the spider bodies. "Let's cut faster," I said, and we both went to work on opposite sides of the same neck.

***

That's when Juan saw his second bee, a tiny black dot in the sky trundling towards him. It bumbled closer, twenty feet above him, and then dive-bombed down into his chest and went off.

"Owww! Damn it!" he cried. The bee had exploded against the chest plate of the exoskeleton, but he said it still felt like getting punched in the ribs. "Guys, watch out for these bees! They really kick when they explode!"

***

Ann-Marie looked up at me quizzically. "Explode?" she asked, about the time we heard the buzzing over our heads.

There were five bees above us, circling like mayflies. Then one of them dove down at Butcher. She jumped out of the way and the sand behind her shot up like a mini-mortar had gone off.

"ZAZ! Flamethrowers!" I yelled, diving out of the way of one too. I was a little slower than Butcher and my skin stung where it was sand-blasted from behind.

"Got it!" he yelled, coming to stand over me and the dead Spiders, both arms raised to the sky. When the next bee dove towards us, a jet of flame from Zazlu's arm met it and the CRACK! ten feet over my head made my ears ring.

"INCOMING!" Ann-Marie yelled, pointing at a swarm of bees above us. Thirty at least.

"EVADE! EVADE!" I yelled. We scattered like we were being shelled. I flipped to the helo's circuit as I ran. "Jinx! Pick up! NOW!" I dove and two explosions went off behind me. One of them hit an exposed rock and the gravel-sized shrapnel raked my arm.

"Inbound in two minutes," Jinx said to my implants.

***

Juan was also dealing with bees, although more forcefully. He had both flamethrowers going, sweeping the sky around him.

"YEAH, you like that?" he yelled as bees popped and exploded in groups above him. Then one circled around his flames, came in at ground level, and slammed into the exoskeleton's knee. "Damn it!" he yelled, hobbling.

Another hit him in the back and knocked him over. With his flamethrowers interrupted, bees started falling around him like mortars, one after the other.

***

Ann-Marie was actually running up the sandy hill towards Juan, weaving in a serpentine pattern. Explosions were following her like intelligent artillery. Out of breath from the climb, as a last ditch she dove under the only cover she saw, the sparse branches of the Joshua tree. One bee which had been aiming at her legs still attacked, exploding on the rocks inches from her knee. But the others which had been aiming for her head and torso pulled away, right before they would have hit the tree's branches.

Lying on her side, she used the few breaths of space to sweep the horizon with her sniper scope to find the Hell-Spider again. It still sat far away, watching us. "Thank god," I heard her mutter, then she yelled into her mike "The tree! Get under the tree!" She tried firing her rifle at the swarm swirling around Juan but bullets were as effective as they had been against the snakes.

Luckily, Juan's heavy was still functioning enough to let him crawl under the tree, even though he was getting barraged every few seconds.

***

I was having a tougher time. I wasn't as quick as Butcher, and the bees seemed to like me more than her as I serpentined through the valley. One exploded behind me, then another right next to me, throwing me off my feet. The next hit my rifle as I held it in front of my face, shattering the action, and then I saw three bees diving towards my chest.

They met the back of Zazlu's heavy as he dove in front of me, bridging over me as a shield.

"Thanks Zaz," I yelled, right as a bee found an exposed joint around his knee and blew his leg off.

Zazlu was screaming right in my face but only for a few seconds as a few more circling bees climbed inside the gap we had opened in his armor to attach the spider skulls and exploded his chest open.

I looked up to see his buffering band with three green lights on it start flashing then go to solid red after a few seconds. A good transfer.

***

Jinx brought us back in around the Night Hunting Grounds again as if we had come from the normal patrol sector, taking ten extra minutes even though Ann-Marie's burnt knee needed medical attention. She insisted on the path.

I tried to pull off the burnt cloth sticking to her knee and pour water on it, but that just seemed to make the pain worse.

The medics were waiting when we landed and I watched them cart her away as Juan stepped his barely functioning Heavy off the helo's skid and hit the eject button. Strapped to the other skid was Zazlu's Heavy, his body still in it and three spider skulls still hanging off the rack on its back.

I could barely think as I radioed drunk private and cocaine private to come get the skulls for cleaning and for Steve to wheelchair himself down to the res tanks to meet Zaz. And then there was only one last thing.

I staggered up to the cockpit door as the blades spun down. Jinx opened the window and looked at me.

"Look..." I started, not even sure if we had enough on hand to bribe him with.

"Sir," he said, "that was the most exciting pitched fire-fight I have ever seen a squad have with 15 or more spiders coming out of the trees like that." I watched him bring up the flightplan on the screens, the real flightplan, and then hit ERASE on the menu. "Your report should be something to behold."

"Thanks Jinx," I managed, then started limping away. I tried to use my rifle for a crutch but it just snapped in half where the bee had hit it, and I left it laying on the flightline.

***

Three-Spot's mind voice was full of something which could only be called mirth. "So you have met the thunder bees."

"Yes GODDAMN IT we met the THUNDER BEES!" I yelled, pounding the glass. "Why didn't you tell us about them?"

"Then the scales would not have balanced."

"What scales?" Zazlu demanded. He stood in a new, clean cloned body, next to my dirty, sore and scratched one. He still crossed his arms like a stocky fireplug even though they were lean and wiry now.

"Your clan fell upon a hunting party last night," Three-Spot said gravely. "One was hobbled, the other later went to the Long Hunt from his wounds."

"Omega Squad's patrol," Ann-Marie whispered to me from her wheelchair.

Three-Spot nodded at Zazlu's cloned body and the bandages wrapped around Ann-Marie's burnt knee. "Now the scales have balanced."

"You killed eight of us when you invaded our cafeteria!" I yelled. "Including me! Where is the balance for that?"

"Your clan killed twenty of mine earlier that night, while losing twelve. I was sent to balance the scales for that."

"The Immortal patrol that Ridley went on," Zazlu growled. "The Night Hunting Grounds."

Three-Spot looked right at me. " I killed only eight in your food place. I could have killed many more."

I narrowed my eyes. "Possibly. And possibly not."

He pulled his legs even more tightly under him, huddling down. "And once the scales had been balanced, I sat to await who from your clan would come to discuss an end to the fighting." He nodded at me. "And then you came."

My eyes got big. "Oh no. I can't-"

"It is already done."

"What?"

"It is already done."

"Sir," Butcher said from next to me, "there's a possibility he may be right. Before you woke up, Zazlu and I were reviewing what you told him last time, when you were almost falling asleep on your feet."

"And?" I demanded.

She looked up at Zazlu, who crossed his arms again and said, "We think you may have offered Three-Spot a cease-fire."

"And he accepted," Ann-Marie finished.

"What? I- no..." I tried to remember- what had I said? Why didn't we record these sessions? Oh, that's right, because I would be court-martialed if that video leaked. So what the hell had I said?

"An end to blood shed on either side," Three-Spot spoke into my head. "We would not kill you if you would not kill us or our prey. Patrols will be cleared by both sides. The hunting grounds would be respected."

Fuck.

"I relayed these terms to my clan while you waited," he continued. "A vote was taken. Many did not trust you, but enough to pass the treaty did. And then I told you the terms were acceptable."

"You did all that from inside the holding cell?" Ann-Marie asked.

"With practice, we can communicate over quite a distance. Even from inside caves like this."

"And your entire clan voted on the treaty?" I asked.

Three-Spot nodded, huddling into an even tighter ball. "Mundane decisions are handled by a council of elders, elected every two growing seasons. Matters affecting the security of the entire clan are voted on by the entire clan. More than six out of eight adults must agree. Forbidden are laws that benefit one group more than the rest, or ones that dictate what an adult may do inside his own cave."

"Holy shit," I said, looking at Butcher and Zaz with my mouth open.

Zazlu was equally amazed. "The Hell-Spiders have a constitutional republic."

"And a better one than ours," Ann-Marie added.

"You do not have a similar system?" Three-Spot asked. "How are your laws made?"

"It's... complicated," I said. "It's almost the exact opposite of what you described. Look, we don't have time for that now. I need to you to take another vote. We can't promise a cease-"

"No," he said. "I cannot. It is too cold."

"What?"

"I cannot reach the clan. I cannot concentrate enough. I am too cold."

"Cold?" The three of us were wearing t-shirts and fatigues. I reached out to touch the six inches of insulating, bulletproof glass in front of me. It was freezing. "Holy shit. Is this..."

I spun to face Butcher and Zaz. "Did you guys hear anything about Oakley starting his torture program yet?" Ann-Marie shook her head. Zazlu also gave me a blank look. I turned to the spider again.

"Three Spot- the temperature you are at now, can you survive that? Endure it for a long time?"

I hadn't really noticed how small a ball he had curled into, but he did look like he was suffering. "I have endured worse," he said. "But I need food to do so. Much more than lightning snakes."

"What do you need?"

"A large animal. All parts of it. Something very muscular and freshly killed."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. "I think... that we can provide that."

***

"All I'm saying Zaz," I continued as we wheeled the covered cart down the halls, "is that you didn't have to do it. You could have let the thunder bees get me."

"You have already died once," he sighed, looking downcast. "If resurrection is really changing your soul, it would not have been fair to let you die again. It is what a good Second Lieutenant does."

We turned the corner, both pushing to keep the top-heavy cart from tipping. "Well, thanks," I said. "Again. I mean it. And for this too."

He frowned down at the sheet as we pushed. "It does guarantee a certain... measure of closure."

We reached the hallway outside the holding room and Ann-Marie killed the cameras again, then opened the feeding port in the prisoner door. I pulled the sheet of off Zazlu's birth body and he and I muscled the thick corpse through the three-foot wide port.

"You're sure about this, Zazlu?" Butcher asked as we watched Three-Spot curiously inspect the muscular, freshly killed body we had given him.

The Iranian frowned, squatting to look through the low port. "Well, perhaps we should say a few words in service before-"

Three-Spot split open Zazlu's chest and started feasting on his lungs and heart. Zazlu swallowed. "Perhaps not."

"Three-Spot," I said, making sure not to look at Zaz, "will this food keep you warm for the next few days?"

We could hear him cracking the body's bones and ripping the flesh from them as he talked. "Oh yes. I have never eaten your kind before. But this is quite agreeable."

I closed the feeding port before we saw any more. The muted sounds of tearing flesh could still be heard in the hall.

"Sir," Ann-Marie said into the awkward silence, pointing at a clipboard hanging on the hallway wall. "Look at this schedule of tests they're planning for him."

It was everything Oakley had promised. Freezing. Heating until unconscious. Starvation. Poisoning. Blunt trauma to the legs. Breaking the back. Disembowl-

"God damn it," I cursed, unable to read more. I pulled the clipboard off its hook.

"He's our best intel asset," she said. "If we lose him...especially if the spiders consider him a diplomat..."

"I know, I know," I said, rubbing my face, then looking around. How the hell could we stop a direct order from the General? "Zaz can you find me a post-it note? And a pen."

Butcher looked at me quizzically but Zaz was back from the nearest office in a second. I wrote on the note, "CEASE ALL TESTS ON THIS BEAST UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, PER MILITARY DIRECTIVE 621-A. -GENERAL OAKLEY", slapped it on the clipboard, and hung it back on the wall.

"There. That should buy us a few days."

"What's directive 621-A?" Zazlu asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"You have got to be kidding me," Ann-Marie said.

"I said it would buy us a few days, not forever. Now come on, let's go see what Grimmy found out."

***

We headed back to our barracks with purpose. We had forged an eye in the hurricane, but just barely. The General had his skulls. Ann-Marie promised she'd be up and running in a few days. I'd have to watch Zazlu tonight, but he looked like he was handling death well enough for now. The note would have the torture geeks cross-referencing manuals for days before confronting Oakley, which was enough time to figure out if we owed Three-Spot anything beyond a painless death. And if Grimstone had found something definitive about how Ridley had died, we had a little time to act on it before something else came out of the blue and-

"What the hell are you doing, Grimstone?" I demanded after opening the barracks door. Our tech geek was on the ground, doing push-up after push-up with shaking arms. As was the rest of the squad. Even Steve was in his wheelchair next to them, doing chair dips and breaking a sweat. "Why the hell aren't you working on-"

I stopped when I noticed the squat, muscular, black man in the room, holding a whistle and smiling as his bald head shone under the lights.

"Well, Lieutenant Forrest, thank you for joining us," he said, smiles creasing his forty-five year-old face. "My name is Sergeant Major Hughes. And I believe you owe me some push ups."

***
Chapter Five

Military rank is a funny thing. On the one hand, a twenty-something Second Lieutenant straight out of Academy could order a Staff Sergeant with ten combat tours to Pickett's Charge a line of machine guns, and the Sergeant would have to go. That was set into the iron rules of the military all the way back from the days when it mattered what family you were born into, and whether you had been "enlisted" to serve or "commissioned" to serve.

On the other hand, a private with an MP band on his arm could order a two-star General to drop to the floor at rifle point, if the MP was guarding nuclear weapons and the General just "had" to see what one looked like. And any court martial in the world would rule in favor of the enlisted MP, even if he had to put a bullet in the commissioned General to stop him.

By combat experience and years in service, Hughes should have been my superior. Because I had gone to Officer Candidate School and he hadn't, I was technically his. But all that mattered was the "dotted line" Oakley had drawn on the org chart making Sergeant Major Hughes "Director of Personnel Improvement", above every human on the planet except Oakley himself.

And so I got to enjoy doing some push ups with SMaj Hughes.

"Come ON Lieutenant Forrest!" he drawl-yelled at me somewhere around our hundredth push up. He was setting the pace, doing form-perfect pushups with his face inches in front of mine and managing to yell at the same time. "You can do better than THAT! Don't linger on the ground!" He stood up, placing his perfectly polished combat boots under my face so my nose brushed his laces with each push-up.

"All of you can!" he yelled to the others. "Look at these wiry bodies! Sack up Moooohammmed! You look like you never lifted a weight in your entire life!"

Only my stern look prevented Zazlu, who had lifted weights since he was thirteen, from taking his new 'wiry' body and breaking the Sergeant Major in half.

"SIR YES, SIR!" Zazlu spat instead, still doing push-ups next to me.

"Yes, I do love push-ups," Hughes mused as we worked. "You can learn a lot about a soldier's guts by how he pushes. But you know where you can learn more? SQUAD- AT EASE!"

We all collapsed to the floor.

"But the best place to see what a soldier is made of?" he said, smiling at us. "On a run."

***

We ran inside the twenty-foot high base security wall, all around the steel buildings which were the base proper, then around the scorching blacktop of the flightline, then headed out towards the fields civilians would soon be plowing in the protected lee of the base.

Ann-Marie and Steve rolled right along besides us during the paved parts. It wasn't any easier on them, really. Butcher could run for miles, but her arms weren't built for that level of effort. And Steve's swollen leg made him wince with each bump in the pavement. And when we hit the end of the road, I almost expected Hughes to order them to heal themselves and start running. Which would have led to words between us.

But Hughes ordered the two to do laps around the flightline until we returned, then led the rest of us into the cleared fields at a punishing gallop. For a stocky bastard, he could sure run.

We crossed rocky fields and streams, never slowing from our pace. We were outside the security wall but inside a ten-foot high barbed wire fence. This area wasn't actively patrolled yet and if any spider, snake, or thunder bee decided to hop the fence, we had only our sidearms to protect us. I noticed all my boys were also wearing their buffering bands. Hughes was not.

We went up rolling hills covered in soft grass with empty steel houses already standing on bulldozed lots of rich, black soil. The wind gently stirred the grass and past the cliff that bordered the farmlands on one side, you could see for miles and miles. Beautiful farming country, really. If we could protect it.

"Yes, a long run," Hughes said after two miles. "That's where you learn about your men, Lieutenant. What they're made of."

"Sir, yes sir," I panted next to him.

"See, a run, it's just mind over matter because- ARE YOU TIRED ALREADY LIEUTENANT?"

"Sir, no sir!"

"Good," he said, picking up the pace even more.

The privates were starting to fall out, and I was struggling too. Grimstone was dead on his feet. Zazlu had started the run taking steps sized for his old body, but now matched my long gait. But he was going to fade soon. Juan was sucking air too.

"Yes, it's just mind over matter," Hughes said when we caught him again. "Did you know a Ranger in a cloned body just broke the three-minute mile? With a body just like yours! Those clones were made to run- you have no excuse!"

He started pulling away from me and I sprinted to catch up.

"Of course, the Ranger died soon afterwards," Hughes continued when I pulled next to him again. "But that's what cloned bodies are for, aren't they?"

He came to an abrupt stop in the middle of a wide, terraced field. We fell out around him, hands on our knees and sucking air. Hughes breathed deeply as if enjoying the smell, then looked at us.

"The Army is discipline," he stated. "Running is discipline. Ergo, all of you and I will make this same run every time General Oakley informs me you have committed a breach of discipline."

He stretched, then turned back towards the base. "You have twenty minutes to make it back to your barracks. If any of you are late, ALL OF YOU WILL MAKE THIS RUN AGAIN TODAY! DISMISSED!"

And he sprinted off ahead of us, while we coughed and stood panting in the field.

***

It had taken us twenty minutes to get from our barracks to that farthest point, and the sun only seemed hotter on the return. But with a Second Lieutenant's light, loving touch, Zazlu kicked the privates' asses all the way back to the edge of the pavement where we met back up with Butcher and Steve.

Grimstone and cocaine private were about dead, so we put a blushing Grimstone on Ann-Marie's lap and a protesting cocaine private on Steve's, and then had Zazlu and Juan push the wheelchairs back across the flightline, leaning on the handles to rest as they ran. I ran ahead looking for Hughes, and had the squad 'dismount' as we came in range of the security cameras, then we all hustled back inside.

Hughes was at our barracks door, checking us off as we came through. I let the squad file in first but waited in the hall myself. Hughes' eyes narrowed and he looked at his watch as I checked the twenty-minute timer I had set on mine. And walked across the threshold with one second to spare.

"Very good, Lieutenant," Hughes scowled. "I had expected to be running with you again today, but maybe your squad is more disciplined than their leadership seems to be."

"Sir, yes sir," I purred. Sweat may have been dripping down my back and pouring down my forehead, but I wasn't going to let this sadist see me panic.

He grinned and pulled an envelope from his thigh pocket, then handed it to me. "Therefore, by order of General Oakley, you are hereby returned to active patrol rotation. Take everyone not in a wheelchair. Your helos leave in ten minutes."

I snatched the orders from his hand without even reading them. "Sir, absolutely not. You just ran us into the ground for 'training' and I will not put my squad into the field without-"

Hughes pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt and hit the talk button casually. "General Oakley, what would you tell a squad leader who refuses to deploy his unit after the required notice?"

"Every unit in my command must be willing to fight on ten minute's warning!" Oakley's voice yelled through the radio. "The spiders won't give us hours to prepare! We must be ready to fight at all times, no matter what! Is it that fucking Forrest giving you trouble again-" Hughes shut the radio off, smiling.

"Nine and a half," he said.

***

"You are FUCKING KIDDING ME!" Zazlu yelled, sitting on the floor and reading the op sheet as Butcher poured cold water on his head. "A search and destroy?!?! NOW?"

Ann-Marie took the papers from him before they got soaked and scanned them. "It's in the deepest part of the Hell-Spider territory, too. We're sure to have contact."

"I know, I know," I said, stuffing my pockets with energy bars. Then I started stuffing each private's pockets, too. They were going to need the calories, and they could eat them on the helo.

"So what should we do?" Zazlu demanded. "We're not going on this mission, right?"

There was something in his tone that should have set alarm bells off in my head. Something I had never heard from Zazlu before. Not just questioning, but almost petulant. He was close to breaking. I knelt close to him.

"We can do this, Zaz. And it's not like I can appeal the order to anyone who cares. But we've still got a few minutes. If we can just get in to see Three-Spot before we-"

"He's... coming," Grimstone croaked from his bunk, where he was all but dead from exhaustion. Hughes opened our door again seconds later.

"Change of plans," the Sergeant Major said with a smile. "Your helos leave now. Come with me."

***

Calm, I thought. Search for calm. I tried to calm myself as Hughes led us to the armory where Zazlu distributed rifles and body armor to us. It was the only chance we had.

Three-Spot, I need you to hear me. Now. We're being sent on patrol again. Near the caves in the valley. You have to tell your clan: do not attack us. Tell them.

"Stop daydreaming, Lieutenant!" Hughes barked, slapping an automatic rifle against my chest. "You're about to lead troops into battle! Or are you unable to?"

"Sir, no sir," I growled. Last thing I needed was to have the short fucker replace me with someone from Immortal Squad. Hughes would have been my height, back in my birth body, but I actually enjoyed looking down on the bastard now. We would beat him yet. He hustled us off to the flightline.

Three-Spot, I need you to hear me!

***

Zazlu motioned to the Hangar master behind Hughes' back and she lined Jinx up to be our lead pilot again. But I barely noticed because I was praying to Three-Spot the entire time. And I hadn't gotten a response.

"The General expects five confirmed kills this mission," Hughes yelled at us as Jinx spun the rotors up. "Or else you and I will start training together every day. And just to ensure that there are no breaches in discipline, I will be listening to your implant chatter." He smiled and shook his walkie-talkie at me, then ordered Grimstone to tie it into our squad comms. Grimmy gave me a look, I had no choice but to nod, and he did.

"Check, check," I said into the mike on my chest armor, and Grimstone gave me a thumbs up. So did Hughes, the walkie-talkie pressed to his ear. Then we boarded the choppers.

Jinx flew the right path this time, the actual listed flight plan around the Night Hunting Grounds and towards the valley where all the Hell-Spiders lived. An auto-piloted chopper followed us with the rest of the privates. As our base faded out of view I stopped praying to Three-Spot. I had to prepare the squad.

Zazlu was eating his energy bar angrily, but he was in the field now. He was pissed, but he would get done anything I asked of him. Juan was draining his second bottle of Gatorade and cocking and re-cocking the grenade launcher he was pointing out the open side of the chopper. His finger danced around the trigger, but he was okay too. And Grimstone had at least been on a few patrols with us before.

But drunk private- shit, what was his real name again... Telson, he was shaking like a whore in church. And cocaine private Harper was shaking like a minister at a Boy Scout meeting. This was their first real action, ever. And neither they nor the other privates knew anything about our deal with Three-Spot.

I leaned forward in my harness and tapped both privates on the knees. "Listen, you two," I said, fully aware that Hughes might as well have been there in the chopper with us. "You may see a lot of scary things out there today, but I want you two both to observe ABSOLUTE NOISE DISCIPLINE.

"That's what's kept us safe on our other missions. I want the both of you to keep your MOUTHS SHUT and not comment on ANYTHING you may see out there, no matter what it is. Do you read me, Privates?" I couldn't have Lieutenant Looked them any harder if I had been the janitor from OCS himself.

"Ye-yessss, sir," Telson stammered, his eyes terrified. Harper nodded too.

"And NO MATTER WHAT," I continued, "DO NOT FIRE until Lieutenant Mohammed says 'weapons free'. If you fire while we are establishing position on the enemy, I WILL SHOOT YOU MYSELF. CLEAR?"

"Yes sir!" they squeaked.

I leaned back, took a deep breath, and looked at Zazlu. He nodded back. It was the best we could do.

***

I started praying to Three-Spot again as Jinx started circling our drop-off spot. It was deep in the valley, and outside the fire-cleared landing zone you couldn't see anything through the solid tree cover. There were about a million ambush locations waiting in the shadowed jungle. No patrol that had ever been dropped off here had EVER returned, with ANY of their soldiers alive.

"You sure this is it?" I asked Jinx.

He nodded. "General's orders."

I checked everyone's buffering bands again. Green, five bars each. Hooo-kay.

"Alright- combat drop and dust off!"

Jinx did another great job, starting to take the helo up even as we were stepping off it. The auto-pilot was lazier, waiting to let all five privates get a few steps away before starting a slow climb up. I motioned Telson and Harper to come with Juan and me as Zazlu rode herd on the other five privates.

"Remember- weapons safe and total noise discipline," I hissed into my mike, looking Telson and Harper in the eye and when I turned back to the treeline a black shape was already sliding out of the shadows at me.

I froze.

The Hell-Spider was bigger than Three-Spot, its shell shinier and a deeper black. Its razor claws were already drawn, waiting.

With great effort, peeled my finger off my trigger and let my rifle hang free on its strap. Friendly, I thought. We're friendly! Three-Spot must have told you. Right?

The spider took another step towards me. I held my empty hands out in front of me, trying to think peaceful thoughts. But what if-

I turned just in time to see Harper raising his rifle and gave him the sternest Lieutenant Look I could muster while jabbing a finger at his rifle and then the ground. Disbelieving, he lowered his barrel.

I held one hand up to tell Harper to stay, then held my other empty hand towards the spider, now only twenty feet away. Please stay back! If you get closer, my friends may not stay calm. Friendly!

It took another step forward. As did twenty other spiders emerging from hiding in a ring around the landing zone.

I grabbed the barrel of Juan's grenade launcher just before it got target and pushed it back down, giving him a blistering look and shaking my head. He barely saw me- his eyes were huge, watching the ring of spiders close around us.

I looked back at the first spider in desperation. Stop! We are friendly! Three Spot sent us!

They were all around us, moving forward at a slow steady speed, like a stalking cat.

I tilted my shoulder to let my rifle strap slip off and let the weapon clatter to the ground. See! Friendly!

The spider stood just fifteen feet in front of me, legs coiled to pounce. All the other spiders took one step closer.

"Sir..." Telson squeaked, shaking. His finger started reaching towards his trigger. I gave him a Look but he was trembling, still bringing his rifle barrel up. He was too far for me to reach in time.

Then Zazlu was there, grabbing the back of Telson's neck with one hand and pushing his rifle barrel down with the other. He squeezed harder and harder on Telson's neck until the kid's hand left the trigger area. The ring of spiders stepped closer again.

I stepped forward too, one hand up to stay my men, one hand up to the spider, now looking into his four eyes from just ten feet away. My pulse was pounding in my ears. I could barely form thoughts through the adrenaline.

Peaceful! We do not want to fight you! Peace!

The spider stopped.

"Three-Spot said your thoughts would be muddy," he spoke into my head, the voice like sharp claws sliding over each other, where Three-Spot's was like tumbling gravel. "But I was not prepared."

Yeah, neither were we, I thought back. Things happened quickly. Please tell your clan to back up! My men are nervous.

"You are very close to our caves."

I'm sorry-

"Close to our females and children. Your metal-spitters could do much harm to them."

I turned back to Zaz, snapped my fingers and pointed for him to take his hands off his rifle. He didn't want to.

"Sir-"

I held a finger in front of my mouth.

Zazlu frowned at me, then slowly let his rifle go, to hang from his shoulder strap.

I turned back to the spider. Where Three-Spot had his yellow dots, this one had a red stripe on its skull. Red-Stripe, see! We mean your families no harm! We just need to stay here for a while and then will go away.

"For how long will you go away? The others always come back."

See, that's the thing\- I started to think, before I noticed Juan was freaking out.

"This is crazy," he hissed. "We're just staring at them-"

I bared my teeth at him. "Shut UP Private!"

"What's going on out there?" Sergeant Major Hughes's voice barked, crystal clear, into all our ears. "Give me a sit-rep!"

"Whoever that was, clear this channel!" I hissed into my mike. "We are maneuvering to contact in the field. Get off the radio, you asshole!"

Any chance I got to call Hughes an asshole with plausible deniability, I would take. The radio went silent. Then I snapped my fingers at Zaz and pointed to Juan. My Second Lieutenant put his hand on Juan's shoulder, whispering in his ear. I could see Juan's finger slowly untensing from the trigger. But he was still too nervous.

Red-Stripe, we NEED you to back up. You are scaring them.

The large Hell-Spider took one step back toward the treeline. The others did as well. I remembered I could exhale, too.

Thank you.

"We cannot let you leave this clearing."

We do not want to!

"We also cannot guard you forever."

Shit. This was turning into a negotiation, and I had absolutely nothing to barter with. I snapped my fingers at Zazlu again, pointed at his head then pointed at Red-Stripe.

The Iranian was confused.

I pointed at his head again, harder, and then at the Hell-Spider's head, again. And then held a finger in front of my mouth again.

It's funny how you don't need to know sign language to recognize four-letter words being silently mouthed at you. But Zazlu walked up next to me and looked Red-Stripe right in his four eyes.

My friend will negotiate with you. We will reach an agreement, I thought.

"Very well."

Zazlu started nodding at the spider, then frowning and shaking his head.

Now it was my turn to suffer, watching the expressions cycle through Zazlu's face and being left to wonder just WHAT the fuck was being said.

It stretched one minute. Then another. The clearing was silent, no creature moving or speaking. I turned to the squad and motioned for them to relax, trying to smile at them while I secretly checked every one of their trigger fingers. They were getting jittery. The spiders were dead calm, in a ring around us.

I turned back to Zazlu and he was still gesturing, frowning and shaking his head at Red-Stripe. I finally just pulled on his sleeve and gave him a "What the fuck?" look. Zazlu started to open his mouth but then stopped and pointed at his combat mike in frustration.

I pointed at his head, then Red-Stripe, then my head.

Zazlu mouthed another unmentionable at me, then closed his eyes, concentrating. The sliding claws voice invaded my thoughts again. "The Wrestler wishes me to relay his thoughts to you, for some reason."

Good. Go ahead.

"You cannot speak to him directly? Are one of you still a child?"

No, just- it's complicated! Just go ahead!

"Very well." Red-Stripe paused. "He is picturing someone having intercourse with an animal- a dog."

We've screwed the pooch.

"Yes. And now, he is picturing a... sniper? Killing a target from a great distance."

A long shot.

"Yes. And now, he pictures three humans, one wearing a hat-"

Tell him to stop thinking in metaphors and just talk plainly!

"Meta...? I do not understand."

"Sir," Juan whispered. "They're getting closer!"

"No they're not, private. Relax."

He gripped his grenade launcher tighter. "They are!"

"What should we do?" Telson cried to me, starting to raise his barrel again.

"I need a sit-rep of what's going on!" SMaj Hughes said into my ear. "Now!"

"Now the Wrestler is picturing a man on a horse..."

I wondered what I had ever done to the Gods to find myself in this position.

Red-Stripe, what were you and the Wrestler talking about last? Hurry! And use your own words!

"He was asking why the thunder bees do not attack the Joshua trees."

And?

"It is because the trees are where the bees rest and feed from its nectar. If you see many Joshua trees, you will always find a thunder bee hive close by. If there are no trees nearby, the hive cannot survive."

Juan was backing up, wide eyes on the ring of Hell-Spiders. "Sir? Sir!"

That's all?

"The Wrestler asked if the thunder bees were causing problems for us. I replied that they were. As the weather gets drier, the bees wander West into our hunting grounds, threatening hunts that they did not threaten before. The Wrestler offered to help. For a price."

Fuck. I gave Zazlu a disbelieving look. "Really?" I asked, my voice hoarse after the long silence.

"I said it was a long shot," he spat back.

"SIT REP!" Hughes barked. "Why are you pussies pansy-footing around out there if you can see the enemy right in-"

And then it hit me. I pushed Juan's and Telson's weapons back down, giving them reassuring looks as I did. And I ran around to make sure everyone had their weapons safe before I started yelling.

"Squad! Fall back! Fall back to the LZ!" I yelled. The squad just looked at me strangely, since we hadn't even left the LZ.

I gave Red-Stripe a calming gesture, then yelled, "Jinx! Jinx! We are in heavy contact! They're all around us! How far out are you?"

"Two minutes. Inbound now."

"No!" I shot back. "Go back to base! And get every shoulder rocket you can load up onto the chopper! We need firepower!"

"Heavies?"

Shit. That's all I needed, Hughes or Oakley's men out here in heavies to see what we were up to.

"No! No more soldiers! We've got enough men! Just weapons! We'll keep the Spiders chasing their tails until you get back! Hurry!"

"Roger. Back in ten. Out."

I looked at Red-Stripe. Our metal-spitters, which way can we fire them without pointing towards any of your caves? The Spider pointed towards a rising hill. Could you get your friends out of that direction?

"For what purpose?"

We are going to fire our weapons so that it sounds like we are doing a great battle for my superiors who are spying on us, but we do not want to actually hurt any of you.

The spider looked at me for a second. "Your species is strange." Then the spiders in that direction started making a gap in the ring. I lined up our privates and had them aim at an innocent tree.

***

We fought that tree to a vicious stand-still for the next ten minutes, yelling, screaming and making other battle sounds that would have made any radio performer proud. When Jinx landed in the clearing again, I had Zazlu and Juan get on the helo and start arming the rocket launchers. Zazlu knew where to go. The privates stayed with me, kneeling in the shade of the treeline.

The next part was tricky to coordinate, but luckily the implants worked over a long distance.

***

"There Zaz! Under that tree!" I yelled, pointing at a thing that Zazlu, fifteen miles away in the desert, couldn't see.

"Got it! Fire in the hole!" he yelled over the roar of the chopper, and I heard the Whoosh! of a hand-held rocket launcher firing. Then the sounds of many, many bees popping. And the sound of a Joshua tree splintering and falling over. "Got two spiders! Confirmed kills!"

"Watch out on our right! Juan! Juan!"

"Roger," Juan said, also yelling over the helo. Whoosh! "Missed him!"

"Fire again! Hurry!" I yelled, then sipped my water.

"Hold on- there!" Whoosh! More bees popping. Another tree cracking. "Got him!"

We went on like this for fifteen minutes.

***

As the choppers swung back to pick us up, I had the privates rubbing grass and mud on their fatigues and scuffing up their boots and rifles. For verisimilitude. I knelt in the shade next to Red-Stripe and a pile of two new and five old spider skulls.

Except for when Three-Spot had killed me, I had never been this close to a Hell-Spider. Watching the slick black plates of his shell slide over one another as he breathed was eerie, but also beautiful in a way.

Thank you for these, I thought, nodding at the pile of skulls they had brought. I hope you had time to perform whatever rites were necessary to respect your fallen.

"We do not have burial ceremonies as your species seems to," he thought back into my head. "We celebrate the living mind. Not the dead flesh it leaves behind. These would have been used as bait for the next hunt if you were not taking them."

Well, thank you nonetheless. They will help us greatly, to convince our superiors we do not need to return here.

"Our scouts already report no thunder bees on the far eastern side of the Night Hunting Grounds, or on the edges of the desert beyond. That will help us greatly with future hunts."

I could hear the sound of choppers in the distance. Red-Stripe and I both scanned the horizon trying to spot them.

So we both got what we wanted. Maybe we should do this again sometime?

He thought for a moment.

"Sometimes, hunting parties are delayed and must travel around the Night Hunting Grounds instead of crossing it during the day. It is very annoying. Can you do the same for the lightning snakes as you have done for the thunder bees?"

Do the lightning snakes have a weakness like the Joshua trees?

"No. They live in many small, deep burrows during the cool times and must be dug out one by one. It is very painful and dangerous. We have tried."

Then no, we probably can't help with that. Anything else?

Another moment of thought. Jinx's chopper was a black dot in the sky now. The privates started lining up.

"We have another snake problem, to the west. Far to the west, in the Fertile Swamps. River snakes do not burrow, but live out in the open."

Are they as fast as lighting snakes?

"No. They are quite slow, in fact. But we would look kindly on your help dealing with it."

I stood up, motioned for two privates to pick up the skulls. River snakes, to the west in the swamps. Got it. I'll see what I can do.

Jinx was starting his descent in to the center of the clearing, kicking up grass and leaves everywhere. Luckily I heard Red-Stripe's next line clearly over the roar of the blades.

"Very well. I will tell our clan to welcome humans if they are encountered here again."

No! We are not all safe! I thought back quickly. I jumped in front of his massive head and pointed out the patches on my shoulders, the gold sideways "8". Only trust humans with this shape on their clothes. Infinity Squad. All other squads, clans, are dangerous! Do you understand?

The spider tilted its head at me. "Three-Spot told us of a peace treaty. And end to bloodshed. It was voted on."

We cannot promise that! I will do my best, but only trust those with this shape, okay?

"Breaking an approved treaty would have serious consequences. For all of you, Infinity Squad or not."

The chopper had landed, been loaded, and was waiting for me. I will do my best! Just give me some time!

"We shall see," Red-Stripe thought, gave the chopper behind me a last look, then disappeared into the jungle.

***
Chapter Six

I made sure to make eye contact with every private on the crowded chopper ride home. "You all did a great job today against that wave of spiders," I told them, making sure to speak clearly into the mike and give them a Lieutenant Look as I did.

"No one broke noise discipline and told the enemy what was going on, not even when we had to defend that ridge for ten minutes until Jinx arrived with the rockets. And watching Zaz and Juan kill all those Hell-Spiders with rockets from the air was pretty fun, right?"

Some of the privates gulped and nodded.

"RIGHT?" I asked.

"SIR YES SIR!" they yelled back.

"Damn right," I muttered.

Zazlu was sitting with his legs dangling off the side of the chopper, slamming the skulls against the skid to remove the decomposed parts or just shooting bits off with his side arm. For verisimilitude. His forearms and legs were covered in blue spider blood, and as he wrenched free each obviously old part of a skull, he just flung in down to the jungle below. Telson, sitting next to him with a queasy look on his face, was getting a little blue spatter on his fatigues with each fling.

Then I remembered. I dug into my pockets and presented him with an energy bar.

"Lunch, Telson?"

He started vomiting over the side.

***

Drunk Private's heaving had the squad cracking up and loose as we landed back on base, just like I had planned. Even Telson was smiling weakly as he washed his mouth out with water and spat it over the side. He didn't like keeping secrets, especially from his superiors. Once he knew that he wouldn't have to do it alone, that we had an official squad line and I was the point man for keeping our story straight, he was less nervous.

Which went right out the window when we saw General Oakley, SMaj Hughes and the BlackShirts waiting for us on the flightline.

Oakley walked up to inspect Zazlu's skulls as soon as Jinx turned off the engine. We had ended up with three-fourths of a new one, the bottom half of another, and large bits of three more.

"I can't hang these!" Oakley spat. "They're barely complete! Last time you brought whole skulls back, Lieutenant."

I jumped off the chopper and stood at full clone height, looking down at both Oakley and Hughes. "Last time, sir, we were allowed the use of Heavies, had a full day's rest, and were allowed to plan the mission without some yahoo listening in on our comms!"

Hughes was about to blow. "Now look you little snot-"

"No YOU LOOK!" I shouted back. "General, this Rear Echelon Mother Fucker broke radio discipline twice while my men were in the field sneaking up on a pack of twenty or more sleeping Hell-Spiders! Because of his blabbermouth we lost position and had to use rocket launchers instead of the surgical sniper strikes I was planning! If you want to bitch to someone about why your skulls are in pieces, bitch to HIM. Sir."

And I saluted Oakley, giving Hughes a nasty stare.

Hughes looked like the vein on his forehead was about to pop, but he stayed silent. There is one phrase that trumps every other, in any military argument, and that was "in the field." And one curse worse than any other, Rear Echelon Mother Fucker. Any REMF that was even suspected of making things harder for soldiers "in the field" didn't have a leg to stand on.

"I will take that under advisement, Lieutenant," Oakley said, his eyes narrowing at me. "For now, you are free to plan your tactics as you did before. But Sergeant Major Hughes will retain authority to discipline soldiers that are off-duty." Oakley turned and gave Hughes a raised eyebrow. "I will ask the Sergeant Major to refrain from strenuous training right before a scheduled mission."

With a face that looked like he was swallowing bile, Hughes nodded at the General. I tried not to giggle.

"We got your five kills, sir, even if the skulls are in pieces. I assume my squad is off-duty until all the other squads have cycled through patrol?"

Oakley looked at the broken skulls again with a grimace. "Yes. Maybe we can make one full skull out of the pieces, or a collage or something. One day R&R granted. Take your squad in, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir," I said, saluting him with a smile.

***

After showering, changing and eating a multi-thousand calorie dinner, no one in the squad had the energy to do anything but collapse into their bunks. Except Private Rodriego.

The sound of him sneaking his reporter friend into the barracks after lights out was unmistakable, her high heels clicking with each step. As was her giggling and the sounds of their kissing as they started to undress in the darkness.

I pulled my privacy curtain aside just enough to see her unzip her mini skirt and fold it over the back of a chair, where her suit jacket, shirt and bra already lay. Even in the dim emergency lighting, watching the long-legged, long-haired beauty climb into Juan's bunk in just her tiny thong inspired thoughts that I hadn't had since we had said farewell to our Playboys back on Earth. Or since my last trip to the resurrection tanks.

I shut my curtain and laid back, trying to determine if the good Doctor would be pleased or mad that she had suddenly sprung to my body's attention, as it were. Should I ask her out, or try the-keep-it-professional route? There was definitely something about her wit, her smile and her calves that...

It got harder to concentrate on the red-headed doctor as the sounds of giggling and flesh rubbing got louder from Juan's bunk. And then the creaking started. Bed springs, creaking at a quiet but piercing pitch that carried across the barracks right into my ears no matter what I put over them.

I tried to ignore it for one minute, then a second, then a third. Then the reporter started using the inoffensive Midwestern accent she had learned in broadcasting school to moan things that would have gotten her banned from TV, forever. Juan shushed her but the creaking just got faster. For another minute. Then another.

"Just finish ALREADY!" Ann-Marie yelled from her bunk.

"Nut up or shut up!" some private agreed.

"Stop thinking of baseball- the lady has other things to do tonight!"

"Like your mom!"

Juan's hand must have slipped off of her mouth because the reporter gave a sharp cry of passion, then was muffled again. But the creaking just got faster and everyone groaned.

"Cut the chatter!" I yelled to the darkness, and it was silent except the bouncing bed springs. "Private Rodriego, as your commanding officer, I order you to FIRE YOUR WEAPON IN THE NEXT TEN SECONDS OR PUT IT AWAY!"

Within a few moments Juan screamed out at the top of his lungs, followed by the reporter's shuddering moans a second later. And then the creaking stopped. The squad broke into sarcastic applause.

"Thank you," I said, turning over to go to sleep.

***

The reporter's clothes were still folded on the chair in the morning, and Juan's privacy curtain was still drawn. I made sure my boxers were closed and got up to pour myself some coffee, then went over and shook Grimstone's bunk.

He rubbed his eyes and put on his thick glasses, still blinking away the sleep. "Tell me about Ridley's headband," I said in a low voice that wouldn't carry to Juan's bunk.

But it did carry to Ann-Marie's. She swung her legs over the edge of her bunk and limped over, dropping into the chair I offered. "Tell me, too."

Zazlu was also here by now. Shit. I had forgotten to watch him wake up in his new body. But he seemed to be handling it okay. He leaned against Grimmy's bunk and sipped his coffee, expectant.

Grimstone got a little nervous with the sudden intense audience, but he gulped and began.

"The more I look into the bands, it only looks like three things can go wrong with them," he whispered to us. "One, they can fail to detect the wearer has died. They use a heartbeat sensor, and when you flatline, that's when the transmit starts. So you're out of luck if that sensor had fails, or if someone gets you by headshot." He looked at me. "Which makes me wonder why we don't wear helmets in battle, sir."

"Because the Spiders don't have snipers, private. And command considered it unlikely they would invent gunpowder during our war with them."

"But, they could still like, plunge one of those claws right into our-"

I sighed. "And where would you put the band then, Grimstone? On the outside of the helmet so it gets hit first? On the inside so you can't see how many bars you have?"

"And so the metal helmet itself blocks the radio transmission?" Ann-Marie added.

Grimstone started pulling some schematics up on his tablet. "Well, I had a few ideas about that too-"

"I'll take the helmets under advisement," I interrupted. "Later. But do you think that's what happened to Ridley?"

He frowned. "That's what I thought at first. The band had green bars showing, which is pre-transmission. Not solid red, which would be post-transmission. But I looked into the band's diagnostic logs, and there was a record of a scan and transmit, about ten minutes after the Immortals had died."

"So why were the bars green?" Ann-Marie asked.

He frowned more. "They only turn red after a successful transfer. Which brings us to failure mode two: if the signal gets interfered with along the way, like microwaves sometimes do to radios."

"Or signal jammers," Ann-Marie said, holding up her smartphone.

"Yeah," Grimstone agreed. "That could do it too, but it would have to be strong. Much stronger than a phone. These bands aren't messing around- we're probably all going to get brain cancer later."

"No," Zazlu said, low and definitive. "The Immortals on the patrol all transferred. At different times. From different points on the mountain. They would have been jammed as well."

Grimstone looked crestfallen. This was obviously his pet theory. "Well, I figured if someone turned on the jammer at just the right time..."

"Wait," I said. "Didn't I fight Three-Spot thirty minutes later? And I transferred fine. So you're saying that some massively powerful signal jammer turned on just in time to prevent Ridley's transfer, but not to prevent the Immortal's or mine?"

"And lasted short enough that we didn't all notice our bars go to zero and raise hell?" Ann-Marie added.

Grimstone swallowed. "I mean, I figured-"

"Evidence, Grimstone," I interrupted. "We need hard proof if we're going to do anything about this. Do you have any for failure mode two?"

He looked even paler than usual. "Well, there is the signal strength log..." He pulled up a graph on his tablet. It was a noisy scattergraph of mostly horizontal points, that if I squinted real hard kind of made a straight line.

"What is this?" I asked.

"This is Ridley's band trying to communicate with resurrection station 25734, which is our base. It pings to test signal strength five times every second. Most of the time it's up around five bars." He pointed at the mostly flat points marching along the graph. "But look at this."

There was a valley on the graph, where the strength almost dropped to zero and stayed there, then ramped back up to normal. It was noticeable, unmistakable. Deliberate. My adrenaline started kicking in. Then my brain caught up.

"Wait a minute- how long is this valley? Five pings a second?" I started counting the dots. "Two, four, ten-"

"Three seconds," Grimmy admitted.

"Three seconds!" I spat. "And how long do the bands take to transmit?"

He was blushing, nervous. "Two seconds."

I stood up. "Zoom out. Show me the rest of the graph. How far back does it go?"

"A few days." He scrolled the graph backwards, over the last hours of our First Lieutenant's life.

"So what's THIS valley?" I asked.

"He probably walked by the radar room," Grimstone admitted. "You know how our bands act in that one corner of the hallway-"

"And what are all THESE sharp valleys?" Butcher asked. "This big set, here?"

Our tech was full on blushing now. "Remember, the night before, we had that lightning storm and all missions were canceled-"

"And this one the day before?" Zazlu asked. "It lasts just as long."

"I don't know!" Grimstone said, shutting the graph off. "That could have been a lot of things."

We heard some private stirring in his bunk and I shushed the three of them, then started talking in a low whisper again. "So your theory is, that someone turned on a massive signal jammer right at the exact time that Ridley flatlined, and that's why he didn't resurrect? What were they doing? Watching his every move for days by satellite?"

Grimmy looked defeated. "Maybe."

"No. Tell me about failure mode three."

He swallowed, then began. "The imprinting process could be blocked. Not the hardware part- that's got more layers of security and redundancy than the World Bank. Once the signal comes in, it's going into a clone, no one can stop it. No one this side of the wormgate has the access codes to. But the actual wetware of the clone... if someone pulls a few wires off the clone's head at just the right time..."

I could picture Doc Murphy doing a lot of things, and I had done so last night. But I couldn't picture her doing that.

"Someone could also kill the clone in the tank," Zazlu added sourly. "The moment after they awaken- a knife in the chest."

Or that. I shook my head again. "No, that doesn't make sense either. Great. More dead ends." I rubbed my forehead. "Okay, Grim, keep investigating Ridley's band. Take it apart if you have to. We need something definite."

I looked at Ann-Marie, perched on her chair. The bandages were off but her skin on her knee was still the wrong color. And texture. "Butcher, can you walk yet?"

"I can manage."

"Enough to see if anyone was watching a satellite feed of that patrol? Or monitoring the comm chatter?"

She stood up stiffly, using the chair for support. "Yes sir."

I frowned, watching her limp to her bunk, then turned back to Grimstone.

"So Ridley's band lost contact with the resurrection tanks but it transmitted anyway? Is that normal?"

He nodded. "The bands always transmit upon death, even if they don't have a solid signal. Just on the chance that some set of res tanks are on-line, somewhere." He swallowed and looked up at me. "But in this case, no one was listening."

***

I tried not to think about Ridley's consciousness being beamed out into the coldness of space never to be received, as I walked over to Butcher's bunk where she was getting out her crutches.

"You need crutches?" I was truly surprised. Yes, it had been a burn, but over her clothes. They usually didn't take this long to heal.

Her lips were drawn tight. "Just for a few days."

"Why?"

She looked uncomfortable, then finally said in a low voice, "Steve says if you hadn't tried to pull the burnt clothes off of my knee the skin would have healed faster. You never pull clothes off a burn. He said any medic would know that."

That hurt. She had been in pain. I had just been trying to help, as the helicopter took the long way back to base, to hide our lies. I hadn't meant to...

Butcher patted my arm. "Sir, don't worry." She smiled bravely. "I can hide all sorts of listening gear in crutches. And chicks dig scars, right?"

No. Not right. I turned to my second lieutenant. "Zaz, get all the privates up. Steve's going to teach us field medicine."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "All of us?"

"All of us. Today."

He nodded, then started shaking private's bunks down the line. "Come on, Infinity Squad! Up and at them! Come on, out of bed!"

Most of the squad had already hopped out and started dressing when Juan's female reporter pulled their curtain back, her hair mussed and an arm covering her breasts. In the commotion, she tried to slink unnoticed towards the chair with her clothes but somewhere in the barracks, a private clapped just once. Then again. Then with slowly increasing speed.

The other privates took up the slow clap until the embarrassed woman was getting a standing ovation in the middle of the room. I waited for her to grab her clothes and bolt or to start lashing out, but instead she stood up tall, straightened her thong, and then bowed formally to each corner of the room, like the lead actress at the end of a play. She even crossed her feet and did that flourish thing with the arm that wasn't guarding her breasts.

I chuckled, as did some of the guys, and the clapping broke up as people went about their morning tasks. I turned to Ann-Marie. "Huh. I guess she's one of us now."

Even Butcher was smirking, just a little. "I guess." She swung up onto her crutches. "I'll go show 'Dakota' where the women's showers are."

***

I led the squad into the cafeteria after Steve's first lesson on triage. All the privates were picking it up eagerly- they didn't want to be clones any more than I had.

As we waited in line for breakfast, I looked over the skulls Oakley had mounted on the walls like trophy deer. Cleaned to a shiny black polish and with the eyes looking right at you, the two-foot wide spider heads did look imposing and dangerous. And seeing so many lined up, severed from their powerful bodies would be morale boosting. If you didn't know how we had actually come across them.

At the tables underneath the heads of the alpha predators on this planet were members of Immortal and Ohhhhmmega Squads, finishing their breakfast. The Immortals were in their purple uniforms with the big 'I' patch on their chest, the Omegas in brown uniforms with the ancient Greek symbol for electrical resistance on theirs.

Theoretically, we were all part of the same army. Even literally bred from the same stock- the Immortals were all clones and half the Omegas were too. But as we sat down at the table in front of them and I looked back between my soldiers and theirs, I couldn't help but wonder.

There was a hunger, an animal intensity to the way the Immortals devoured their steak and eggs that no one in Infinity squad had. They had tattoos on their arms, some on their face, those damn death marks ringing their necks, and the way they stared at me while they sliced their razor sharp K-Bar knives through their meals, it was like a pack of feral wolves.

They were killers. And they knew it. Maybe Zazlu or Juan could match them on a bad day, but ten of them versus ten of us in a dark alley... I didn't want to think about it.

I made a note to look for a killer instead of another medic from the next replacement class. Just in case.

Even Omega squad, started by First Lieutenant Ching to embody the Buddhist principles of "nirvana, enlightenment, and calm" had more pure killers in it than we did. Now, they were killers just like a master Japanese swordsman was. One who could decapitate three attackers, wipe his blade clean and bow before their heads hit the ground. Precise, professional. But killers nonetheless. And even in some of their cloned members, I saw it, that feral stare. Like I was a sheep in a pen.

Yeah, I definitely wanted one of those under my command, instead of against me. I elbowed Zazlu to get his attention.

"What have you heard about the two newest squads?"

Zaz shrugged. "Phoenix Squad is full of average soldiers. Nothing special."

"And the other? The ones walking around with a big red '2' on their patches. Any good recruits in there?"

He swallowed, then frowned. "The Second Chance Squad. They are bad news. Most of them are washouts from other units. I didn't even trust any to smuggle cocaine for me."

"Worse than that," Ann-Marie added. "They pulled them from the brigs in Leavenworth and other prisons. Serve out their term here, maybe their sentence is reduced, and they get a 'second chance'."

Great. Hardened criminals. More feral looks. More killers around us. I sighed. "Doesn't any little kid want to grow up to be a Space Marine anymore?"

"Not until we nuke these bugs from orbit," Juan laughed. "That's the only way to be sure," he added, then kept shoveling food into his mouth as Zazlu, Butcher and I looked at him in disbelief. "What?" he cried out a few seconds later. "We had movies in the ghetto!"

"That movie came out before you were born," I said.

"My grandmother made me watch it when we got our deployment orders!"

I shook my head as the squad laughed, and Grimstone just kept saying, "Game over man, game over!" Which was right before things went to shit.

It started with Oakley walking in, of course, and he was leading a group of thirty people dressed like hicks. But in a good way. After seeing nothing but fatigues or useless suited bureaucrats for the last month, it was refreshing to see men and women dressed in jeans and overalls, boots and rolled up shirts, ready to work. They were from every race, every part of the world, it seemed, but all shared the quiet intensity of people who knew how big a task lay ahead of them. It would be their shovels, not our guns, which would be the key to colonizing this planet. So of course Oakley looked down on them.

"Now, the base cafeteria is restricted to service personnel only," the General spouted on as he led them along the wall, "but I wanted to show you the lengths our brave soldiers have gone to, to make your new home a secure one. All of these skulls were collected in just the last week, as our heroic squads have felled one Hell-Spider after another-"

"Now General," asked a cheerful but inoffensive Midwestern accent I recognized from last night, "which squad in particular killed the spider under which you're standing now?"

We all looked up to see a bathed, dressed, and professionally made-up Dakota leaning forward on her high heels to put her microphone in the General's face. Juan was beaming, trying to lean forward to catch her gaze, but Dakota was a pro: she only had eyes for Oakley right now. And he was eating her attention up.

"Well, Miss Rand," he started, taking a quick look down her body before answering, "this fearsome skull in particular was collected by Infinity Squad. But our other squads, most notably Immortal Squad right behind you, have actually lead the effort to-"

"And these other two skulls? With the bullet holes in them? Who collected those?"

Dakota was all bubbly charm and innocent interest. I knew what she was trying to do for Juan and possibly his grandmother back home watching TV, even as I could foresee the slow-motion train wreck she was leading us into.

Oakley frowned. "Well, those two as well were collected by Infinity Squad the other day. But the other squads have also-"

"And these two skulls here, the ones almost torn to pieces in the fighting?"

Now Oakley was scowling. "Those were also Infinity Squad."

The Immortal soldiers between us and her weren't all too happy either. And then one of the farmers snorted.

"Have ALL these trophies here been collected by just ONE squad?" he asked. "What do you have your other grunts doing- putting their thumbs up their asses all day?"

Now Oakley was red-faced. "ALL of our squads have been fighting tooth and nail for this planet, every day! In fact- Immortal squad- AT ATTENTION!"

First Lieutenant Hector jumped up and saluted in his purple uniform, a scowling tiger tattooed on half of his scowling face. "Sir!"

"Take your squad out NOW, and kill some spiders to put on these walls! Drop in the same valley that Infinity Squad did yesterday!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Hector snapped at his Second Lieutenant and their squad rose as one, then started hustling towards the door. Shit shit shit.

I sprang to my feet and ran after them, past the farmers and the news team.

"In fact, here is the leader of Infinity Squad now, the brave Lieu-"

"Not now Dakota," I said, rushing past her to try and catch Hector.

***

I sprinted and caught him at the armory, handing out rifles and grenades to his men. "Hector, look-"

"Back OFF Forrest," he growled, and I did, just from the tone in his voice. "We don't need another Infinity Lieutenant tagging along on patrol. You know what happened to the last one." And then he wolf-grinned at me, daring me to hit him, alone in a hallway with ten of his killers.

And I almost did.

They had done something to Ridley. Maybe jammed his signal or killed him in the tank, I don't know. But I could see the happy malice in his face and I knew.

I should have LET him drop into that valley and get sliced to pieces by Red-Stripe and his hunting party. Except that would have led to 'balancing the scales' and a chilly reception the next time we wanted skulls.

"Yeah, I do know what happened," I said. "After you were killed on first contact, Ridley led your squad up the mountain like a hero, found a defensible position and then killed five spiders alone after your men cracked and suicide charged the enemy. He outclassed you all, that's what happened."

Now I was daring him to hit me. I actually saw one of his men unbuckle the knife strapped to his thigh.

That's when Ann-Marie crutched into view at the end of the hall and just stood, staring at us from a distance. After a second, Hector gave his man a subtle sign and the private slid his hand off the knife.

"Look, I just want to go home," I added. "So I want these spiders killed just like you do. Ridley taught me how to outthink the spiders, that's why we can bring so many skulls back. And if I teach you, we all get home faster. I don't CARE which squad has the most hanging up in the cafeteria."

Hector crossed his arms at me as his men continued arming themselves. He was listening.

"The spiders hunt by night," I continued, "and then return to their tree homes before the sun hits noon."

Their Intelligence Lieutenant and second in command, Samson, perked up, looking at me strangely. "Tree homes? I read that the spiders live in caves."

"Did you live in some strange part of Earth no one knows about?" Ann-Marie said, crutching closer. "Because in my part, spiders lived in webs. And here, the webs stretch between trees. If you find them sleeping in their webs during the day, they're pretty easily to kill."

Samson and Hector looked at each other. As much as they hated us, they were on the edge of believing. We did lead them in skulls five to zero.

I took up the story. "Their webs are north of the mountain where you patrolled with Ridley. That's what he went out to see before you got ambushed. No matter where Oakley wants us to patrol, we've been going to the north side of the mountain and picking off sleeping spiders for our skulls," I stated with absolute certainty.

"The tree webs are hard to see in the day," Butcher added. "They're really high up, and you have to look hard. If you want, I can show some satellite pics. When the spy sat comes back in range in about thirty minutes." God did I love her quick thinking sometimes.

Hector was still sneering at me, and shook his head. "We can't wait thirty minutes. Fine. North of the mountain. Tree webs. We'll drop of at G23 and head north. We'll kill some spiders and help you get back to your stupid homes faster."

They stormed off to the hangar and I finally exhaled, leaning against a wall for strength.

Butcher smiled, watching them go. "Now we just have to explain to Three-Spot where G23 is."

***

That was actually easier than I thought. Three-Spot was feeling better, and there were many landmarks along the flight plan that both humans and spiders recognized. Ann-Marie hung out in Flight Control, watching the auto-pilots dutifully report their exact position while appearing to chatter away on her cellphone to a girlfriend. On the other end of the phone, I unjumbled the code and pictured the landmarks in my head, so Three-Spot could tell Red-Stripe where the helicopters were in real time.

By the time Hector and his men had un-assed on the north side of the Night Hunting Grounds, Red-Stripe had hurried all the hunting parties home or into deep caves the Immortals wouldn't think to go exploring down. The idea of the Immortals walking around the jungle squinting up at trees for the next three hours made me smile.

Three-Spot thanked us for the information, but requested that they be given just a little more warning for the next patrol.

Which was a problem I was about to solve for good. While Steve hopped around on his mostly healed leg and showed the privates how to give someone stitches in the field, I wrote up my report for the valley mission.

A report which concluded that we had killed off all of the Hell-Spiders around that drop off point, and near the caves, and basically all through the valley itself. I didn't state the last point outright, but it was implied. Strongly implied. And then I delivered the report to TacOps personally.

Every Tactical Operations staff seems to be in the map-making business. Maps of the terrain. Of the upcoming weather. Of our forces. Their forces. Of past operations, planned future operations and even unplanned future ones, just in case. And this one was no different.

Digital screens lined the wall, showing weather or old operations. Future ops were on the analyst's screens at the desks. But the one I really cared about, the 'Master Map' of our forces versus theirs, was in the center of the room, on a low glowing table perfect for leaning over. The base and the farmland in its lee were blue, friendly. The entire rest of the planet was red. Red-Stripe's valley was the brightest red of all.

I went over to the desk of a slightly balding man in paunchy fatigues and glasses

"Forrest!" he said, dusting croissant crumbs off his belly and swiveling in his chair to offer his hand. "Don't see you in here much!"

I smiled and shook his hand. "Well Jonesy, that's because your maps never have those little clouds blowing wind or topless mermaids on rocks to make them more interesting for me."

"Wish we could Forrest, wish we could," Jonesy laughed. "What's up?"

I handed him my report and let him skim it while I talked. "Just did a drop in the valley yesterday. Killed a lot of spiders. A lot. We even hung around afterwards, but no more showed up. I'm pretty sure that valley's cleared."

Jonesy was the most affable analyst- that's why I picked him. He was so affable he couldn't directly disagree with me even though most of his data did. "Well... Forrest, you know... I'll let my supervisor know and we'll see..."

"It's blue, Jonesy. We cleared it. You gotta change it on the map or else Oakley's going to come storming in here yelling about why his patrols are going out to bright red areas and finding spit all to shoot at."

He drew his arms in and looked down, not wanting to challenge me, which is why he was an analyst and not a combat soldier. God, is this what the Immortal guys thought of me?

"Well," he hemmed, "it was cloudy last night, but the sats still picked up a lot of heat signatures in that valley..."

"They were passing through- going from these swamps here in the west to their sleeping webs north of the mountain."

"Even if spiders just pass through now and then, we have to leave it red..."

"Hell, Jonesy, by that logic the cafeteria should be red! We had a spider 'just pass through' there a few days ago! And he's still alive inside the base now!"

Jonesy squirmed in his seat, looking back and forth between my report and the Master Map. "You're sure it's completely clear?"

I smiled. "Completely."

"Okay," he said, then extended his wrist tattoo under the laser scanner next to the computer to prove it was him. It beeped and he typed an additional access code too quickly for me to see, hit a few toggles on some screens and the Master Map changed. Three-Spot's valley, the heart of all Hell-Spider activity near our base, was now a friendly shade of blue.

"Thanks, Jonesy. Oh, by the way, here." I pulled three stoppered test tubes of brown fluid from my pocket and handed them to him. "The Immortals have been giving out gifts from their still the last few days. We had a little left over." It was pure Kentucky bourbon from Zazlu's stash, but I wasn't going to tell him that. "Enjoy."

He unstoppered one tube and sniffed it, then his eyes lit up. "Thanks Forrest!"

"Hey, what are friends for?"

***

When I returned to the barracks, Steve was teaching the privates about burns and all the things you shouldn't do for them, like pull clothes off the burnt skin or pour water on it. I looked around and Ann-Marie wasn't there, hopefully out investigating satellite positions on the night of Ridley's death. Zazlu was there, however, and near the end of Steve's lesson, he indicated to me that it was time to give the squad The Talk.

We gathered all the privates around the tables, had them sit in chairs or bunks or on the floor, and then I explained to their eager young faces why we hadn't killed all those Hell-Spiders in the valley. I tried to make it very official sounding, like Zazlu and Butcher and I had been planning it on Ridley's orders for a while.

I also tried to make it convoluted, so that if any details did leak out to Oakley, they would be a confusing mish-mash of contradictions. I think the official story ended up being that I and Zazlu had worked out some sort of rudimentary sign language with the spiders, like they were smart gorillas, and that the spiders in the valley were snitching to us about where the really bad spiders lived, so that we could capture the spider leader for Oakley to kill himself. And we threw in the nonsense about the tree webs so that the Immortals could "drag" that out of some of the privates in the break room, eventually.

I hated lying to them, but I seemed to be doing a lot of that today, and I still thought it better than the alternatives. Zazlu stood next to me the entire time, my cloned second in command, agreeing to everything I said like it was gospel. When I was done, I crossed my arms, gave them a Lieutenant Look and asked, "Any questions?"

Only Juan started to raise his hand, saying, "Wait... that means when we....but then the bees..." I gave him a stronger Look and he lowered his hand.

"Good," I said.

***
Chapter Seven

We had a pretty nice day after that. Steve taught the privates enough to be EMTs in most American cities or the Dean of Medicine in any hospital in Detroit. Ann-Marie returned with information that all the reconnaissance satellites had been on the other side of the planet when Ridley was killed, so theory number two was dead and buried.

We had a nice dinner in the cafeteria and for dessert we got to see SMaj Hughes storm in and pull every Immortal away from their meal for a nice, long, 'motivational' run. He was yelling something about 'how could you not even SEE one fucking Hell-Spider' and 'you WILL return with skulls or you will NOT return' as he ran them off towards the horizon.

Dakota even came by the barracks after dinner, causing Zazlu to break out the good beer, and we started a four-way card game, Ann-Marie and I facing each other across the table as one team, and Zazlu facing the happy couple. Juan held the cards but Dakota sat on his lap, choosing what they would play, and she laughed and bull-shitted with us until it was time for lights out. There were a few wolf-whistles when it became obvious that she was staying the night again, but I told the guys to cut it out and they did. So even though the evening ended much more pleasantly for one private than it did for his commanding officer, it was a nice enough finish to the day.

Which of course led to Ann-Marie shaking me awake in the middle of the night while hissing, "Omega Squad's being sent to patrol the valley!"

My head throbbed from all the sleep I wasn't getting. "Huh? Wha- how do you know?"

"Jinx just texted me. Choppers are spinning up."

I cursed and started pulling on my fatigues.

***

"Jonesy, what the hell?" I growled, storming into TacOps. This time he was brushing cupcake crumbs off his uniform. I glanced down at the Master Map, and sure enough, the valley was red again. The current ops map showed a helicopter drop planned right in the middle of it. Jonesy gave me a sheepish look.

"Forrest, I'm sorry, but my supervisor..."

I looked up to see a tall, muscular cloned soldier coming towards us wearing Captain's bars. The nametag on the fatigues said "Flores".

I dialed it down a little and pointed at the Master Map. "What's the meaning of this? I submitted a report this afternoon showing this valley had been cleared."

Flores pressed his lips together in a tight line. "Yes, I noticed that Specialist Jones had accepted your report during the day," he said primly. "But tonight, satellites show significant heat signatures all throughout that valley."

"Those spiders are just passing through!"

"Immortal Squad dropped north of the mountain this morning and had zero contacts. Second Squad did the same this evening and had zero contacts." Flores sniffed. "Passing through the valley is enough to warrant a patrol."

"Hell, Captain, by that logic, the base should be red! A spider 'passed through' our cafeteria a few days ago!"

Flores set his jaw. "Perhaps it should. That Hell-Spider killed ME, while you soldiers did nothing to stop him. Now I'm trapped in this body for the rest of my life!"

Oh fuck. Now I had lost him forever.

"Now, Lieutenant, unless you have another report to submit, which I doubt, please leave the Tactical Operations Center."

***

I leaned against the wall outside the Prisoner Holding Area and tried to act casual.

Three-spot. Hear me. It's another emergency.

Two BlackShirts were walking down the hall to me and I started picking my nose. They looked away and moved on.

Three-Spot! I need your hunting parties to clear the area between your caves and the mountain. A patrol is heading there now!

There was a pause in my head, like air leaving a room, and then I heard his gravelly voice again.

"We have made a large kill tonight. The parties will not enjoy leaving it."

Go back for it later! Just a few hours!

"Other predators will be drawn by the blood. And by mid-morning, the lightning snakes will have picked it clean."

A patrol! Metal spitters! Killers coming!

"Stop the patrol."

I can't!

Another pause. More feelings of air rushing out of my head.

"There will be repercussions."

Fine! But the patrol cannot see any of your clan or they will return again and again!

"Very well. I am talking with Red Stripe now."

***

I unassed from the wall and went to the Comm tower, where I watched with relief as heat signatures disappeared off the satellite screen one by one. And listening to the professional killers of Omega squad grow more and more frustrated every time they had to report 'no contact' made up for the sleep I was missing. As they were getting back on the chopper, muck-covered and exhausted, First Lieutenant Ching even dropped a "Fucking TacOps", which probably set him back 200 Buddhist points.

I smiled all the way back to barracks.

***

Zazlu, Butcher and I were having another coffee crisis conference. I hoped it wasn't going to become a regular thing.

"It's not enough to turn the analysts," Ann-Marie said. "Flores will just keep overruling them until he agrees."

"Flores will not accept bribes," Zazlu said, frowning. I didn't ask him how he knew.

"Blackmail won't work either," Butcher added. "He's the type to just report us all to Oakley no matter what we threaten to release about him."

I rubbed my face. "Well, what are our options then? If patrols keep going into their home valley, the cease-fire will be broken. We'll have to really fight the spiders, they'll be madder than ever, and god knows how many times we'll have to resurrect." I put my cup down and started pacing quietly, to not wake any of the privates or the reporter sleeping in our midst. "I mean, I'm a clone, and he's a clone. Couldn't I just, like, put on some fatigues that say 'Flores', walk into TacOps when he's in the shitter and change the map for good?"

Butcher was shaking her head. "You have to scan before any map change," she said, holding up the bar-code on her wrist. "And you can't get an official tattoo unless you resurrect in the tank and give his key phrase. Which we're never going to get out of his head."

I rubbed my own wrists, remembering the pain when Doc Murphy had burned my own name and barcode onto them. Both times.

"And even then," Zazlu said, "what are you going to do? Live a secret life as Flores and change the map back before every patrol? You don't have to be a Second Lieutenant to know that plan's crazy." Then he looked thoughtful and tapped his chin. "Although... if Oakley saw the area clear on the map and was pleased... Flores might be more willing to let it stay...especially if other areas were reporting enough contacts for patrols."

I turned the plan over in my head. Yes, that might work. Flores was proud enough to want to keep Oakley's approval once he had gotten it, and if the patrols were kept busy in other areas, there wouldn't be a reason to return to the valley...

"But that still doesn't solve the problem of learning his key phrase," Butcher said. "They've told us since Boot that that's the key to our identity now. There's no way to hack that and you're NEVER going to get it out of his head."

My heart sank, but then I started laughing. A lot. "Not unless you have a friendly Hell-Spider who reads minds!"

***

We were still making the plan up as we went, but it was moving forward. Zazlu caught Flores as he was coming off his night shift, tired and chagrinned that Omega had come up empty on their patrol. A few test tubes of bourbon from the 'Immortal's still' had them relaxed and standing outside of Three-Spot's cell.

"So you really want to see it again?" Zazlu asked, swaying on his feet a little. He wasn't tipsy but could fake it very well. "The spider that killed you?"

Flores was a cocky, arrogant drunk. "Yeah, I do. I might even kill him myself, if Oakley hadn't ordered him kept alive!"

"Let's go then," Zazlu said, ushering Flores into the room. We had prepped Three-Spot ahead of time and he was pacing his side of the room like an animal, and he scratched and clawed at the protective glass when the two entered. Watching from Ann-Marie's hacked video feed of the room, I was impressed with his acting.

"Here the bastard is," Zazlu laughed, pounding on the glass. Three-Spot hissed back, attacking the glass again and then stalking away. "One of his friends got me too, out north of the mountain where they're the thickest." Zazlu drained his test tube and laughed. "And you know what my last thought was, right before the bastard speared me through the chest?"

Flores kicked the glass, sneering at Three-Spot. "What?"

"Holy shit- what happens if I can't remember my key phrase? You know?"

Flores kicked the glass again, drank from his own test tube. "Yeah."

Zaz laughed. "I mean, here I am dying, and all I'm doing is going over my key phrase over and over again in my mind, just so I would know it when I woke up." He looked at Flores. "Did you do the same?"

The Captain sniffed. "No. I know my words cold. I'll never forget them."

"Never? Not even in the heat of battle? You'd know your key phrase?"

"Yeah." Flores finished the rest of his tube. "Fuck, look how ugly this bug is. We should stamp them off this planet like cockroaches."

Zazlu nodded. "Yeah." He put an arm around the Captain's shoulder. "Come on, have you seen that blond radio operator yet? I hear she always hits the treadmill in these tiny shorts about now."

"Yeah, but she's a total cocktease-" Flores was griping, as Zazlu led him out of the Holding room.

Butcher and I slipped in a minute later. I looked at the spider expectantly. "So?"

Three-Spot had settled into his yoga pose again, calmly looking at me. "The newcomer did think about something of great importance to him during the Wrester's talk about key phrases. Although I do not care for his views on my clan. We can stamp his kind out easily, not the other way around."

"He's just ignorant. That's what I'm fighting against. But I need his key phrase to do it. What was it?"

"The meaning was lost on me," Three-Spot's gravelly voice said in our heads. "But this is what he thought." The spider lowered his head in concentration.

What I saw first like a large flapping bug, like a butterfly or a moth. Then the image of a thunder bee like those that had attacked us in the desert. I assumed that Flores had meant an Earth bee and that Three-Spot didn't have the words. And then the images went away.

"That's it?" I asked. "Three-Spot, we need the actual words. Send it again."

He did, but it was the same. A large, floating butterfly. Then a thunder bee.

"That is all he was thinking," the spider said. "Before images of killing my clanmates, and then this..."

A view of the blond radio's reporter's bouncing ass in short shorts filled my and Ann-Marie's heads.

"Ahhh, quit that!" she yelled, slapping at her temples. The image faded from our minds. "Don't you have rules against doing that to other sentient beings?"

"You asked what he was picturing."

"We asked what words he was thinking about," I said. "With just this..." I looked at Butcher, and she shook her head. She didn't have it either. I sighed. "Great."

***

Zazlu, Ann-Marie and I sat at the farthest back table in the barracks as Steve taught the privates how to deal with poisoning and fevers in the field. We each had sheets of paper in front of us, with many, many lines written and crossed out on them.

"Birds and the bees," Zazlu repeated. "It has to be about the birds and the bees."

"They have birds here," Ann-Marie countered. "Three-Spot would have pictured that instead. That was definitely a moth." She crossed out Zazlu's 'Birds and bees' line for the third time.

"I got a butterfly," I said. "It had colors on it."

"Butterflies and bees?" she asked. "Insects? Flying? What's the connection? And what's the phrase?"

"He was adamant that he wouldn't forget it," Zazlu said. "It has to be something well-known. Famous." We sat, stumped, until Zazlu slapped his hand down on the table. "The birds and the bees," he said again.

Butcher and I groaned, then groaned again as our door opened and SMaj Hughes strode in. He looked at the privates, half of them pretending to administer cold compresses to the other half lying on the floor. "Well isn't this just the cutest little tea-party," he smiled at them, his bald head wrinkling. He saw us in the back of the room and smiled wider. I noticed his running boots had been freshly polished. "You ladies ready to do some real work today?"

***

Hughes ran us out to the flightline and beyond again, because Oakley was convinced we had somehow set him up with Dakota to be embarrassed in the cafeteria in front of the farmers, since the only hanging skulls were ours. You can't argue with logic like that, especially when it's wearing three General's stars.

Steve tried to keep up on his snake-bit healing leg, but 'medically excused' himself halfway out. Ann-Marie was rolling in her wheelchair again, since her crutches wouldn't have let her keep pace. We left the two of them at the edge of the pavement again and headed out to the open fields.

You could see that the farmers had already been hard at work, possibly non-stop, since hundreds of feet of fencing had already been put up to create animal pens, irrigations hoses had been stretched to the closest fields, and what looked like the parts for a large windmill were being assembled next to the cluster of houses.

A windmill? We had a nuclear power plant on the base, but I guess these farmers wanted to be independent, or at least self-sustaining, if military logistics failed them. That I could understand.

It was nice to see the houses and barns filled and active, even if Hughes ran us by them at a gallop. Some of the farmers looked up from their work as we passed. I heard snatches of conversation: "Infinity Squad..." or "The ones with all the skulls..."

After twenty minutes, Hughes brought us to a panting, sweating stop next to an irrigation ditch a back-hoe was creating. It was funny, but the run out didn't seem that bad this time. It must have been all the sleep I wasn't getting.

Hughes waved the back-hoe operator to stop, then turned to us with a smile.

"Since you ladies seem intent on digging holes for your commanding officer to fall into, I thought I'd let you dig one to help our friendly farmers out." He pointed to a stack of shovels. "Get started."

This part was harder than last time, because there were only five shovels for the ten of us, and the ones that weren't using them had to do jumping jacks or push-ups while they took a 'break' from digging.

The ditch was three-feet deep and wide, and we only added about ten feet to its length in a half an hour. The farmer spat on the ground while we were doing it and said, "Hell, I could have done that in five minutes. All you did was slow me down."

His gripe was directed at the Sergeant Major, not us, because he could see we weren't enjoying the situation either. But Hughes just smiled at him. "Well, don't worry, I'm sure they'll get many chances to get faster in the future. Infinity Squad- back to base!"

The farmer shook his head and gave me a sympathetic look as Hughes ran us back home and it got me thinking.

We could work with these people.

***

It wasn't that hard to keep up with Hughes now, I don't know if it was my body or my mind getting used to it. But the run back also gave me plenty of time to think. I turned things over in my mind one way, then the other.

Hughes left us at our barracks door with a happy, "Hope I didn't leave you too tired for your patrol tomorrow!" as he strutted off. As the door closed, I was already heading over to where Zazlu and Butcher were sitting, exhausted and chugging Gatorade on the floor.

I knelt next to them and said, "Can either of you two find out tonight if Flores is a boxing fan? If he is, then I know his key phrase."

***

Flores was, and that only left a few things to be done. Ann-Marie went into TacOps under the guise of planning our next patrol and somehow got Flores to log in not once, but twice. The scanners she had Grimstone put inside her crutches caught every keystroke Flores made. Ann-Marie could be scary sometimes.

I rehearsed what I would have to do until it was almost unconscious, and then there was nothing to do but kick it off. Or, more specifically, kick me off.

Dakota picked up on my mood during dinner. "What's got you so gloomy, gus?" she asked with her irresistible smile.

I really wasn't looking forward to being killed. Again. But in the crowded cafeteria, all I could say was, "Oh, you know... War is hell."

"Now, I don't believe that for a second," she replied. She patted Juan's arm next to her. "I've never seen a tighter group of soldiers fighting a more despicable enemy. You're not in some drafted army fighting other humans over politics or religion or some silly difference of opinion. You're fighting monsters! And you can come back from the dead anytime you want! Why, if there ever was a war to be in, this is it!"

"That's um... one way of looking at it," I replied, cutting my steak. How would we do it? Would Zazlu shoot me in the head? No, that wouldn't work. He'd have to shoot me in the heart, and I'd die painfully, as my brain ran out of oxygen. Maybe Steve had something he could give me. But then we'd have to tell Steve about the plan.

"Tell you what," Dakota beamed, "I'll ask my producer if we can shoot a little feature piece on Infinity Squad, how successful you've been, how dangerous your missions have been, how cute your soldiers are..." Her hand disappeared under the table and Juan jumped. He blushed and placed her hand back into sight. "But we'd have to film it tonight," she finished.

"Maybe later," I said.

She shook her head and took another tiny bite of her tiny salad. "Nope, gotta be tonight."

Ann-Marie leaned forward. "Why is that?"

Dakota pointed her fork at the sky. "Transport's leaving through the wormgate at midnight," she said with her mouth full. She swallowed. "Anything uploaded now gets sent to Earth. If not, you have to wait for the next transport."

I caught Zazlu's and Butcher's eyes. We had talked about stretch goals for the plan, what we could hope for if everything went just right. And here was the chance. It had to be tonight.

We excused ourselves early from dinner.

***

"Okay, which one do you want?" Zazlu asked, holding up two syringes in front of me. "Heart explodes or heart stops beating?"

I gulped. "I was hoping for death by chocolate."

"We don't have time for that," Butcher said. "Flores gets off shift in an hour."

Zazlu tapped the syringe with the milky white fluid. "Cocaine overdose, you will feel more and more manic until you have a heart attack." He shrugged. "Not bad. But this one," he said, tapping the needle with the brown colored fluid, "heroin overdose. You will feel wrapped in a cloud of unimaginable bliss, feeling more and more pleasure until you stop breathing. Now that is the way to go."

I shook my head. "No, Zaz- I'd remember that. In my brain. I don't want be addicted to heroin when I wake up!" I looked at him strangely. "Who on base do you sell that to anyway?"

He shrugged. "I am still developing the market."

"Can't I OD on weed or something?"

"No one ODs from that," Butcher said, then held the two syringes up in front of me again. "You've got to choose."

I looked back and forth between the milky fluid and the brown one. "Just Say No" never prepared me for this.

"Look, doesn't Steve have some tranquilizers in his med kit we can use?"

Zazlu sighed. "You big baby."

He returned with a third syringe, this one reassuringly sealed and with gradations on the side to ensure proper dosage. He opened the package, found the vein on my arm, then looked up into my eyes very seriously.

"Now, just relax."

"Oh, very funn- OW!"

He had stuck me and pushed the plunger in completely. A lethal dose. I gulped and laid back onto my bunk. Nothing to do now but wait.

I did start to feel more relaxed, more mellow. "What are you guys going to do with my body, anyway?"

Butcher had her finger on my wrist, checking my pulse against her watch. "Jinx is going to take a training flight at midnight and drop it into the swamp."

"Oh," I sighed, my breaths getting slower and deeper. "Okay. That's good."

And then I died.

***

I woke up in the resurrection tank, smiling. I felt so relaxed and at peace. Tranquilizers had definitely been the right choice.

Doctor Murphy started walking over towards me. She was wearing her hair up today, and I enjoyed the sight of her slender, warm neck.

"Don't worry trooper, you've just been kill-" she began, then stopped mid-sentence and looked at me more closely. "Why, I don't believe I've ever seen someone so relaxed about their own death as you!"

I laughed. "Que sera sera, Doc. Dust to dust, you know."

She consulted her clipboard. "Is that your key phrase trooper? And what's your name?"

"My name is Captain Flores," I smiled. "And my key phrase is, 'Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee'."

She paused, looking at her clipboard. If my brain hadn't been coming off a lethal dose of tranquilizers, I'm sure my pulse would have gone through the roof. Even so, I heard the quiet beep-beep of my heart rate monitor start picking up behind me.

Finally she said, "Okay, that matches what I see here. I confirm you are Captain Stacy Flores."

"Stacy?" I laughed.

Murphy frowned at me. "What's wrong?"

I stifled the next laugh. "Nothing Doc...tor. It's just nice to hear a woman say my name. Stacy Flores."

She pulled out her barcoder with that smirk I loved. "Well, I know how it is, trooper. I've been on military bases my whole life. I know how soldiers feel about women." She burned one of my wrists, then the other, with Flores's name and rank, then pressed the coder against my heart. "Now this may hurt a little bit," she said, then pulled the trigger.

I smiled. She was still warning guys, because I had asked her to, way back when.

I whistled as I dried and dressed, and on my way out, I passed behind Doc Murphy and gave her ass a quick, firm pinch.

"Captain Flores!" she yelled, turning to slap me a second too late.

"Call me Stacy," I laughed, sneaking out the door.

***

I felt a great elation as I walked down the halls. Soldiers nodded at me or just ignored me, and each time I fooled another one my sense of freedom grew. I could do anything now, anything, and no one would ever be able to pin it on me, even if I was caught red-handed!

Unless they spotted Flores, still alive and walking around. And then did a head count, and found my body in the barracks. Even failing to report for the head-count would be a smoking gun, if everyone else showed up. I shelved my thoughts of committing The Crime of the Century and hurried to meet Ann-Marie near TacOps.

***

She confirmed Flores was on duty and due to leave soon, and she was ready to draw him out if needed. We waited, her leaning on her crutches and me leaning against the wall, safe in plain sight because no one could tell that I was-

"Lieutenant Forrest!" an angry voice bellowed down the hall. My knees started shaking as I turned to see Lieutenant Hector and Samson storming towards me in their purple uniforms. How the hell? "I wanted to talk to both of you!" he finished, sneering at Ann-Marie.

Of course. As a clone standing next to the only 5 foot tall woman on crutches on the entire planet, of course Hector could guess who I was. I made sure my sleeves covered my wrist tattoos and buttoned my unmarked fatigues over my chest.

"Spiders sleeping in trees my ASS!" Hector yelled, stopping in front of me. He stood nose-to-nose with me, fists balled. "I should kick your teeth in right now! Hughes ran us into the ground today because of you!"

"We're going into those valley caves next time," Hector's Intelligence Officer growled, pointing his finger in my face too. "I don't care what you say!"

My back was against the wall. We were running out of time. And I didn't even HAVE a lie that would get me out of this situation.

"Fine," I said.

Hector looked confused. "What?"

"Go ahead. See what's in those caves. Now get lost. I have some caves to explore myself."

And, god help me, I jerked a thumb at Ann-Marie.

Now Hector looked shocked, as did the tiger tattooed on half of his face. I had seen how they all checked her out when we used to PT in Boot, especially those days the sweat stuck her shirt to her chest. But did Hector assume I was somehow above all that? "Yeah," I added. "And it's not a group activity. So get lost."

His face and tiger crinkled in disbelief, then smugness. "Fine. Enjoy the incest." He stepped back, then muttered to Samson as he walked down the hall. "Fucking inside his own squad. Loser."

We watched them recede, then disappear around a corner. I turned to Butcher immediately.

"I'm sorry- I'm so sorry!"

She was blushing, but managed a shrug. "Why? They all assume we do it anyway."

"What? Why?"

She was looking away, not meeting my eyes. "Why else would you keep me around? That's what they say, anyway."

"Because you're the fucking best Intelligence Officer in the Army. That's why."

She looked up at that, blushing even more. "Thanks." Then she smiled, rare enough before, but a practically extinct species since her burn. "And sir, if I was your CO in a 95% female army, I'd totally use your sweet ass as a cover for our ops."

"Thanks. I guess."

"I might even send you to seduce other squad commanders and see what secrets they spill over pillow talk-"

"I've never made you do that!" I protested.

"You better not," she laughed, then looked at her watch. "I'll pull Flores out of there in five minutes. And we don't meet again until after the op, in the barracks."

"Agreed. Go."

***

I got her text in exactly five minutes, and took the winding path to TacOps, to not meet her or the real Flores. Right outside the door, I took my shirt off as planned. Now my chest tattoo was plainly visible and no one would wonder why Flores had left wearing personalized fatigues and returned in common ones.

Jonesy was behind his screen, as always, pizza crumbs collecting in his creases. "Sir? Back already? You just left."

I moved like I ran the place, fast and straight to Flores' desk. "Thought of something right before I went to bed. I think those Infinity guys are right. That valley's clear."

Jonesy sat up with shock. "But... really?"

I scanned my wrist and the computer beeped success, and then I started navigating screens like I had been doing it for months. Because I had practiced it eighty times in the barracks, from Butcher's recordings. I even entered his password without thinking.

"Yes," I said, typing. "I want Oakley off of our backs. Omega had no contacts, and now I heard two Immortal shits boasting how they're going to go into the valley next patrol. If they come up empty again and we have the valley red, Oakley will make us run out to the farms with Hughes. You've seen those runs, right Lieutenant Jones?"

The blood drained from his face and he almost dropped his slice of pizza. "Yes sir! Do... you need any help sir?"

"Nah. I've got it."

The valley turned blue on the Master Map, and I made the swamps to the west of it a brighter red, almost the brightest. That would cover our trips to clear the river snakes that Red-Stripe had asked for help with.

And then I started typing. A lot.

It had been hard, trying to imagine what Flores would have known about the valley from just reading after-action reports, and when he would have known it. It was also tough mimicking the self-assured prick tone I guessed he must write in. He probably knew all the stupid rules about what not to end a sentence with. And how not to start them.

But I got something close enough to what he would say, bundled it with a copy of the Master Map, and uploaded it to the waiting transport. Which would go through the wormgate in less than an hour.

Then I got the Hell out of there.

***

I threw on my shirt and headed straight towards our barracks, fighting every urge to run. If I just got behind those doors and killed myself, I'd be safe! I was in the hall leading to the barracks- just a few more turns and...I almost jumped when I saw SMaj Hughes coming down the hall at me.

Just walk normally, I thought. Wait, no- walk like Flores! Shit- too late!

Hughes tilted his head as he tried to read my missing nametag. "Soldier- what's your name?"

I snapped to attention and tried to act flustered, which wasn't a huge stretch. "Captain Flores! Sir!"

Hughes squinted at me, looking my cloned body over for something. My heart started pumping faster.

"The way you walked down the hall," he said. "For a second it reminded me of..." As I held the salute, Hughes' eye caught the name tattooed on my wrist and he shook his head. "Never mind, all you clones look alike to me. At ease. You're in TacOps, right Flores?" I actually relaxed until he said, "What do you know about Infinity Squad?"

"Yes. What do you mean?" There went my heart again.

He leaned forward as if sharing a secret. "That squad is pulling some sort of con. I'm sure of it. Those misfits are killing spiders, and no one else is?"

What would Flores do? The haughty, peevish-

I sniffed. "Finally. Someone else who agrees with me."

Hughes nodded, even leaning closer. "They claimed they killed 15 spiders using shoulder-launched rockets from choppers. But I just checked the sat pictures. Did you know, there isn't one smoking hole visible in the valley? But there were burning trees on the edge of the desert. What do you think of that?"

I took a deep breath and appeared to be troubled. "While I agree that Lieutenant Forrest and Infinity Squad are class A screw-ups," I said, "that canopy is deciduous type II leaves. Thick and dripping wet most of the time- you won't see any smoke or impact craters through it. And there's a species of bee out near the desert that actually explodes when a predator bites it. We've seen them from the unmanned drones. Flock instinct when flying. Too many of them probably got too close together."

I shook my head. "No, Infinity Squad cleared that valley of spiders- I just changed the Master Map myself. But what I don't like is the way that they did it. Hanging off choppers and shooting rockets at them like yahoos? It's unprofessional. It's sloppy. And it lets them inflate their kill totals, I think. At least the other squads come back with clean, honest zeros."

I was walking a fine line here. I had to get Hughes to stop looking at sat pictures behind us, because he was going to find something eventually. But I had to justify Flores changing the Master Map, and to agree with Hughes because Flores was a dick like that. It wouldn't do to have Hughes bump in to the real Flores later tomorrow in the cafeteria and meet a totally different person.

As I watched the hamster wheel turning in Hughes' head as he tried to process all I had just dumped on him, I was trying my hardest not to giggle.

"Yes, bees," he said, nodding. "And it IS sloppy. But maybe, if it's effective, the other squads should adopt it. I'll think about that, Captain."

Sure. Think until steam pours out your ears. "Yes Sergeant Major," I said, then started towards safety again.

"Captain?" he asked. "Those are the Squad barracks. Where are you going?"

I stopped in my tracks.

"Two... um... Immortal soldiers, their Lieutenants, were talking about dropping in the valley tomorrow. We just marked it cleared. I was going to order them to rethink their plans."

His eyes narrowed. "General Oakley and Infantry Captain Morse decide where the patrols will go, not you Captain Flores. You just make your maps." He looked at me with renewed scrutiny. "In fact, speaking of sloppy, where's your nametag? Why are you wearing common fatigues?"

"I... I ran out of laundry, sir."

"I'll relay your message to Immortal Squad, Captain. As a suggestion. And dress up your fatigues. If I catch you wearing a uniform without nametags again, you're going to join me for a little midnight run."

"Yes sir!" I replied, snapping to attention then hurried back the way I had come.

The lies were breaking down. If he saw me again tonight, I couldn't keep up the Flores act during a run- I'd be too tired! But I couldn't get back to barracks. And I couldn't get out of this body without dying!

I raced down the halls, trying to think.

My buffering band was five bars green. But I couldn't leave a body lying around to find. Shit. What on base could get rid of a body so that no one could read its tattoos? And then I knew what I had to do.

***

I burst into Three-Spot's holding cell and dropped to my knees in front of him.

"Eat me!" I said.

He looked at me. "I do not understand."

"I need to hide this body! Kill me quickly- through this tattoo! And cut off my wrists and eat them first!"

"Are you under some compulsion? Another's control? This is a most unusual request."

"No! I want you to do this! I will live again in another body, but you must eat the arms and chest of this one!"

"Very well." Three-Spot rose to his eight feet above me and circled me. "I must say, I am coming to enjoy your kind's flesh even more than I do lightning snakes." Back in front of me again, he placed the needle point of one razor claw against my heart, and then raised it high and back.

"That is strange," he said, poised to strike. "Your mind looks different again. Duller around the edges."

And then he stabbed me through the heart.

***
Chapter Eight

It worked, sort of. Oakley checked all official Earth-bound messages as we assumed he did, and the next morning he treated us to a speech praising the troops, Flores, and himself for finally liberating the valley from the spider menace. It was a little worrisome that Oakley gave the speech directly into our implants through the emergency channel, but as he blathered on, for minute after minute, at how long and hard Immortal, Omega, and 'the other' squads had fought for this day, I could practically hear Flores throwing away his report on how the Master Map had been hacked. Zazlu, Butcher and I even started dropping hints around Dakota that it had been Flores' unusual mix of insight, cunning and guts that had been the keys to this historic milestone for the war effort, and she raced off after breakfast to record a hero piece on him.

There was no way he was changing the map back now.

I told Three-Spot as much as I planned our next patrol with him. Unfortunately, the spider did not see the elegance of our schemes.

"Why do you just not take a vote to end this practices of 'patrols'?" he asked. "If a majority of the warriors wish the practice stopped, General Tree must acquiesce."

"That's not how it works," I sighed. "Soldiers can't just vote to stop a war. Hell, if we could do that, there'd never be any wars at all!"

"But should not those fighting and dying in the conflict have the most say in when the conflict is no longer worth the eff-"

"Look, I don't care how simply you do it in spider society!" I said, slamming my hand on my map. "Human laws are more complicated. We have to follow Oakley's orders, no matter what! Now look, he's ordered us to patrol today, and I want to do the same as last time, drop into the valley to meet Red-Stripe, then leave with some old skulls."

The spider lowered all four of his eyes to face down at me. That was disapproval, I had learned. "The hunting parties had to leave behind a significant kill, due to your lack of warning for the last patrol. Red-Stripe will not be pleased."

"But he'll still give us skulls, right? We promised to look into his river snake problem."

"That is in the future. What will the hunting parties feed their families today?"

I slumped back into my chair. There was one easy option, of course, but I didn't feel like dying again. Or being eaten. There was a second option, which, like everything else recently, would take us deeper down the rabbit hole.

"I'll take care of it," I sighed. "Tell Red-Stripe to expect delivery of a tribute this morning."

***

I spotted my favorite doctor eating alone as I waited in the cafeteria line. I couldn't stop glancing back as I filled my plate, watching her tuck her red hair absently behind her ear or bite her lip as she read something engrossing off her tablet. I also noticed her looking up at me while I got my food with the other clones, and making notes on her pad. She must have noticed my attention because a blush spread on her cheeks and she uncrossed and crossed her long legs tightly.

Which is why I didn't expect to startle her when I sat down across the table.

"Soup and salad for breakfast, Doct-"

"Ahhh!" she gasped, almost dropping her tablet into her tomato soup as she scrambled to turn it off. "Excuse me, soldier!" she said indignantly, before looking at my nametag. "Oh. Lieutenant Forrest. I didn't know you were here. What were you saying?"

"You didn't know I was..." I shook my head. "Fine. I was just saying, that's a strange choice for breakfast, Doc."

"This is dinner, Lieutenant. I work nights, if you hadn't noticed. And you're not quite following the food pyramid, either," she finished, nodding at my plate.

It was filled with raw carrots and apples, which I had planned on stuffing into my fatigue pockets as soon as I got out of sight.

I gave her my best smile. "Well, it's this new body, Doc. I'm just finding my appetite for red and orange things greatly... increased."

The red-headed doctor set her mouth in a line. "That's not possible, Lieutenant. You're exactly the same as you were before. In ALL your preferences."

I bent over and talked low, so only she could hear. "And what if I didn't believe you? What if I told you that, each time I resurrected, I found myself wanting things I never noticed before?"

My breath was brushing on her cheek, and I could feel the warmth radiating off her neck as I looked down at her. She looked good in the morning.

Shannon Murphy blushed, then leaned forward and gripped my forearm with her cool hand.

"Come see me in my room tonight," she whispered right into my ear. "Alone." She uncrossed her legs and walked off, leaving half her food uneaten.

Well. That was certainly progress. Wasn't it?

***

"Women are horniest in the morning, right?" I asked Zazlu as he jogged besides me.

"I am unsure. My grandfather's harem had a schedule, so a selection of women would be available at all times." He smiled. "The hours didn't seem to affect their enthusiasm."

We jumped a small stream and kept running through the field. "And you know this how?"

He smiled larger. "I greatly enjoyed spending summers at my grandfather's compound. But this is not why you're asking."

The farmhouses were in view now. "I think I've got a date tonight. Which is morning for her. And the way Doc grabbed my arm, I was wondering if I should get my hopes up."

Zazlu frowned. "It is best not to trust Doctor Murphy until we find out what she knows about Lieutenant Ridley."

"Zaz, she's not like that. She's professional and honest and-"

"Then why would you change that with a romantic adventure? I wish Red-Stripe could send you the metaphor I'm picturing right now. It involves a man squatting in the cafeteri-"

"Don't shit where you eat? Yeah, Zaz, I've heard that one before."

"Then imagine how much more it applies to the woman who makes sure you return from the dead correctly," he said, frowning and pulling up to a walk.

I did too, because we where here. Jogging in a rational straight line, it had taken us ten minutes to cover what Hughes usually made us run flat-out for twenty minutes to reach. Worse than that, I had actually enjoyed the exertion. These bodies were made to run. I hoped that's the only bit of Hughes' wisdom I would adopt.

We caught our breath, which was easy, as we walked up to the first farmhand we saw, smiling and waving.

"Take me to your leader," I said.

***

Which turned out to be the guy who had been operating the backhoe the day Hughes had made us dig the ditch. And the one who had embarrassed Oakley in the cafeteria. His name was Franz Tornier, and he already had the hard, penetrating squint that frontier farmers get from a long life of working outdoors.

"Yep, I certainly appreciate all Infinity Squad is doing to keep us safe," he said, then spat over his shoulder so it wouldn't hit our boots or those of the other family leaders gathered around us. "It seems like you're the only boys that are doing anything out there. And it's a shame how hard the brass is riding you." He spat again. "But I still can't trade you five head of sheep."

Zazlu had offered of whiskey, beer, or even hinted of having 'stronger stuff'. But nothing caught the farmer's interest.

"Like I told you," Tornier continued, "we'll be stilling our own potato vodka in a few months, so we can wait for that. I understand your need for spider bait, but we could only bring 200 head through the gate so I can't see parting with these sheep. I just don't think you boys have anything we need."

Zazlu looked at me. We hadn't wanted to go this far, but times were times. I gave him a tired nod.

"There is one thing that all farmers want," Zazlu began. "But we'll need your word that you'll never let any other soldier know about it..."

***

Tornier was grinning as we unloaded the crate of rifles from Jinx's running helo. Juan and Zaz ducked low under the spinning blades as they muscled the crate to the ground and opened it. I grabbed Tornier's shoulder.

"Now, you promise- this is off the record," I yelled over the engine noise. "You can't let any other soldiers see you with these!"

"What if they hear us plinking at practice targets?" he yelled as he drew back the bolt on a black .308 caliber Advanced Infantry Rifle/Grenade launcher and aimed down the sights. "We'll have to practice if we're going to defend our homes from everything this planet's got on it."

"That's why I want your group to have them. But we'll have to work out a practice schedule. Maybe we fly some of your guys deep out to the desert with us. Just dry fire until then!"

He pulled the trigger on an empty chamber, dry firing at a spot on the horizon, then lowered the rifle from his shoulder and grinned at me. "You have a deal."

***

Tornier took us out to the sheep pens and waved his hand. "The males are on this side of the fence. Take your pick."

I opened the gate and the flock of males drew back from me and Zaz. Which is why I had stuffed my pockets in the cafeteria. I crouched to make myself smaller and less threatening, then held my palm out, full of carrots and cut apples, and didn't move.

Neither did the sheep.

"They ain't horses," Tornier laughed. "That ain't gonna work!"

I tossed the food on the ground and stood up. "Well, how are we supposed to get them on the helo and keep them still during the flight?"

***

Ten minutes later, Zazlu and I each dumped an unconscious male sheep onto the back of the chopper where Juan sat, then went back for another. This time was easier, because now we knew exactly where to club their heads with our rifle butts. Tornier even helped us carry one back, and we took off with five sleeping sheep towards the valley.

***

Ann-Marie was still limping, we didn't need a medic or a tech, or need any of the privates knowing about our deal with the farmers, which is why I only took Zaz and Juan with me. And we needed space for the sheep. Which started waking up as Jinx lowered us into the valley. Zazlu moved to knock them out again, but I stopped him.

"Spiders like the hunt," I said.

He nodded and lowered his rifle.

We landed and Red-Stripe and his ring of hunters ghosted out of the brush to meet us again.

We have bought you a tribute to replace your losses, I thought, shooing one sluggish sheep off the chopper. It sobered up quickly as it noticed the shiny black Hell-Spiders all around. It bolted, looking for a break in the ring and one of Red-Stripe's companions galloped after it.

Then I realized I had never seen a Hell-Spider at full speed, until now.

The horse-sized hunter closed the distance with the sprinting sheep as fast and as nimble as any border collie. He always turned at just the correct direction and time to get closer, as if he knew which way the panicked sheep was going to zig-zag next. Which I realized he did. It paid to be psychic when you were a hunter.

Now locked just feet behind the scrambling prey, the spider started toying with it, nipping at its flanks with short strikes of his razor claws. The sheep cried out in pain at each poke, and after the first five, I just wanted it done already. Especially when the wool over the sheep's flanks turned pink, then red and the chase still went on.

Why doesn't he just kill it already? I thought to Red-Stripe.

"Does it bite with poison when attacked? Does it explode?"

What? No!

"Then what are its defenses?"

It has no defenses! It is made to be eaten!

"Oh."

Red-Stripe must have given a command because then the hunter brought the running sheep down with one precise thrust of his razor claw into its spine. The hunter and two other spiders cautiously approached the dying beast, investigating it. After a minute, they were satisfied and started cutting it into thirds. Red-Stripe approached me.

"These will do," he said, clear and audible even over the noise of the blades. "The scales have balanced."

I nodded and pushed the other four sheep out of the helo. Spiders came to surround the terrified beasts.

Thank you. And we promise, patrols will not visit your valley again. We will give you as much notice as possible for patrols in other areas.

"Please do. We are still uneasy about sharing our hunting grounds with your clan."

As are some of us. But we are working to change that. If we go investigate your river snake problem in the western swamps right now, could you have four spider skulls ready when we return?

Red-Stripe bowed, which I had come to learn as gratitude. "Gladly."

"Let's go," I told Jinx through our mikes, and the helo took off again.

***

The jungle valley extended for another fifteen miles to the west before the river running down its middle emptied into a boggy marsh. Which turned into a full blown swamp in just another few miles. Islands of trees and vines mixed with long stretches of green, stagnant water. In some places you could see a few feet through the algae to the bottom of the swamp. But there were other large areas the size of ponds where the water went black and very deep. The place even smelled like an Earth swamp, the moist air heavy and full of decay.

Jinx started the helo on slow, lazy loops at a low altitude to see if we could spot any evidence of the river snakes which had been giving the spiders so much trouble. We saw carrion birds, a few fish and frogs making ripples in the water, but not much else. Juan started getting bored. And cocky.

"See, that's the reason you two are clones and I'm not," he continued as we went around for a third pass. "You just don't have the reflexes, see? I may be tall, but I'm quick, like a mongoose!"

Zazlu was gripping the handhold as we banked, turning sharp and low. "Now look, young'un-"

"No, hear me out, old man," Juan laughed. "The bees got you, but I dodged them. Like this-bam- step- bam! And the snakes got the Lieutenant when he sacrificed himself for us, but I would have just hopped them and kept going, like this- hup- bam!-hup-done!" He grinned his cocky smile at us. "That's why I'm going make it back to Earth with my above average Mexican cock and all my other parts right where they-"

That was when a snake the size of a skyscraper burst out of the water and bit the back of the helicopter off.

***

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" cloned Juan screamed as he fired the mounted chain gun out the side of our new helicopter. Two hundred feet below us the wreck of our first helo still smoldered, nose down in the swamp. "I can hear you two still laughing back there!"

On the other side of the helicopter, Zazlu reloaded my rocket launcher as Jinx corkscrewed us around for another shot. "Your hearing must be as good as your reflexes," Zazlu said, pushing the round home. He ducked then slapped my shoulder and I fired again.

As soon as he saw the missile plume, Jinx turned us hard so Juan's chain gun was facing the river snake while Zaz reloaded me. Post-resurrection dizziness didn't seem to be affecting Jinx's piloting skills any.

"Fuck you, Zazlu!" Juan yelled, then went full auto into the snake's side. "AND FUCK YOU TOO!" He drew an unbroken line across the snake's flesh as he put one thousand rounds a second into it. Chunks of muscle and blood flew from the monster's side as it waved like a building about to topple. And then it did, diving headfirst back into the deep black water, the tidal wave washing over nearby islands. Juan chased it with more bullets and then the water was still.

After ten seconds, I said, "Looks like it's not coming up again. Three dances with Juan's cannon were enough." Juan didn't look away from the swamp. Sweat dripped from his brow and he was gripping the handles on the chain gun so hard that the veins on his cloned arms were popping out.

"Load all four rocket launchers, safeties off," I told Zaz. "Jinx, go lower. We have to lure it out again."

"Aye-aye," the pilot growled through his teeth. "I don't care if I lose five choppers today- we're killing this mother fucker!"

Zazlu and I each put on rocket launcher on our shoulder and one at our feet, and took up station on either side of Juan, all facing out the same side of the chopper. Jinx started high, then dove low and fast over the black surface. When the garage-sized mouth burst out of the water Jinx pulled us into a crash climb, the G's plastering us against the floor, but the snake rose almost as fast as we did. A hundred feet, then two hundred, then its jaws snapped shut behind us right before the helo almost stalled.

"FIRE!" I yelled as Jinx turned our broadside towards the snake.

Juan did, concentrating his hot red line on one spot, and Zaz and I hit that spot with our rockets too. Huge parts of the beast flew away, and I saw something that looked like a big, white bone as I was dropping my spent launcher for the loaded one at my feet. Juan saw it too, and he raked it back and forth with a line of solid bullets until the bone exploded into dust.

The snake gave a roar that shook the helo and echoed off the hills, then started diving back towards the swamp.

"Follow it!" I said even as Jinx was already tipping us nose down. Juan kept firing through the dive, Zaz shot his second rocket wide left of the hole, but I put my ten pounds of high explosive right into the fleshy tissue behind that exploded bone. The snake twitched as it dove and this time, instead of finding deep black water, it landed on half of a muddy island. Hard. The crunch was like thunder.

"FUCK YEAH!" Juan said, pumping his fist at the motionless snake. "Suck it!"

Zazlu was grinning and I looked over and Jinx was laughing too. Four clones in a helicopter, still literally wet behind the ears from the res tanks, celebrating four different ways with the exact same face.

Juan put another string of bullets into its back, but the snake still didn't move.

"Jinx, take us down," I said. "We're getting a picture with this thing!"

***

I wasn't going to let Juan get anywhere near his birth body, so I waded through waist high muck to the smoking wreck of our first helo. I assumed Juan would have forgotten to leave his cellphone on base as I ordered, and after inhaling some smoke and searching through his pockets, I was right. I waded back to the island we had landed on, snapped a picture of Jinx, Juan and Zazlu posing in front of the snake's massive mouth then tossed the phone to Juan.

"Sir, don't you want one with you in it?"

"Private," I laughed, "I can just tell everyone that one of you ugly guys is me. They won't know."

Zazlu and Jinx laughed as Juan looked down at his cloned body and blushed. "Shit, that's right. I forgot." Then he got a serious look on his face and slumped to a seat on the helo like the breath went out of him. "Oh shit. Oh no."

"What's wrong?"

"Dakota... she won't... want me anymore."

Zazlu clapped him on the shoulder. "Son, I've seen you in the showers. This body is an improvement in that area."

Juan brushed Zaz's hand off. "No it's not!"

Zaz took the helo's toolkit and started off toward the river snake, shaking his head. Jinx leaned against the side of the helo and fired off a cigarette. I sat down next to the moping Private.

"Look," I told him, "it will be alright. If she liked you before, she'll like you now."

"Dakota said the first thing she loved about me was my smile."

"Private, it will be all right. I promise you," I said, even though I didn't know if it would. I had no idea what would happen. "You and her will be fine."

Jinx offered him the cigarette and first he refused, but then took it. We passed the smoke back and forth as we watched Zaz struggle. Five minutes later, Zazlu came back holding one of the river snake's scales, a diamond shape about the size of a gladiator shield.

Jinx waved the cigarette at the 100 tons of dead animal still laying there. "What, you don't want to take its head back for Oakley?"

"Then he'd just want five more," Zaz spat, tossing the scale into the helo where it clattered to rest like an iron plate.

I patted Juan on the shoulder again, then looked up at Zaz. "Hey, do you think you could get one more of those?"

***

The sun was setting as our helo touched down in Red-Stripe's clearing. I got out and tossed the second scale at his six feet. There, we've taken care of your river snake problem, I thought. One of them, at least.

The spider was looking down at the trophy dubiously. "You have frightened it? Led it away from our edge of swamp?"

We killed it. You're welcome.

"You killed...the river snake?"

I was tired. The swamp had soaked through my fatigues into my underwear and socks an hour ago and my feet had been cold ever since. Yeah. We got one. How many more are there?

"You killed The River Snake?" He picked the scale up with his razor claws and began examining it. My shoulder throbbed from firing seven rockets in short order. My entire lower half was wet and clammy. I just wanted to get to a hot shower, and my mental calm was slipping.

"Yes! Now can we just have our skulls and go home?" I said, out loud where Juan could hear.

Three Hell-Spiders came out of the jungle carrying four fresh looking skulls and handed them to Juan and Zaz as Red-Stripe still turned the scale over in front of him.

"Thank you," I said, then swung back up into the helo. "Jinx, let's go."

On the way back, Juan was looking at me. "We're not trying to find the Hell-Spider king to kill him, are we Lieutenant?"

I looked at Zaz, who shrugged. I sighed. "If you think you can keep it a secret from your reporter girlfriend, I'll tell you the whole story," I said, then leaned back and closed my eyes. "AFTER we have a hot shower."

***

At the flightline, we tossed the skulls at one of Oakley's BlackShirts and then squished our way back to barracks. Cloned Juan got a hero's welcome from some, sympathy from others, and a bittersweet glance from Ann-Marie. With a cane, she led the rest of the squad out for dinner and the three of us stripped right there. The first blast of scalding hot water hitting my back felt incredible.

Soon we were laughing.

"Did you see the size of that thing?" Juan said. "That's some dinosaur-level shit we just killed!"

"Now that," Zazlu began, "was what I call a purple headed monster."

I laughed. "I knew a gal back in Detroit who would swear she had seen larger."

"You got a picture of yourself in front of that snake too, Lieutenant?"

"Shut up, Juan."

***

I stayed in the shower after Zazlu and Juan had left, just letting the heat soak into my bones. But more importantly, I was trying to count. The cafeteria. The lightning snakes. Impersonating Flores. And now the helo crash. Four deaths.

No, shit, impersonating Flores had been two deaths- so five in all. I had to go see Three-Spot before I met up with Doc Murphy tonight. I had to know exactly what he had seen changing in my head each time.

I stepped out of the showers with a towel around my waist and one over my shoulders. The barracks were deserted with everyone at dinner.

I opened Zazlu's rucksack and pulled the snake scale from where he had hidden it, feeling its weight in my hands. The edges were worn smooth from years of use but the half-transparent material still shimmered like a fish's scale.

Had it been worth it? Dying once, then almost again, just for the memory of having killed something larger than three gray whales?

I remembered the noise the snake had made, falling to its death against the muddy ground.

Hell yes it had been worth it.

I walked over to Juan's bunk and put the scale under his covers. The kid deserved a trophy to show off tonight, and we could always go back tomorrow to get Zazlu another. It's not like that purple-headed monster was going-

"Juan! There you are!" Dakota cried from the doorway.

I jumped away from Juan's bunk, gripping the towel around my waist. "No! I was just-"

"Just avoiding me?" she said, racing towards me in her high heels. "I've been texting you non-stop as soon as I heard! Why haven't you replied? Oh, let me look at you!"

"No, Dakota, don't-"

She was on me faster than a lightning snake, holding my face between her cool hands and forcing me to look at her. She had just come from work, her hair perfect and shiny, her lipstick bright and fetching, and her miniskirt showing off miles of her athletic legs.

"Dakota," I gulped, trying to look her in the eyes. "Seriously, I'm not Juan-"

She forced me forward into a kiss, her soft lips prying mine apart with passion. I knew I should have resisted more, but she tasted like strawberries.

"Baby," she said, coming up for air with a smile, "all soldiers say that after their first time." She forced us to look eye to eye. "But I know you're still you in there- I can SEE it in your eyes! And I want you to know nothing's changed between us. Nothing."

She pushed me back towards Juan's bunk- she was so much stronger than she looked- and I sat down right onto the rock hard snake scale I had hidden under the covers. Speaking of which, the towel around my waist was just a formality at this point. The one over my shoulders, however, still hid my chest tattoo from her.

Dakota looked down at the tent in my lower towel and grinned. "I knew you were still in there!" She kicked off her heels and started unbuttoning her silk shirt quickly.

"No, just wait a second-"

She cut me off with another hard kiss, longer this time, and forced my hands down her back to the miniskirt stretched over her toned, hard butt. Yes, I squeezed, but only because that's what I thought Juan would have done. Honest.

"We'll do the first one quick, just like a band-aid," she whispered into my ear. "Then you won't feel so conscious about your new body!" She hiked up her skirt and pushed me onto my back, straddling my legs. Now the edge of the snake scale was cutting into my shoulder blades with my weight AND hers on it. It was a testament to Dakota that I almost didn't notice.

You know, sometimes I hate being the type of officer that always lets his men come first.

I pulled her mouth off mine just before Tab A impaled Slot B and did my best angry Mexican accent. "Dakota! Chica- wait one damn second! What have I always told you?"

She looked up at me, confused. "What?"

"Sometimes I need time to like, just think, you know?"

"Yeah, but I thought..." She ground against the tent in my towel again. "...and you seem ready..."

With great effort, I pushed her gently off of me. "Baby, sweet-thing, I like your roll, I do. Just come back in one hour and I'm all yours. I just gotta clear my head and then we're gold. Promise." And I gave her my best Juan wink.

She looked at me. "They say some soldiers get depressed right after their first time. Sad about losing their birth body."

I gave her a look. "Baby, it's me. Come on."

She laughed. "I should have known you'd be fine! Alright, Juanito, I'll come back tonight."

I gripped her hand as she started to leave the bed. "Hey, Chica, don't ever mention this to anyone. I got a rep to keep up, you know." I kissed her hand and let go.

She started buttoning her shirt back up. "Sure, Juanito."

"Not even to me. When you see me tonight, let's just pretend this never happened."

She slipped back into her high heels. "Okay. But when I come back tonight, we're going to..." She pulled her mouth close to my ear and whispered the eight greatest words a man could hear.

I grinned. "Sure Chica. But only if we first..." I whispered back ten words that would make Juan's night even better. Even Dakota blushed at that.

"Okay," she giggled.

We kissed one last time, I grabbed a long hard squeeze of her ass because that's what Juan would have done, and then she left.

I sat on Juan's bed, my heart racing and my towel pointing at the ceiling. Screw Three-Spot. I was going to see Doc Murphy first.

***

Her red hair was delightfully mussed, just a little bit. She hadn't put on her lab coat over her shirt and slacks yet and she was barefoot. "Lieutenant Forrest? I hadn't expected you until later," Shannon said, opening the door to her quarters halfway.

"Sorry Doc, something came up. May I?" I asked, already walking forward. She wasn't leaving me in the hallway this time. She retreated before me and I walked in.

"Sure, um, let me just..." She did that same trick all people do, picking up one or two things in their otherwise messy room when people come over. Her studio apartment-sized quarters were nice, however, with a few bookshelves against the wall and a soft carpet on the ground. Carpet? Oh yeah, I remember humans used to have those. It had been so long.

"Sorry, I'll just be a minute," she said, rushing around the room picking up papers. Papers? The Army still used paper since soldiers were expected to keep fighting by torchlight, chest deep in mud, under the pouring rain. But sciency types never used paper anymore unless... they wanted to hide something from prying electronic eyes.

As she rushed around to collect her notes, I couldn't decide whether to peek at what was on the papers or the exciting little sliver of skin that showed between Shannon's waistband and untucked shirt each time she bent over. I did a half and half.

The papers had a list of soldiers who had undergone resurrection the most, with the words "simulacrum" and "Baudrillard effect" on them. And Doctor Shannon Murphy, M.D., had a pierced belly button.

She put the papers on her desk in the corner, far from me, but then reached up to put up her hair, showing me her navel ring for another fun second. "Okay," she said. "Why don't we start with you on the bed? Let me grab something to make this easier..."

Now this was getting good. I kicked off my boots and sat on her soft, warm comforter. When she turned back around, she was holding a blank notepad with papers clipped to it and I was holding my shirt in my hands.

"Trooper!" she gasped, shielding herself with the clipboard. "What did you think we were going to do here?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "What did YOU think we were going to do here?"

She pointed at her notepad. "I was going to interview you about the changes you think are happening to you each time you resurrect!"

I sighed and put my shirt back on. "I guess we can do that, TOO."

"Lieutenant Forr-"

"Don't Lieutenant me, Doc. I can smell the little puff of perfume you put on before I got here. I can always notice your perfume in a room."

"I always do that before my shift," she said, blushing as she pulled her chair up next to the bed. "Now please, lay down on the bed so I can interview you."

Maybe I should have gone to see Three-Spot after all. At least I was guaranteed to see HIM naked.

"Sure you do," I growled, laying down. "So, should I start with my mother? She was a kind woman who worked two jobs-"

"Start with what you THINK is happening, please. Each time you resurrect. How many have you had now?"

"Five. No, wait- four!"

"This is what I mean, Lieutenant! You can't treat this as some sort of game where you can die as much as you want. I knew you wouldn't take it seriously, from the very first time I met you."

I sat up on the bed. "And why shouldn't I? They told us resurrection was perfectly safe. That it was a perfect copy of your soul. So why are you worried? What aren't you telling us?" She seemed to retreat into her chair, which isn't at all what I wanted. I softened my tone. "Doc. What don't we know? What were all those papers about?"

She frowned. "Doctor Hubbard doesn't believe I should be looking in to it. He works the day shift on the resurrection tanks. His mentor is the one that helped invent the buffering bands."

"Yeah, I've woken up to his sour puss once or twice. That's why I try to do all my dying at night."

She smiled a little at that. "Well. Any way we look at it, resurrection works. Trust me, they did so many tests before they approved it for human use. Every MRI, every CAT scan, every behavior test showed the resurrected person acted just like the one who had died. The first time. And the second time."

"But if you make a copy of a copy of a copy, eventually..."

She pulled her bare feet up under her. "There's that. And who's to say that it wasn't the dying itself that was changing the person? It's quite a traumatic experience." She looked up at me. "Or so I've heard."

"So what's happening?"

"Nothing major. Nothing we can see. But the brain has so many moving parts. So many interdependencies that depend on minute shifts of neurons. I mean, what's your favorite flavor of ice cream?"

The way she looked at me, I could tell she wanted a serious answer. I shelved the pun I was preparing, something something licking strawberry something something redheads like her, and told the truth instead. "Chocolate chip cookie dough."

She stared me right in the eyes. "And right before you answered, didn't you feel yourself sliding, just a little bit, toward saying something else? Strawberry perhaps?"

"Woah, Doc," I laughed. "I thought you didn't want this to turn into THAT kind of date-"

"Where did you grow up?" she interrupted, her face serious.

"Detroit."

"Think about your childhood memories. Your earliest ones. Your favorite times. You can hear the ocean, can't you?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Not a lot of surf around Detroit, Lieutenant."

I sat up. "We must have taken a vacation to the beach or something."

"On a single mother's salary who worked two jobs?"

Okay, this was getting creepy. Creepy enough for me to not look down her shirt as I stood up and started pacing around the room. "So what are you saying?"

"That cloned body you're in, it came from somewhere. Yes, it's a mix of three, possibly four races, and selected to be a perfect soldier body type, but we didn't just make it in a test tube. Well, the one you're literally in, we did. The clones are speed grown in big test tubes on the orbiting space station. It's actually very creepy."

"Thanks Doc."

"But the original man, where the genetic stock came from, that man had a life, thoughts and experiences before he died. His service records are sealed, so I can't even find out his name or which military he was from. But we've always known that the strongest memories are made in times of high emotion, of stress. And I can't think of anything more stressful than the way you soldiers die in action."

I rubbed my face as I paced. "Hold on. So you're saying, that when my life flashes before me before I die, some of the original clone's life is showing up too, and THAT'S what's getting transmitted through the buffering band?"

Doc Murphy set her mouth in a prim line. "That's one theory that someone with zero years of medical school might say is happening, yes."

"I'm sorry I don't have a rock solid 'strawberries and the ocean' hypothesis that you do, Doc. I'm sure that will pass peer-review."

She stood up too. "Lieutenant! It's not like I have access to an fMRI or MEG machine on a forward operating base! Or even anywhere on this planet! And I shouldn't even be asking these types of questions. All I can do is record what I hear the clones talking about in the cafeteria and watch how their eating habits change. The Immortals with the most death marks always get strawberry ice cream when we have it. And anytime one of them tells a story about growing up near the ocean, they all chime in, even the ones from places like Detroit."

Now she was nose to nose with me, a lithe fiery ball of indignant energy that I just wanted to grab and kiss.

"So, yes, that's my theory Lieutenant. That, as you resurrect, your minds are becoming slightly duller around the edges and blending with the clone's. If you have any way for me to do accurate, real-time scans of people's brains on this base without them knowing about it, I'd LOVE to hear about it!"

***

"What are we doing?" Shannon asked as we stood outside the prisoner holding area. "I don't want to go in there and see that... thing." She started backing away from the door. I used the excuse to hook my arm with hers and pulled her forward.

"Come on, Doc. It'll open your mind."

I opened the door to find Ann-Marie and a clone already inside staring at Three-Spot.

"Hello, Lieutenant," I said, trying to remember. Had I authorized some other plan that I didn't know about? "What a surprise to see you here."

"Well, sir, I just bumped into Lieutenant Shelby here at dinner," she said, leaning on her cane to bump shoulders with the man at her side. I even detected the slight sheen of lipstick on her lips. Holy crap- was Butcher flirting with someone? "He died in a helicopter accident on earth before being sent here as an assistant quartermaster. He and I were just discussing how quickly we could remember our key phrase if something like this beast killed one of us."

Oh good. She wasn't flirting, just stealing information to misuse later. I calmed my mind and reached out to Three-Spot.

How many guys has Butcher brought through here today?

"While you were on patrol, three other males. Two females. And this one."

And you figured out all of their key phrases?

"We have three. The others were too colloquial for us to interpret."

"Well, carry on," I said out loud, to both of them.

"Actually, sir, Shelby and I were just leaving." Butcher gave me a wink. "We'll leave the two of you alone."

I'd have to set her straight later. But now, as she pivoted on her cane to leave, I said, "Oh, Lieutenant Butcher, is there any way I could borrow your cellphone?"

She looked me in the eye while handing it over. "Of course sir. But I think it's only got a few minutes of charge left."

"That's all I'll need."

"Aye-aye sir. See you around."

I flipped on Ann-Marie's cellphone to jam the security cameras then turned to Shannon as if I was talking only to her.

Three-Spot, I need you to monitor my companion's thoughts very closely.

"I am listening."

"Okay, Doc, I'm going to ask you a few questions, and you need to clear your mind and answer immediately, just like you were taking a lie detector test. Have you ever taken one of those before?"

"Yes."

"Really? What for?"

She raised one eyebrow at me. "None of your darned business."

Three-Spot, what was she thinking about when I asked 'What for'?

"It was a place of learning. Vines covered the walls. She was cheated out of an honor using some trick of rules. Then many authority figures' caves were vandalized with pictures of sex organs. Large ones."

So Doc Murphy had a little anti-authority streak in her, huh? I'd have to see if we could nurture that again.

"Fine, don't tell me," I said. "Just clear your mind and say the first thing you think of. What region of the brain do you think is changing most through repeated resurrections?"

She looked at me skeptically. "The amygdala," she sighed. "Not that you'd-"

Three-Spot, what part of my head is she thinking about?

"A small bit in the deep center. I see it pulse when you are mad."

"What, here, in the middle?" I interrupted her, pointing at my ears. "The emotion center? You don't think you should be looking more around..." I waved my finger near the front of my skull, above my eyes. Three-Spot?

"Frontal lobe," the gravelly voice said inside my head. "It shines when you are making sneaky plans."

"...the frontal lobe? That's the higher reasoning, right?" I finished.

Doctor Murphy was staring at me with her mouth open. Then she swallowed and then said, "The frontal lobe is used for cognition, yes, but when talking about memory displacia, they aren't nearly as important as the temporal lobes are for-"

"Here?" I said, pointing to my temple as Three-Spot told me to. "The parts that shine when I'm organizing my memories?"

She took a step back. "Okay, how are you doing this?"

"A guy can't search the internet for a few pictures and memorize them?"

She gave me that wry smile again. "I doubt those are the kind of pictures someone like you searches for." She crossed her arms. "And why are we in here? Having that killer staring at us makes me uncomfortable."

I leaned against the glass and patted it. "Ahhh, this bunny rabbit? He's my spirit animal. Being around him calms me down. And it's the only room on base that's not bugged. It's not like they expect this guy to spill any secrets."

"Oh," she said. "Okay."

"You have just lied to her," Three-Spot's voice said in my head at the same time.

Yeah, so?

"But you wish to mate with her."

Of course.

"But you would lie to a female who desires to become your future mate?"

Hold ON! Is that what she desires?

"She has leanings that way. But it is not fully decided."

Wait! Look deeper into-

"So how does this help me?" Shannon said, tapping her foot on the floor. "I still can't compare brain patterns between soldiers."

"Right. That. So, Doc, this amygdala- if you had one of those fancy brain-scanning machines right now, what would you look for in it? Picture it in your mind."

She frowned. "I don't understand this game, Lieutenant. But I would look for increased or decreased blood flow, or changes in the pattern of how the neurons fire while certain images were shown the patient."

Three-Spot, can you picture what she's seeing? The image of a brain?

"It is a very alien way to look at a mind, but yes."

Can you look that way at me? And her?

"Yes. I am now."

"And what sort of images would you show them?" I asked.

"Anything that invoked a strong memory or emotion."

Still looking, Three-Spot?

"Yes."

"So, Doc, you'd show them pictures of their family, or their hometown, or.... the first place they'd ever made love?"

Her cheeks reddened slightly. "Yes, I suppose. All except for the last one."

What was the last thing she just thought about?

"It was a white spinning box, used to clean the clothes your kind wears."

Doc's first time was on top of a washing machine? "Hot damn," I muttered.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing. So, while showing those images and looking for blood flow and neurons in the amygdala, how would you tell if the clone's memories were taking over my own?"

"If the level of response to your personal information dropped versus random data. Like, if I were to say, 'Detroit, London, Paris, Detroit,' your response should be at least fifty times higher for the first and last word than the middle ones."

Three-Spot, my amygdala- what just happened to it?

"I was still looking at the part of her brain which thought of the washing machine."

Well stop! Look at my center brain again, how she would look at it!

"Very well."

"Sorry, Doc. Could you say those words again?"

She sighed. "Detroit, London, Paris, Detroit. Really Lieutenant, I can't sit here and-"

How about now?

"It flashed brightly for the first and last word."

I gave Three-Spot an annoyed look. How brightly? At least fifty times more? What did you see exactly?

"It is difficult to explain. The colors changed in some areas but not others."

Damn it! I wish we could hook you up to a printer.

I turned back to Shannon. "Hey Doc, where were you born?"

"Milton Massachusetts," she said, looking at me strangely. "Were you just talking to the-"

"Chicago, Milton, Spain, Milton."

"Spain isn't a city," she said, even as I wasn't listening.

How about her amygdala- compare it to mine!

"It flashed on the second and fourth word. It was brighter than yours."

How much brighter? What percentage?

"One part in eight brighter."

I did some math, then said, "Doc, what would it mean if your amygdala had a 12 percent higher response to that test than mine did, after four resurrections?" I remembered to add, "Theoretically, of course."

She was frowning at me. "Well, theoretically, that sort of drop off would mean that serious personality damage would occur around the...seventh to twelfth resurrection, I would guess. And get progressively worse from there. But that's only one data point. It could be earlier or later. I'd have to get many more data points to-"

"If I could get you that data, for clones who have one death all the way up to ten or more, could you give me a solid idea of how much damage I've got?"

"Yes, if the test was conducted rigorously, accounting for experimental variables..." Her eyes narrowed. "How are you going to do such a test? Is this somehow connected to..." She looked over at Three-Spot with new interest. I probably should nip that line of inquiry in the bud.

I smiled at her. "Hey Doc, you realize that some might consider this our first date, right? I picked you up at your place and everything."

"This is not a date, Lieutenant."

Three-Spot?

"She partially considers it a date."

"Hot damn," I chuckled.

"I've got to go now, Lieutenant," she huffed, turning and walking out of the room. "I don't have time to listen to you talk to yourself."

Both Three-Spot and I watched her leave with interest.

"That is what you wish to mate with?" he said, his voice like rolling rocks.

Hell yes! Did you see her?

"Her legs are too spindly. She looks easy to tip over."

That's a plus, not a minus, my friend.

Butcher's cell phone beeped. The jammer was running out.

"I've got to go," I said out loud, and headed towards the door.

"Red-Stripe said that your squad killed the river snake."

I stopped with my hand on the knob. "We killed one. How many are there?"

"There is only one. We had not expected you to kill it. We had not even expected you to try. It is much larger than all of your clan put together."

"My squad can do great things if we put our mind to it. You'd be surprised."

He regarded me, really looked at me, for a few seconds. "Contact me before your next patrol. I am working out a proposal with Red-Stripe that may interest you."

***
***

FLEET INTER-SERVICE COMMUNICATION: PRIORITY 3F

FROM: UN HIGH COMMAND, DEPGENSEC, SWITZERLAND

TO: GENERAL OAKLEY, COMEARTHFOR, ANGIE'S STAR II

RE: PROGRESS OF WAR EFFORT

MESSAGE:

NEWS OF THE RECENT LIBERATION OF VALLEY 1X5J FROM ENEMY INFESTATION HAS REACHED THE HIGHEST LEVELS OF COMMAND. IT IS QUITE A HISTORIC ACCOMPLISHMENT. YOU ARE HEREBY PROMOTED TO FOUR-STAR GENERAL, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. SEE ATTACHMENT A FOR THE SCHEDULE OF AWARDS FOR YOUR SUBORDINATES.

HOWEVER, HIGH COMMAND IS CONCERNED OVER THE RECENT LOSS OF A TROOP HELICOPTER TO "ENEMY ACTION". DEPENEMYINTELL WAS UNAWARE THE ENEMY POSSESSED ANY ANTI-AIR CAPABILITY.

THIS INCIDENT, COMBINED WITH RECENT DISCREPANCIES FOUND BETWEEN ARMAMENTS SHIPPED THROUGH THE WORMGATE AND THOSE REPORTED RECEIVED, HAVE CAUSED HIGH COMMAND TO QUESTION THE EFFICIENCY WITH WHICH YOU ARE PURSUING THE WAR EFFORT. TWO NEW SQUADS DOUBLED THE SIZE OF YOUR COMMAND, SMAJ HUGHES HAS SOLVED YOUR MORALE PROBLEM, YET THERE HAS BEEN A SHARP DROP-OFF IN ENEMY CONTACTS AND KILLS REPORTED FROM EVERY ONE OF YOUR PATROL SQUADS EXCEPT ONE.

TO REPLACE THE LOST AIR ASSET, THE NEXT SCHEDULED TRANSPORT AFTER THIS MESSAGE WILL INCLUDE FOUR AH-64 GROUND ATTACK HELICOPTERS AND THEIR SUPPORT STAFF. WITH A FOUR-FOLD INCREASE IN SPEED AND ARMAMENTS OVER YOUR PREVIOUS AIR ASSETS, COMMAND EXPECTS YOUR KILL TOTALS TO RISE ACCORDINGLY.

ALSO ON THE TRANSPORT WILL BE INSPECTOR GENERAL ARTURO HIMENEZ.

WHILE HE HAS NO MILITARY RANK, INSPGEN HIMENEZ HAS A CHARTER FROM THE U.N. HIGH COUNCIL TO PROSECUTE FRAUD AND CORRUPTION ON ANY COLONY WORLD EQUIVALENT TO THE HIGHEST COURT IN THE LAND. HIS MISSION WILL BE TO RESOLVE DISCREPANCIES AND ROOT OUT INEFFICIENCIES ANYWHERE IN YOUR COMMAND. PLEASE SHOW HIM YOUR FULL COOPERATION. IF HIS RECOMMENDATIONS FAIL TO INCREASE THE EFFICIENCY OF THE WAR EFFORT ON ANGIE'S STAR II, YOUR COMMAND ITSELF MAY BE REEVALUATED.

FINALLY, DEPENEMYINTELL IS STILL AWAITING RESULTS OF THE TESTING PLAN FROM THE CAPTURED ENEMY. PLEASE FORWARD AT ONCE.

END MESSAGE

***
Chapter Nine

Things actually started to go pretty well after that. Hughes, of course, showed up in our barracks at six the next morning ringing a cowbell because we had crashed that helicopter. But Ann-Marie and Steve had finally healed enough to join us, and it was good seeing them in the running ranks again.

And I was finding it easy to keep up with Hughes now. It must have been the mental conditioning, because god knows I was going through bodies too fast to build them up physically. But the run didn't seem so bad. The cool morning air, the ground flying past my light feet- it was actually kind of exhilarating.

Better yet, when the farmers already up and working their fields saw the patches on our fatigues, they cheered as we went by. Each whoop or "Ho! Infinity Squad!" lifted our spirits and just made Hughes madder. Good thing he didn't know that, as he took us back around a second time and wove us around the farmhouses trying to tire us out in the warming sun, the farmers' kids started handing us glasses behind one house, then collecting them before we came into Hughes' view again. Hughes was happy because it looked like every member of our squad was absolutely drenched in sweat from the head down. We were happy because each lap gave us another chance to sip or splash our heads with ice cold water or, in one awesome misunderstanding between Juan and a seven year old, ice tea. We snickered at Juan's brown, sweet smelling 'sweat' all the way back, when Hughes wasn't looking.

I got back to the barracks energized, Zazlu was grumpy but barely winded, as were Juan and Ann-Marie. The privates and Steve were a little exhausted, which made it the perfect time to parade everyone in front of Three-Spot one at a time and ask them questions about their hometowns. The privates were too tired to wonder what was going on and we got a good baseline reading on all their amygdalas, and readings on Juan after one death and Zaz after two. I jotted everything down on a sheet for Doc Murphy and tucked it away inside my fatigues.

Omega Squad went out on patrol north of the mountain that afternoon. We warned Red-Stripe through Three-Spot, so Ching and his boys didn't even report one contact. Immortal Squad went out that night, south and west of the valley, almost to the edge of the swamps. Red-Stripe couldn't get all his hunters back in time, so the Immortals saw a few Spider butts disappearing into caves near the swamp but lost them after getting off the helicopter to pursue. Phoenix and Second Chance squads were getting some motivation from Hughes the next morning and didn't patrol at all, which was fine with me.

Our next patrol was interesting, to say the least. Three-Spot warned us to take only our calmest, steadiest members so I took Zaz, Butcher and what the hell, Juan. As Jinx flew us to the clearing, Ann-Marie leaned forward in her seat.

"Why do you think Three-Spot told us to bring only light weapons?" she said, tapping the sub-machine gun slung under her shoulder instead of her normal assault rifle.

I shrugged. "I don't know. His voice sounded a little strange this time. Friendlier."

"Hold on a second!" Juan said. "The Hell-Spiders can TALK?"

"Of course they can talk," Butcher said, then turned back to me. "So I brought some frag and flash grenades but I was thinking I might leave them in the helo-"

"SINCE WHEN?" Juan demanded.

"Since always," I said as Zazlu and Ann-Marie started laughing. I saw the look on Juan's face and had to join them.

"Don't worry kid, I didn't know until now either," Jinx said through our headsets.

I grabbed Juan's shoulder, then reached back to touch Jinx's as well. "So now you both know our secret. The secret that's been keeping us alive. Relatively. And the secret that could get us all thrown in prison for a hundred years if you spill it. The Hell-Spiders can talk and don't want us to kill them any more than we want to try. Anyone who doesn't think they can keep that one-hundred percent to themselves, please remove your buffering band and step outside."

Neither Juan or Jinx threw themselves onto the jungle speeding by hundreds of feet below, so I nodded. "Good. Because I've got another huge secret for everyone."

I sighed, then continued. "Resurrection is killing us. Doc Murphy and Three-Spot and I are trying to put numbers on it, but it seems like a little of your mind may be replaced by the clone's memories each time you wake up in the tanks."

"So that's what that parade of hometowns in front of Three-Spot yesterday was?" Butcher asked.

"Yes. I haven't given the data to Doc yet because I want to test some high death clones like Immortals or Omegas. But, here's the important part- from this point on, no one in Infinity Squad is going to die again. Let the other fool squads get mind wiped away. We're going to do things smart and professional and careful, and keep our minds exactly the way they are right now. Hoo-ah?"

Zazlu was nodding. "Hoo-ah."

"Hoo-Fucking-Ah," Butcher agreed, the only one of us still in their original body.

I turned to the pilot. "Jinx?"

"No complaints here."

"Juan?"

The young soldier was staring out at the passing canopy. He finally looked at me. "Would have been nice of you to decide that TWO DAYS ago."

"Juan, we all make mistakes. I didn't know. And it was a snake the size of a dinosaur. Tell me that wasn't worth getting killed by! I first got killed by a spider." He was still frowning. "Hell, Zazlu got killed by a bee."

That finally got Juan smiling. "That's right, he did."

"Hey- it was more than one," Zaz said. "And they exploded!"

"It took a snake the size of Godzilla to do me in," Juan laughed, "but my Second Lieutenant got killed by a bumble bee this big!"

"Come on now..." Zazlu began, but he was tracking with me enough to let Juan have his way for a while. He and I should go open a Vaudeville act somewhere.

Ann-Marie was smiling at Juan. "The size of Godzilla, you say?"

"I'll show you a picture sometime."

I coughed to pull his eyes out of Butcher's and asked, "Hoo-ah, Private?"

He grinned and nodded. "Hoo-ah, sir."

***

We landed in the clearing, and Red-Stripe and his gang we waiting, in their same protective ring as always. But then three of them moved and opened a hole in it. Right toward their home caves.

"Really?" I asked.

Red-Stripe nodded. "Three-Spot thought it was time." He looked at my squad. "But not everyone in the clan agrees. You will need to keep all of your thoughts calm and peaceful, or a protective male may tear you to pieces."

"Sure, no problem." I turned back to the helo. "Butcher, leave the pineapples here. Everyone, safeties on and hands off weapons. And be cool." Just to be sure, my eyes flicked up to each of their buffering bands. Five bars, green. I turned back to Red-Stripe.

My thoughts were calm or I wouldn't have been able to speak to him, but I saw the large black-shelled hunter turning his head and looking at the other three. Specifically, he was looking at Juan.

"The kid's okay. He's just a little scared," I told him, then turned back to Juan. "Private, it's going to sound like sliding knives when this spider talks to you, but that's okay. That's just his voice." Back to Red-Stripe. "Go ahead, say hello."

The spider paused for a moment, looking at the nervous Private, then said into all our heads, "You are a natural hunter."

"Holy fuck!" Juan cried, grabbing his head.

"Be cool," I warned him. "Be cool. Now Juan, what do you say?"

He gulped, then looked at the massive jet-black spider looking down at him. "Um... thank you?"

I slapped them both on the shoulder. "Great! We're all friends! Now, who wants to see a Hell-Spider village?"

***

Red-Stripe and his party led us through the jungle, the path becoming wider and more well travelled the deeper we went. The only real noise was the clump-clump-clump of our human footfalls; the spiders centipeded forward and each of their six ground legs landed and picked up with barely a whisper of noise. I had seen one gallop last time, hunting the sheep, he had been loud as a horse then. Was this the other way they travelled- strolling, maybe? Or, considering how little noise they made, stalking?

Of course the path was wrong for us, instead of the plants and moss being worn away in one central line like humans would make, it was a set of two tracks, spaced spider leg-width apart. Butcher and I took one side and Zaz and Juan took the other. The spiders were ahead, behind and on both sides of us, like we were precious cargo to be protected. Or prisoners.

No- think peaceful thoughts, I commanded myself. Three-Spot wouldn't lead us into a trap. Yes, Three-Spot, the spider we were still keeping locked away as a prisoner on our base.

"Um, Red-Stripe," I said, "what is the plan after we get to your home caves?"

"We will have dinner, of course."

"Oh, of course."

That should have been reassuring. Except I had seen this Twilight Zone as a kid, the one where aliens said they had come to Earth "To Serve Man", except that ended up being the title of their cookbook-

"You are not the meal," Red-Stripe said. "We still have one sheep left from your tribute. Surely you can digest that?"

Oh thank god, I thought.

"Oh thank god," I said.

"Freshly roasted sheep would be most delicious," Zazlu said. "But wasted on us, since we can get more easily. Do you not have something more... native that we could try?"

"Do you wish to taste lightning snake?" the knives-on-knives voice said. "It gives the eater speed and reflexes for a short while. Or, Three-Spot has told us how delicious your flesh is. We could kill and roast the nervous one if you would not miss him." The spider turned to look at me.

"Holy shit. Did you just make a joke?" I said it loudly so Juan wouldn't go off the handle.

"Three-Spot has been coaching me on which elements of our humor would translate. Expect more levity in the future."

I grinned at Zazlu, who was grinning back.

That was the first of many surprises that night.

As we approached their village and the path got more worn, we started seeing groups of smaller green-shelled Hell Spiders. They ranged in size from Border Collies to Great Danes, and they skittered and hovered around the edge of our escort, peeking at us between the centipeding black legs. It wasn't until one of our escorts suddenly lashed out with his razor claw and affectionately tick-ed the shell of a green spider that we realized.

The Hell-Spider children increased in number and boldness until we were practically walking alongside a mob of them. I figured someone had to start the diplomacy so I reached out and flicked one on the shell with my finger as the adult had done.

Now I had done it.

I and the green spider with two black dots on its skull played a version of tag all the way back to the village. I would be walking along when suddenly a dull claw would jab into my backpack from behind and lurch me forward. When I chased him, he disappeared behind the protection of an elder, because that wasn't the game apparently. I came to see that the idea was to walk alongside your opponent, appearing to be outwardly calm and peaceful, and then suddenly lash out to poke them when they didn't expect it. I took a lot of bruises to my legs since I wasn't psychic, but apparently the children weren't good at reading minds either, so the score was about tied when we reached their home.

"It teaches them to sense the hostile intentions of others," Red-Stripe explained. "And to avoid the attacks of predators." He reached out to try and tag a larger green spider next to him but the child was already avoiding where the blow would have fallen. Red-Stripe's other claw, however, was waiting right where the young one would retreat and got him hard from the other side. I saw the child practically shake in frustration and run off. "He will learn yet."

"That probably comes in useful when dealing with lightning snakes," Ann-Marie said.

"It does," Red-Stripe agreed. "A snake's mind thinks of nothing but their target just before they strike. Alone, they are not a problem for an adult hunter, except for the exceptionally fast ones whose fangs find flesh anyway. But a pack of them...it is too many to read at once."

I shuddered, remembering battling the snakes hand to hand. And them tearing my body apart.

"Exactly," the spider said, reading my mind. Then he pointed. "We are home."

The convoy passed through a narrow cleft in a wall of rocks twenty feet high. The piled rocks were held together with roots and branches and sloped severely, making any attempt to scale them treacherous. Also, I saw at least two large males patrolling a path around the top of the wall, and once we were all through the cleft, spiders on the inside moved torso sized boulders to seal us in. The boulders were stacked quickly and efficiently, the results of thousands of repetitions. I looked at my guys in amazement.

"Nice berm," Zazlu whistled.

Ann-Marie scampered up to the parapet and looked out. "They've thinned the jungle for a hundred yards all around," she announced. "A clear field of view for the lookouts. Just like ours."

"Yes," Red-Stripe said. "Our elders were displeased that you copied our ideas so closely. Some of our construction techniques took generations to master."

I didn't have the heart to correct him as he led us to the center of their village. The ring wall enclosed at least ten acres, just like a medieval castle, but on the inside were many openings to a cave system. In front of some caves, smaller, almost gray spiders tended flocks of the green ones. Some of the gray spiders carved dead animals or stoked fires, and their shells were all a matte finish compared to the hunters' glossy.

These women greeted their mates as the convoy broke up. I noticed that Red-Stripe had two gray spiders flock to attend him, both with the smooth, unblemished matte shells of youth. But I was too much of a gentleman to say or think anything about it. We all gathered around a fire, and the gray spiders started coming towards us with pieces of animals. More than twice our number could have possibly eaten.

"Oh god," I gulped.

***

Cultures that come from 'the Old Country' always seem to have a certain rule: their women will feed you until you burst. Forcibly, if necessary. My first girlfriend's Italian grandmother did it, heaping seconds and thirds onto my plate without asking. My college roommate's Indian mother did it. And these Hell-Spider women did it.

"More, take more," they said for the next hour, pushing one type of meat on us after another. Their voices sounded like bells or flutes, and though they tried to tell us what we were eating, if we didn't have a similar image already in our head, the translation was gobblety-gook.

I know I liked the fatty, juicy cooked leg of something that flashed as 'lion' in my mind, and I didn't like the stringy brown raw meat that Zazlu kept telling me to try. One of Red-Stripe's women handed me a wooden plate with round appetizers on it that smelled spicy and wonderful, but every time she tried to explain it, my mind flashed 'testicles'. I passed on it, as did Juan, although Ann-Marie tried a few and gave them the thumbs up.

We sipped from our canteens as needed, since it seemed like the spiders didn't have cups or drink water during meals. It also was amazingly quiet. Apart from the women explaining the source of food to us, there were no sounds for minutes at a time. But the way the seated spiders jostled and slapped each other, or when all the women suddenly pointed at one of the men, I realized there was a lot of hearty conversations going on. We just weren't allowed to hear them.

"Your minds would be overwhelmed," Red-Stripe explained.

"You could try us," I said.

"Not yet." He put one plate down, then reached for another. "These are the lightning snakes I promised, to finish the meal. And then we will try you. On a hunt."

I bit into one crispy skinned snake. It was like the best bacon-wrapped scallop I had ever tasted. And I did start feeling jittery immediately. "Hunting what?"

Juan broke off half a snake, as did Zaz. They were jumpy and tapping their feet ten seconds later. Red-Stripe laughed. "Hunting this," he said. But the image was muddy in my mind.

***

It turned out to be something between a boar and a gazelle, a nimble animal that hopped like it was on springs but would turn and gore you with its tusks if you got too close. The spiders didn't hunt the boazelles as much as they herded them into a tighter and tighter group, picking off the stragglers with one precise razor claw through the spine.

It was good that we each had eaten half a lightning snake before the hunt, because the spiders moved through the jungle like a tidal wave. My lungs ached trying to keep up with them, my shins and forearms burned with the whip strikes of the branches we sprinted through and my ankles threatened to twist with every slippery rock we stepped on. It reminded me of our first run with Hughes except I had tried to keep up with him just to shove it up his ass, while I wanted to keep up with the spiders to gain their approval. I wanted Red-Stripe to tell the squad 'good job'.

We were on the left side of the line, the spiders a wave of death to our right. The spider closest to us, a huge one with a blue wave across his skull, got too close to the nearest boazelle, which suddenly turned back to charge him. The razor claw was already coming down towards its spine when the boazelle slipped on a wet rock and Blue Wave's claw took it in the flank instead. The pain must have caused the animal to react subconsciously because Blue Wave didn't seem to have any more foreknowledge of where the flying hooves or sharpened tusks would go than I did. I saw him get mule kicked in the face and gored in one armored leg before his stabbing claws perforated the boazelle's chest repeatedly to drop it.

"Are you okay?" I yelled.

"Yes," he panted in a bass drum voice, falling to four knees. "But I cannot run."

"Squad close right!" I ordered into my mike. "Close right!"

They did, Zazlu, Ann-Marie and Juan running diagonally to the right until we were one unbroken line with the spiders again. We had the advantage of being able to drive boazelles far ahead of us with bursts of machine gun fire, but the spiders were still moving too fast. Zaz, Juan and I were in bodies made to run, and Ann-Marie was practically as nimble as the prey itself, but I could hear their labored breathing in my implants. And the spiders were still pulling away. The line was about to break, the prey about to turn back and escape through the hole that human shortcomings would create.

Somewhere, far back in my memory, I remembered what I had read about the battle of Gettysburg and the tactic that had saved the day.

"Wheel left," I panted, then yelled with my throat and mind. "Red-Stripe! We will stay! Your line should wheel left!"

Red-Stripe had probably never read a book about the Civil War. But the beauty of psychic teammates is that I could just picture the formation, the heavy barn door swinging on its hinges to slam against the doorstop, and the spider instantly knew what I meant. I was the hinge. The spiders were the door, the rest of the squad was the doorstop.

"Yes," Red-Stripe called back, from somewhere far beyond my vision. "Prepare yourselves."

"Squad, HALT! Cross-fire formation, 45 degrees! Butcher with me!" I said, kneeling behind a fallen log.

Ann-Marie braced behind a tree slightly behind and to my left. Zaz and Juan ran farther left until there were fifty yards between us, then took up similar positions, Zaz in front and Juan behind and to his right. We were a funnel of death, waiting to shred the herd from two sides as it tried to pass between us.

"Reload!" Zaz called, putting in a fresh clip, and he was right. We would need it. The ground started to thunder.

"Prepare," Red-Stripe called, his voice flush with whatever their adrenaline was. "We are coming!"

"Stop running when you hear us start to fire!"

"Yes. Do not shoot the females."

"Which ones are the females!" I screamed.

"White spots on fur."

Shit. And then the wave slammed into us.

A hundred frightened boazelles burst into view fifty yards away. Our four machine guns opened up as one, in short, controlled bursts. Boazelles started dropping, their chests exploding and their momentum carrying them to slam into trees and rocks or just tumble. My eye and mind and trigger finger all worked as one. Fire-fire-white spots-fire-fire-SHIT!

A boazelle leapt my log and swiped at my head as it passed. I ducked away from the tusk then turned to catch it in the back with a three-shot burst to drop it.

The herd drove forward, right into our kill zone. Sometimes bullets from both sides would take a beast down, blue blood flying everywhere. They had never seen guns before, they were scared to go forward but terrified to go back, and didn't stand a chance. Some squirted through, mostly those with white spots on their fur, and then it was quiet.

What was left of the herd thundered away behind us and I stood up, panting, with a sore trigger finger. In my log was a gash the boazelle's tusk had gouged when it tried to take my head off. The gash was three fingers wide and two deep.

"Clear on right," I said.

"Clear on left," Zaz answered.

"It's clear Red-Stripe. All clear."

Black shapes came forward out of the leaves, to inspect the fifty by fifty yard box that ran blue with blood. They finished the boazelles still alive, knifing down with their claws as they walked. There were at least seventy bodies on the ground. I looked up to see Red-Stripe standing in front of me, his razor claws dripping blue.

"We found only two females dead," he said, looking at me. "This was an excellent strategy, and executed well."

That was more than I had gotten from Oakley, ever. Ridley used to say things like that to me, and until then I hadn't realized how much I had missed the simple joy of being praised by my superiors.

I swallowed. "Thanks."

"Who taught you the 'wheel left'?"

I leaned on my log, still panting. "A Civil War leader named Chamberlain, once used it at a great battle, to repel the enemy, just before his forces ran out of ammunition."

"Ah. I would have liked to meet this Chamberlain. But I see from your thoughts he is long dead."

"Yes."

"It is a good tactic. We often use something similar, but your metal-spitters make it much safer to execute."

"Safer hell!" Zazlu spat, coming up to us. Juan and Ann-Marie were behind him, but it was Zazlu who had a bleeding tusk cut on his bicep and a swollen lip and cheek. He spat blood then smiled at me. "Didn't you remember what Rommel said? 'It's better to be the hammer than the anvil'?"

"I'll consider that for next time, Zaz. And let Butcher take a look at that arm. Oh, Red-Stripe, one of yours is hurt too, back there, with a Blue Wave on his skull..."

"Yes, some are helping him walk back home now. He will heal." The spider looked at me. "This Rommel. Another great hunt leader?"

"Some say the greatest."

"And also long dead. Yet you all remember his words."

I laughed, thinking of how to explain OCS to him. "We went to a special school. One that taught us about all the greatest hunt leaders in our clan, stretching back hundreds of generations. There are many, many stories I could tell you."

He looked at me, just like Three-Spot had. "I would like to hear these stories sometime."

***

Three days later Red-Stripe asked our help to hunt a type of monkey that jumped from tree to tree in the north part of the valley but had a horribly painful, poisonous stinger at the end of its tail. Zazlu wheedled one hundred yards of cargo netting out of the Flightline crew and we dropped it on tree full of surprised monkeys from the helo and then cut down the tree, capturing all the monkeys alive. Red-Stripe was very pleased since this was apparently a rarity in Hell-Spider hunts, and Three-Spot later told us that Red-Stripe couldn't stop talking about it all night back at the village.

***

The next night Omega Squad went patrolling near the north edge of the valley and wandered into an area they hadn't told us they were going to. They cut off a hunting party returning with a fresh catch of tree-monkeys, which started squirming and trying to escape the net as the party waited for the Omegas to get bored. Two monkeys had escaped and one spider had already been stung in the leg by the time Red-Stripe asked me what to do, relayed through Three-Spot.

Are they all wearing little bands around their head with green lights on them? I thought, eating dinner in cafeteria.

Three-Spot and I waited a few seconds for the response. "My scouts say yes."

I turned to Butcher. "Did the Omegas take night scopes with them?"

She shook her head. "It's a full moon."

I shrugged. Wait for a large cloud to pass over the moon and then kill them.

"This would not cause unbalanced scales with your clan?" Three-Spot asked on Red's behalf.

Let's say you'll owe us one.

"Very well."

That night, all ten Omegas woke up in the res tanks cursing. Or so I heard.

***

Two nights later we were up for 'patrol' again but there was no prey to be found, so we returned to the village with the hunting party and passed three hours sitting around Red-Stripe's fire with his friends, eating the last of the sheep and tree-monkeys.

We learned the spiders didn't have a religion per se, but were very thankful for the bounty of the jungle and treated its upkeep with almost reverent respect. We learned that the spiders did have industry, with certain members specializing in making wooden plates for eating and cooking, jewelry for females, or herbal medicines when they got too old or injured to hunt.

We learned that there were other smaller spider clans in the rolling grasslands to the south, which sometimes traded and sometimes warred with Red-Stripe's, or had members leave one for the other. We got to meet those clans a few days later, to propose the same type of peace treaty as we had with Three-Spot.

We learned there was also another, much larger, spider clan past the mountains to the north. This clan did not let its members vote on laws, own property, or leave its borders. There, the ruling alpha male used a ruthless band of enforcers to claim the spoils of all hunts for himself, and fed his inner circle well before doling out the remains to the hunters and their families. He would terrorize the weaker hunters and force the stronger hunters to join his enforcers, so that there was almost no hope that his reign could ever be ended. Red-Stripe could not express his disgust at that practice strongly enough, and the other spiders around the fire agreed.

We learned that Blue Wave had fully recovered from his boazelle hunt injuries. And that he was a young, unattached male that everyone in the village knew was eventually going to 'make cave' with a certain young female who had the smoothest gray shell anyone had ever seen, if he ever got up the courage to ask her. Which Zazlu and I almost goaded him into doing that night.

But most importantly, we learned you don't have to be in your barracks to feel at home.

***

The night after that there was a terrible monsoon that grounded all helicopter flights but I hiked the short squad out anyway, under the guise of 'conditions training'. We met up with just two spiders and then knelt outside in the downpour for two hours, staring at the mouth of a cave. Red-Stripe was immobile statue next to me, not flinching from his watch as the beating rain collected on his back and poured down his legs like waterfalls. It seemed like enough rain to drown the world but he didn't move so neither did I. I just pulled my poncho tighter around me and waited in the hurricane for hours, just like he did, watching as the rain slowly filled the cave with water.

I felt Red-Stripe tense and then a huge black Hell-Spider burst from the cave. I opened up on it with my rifle as did Juan and Zazlu from the cave's right and Butcher from the left. We clipped his legs, as we had been instructed, and his shock allowed Blue-Wave to drop in front of the cavemouth, preventing retreat.

"Cease fire!" I yelled, because Red-Stripe was already surging forward like a spider possessed.

Even with two legs and a knee hobbled by our bullets, the fight was vicious. Claws flashed and met with cracks as loud as any gunshot. Worse was the sledge-hammer-to-car-door sound of a claw hitting home on a torso. I took off my night optics and watched with my bare eyes, because I knew I might never see this sight again.

It was a spinning fury of black on black in the pouring rain and thunder. Red-Stripe was large, but the other was a head taller and even wider through the shoulders. They both moved with supernatural quickness but also with precision and strategy, like two Speed Chess players who knew all of each other's moves. But in less than thirty seconds the other spider was wounded, tiring, and Red-Stripe slammed a shoulder into him with the fury and noise of six football players meeting head-on, rolling him over. He stabbed his razor claw through the spider's belly and chest, over and over, until the other one stopped making controlled movements. Red-Stripe stood, looking down at the twitching form as Blue-Wave came over to verify, and then they both cooperated to cut off his head. Which Red-Stripe carried over to drop in front of me with a splash.

"Here," he said, his knives-on-knives voice a little shaky. "This one I give to you with pleasure."

I looked up, shielding my eyes from the rain. "What did he do?"

"He broke our laws. The most serious ones. And then laid traps in his cave, daring us to come after him. If we had, many may have been wounded. Your help this night was appreciated."

I looked up at the panting Red-Stripe. There were deep gouges on his shins and shell, and one hole dripping a stream of blue out his side. "If you had waited, we could have wounded him more," I said. "Maybe enough to capture him alive."

Red-Stripe tapped the severed skull with his blue-bloodied claw, hard. "Bad ideas are like a plague. I did not want what was in here to spread throughout our clan."

"Sometimes I wish I could do the same," I said, packing the head into a carry bag.

***

Immortal Squad was pissed that we got more skulls than them, even on our 'training' missions. And it didn't help that I gave their First Lieutenant Hector a wink as I hung the skull in the cafeteria myself. It was the first one we had really helped kill, and the first one that deserved it. And it was the biggest one hanging.

The Immortals took a human pilot on their next patrol and deviated from their flightpath, catching two spiders in partial cover. Then they pulled our trick, firing rifles and shoulder-rockets from the helo as they followed the prey. Yellow-Sun and White-Sort-of-Boobs were hit by shrapnel but managed to duck into a cave system before taking any other damage. Needless to say, this caused a little friction with Red-Stripe before our next mission.

Which was unfortunate, because the next mission required we lay motionless for six straight hours next to each other.

"Why can you not control your warriors as we control ours?" Red-Stripe demanded in my head as the blowing snow continued to land on my cheek and melt. "Are they not of your clan?"

"Yes, we're the same clan," I breathed, still staring down the scope of my sniper rifle. "We're different squads- look, it's complicated." I was trying to keep my crosshairs pointed at a narrow gap between two snow-covered rocks 500 yards away, and his tone wasn't helping.

"Do you wish us to go to war with these other 'squads' and wipe them out? To leave your squad in charge of your clan?"

"No!"

"No movement," Ann-Marie said, quiet but firm. "No loud thoughts."

I dared flick my eyes left to try and spot her without moving any other muscles. I knew exactly where she was but even I couldn't see her anymore. The constant blowing snow on this high mountain peak north of the valley had swirled and covered her white winter parka and drape cloth until she was invisible. Which was the entire point.

Her view of me, fifty yards to her right, would be the same. Wearing a white snow-suit, holding a white weapon, draped in white cloth and partially covered in white snow, I should be damn near undetectable to anyone or anything that looked my way. Except that the thing we were hunting could also sense our thoughts.

It could hear our brain's commands to our muscles if we moved forcefully enough. Or even thought of something emotional enough, Red-Stripe had said. And it might be damn near invisible itself. Sniper school hadn't really prepared us for this.

We had arrived in the cover of night and set up on the ridge which overlooked the outpost Red-Stripe's clan had constructed years ago. We had dug in and covered ourselves in the pitch blackness, two rifles pointing at the one spot where anything walking to the outpost would be silhouetted against the dark blue sky for one vital moment. And then we waited. Just waited.

Because this prey had never been seen, not by any living spider. Last year, the spiders manning this outpost had been killed off one at a time over a month, none of them even able to send a clear picture of what they had been fighting before they died. And before all communication stopped, the last spider left alive had only sent one terrified thought back to Red-Stripe's clan: 'White Thought Eater'.

So we knew it was white. And could kill Hell-Spiders almost instantly. And could sense our thoughts from probably a mile away. And that we should try to stay calm.

I took a deep breath. Calm.

"How come Zaz and I have to be buried six feet deep while you guys get to lay around topside?" Juan demanded.

"Because they don't make snow suits for Heavies," I said, calmly.

"Then why are we even here?"

I tightened my finger on the trigger. "Because we're playing this one safe. And now you're not allowed to talk for 30 minutes."

I got two minutes of blissful silence.

"Forrest, you could even tell us which of your superiors needed killing for your squad to gain control."

"At least let him kill Oakley," Zaz chimed in.

"Shut up Red-Stripe. Shut up Zaz. 30 minutes for you too. That's an order."

***

Twenty minutes later: "Five more minutes and we're switching places."

"Shut up, Juan."

"If he is talking, I need to address balancing the scales for Yellow-Sun."

I exhaled while still staring through my scope. "We've agreed to kill something even your clan is afraid of. That's balance enough."

"We are not afraid. We are being cautious, just like your General Lee at Gettysburg."

"And what happened to him?" the Iranian added.

"Shut up, Zaz. Shut up, Red-Stripe. 30 more minutes. Order."

I got my silence.

***

Then: "Seriously. I'm getting claustrophobic down here."

"Pee on the snow walls around you," Zaz said. "That will expand them."

"Some hunters are discussing sneaking onto your base to injure those that injured Yellow-Sun. I am leaning towards allowing them."

"No one's sneaking onto our base. No one is peeing on the snow, and we're not moving until-"

"Contact," Ann-Marie whispered, shutting us all up.

I pressed my tired eye to the scope again. There was a white silhouette moving behind the rocks, heading towards the gap. We could see about two inches of it above the rocks. It would be at the gap in seconds.

I settled my finger on the trigger and pulled it back to the decision point. "Prepare to engage. Inhale."

I heard Butcher take air in.

We exhaled together.

And then it hit the gap. For one moment, the White Thought Eater stood silhouetted perfectly against the blue sky. It stood on two legs, had two arms, a head, and was covered in white fur. It was a god-damned yeti.

It may have had a face, but the pure white fur covered its body so completely and so perfectly, blending white into white into snow into ground that I couldn't see any features on it at all. Anywhere. Not even its muscle tone, and I could count the snowflakes falling on it through my scope. But just from its size- it was larger than three polar bears combined- I knew that, at this distance, even a sniper rifle bullet to the head wouldn't be able take this thing down.

Which is why we had brought the .50-cals instead.

Ann-Marie and I pulled our triggers simultaneously and I watched the yeti's chest explode right where my crosshairs were. Literally explode, half of its massive torso shredding as the armor-piercing, anti-vehicle round hit it. Butcher's bullet took out the other side. One second there was a yeti, the next, a pair of hairy legs standing in the middle of a blue blood fountain. Then the legs fell over.

"That's a kill!" I yelled. "Confirmed!"

Juan and Zazlu hooted as I gave a victory swing of my scope around the still falling body parts.

I saw a white shadow leap the gap in the rocks towards us and then disappear.

"There's a second one!"

"You have been spotted!" Red-Stripe said. "Run!"

"No, wait-" I swung my scope across the snow-covered valley that separated us from the outpost. I couldn't even see the footprints this thing was making. "It can't just disappear! That's impossible!"

"It is coming for you! Run!"

Fuck, this was going to hurt.

"Evacuate!" I yelled to Juan and Zaz. "Evacuate!" And then the hand of God jerked me backwards.

The two Heavies burst from where we had buried them in the snow, sprinting downhill full speed away from the outpost. The cords from their frames to the harnesses Butcher and I wore around our chests pulled us after them like dog sleds. Like little human-sized dog sleds being pulled by two-ton nuclear-powered dogs.

Luckily the snow was soft and deep, but so is water, and this was just as much fun as falling off your water skis and being pulled behind a speedboat for a mile. I looked left to check on Butcher and she was bouncing around like a rag-doll behind Juan's sprinting Heavy but still tried to raise her rifle and draw a bead on the second yeti. I tried too, but I could barely see past the snow spray we were kicking up to target anything, much less an invisible monster.

"Split! Go to fall back positions!" I yelled, and Zazlu started peeling right while Juan peeled left. First a little, and then more until they were pulling directly away from each other. I could look straight and see Ann-Marie being pulled backwards up her side of the valley just like I was, to our fall back positions against opposing rock walls.

As soon as the heavy stopped I unhooked the harness and dropped into a shooter's stance laying forward, trying to clear my spinning head. I made one pass, then a second over the hill we had just come down, looking for the monster that was hunting us, and then aimed my rifle at the target we had agreed on. At Ann-Marie.

We had spray painted rings of black circles around each fall back position last night. If we were going to fight a camouflaged enemy, at least we'd make him cross some black lines to get to us so we could see him. So the opposing sniper could hopefully shoot him before he killed the other one. Yes, I understood the irony of waiting at the center of a huge bull's eye with a sniper's rifle, but I lowered my eye to the scope and targeted Butcher.

Zazlu stood across my body, flamethrowers and Gatling gun at the ready, but I could hear him swinging the Heavy's arms side to side, trying to find anything to target. He couldn't really see the black painted lines from his vantage point, only Ann-Marie could. As I could see hers.

Through the scope, I could see her brush her short sandy-blond hair from her eyes before she laid into the scope again, see her breath cloud as she panted.

"I got you, Butcher," I said. "We've got this."

"Yes sir," she said, and I saw her mouth move as she said it.

And then we waited again. Only seconds this time, but they were long seconds. I watched Butcher through my crosshairs and she watched me.

Fuck- how many green lights did I have? We were so far north, we had gone down to just two lights on the flight here, and then we had covered the lights at night to not give us away. I could be down to no signal!

I felt a brief moment of panic. Would I rather the yeti go for Butcher instead of me? No, that was my fear talking, and I pushed the thought away. But it came roaring back the moment I saw Ann-Marie frown and pull her trigger.

Twenty feet from me a sprinting yeti roared as his leg was hit below the knee. Blue blood splashed in front of me but he still kept coming, a white shadow driving down his massive arm to aim for my head. Butcher had missed the kill shot.

Zazlu threw his Heavy in front of my death again and the yeti howled as his fist bounced off the titanium frame. And even as I sensed him raise his other arm, I still could barely see the blank white furry thing which was going to kill me.

Red-Stripe burst up out of the snow like Jaws taking a swimming co-ed and stabbed his razor claw up into yeti's the plunging arm, holding him silhouetted up against the rocky background for a one breath. And then Butcher blew its chest open.

Red-Stripe stabbed the yeti in the spine as it was falling and then the thing was finally dead.

We all just sat and panted for a few seconds.

"I sense no more," the spider said. "Only two Thought Eaters made this outpost their home."

Zazlu lifted his heavy off of where it had mashed me into the snow and asked, "How did you know to tunnel to this side instead of the other?"

Red-Stripe pointed at me. "His thoughts of fear and panic were much louder than the Butcher's."

"Thanks," I coughed, standing up. "I think." Every muscle in my back and legs ached from the sled ride. My eye burned from the strain of staring through the scope for hours and my hands were shaking with excess adrenaline.

"What did you call this method of hunting- sniping?" Red-Stripe asked, cleaning his bloody claws in the snow. "I enjoy it. It is exciting."

***

Jinx picked us up a few hours later. Enough time to collect eight frozen and mostly non-eaten skulls from the outpost and to skin the two White Thought Eaters for their pelts. When Butcher held a pelt up in front of her, she disappeared into the snowy background like she wasn't there.

"This is insane," Juan said, staring at it. "It's like a cloaking device!"

"Or black magic," Zaz added. "Maybe it is a psychic effect?"

"The Eater may add to the prey's confusion while alive, casting its thoughts out, but certainly not now, after death," Red-Stripe said, getting into the helicopter first and pulling himself into a tight ball.

"Either way, we're keeping them," I said, securing Juan's heavy to one skid and Zaz to the other. With the spider, eight skulls, Butcher, me, and our gear in the chopper it was a cozy fit, but we managed.

"This is what the Trojan Horse must have been like, yes?" Red-Stripe said after a few minutes.

"I'm going to stop teaching you stuff," I grumbled, but soon was chuckling with the others.

And I broke my promise almost right away. On the long flight back, we reminisced about the near-disaster on the left flank during the boazelle hunt, and Red-Stripe admitted that was where they usually put their weakest or youngest hunters. So I had to tell him about Epaminondas overturning 200 years of Greek history by putting his strongest fighters on the left side instead of the right, to break the back of the mighty Spartan army.

Which led to us discussing Epaminondas' campaign against Sparta itself, which of course lead to talking about Sherman's March to the Sea, which led to us explaining the German Blitzkrieg as Jinx was finally landing the helo inside the spider village itself.

"You know, our race has a lot of other famous history besides war," I said, swinging onto the ground and unhooking Juan and Zaz. "The invention of Jazz. Pizza. The Moon Landing."

The large spider scooted sideways until he could unfurl his legs and step out of the helicopter. "The military history interests me the most, Lieutenant Forrest. I am already telling the other hunters about the Blitzkrieg as we speak. I may ask for more details later."

"Very well," I sighed.

Ann-Marie came up to me, sweating as she peeled off her snow-suit. "Leave our winter gear here, sir?"

Sneaking the .50 cals and snowsuits out of the armory had been tough. But sneaking them back IN, into the right crates, in seemingly unused condition, would be much tougher. My joints already ached from being dragged behind the Heavy. All I needed was for Hughes to catch us and run us to the farm tonight.

"Yeah," I said. "Add them to the stockpile."

We had started leaving equipment at the spider village, stuff we couldn't be seen stepping off a helo with. A cargo net with tree-monkey teeth marks on it. Trash can lids we had used as cymbals to drive boazelles in front of us. And now snow suits and winter weapons. I also ordered Zaz to add ten assault rifles, 5000 rounds of ammo, ten shoulder-fired missiles, med-kits, boxes of grenades and a week's supply of field rations for 10 humans. We didn't need any of that for our normal missions, but I just had this feeling.

I stripped out of my snowsuit and into standard fatigues right out in the open. It's not like the spiders cared. Ann-Marie had Juan put his Heavy in between us and her, and she came out the other side buttoning up.

I turned to Red-Stripe, who was being attended by his two wives. "So there's not any more of those yetis, right? Just like the river snake?"

"It is not known. They must live in the snow areas, but we only created the outpost last year."

Okay, that begged the obvious question. "So, what was the point of that outpost again?"

"Over that mountain ridge, there is another wet valley. Another vast stretch of hunting grounds. The Northern spider clan, ruled by just one alpha male and his thugs."

Ah. "And so you placed hunters there to watch them."

"Yes. And now we can return to the outpost, to make sure they do not approach us. I may even send twenty hunters, to perform a 'March to the Sea' as Sherman did. The other clan is spread thinly. Portions of them can be easily cut off from their hunting grounds, weakening them. A strong push may cause a revolt against their leader." Red-Stripe looked thoughtful. "We may even do a Blitzkrieg."

Oh fuck, what had I done? Would my teachings tip some delicate Spider balance and lead to a horrible, destructive- ahhhhh, whatever. I had enough responsibility keeping base politics straight; I didn't have time to worry about spider politics, too. Red-Stripe was an adult. Better to just focus on the opportunities.

"So you're saying there won't be any hunting parties crossing the valley for a while?"

"Correct. It will take many days to march our hunters north over the mountain and Blitzkrieg the neighboring clan."

I smiled. "Perfect."

***

The kneeling farmers fired their rifles freely at the line of trees we had marked with paint, most of them hitting home. They were definitely getting better. Zazlu and Juan paced around the edges of the firing line, flamethrowers at the ready. We knew there wouldn't be any Hell-Spiders around but we didn't need an ambitious lightning snake or boazelle harshing our buzz. Ann-Marie walked along behind the firing line, giving tips to those still missing the tree trunks at a hundred yards. I stood even further back with Tornier, both our rifles slung low.

I nodded at the firing line. "Sure you don't want to join them? We won't get another chance like this for a while."

"I think I'm good enough with this by now," he said, patting his rifle, then spitting. "Used it the other day to pick off one of those tree-monkeys that was trying to climb over the fence. Had a big, sharp nasty stinger just like you said it would. Didn't want it getting around the kids. How come only your squad seems to know about all the animals on this deadly planet?"

I smirked. "We had a good teacher."

"And how come only your squad is the only one who's teaching us how to survive here? Helping train us how to defend ourselves?"

"Because we're the only squad that doesn't want to be here forever."

Tornier looked at me up and down with his sun-squinted eyes, then nodded. "Fair enough." He spat again.

"How are your crops coming along?"

Tornier shrugged. "The wheat died right away, but we figured it would, being so wet. Same with tomatoes. But the New Zealand spinach is taking. That'll grow in anything. And the local pests won't touch it, just like back home. So we may have something there. Jury's still out on corn."

"That's good," I said. "We can't bring all our food through the gate forever."

We watched the farmers fire away at the trees for another few seconds, then Tornier said, "Thanks again for doing this. I just hope it doesn't get you guys in trouble."

"Jinx hid our flight path pretty well after we picked you up. There are a thousand lies I can give for why we landed in the farmland first. We should be ok-."

"Lieutenant Jonah FORREST," a voice blared inside my head. Clearer than a Spider- what the hell? Then I recognized it. Oakley. The emergency channel. The implants. "Report to my office at once."

All of the squad were holding their ears and looking at me as the message started again.

"Lieutenant Jonah-"

"Yes, I'm here!" I said, grabbing for my mike. "Message received! I'm pulling my entire squad back at once! Forrest out."

I covered my mike as Ann-Marie walked over, still rubbing her ears. "I hope that doesn't become a regular thing," she said, covering her mike as well.

I nodded. Had that been Oakley, or a recording? Had he heard our conversation? How much? What if he just started listening in at random intervals? We had fooled Hughes for one mission but couldn't play that game all the time. This boded poorly.

***

Jinx dropped the farmers off in their field then landed on the flightline, next to four shiny, brand new Apache attack helicopters. Literally shiny, because the crews were hand-washing them clean with soapy sponges and buckets. Because that mattered.

We stepped off our dusty, dented, mud-covered helicopter and walked up to the new ones. There was a six-barreled, heavy caliber chain gun sticking out the nose, made for piercing the armor of battle tanks and exploding them from the inside. Each helicopter had two stubby wings near its middle, and under each wing there were two pods holding sixteen shiny missiles each.

"Probably even heat-seeking," Zazlu said next to me.

I nodded. Just one of these choppers could wipe out Red-Stripe's entire village or the river snake in just one pass. And now we had four of them.

"Take them in, Zaz," I sighed. "I've got to go report to Oakley."

***

Oakley had a cute administration private in a decidedly shorter-than-regulation dress skirt as his receptionist and two BlackShirts with auto-shotguns as security. I got a cheerful smile from the busty receptionist and scowls from the burly BlackShirts as I was buzzed in. I wondered whose pictures Oakley had spent more time looking over in the privacy of his office before hiring.

The inner office had a large executive desk and a thousand stupid awards and pictures of things that didn't mean a damn on this planet. There were pictures of Oakley meeting all sorts of brass at the Pentagon, politicians at the UN, and for some reason, him standing behind a Little League team. There was also a larger-than-necessary color picture of Oakley pinning the private's rank on the exact same smiling receptionist that sat three feet outside his door. That answered that question.

The people inside were equally ornamental. Oakley sat behind his desk, dress uniform immaculate as always, Hughes stood behind and to Oakley's right in his always-ready-to-run PT gear, and there was some bureaucrat I had never seen before in a pressed, tailored suit on the couch against the wall.

A bureaucrat in clothes that were actually stylish? And his shoes were too expensive for middle management but well broken in without showing any signs of wear. Weird.

I also realized that, for all the show of security outside, the Colt .45 on my hip was the only weapon in the room.

I snapped to attention in front of Oakley's desk. "General, sir!"

"Come right from the field, Lieutenant?"

"Yes sir."

"Try to take a minute to wipe your feet next time."

I followed his gaze behind me and saw the small trail of dirt I had tracked onto his carpet. Carpet? Did everyone on base have that except for us?

"Yes sir."

"At ease. Sit."

I did. Hughes was giving me a rude smirk and the bureaucrat was ignoring me entirely, reading something on the digital pad resting on his crossed legs.

"Let's get the silly stuff out of the way first," Oakley said, pushing some forms at me. "I hereby award you the golden cross with oak clusters, for meritorious service in action against the enemy on Angie's Star II. With regards from a grateful planet, et cetera, et cetera."

I took the printed piece of paper. It had a picture of the medal on it above my name and barcode number.

"This, of course, is for your efforts in clearing valley 1X5J," he said, putting the folder away.

Oh shit. "They gave me a MEDAL for that?"

"Yes. And for the other squad leaders as well. We held their official awards ceremony in the cafeteria an hour ago. All First Lieutenants and their seconds will receive a bump in pay grade and a permanent mention in their service records. All enlisted will receive the mention and elevated consideration for OCS."

Double shit. None of those other fools had learned anything worth promoting from their time in the valley. Which we only cleared because I could do a good Flores impression. How far was this one little lie going to ripple out?

As that idea swam through my head, I became aware that the bureaucrat was looking intently at me. As if my face was giving away all my thoughts. Oakley couldn't read me worth a damn, but some desk humper from Earth could? Who was this guy?

"But more importantly, Lieutenant," Oakley said, drawing my eye back to him, "the issue today is what to do about the actions of Infinity Squad since First Lieutenant Ridley was killed in the field."

I stiffened. "Our actions since then should speak for themselves, sir."

Oakley grimaced. "Yes, let's see. 135 reported Hell-Spider contacts, 15 firefights, 41 reported kills and 23 skulls collected. A markedly different pace than your 0 contacts, 0 firefights, 0 reported kills record of the previous month."

He looked at another sheet of paper. I saw a flash of charts and tables, expertly prepared. "Over the same time period, all other squads have reported a 15 to 100 percent decrease in contacts, firefights and kills, and yet we have cleared a huge swath of territory ahead of schedule. A combination of numbers that some have told me is statistically impossible."

It was quick, but I caught it- Oakley had wanted to look at the bureaucrat as he had said that last line, but he had forced himself not to. But he had shaded his body towards the man. The source of the statistics.

Without being obvious I looked him over again. He was extremely clean cut. His jet black hair was trimmed so neatly I could imagine each hair being cut by hand. He wore wire-rim glasses, precise and sharp. He looked to be of Spanish descent, old world from Spain, not south of the border like Juan.

So he was good with numbers? But from his wiry body and the alert but relaxed way he sat, I couldn't imagine the bureaucrat spending hours and hours behind a desk. Who was this guy?

"So how do you explain that, Lieutenant?" Oakley asked me.

From the scowl on his face I knew this wasn't the time to be flippant. So I scrolled though my dialogue options and choose the least sassy one.

"Michael Jordan won six NBA championships in 8 years. Some would have called that statistically impossible too."

Hughes almost choked. "You're comparing your sack of weak-kneed, useless misfits to Mic-"

"Easy, Sergeant Major," the General chuckled, then gave me that stupid cocky grin of his. "Well, Lieutenant, we're going to give you the chance to prove it. From now on, every time you take Infinity Squad members outside the security fence, you will take an equal number of officers and soldiers from one of the other squads. You are going to teach your magic secrets to all the rest of us."

I felt my armpits start to sweat.

It was going to be impossible- impossible\- to operate as we had been with Immortal goons breathing down our backs. Or Omegas or Second Chancers. Even if the spiders talked only to us. We wouldn't be able to get away with ANYTHING.

A gravelly voice interrupted my thoughts. "Group of Trees."

Not now, Three-Spot!

"They have begun to poison me. I sensed it in the one who brought this food into my cell."

So don't eat it!

"Very well."

"Nothing to say, Lieutenant?" Hughes said, his bald, black head wrinkling as he showed me his teeth. "I guess you approve of my plan?"

I addressed my answer to Oakley. "One, we're not taking those Apaches on patrol- they make more noise than God. And two, out in the field, I'm king. The other squads do what I say when I say it or I shoot them and they wake up back in the res tanks."

The General blinked at me. "This is not a negotiation Lieutenant. You will teach the other squads to bring back as many skulls as you do or I will extend your entire squad's combat tour on this planet indefinitely!"

I pounded my finger down on his desk. "If you change our tactics now I guarantee you we won't bring back any skulls. Nor will anyone else. For a long time."

The bluff hung in the air. I stayed silent and motionless with my finger on the desk, and then Oakley bit. I saw him shade toward the visitor again, almost trembling as he fought not to look at him.

"Very well. No Apaches- for now. And you lead the patrols. I'll have the order sent to the squad leaders. But TacOps will choose your patrol areas and you will leave first thing tomorrow morning. And you will bring me back ten skulls or there will be hell to pay! Dismissed. Now get the fuck out of my office."

I stood up and left, wondering how I was ever going to fix this, to keep Oakley and Red-Stripe happy while hiding the evidence of crimes that would get me sent away for twenty years. Every plan we had made for the last month was in tatters.

And the bureaucrat hadn't even said a word.

***
Chapter Ten

We were fucked, we knew that. The question was, how fucked. That's what Zazlu, Butcher and I were trying to work out at a table in the back of our barracks. Steve was up front teaching the privates how to treat symptoms of a concussion, keeping them busy.

"If we choose just the right people from Omega Squad," Zazlu was saying in a low voice, "we can bribe enough to turn the others. And then a few missions later-"

"Oakley won't let us choose," Butcher said. "And just one leak is all it takes. We need to play it straight from here on out."

Zazlu held up a finger. "Or start working on removing Oakley himself. My sources say his position is becoming unsecure with the politicians."

"And my sources say that he's more desperate than ever," Butcher shot back. "So we need to stay off his radar even more than before."

"Guys guys guys," I said, raising my voice. "No arguing in front of the kids. What's up, Grimstone?"

The young tech private had been edging closer to our group for the last ten seconds, coming up behind Butcher and Zaz. I had been watching, as a good First Lieutenant should.

Grimstone had a troubled look on his face. "Well, I just wanted to tell you guys, I've been trying to jam headband signals to prove how Ridley died, like you asked me to."

"Is that what I asked you to do?" I asked with a smirk. "It seems so long ago, I'd forgotten."

Grimstone fidgeted. "Something like that. Anyway, it worked."

We sat up in our chairs.

"What do you mean, 'worked'?" Ann-Marie demanded.

"I can jam the base receivers for short enough times that no one notices, but long enough to prevent a good transfer. But when I did that, I noticed Ridley's band was still getting signal from somewhere."

My heartbeat spiked. "Another set of res tanks?"

Rex nodded, and pointed straight up. "The orbiting station."

I looked at Butcher. "When does the next shuttle leave?"

"An hour and a half."

I stood up. "Grimstone, you're with me. Let's go."

***

The orbital shuttle was the triangular wedge that screamed up and away from the flightline every few days as the base needed more clones or as the space station needed more toilet paper. It turned out to be surprisingly easy to hitch a ride on it, although this security was better than the one around Oakley's office and did make us surrender our sidearms.

I tried to ignore the empty feeling on my hip as acceleration crushed Grimstone and I into soft passenger couches. and the sky outside went from blue to white to black. With the semi-fusion engines the pilot could have taken us up as slowly as an airplane, but I guess this was as exciting to him as a milk run and he wanted it over fast. We got less than a minute of seeing the magnificent blue disk of Angie's Star II laid out below us before the shuttle turned and our windows only showed black space.

"Someday soon we're going to take this run for real," I told Grimstone. "You in that body, me in this one. Our tour will be over and we'll be headed for a wormgate transport, going back to Earth."

"One can hope," he replied.

"Trust me," I said. "I'm your First Lieutenant."

We started our docking approach to the station a few minutes later. We helped the pilot unload his cargo of fresh fruit and croissants to pay for our trip. It wasn't so bad, especially since it let us play in zero-G.

"Croissants," I laughed, doing a corkscrew twist as I pushed the marked crate before me. "What is it with people and croissants around here?"

"They are a light any-time snack," Grimmy replied, floating backwards and pulling a crate of strawberries with him.

We finished the unloading quickly, but the loading of clones to take back planetside had to be done without unhooking any of their medical tubes and was just a tad creepy, like moving warm dead bodies. Who all looked like me. We let the professionals handle it and toured the station.

It wasn't really a space station, just a modified transport which had come through the wormgate early during the war and been left in a parking orbit. Every wall was metal which wouldn't have been so weird if just one of them looked like a floor. But no, every wall was a wall and the writing pointed in three directions so up was a matter of opinion.

It seemed like about 25 people manned the station, but the volume could have held twenty times that. Most of the station was dedicated to growing clones in these creepy goop-filled vats, but in one huge room with again no damned direction of up, Grimmy and I came across 100 zero-G res tanks on standby with 100 fully grown versions of me waiting in them.

"I'd heard about other colonies doing something like this," Grimstone whispered as we floated and looked at the mass of tanks. Whispering seemed appropriate. These were three times as many tanks as we had planetside, not constantly cared for under cheerful lighting like Doc Murphy did, but stuffed in the dark, waiting and dusty. Like a mass grave waiting to be discovered.

My throat started going dry. "Why?"

"It's an insurance policy. Probably put in place after what happened at Coverstone. They want to make sure someone from the colony survives, no matter what."

I looked over the sealed tanks with their sleeping passengers. "A lifeboat."

Grimmy nodded.

"Check the records for Ridley."

"I don't have the auth-"

"Check 'em."

***

Grimstone started pulling electronics from his backpack, but instead of hooking it to the terminals in the room, he hooked the equipment to parts of Ridley's dissected buffering band and his own. Then he went into a geek trance.

"Well?" I demanded, after five minutes of keeping lookout down the hallway.

He was shaking his head. "It's confusing."

"Unconfuse it."

"Ridley's band did get a ping from another address in the few hours before he died, but it wasn't this one. 25734 is the base. 00911 is this room."

"Cute."

He shrugged. "What else would you call a lifeboat? Our bands switched over when the shuttle got close enough. But this other address from Ridley's band is... 7A21G."

Now my heart started racing again.

"Another ship in orbit?"

He gulped. "Possibly."

"Can you tell if he resurrected there?"

"No record of that. It was just a ping, a few hours before he died."

"A test?"

"I don't know."

"Keep looking."

***

I cornered one of the station doctors in their kitchen and over the course of fifteen minutes, gently extracted the information that they hadn't had a single resurrection on board the station yet. I didn't sense that he was lying and kept my interest casual the whole time. When the announcement for the shuttle departure was made, I said goodbye and reluctantly started floating back toward the docking bay.

Where an encounter robot was waiting.

When had the Benefactors come back in to the system? Or had they never left? No, we would have heard about that.

I was going to respectfully pass right by but then the robot reached forward to access the wall panel and the entire wall opened into a huge glass window looking down at the planet.

"I... didn't know they did that," I whispered, not able to look away from the view of blue oceans, white clouds and green land below. The window was crystal clear and stretched almost from wall to wall. It was glorious.

"Many do not. This one does," the robot said, staring out at the planet just like me. "We do not have such direct viewing ports on our ships. All our information is...filtered."

It wasn't an inflection, but just the hint of an inflection trying to make itself known in the robot's voice. But it was something. I moved to float next to him and we looked out at the planet together in silence.

I pushed all my courage into a hard firm ball and asked, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"It is."

I waited thirty seconds for anything else, then asked, "Is this why you came to the station?"

The robot's head and camera eyes turned to face me. "Why did you come, Lieutenant Jonah Forrest?"

My stomach started tumbling, and not just from the zero-G. "You recognize me?"

"You gave me a most informative report to read about your patrol."

"Oh, yeah, the..." Lightning snake mission, I almost said, but caught myself. "...day in front of the gate. Our first Hell-Spider kills."

"Yes. Your later patrols have been going just as well?"

I swallowed. I had to force myself to remember that this wasn't really a robot, but just a remote control toy being operated remotely by a real living being, tens or thousands of miles away. A living being able to catch lies if I told them poorly. A living thing whose species had the power to starve every human on the planet.

"Very well."

"Excellent. I would like to read your other reports sometime."

"Why?"

"Your reports would provide an unfiltered viewpoint. So we can assure that this war is being conducted humanely. Without nuclear-based weapons, replicating nanotechnology or war machines capable of wide-scale destruction."

I looked the robot in its camera sockets. "How wide-scale are we talking?"

It tilted its head at me. "You have something to tell us?"

"If you come down to the pla-"

Grimstone rushed through to the shuttle dock then, blushing like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"What did you find?" I demanded as he flew by.

"Nothing! Let's just go home!" he said, flying right into the shuttle and strapping himself into a seat. "It was nothing!"

I shook my head then turned back to the bot. "Come down to the planet. I've got something to show you."

***

The bot wheeled and panned its camera head all around the Apache attack helicopter, spending extra time at the missile pods and the sixteen shiny warheads poking out the front of each. It didn't ask questions and I just let it keep examining.

"Yes. It is good you showed me this. A machine of this destructive scope is of great concern here."

"But all the other killing we're doing is fine? Artillery, grenades, flamethrowers, that's all okay?"

The robot rose to its full height and suddenly I regretted the sarcasm in my tone. But something didn't add up.

"Intelligent species meeting through the wormgates will always come into conflict, eventually," the Encounter bot told me. "As keepers of the gates, our responsibility is to see that the collateral damage from such conflicts is minimized."

I nodded at the attack helos. "So you'll prevent their use?"

"I will take this information back to our committee. They will decide and may discuss the matter with your commanding officer."

Great. They would send Oakley a strongly worded letter. After a committee met. Space UN wasn't any better than human UN.

"Do not worry, First Lieutenant Jonah Forrest. You have taken the correct action."

As the robot started wheeling away, I said, "And what do I call you? In case I need to pick you out of a crowd of Benefactors?"

It turned to me. "You may call me Envoy Number 2," it said, then returned to its sleeker, curvier alien shuttle.

I watched that ship take off making a tenth of the noise our shuttles did and wondered to myself. Envoy Number 2 had said 'collateral damage'.

Now where did a nice alien like him pick up a nasty human buzzword like that?

***

I ran into Doc Murphy on the way back. Okay, I swung by the res tanks then the cafeteria and finally knocked on her door but it was still on the way.

"Got something for you, Doc," I said, giving her the results of our amygdala testing. The only person with more deaths than myself I had been able to test without arousing suspicion was Lesko from the Immortals, who had now gotten up to eight resurrections. "I hope it's enough."

"It would be better if we had more data," she said, tucking her red hair behind her ear in a way that I could write poems about.

"Sorry. That's all I've got."

"Is this because they shut off access to the Spider? This has something to do with him, doesn't it?"

"What? Shut off how? Look, Doc, I gotta go."

"You're always saying that," I think I heard her sigh under her breath as I hurried away.

***

Three-Spot was indeed shut off. Two BlackShirts waited in front of the Holding Room door, scowling at everyone who passed by.

"What's going on?" I asked one. "You expecting him to escape?"

He got scowlier. "If you're not a scientist, piss off!"

"Whatever. Sorry you're on the rag today."

Did I mention I hated MPs? I strolled around the corner of the hall and leaned against it, calming my mind.

Three-Spot, how are you doing in there?

The answer took a while to come, and was muddy. "They are still trying to make me eat the poisoned food."

Well don't!

"It is cold in here. And getting colder."

We'll try and sneak you some chili from dinner tonight.

"Could you not come yourself? I will be discreet..."

Is this just a trick to let you eat me again?

"No, Group of Trees. It is very cold in here. I will require much food."

But you can hold off another day or two, right?

"Is this balancing the scales for something my clan did?"

No- just give us a few days!

"I will try."

His voice was already fading in my head as I hurried back to barracks.

***

The vote was evenly split.

"There's nothing we can do without revealing our whole operation," Ann-Marie whispered, frowning over the table in near dark. "We have to leave him."

"Four soldiers. All unmarked clones," Zazlu whispered back. "Halon to take out the BlackShirts. I can make the gate guard look the other way at midnight."

"Yeah, let's bust him out!" Juan hissed.

"Privates can't vote," I said, then started pacing again. One of my Lieutenants was saying yes, one no. "Whose key phrases do we have? Any scientists?"

Butcher shook her head. "Flores, a hangar tech, the new assistant quartermaster and one of the women in the secretary pool who's not a clone yet."

I turned to Zaz. "Any scientists good customers of yours?"

"A few buy a steady cocaine stream. I sell their chemical equipment to other squads running stills. We can influence them, but not enough to overturn Oakley's orders." Zazlu made a fist. Which is why we have to use force."

"We can't. Oakley ordered us to go on our first joint mission with the Immortals tomorrow morning. We don't have time to plan and rest up for that..." I sighed. "We have to leave him."

"Fuck Oakley," Zazlu said. "We put off tomorrow's patrols. We take the night to plan and-"

"No. We leave him. For now."

I broke up the War Council but Zazlu still came up to me in the dark, the tension obvious in his body.

"This isn't right. We can't let Oakley have his way with Three-Spot."

"I know, Zaz, but there's nothing we can do-"

"Nothing legal we can do."

"Not even anything in the gray zone we can do," I countered. "You're talking about outright mutiny. We couldn't cover that up. They'd overturn this entire base trying to figure out what happened."

"Our honor as a squad demands that-"

"As the leader of this squad I demand that none of my men get the firing squad for mutiny! I've let you nibble around the edges of the rules, but this is too far. No."

I could almost see his tense, Iranian frown in the emergency lighting. "My nibbling has kept this squad together. Just make sure your love of following Oakley's orders doesn't break it. This is a mistake. Sir."

And that's how we left it.

***

SMaj Hughes barged into our barracks at five the next morning ringing his cowbell and yelling "Ready for patrol you lazy fuc-"

I turned on the lights to show that Zazlu, Juan, Butcher and I were already in full battle gear, having already gotten body armor and rifles from the armory. Ann-Marie had even drawn those cute black lines under her eyes.

"Of course we are," I said, walking out as Hughes' jaw dropped. "We were waiting for you."

"Maybe he stopped for coffee," Zazlu said, right behind me.

"Some folks need it in the morning," Butcher added as she followed Zaz out.

"Where's your rifle, sir?" Juan asked as he passed Hughes and shut the lights off on the still sleeping privates.

I loved my squad.

***

"Just four of you?" Flores sneered, looking up from the square Master Map table. "Most of the Immortals are coming."

The ten clones with murder in their eyes lined the other side of TacOps. They had only been half ready when we and Hughes had gotten to their barracks, and Hughes had let them hear it all the way here.

I shrugged. "I guess each Infinity is worth two Immortals."

"Two and a half," Zazlu said.

"Sorry, two and a half," I corrected with a smile. "Forgot about the exchange rate."

"Less people means less noise," Butcher added right before Hector was going to curse at me. "Less noise means more sneaking which means more spiders."

Even though we had disagreed last night, everyone was pulling together now to play their roles. Zazlu and I were antagonizing the Immortals to throw off their game and Butcher was the calm voice to make their outbursts seem silly. We were playing it loose and flippant like this was just another patrol even though I had no idea what would happen. And I wasn't going to give some nameless bureaucrat standing near the back wall the satisfaction of seeing me panic.

He looked like he had gotten up even earlier than us. And gone to the salon. He was shaved, his hair and suit perfect and he looked rested, well fed and alert. The bastard. Maybe he never slept, just plugged into the wall every eight hours.

Even Flores now gave the bureaucrat a worried look before continuing. "Well, don't use your low numbers as an excuse for not getting any kills. A lot is riding on this patrol."

Did the bureaucrat have something on Flores too? Who the hell was this guy- evil Santa?

"We're sending you south and west of the valley," Flores continued, not looking at the suit. "To almost where the swamp starts. Ground penetrating radar shows there's an extensive cave system there, and we all know spiders live mainly in caves." He looked up, daring me to object.

I just gave him a nod. "Agreed. Go on."

"What!" Flores yelled. "What about all the god-damned webs in trees bulls-"

"Captain."

The bureaucrat had said only one word, quietly. But Flores turned ghost white, then coughed and continued.

"Okay. So. There are three separate cave systems. They each have many rooms but the three systems do not connect. Some may be flooded, some may be enemy occupied, some both. The helos will drop you here, you will approach on foot-"

"Stealthily approach," Ann-Marie said.

Flores made a face. "You will stealthily approach on foot through this path until you reach this hill, and then use your judgment on which cave system to enter first. Understand?"

I understood his plan. Ours was to have Butcher and Juan scout ahead and steer us away from any spiders. And hopefully into some boazelles or the edge of a lightning snake swarm, forcing us to retreat. And maybe we could get a spider cameo or something, from a long distance off.

Three-Spot? Red-Stripe has taken most of the hunters north, but would any be left near the swamp?

No response.

Make sure there are no women or children roaming around these caves I am picturing.

Nothing.

"Lieutenant?" Flores demanded. "Do you understand?"

I put on my best lazy, cocky grin. "Sounds like a plan."

***

I was still nervous as we got on Jinx's helo and a tech synced our implants to the same channels as the Immortals in the other two helicopters. I hated this mission- we had no good plan and literally everything could go wrong, with so many eyes and ears watching our every move. And I couldn't even discuss it with Zaz or Butcher now that the damned mikes on our collars were live.

Three-Spot didn't answer my prayers as we lifted off, and I went top to bottom through Red-Stripe's hunters as we passed over the valley but couldn't reach any of them. I knew spider-to-spider communication stretched almost as far as our radios, but maybe my mind wasn't calm enough or they were on the other side of the north mountains.

As we approached landing however, I did hear something.

"First to kill, first to die, first to hear the bullet's cry!"

"Immortal Squad! Immortal Squad!"

Hector's voice started again right after the chorus of his men. "Others build, others grow, we fight things that demons know!"

"Immortal Squad! Immortal Squad!"

Ann-Marie rolled her eyes. "Give me a fucking break."

Zazlu shrugged. "It does get the heart moving."

Hector was reaching a fever pitch. "Gods cheer us! Demons fear us! Devil Dogs won't come near us!"

Hand over my mike, I talked over ten clones repeating the chorus. "I don't know any chants. Do you guys want me to recite some Kipling to you or something?"

"Nah. That would totally kill the mood," Butcher said.

Zaz nodded. "I agree."

"What's a Kipling?"

"Shut up Juan."

"Immortal SQUAD! Immortal SQUAD! Immortal SQUAD! Immortal SQUAD!"

And then we were landing.

***

The Immortals sprinted out of their helos like they were taking Normandy. Since Butcher and I had been scanning the area with our binos as Jinx set down, I knew there were no threats beyond two boazelles which were bounding away from the noise of the helos. We stepped out leisurely.

It was hot and muggy this close to the swamps. And local noon was just a few hours away, and I could hear running water. Good lightning snake conditions. I caught Zazlu's eye and made a slithery gesture with my hand, then pantomimed eating it. He nodded, tucking his flamethrower away and pulled out his K-knife and a long, forked stick. Maybe we could take a few back for Three-Spot.

I sent Butcher and Juan bounding ahead, and with Zazlu literally beating the bushes for snakes, that left me walking, stealthily, alone with all ten Immortals. They did the standard cover-and-advance, crouching behind every rock and bush, using silent hand signs, rifles ready, for about a hundred yards, until they realized it made them look like complete tossers. Hector gave a motion with his hand and then the Immortals just walked down the path like I was.

A path? And it was the double path that spiders made. I started getting more nervous.

"Nervous?" Hector laughed.

"Indigestion," I said, patting my stomach. "It's hard to eat in the mess hall with all those skulls we put up staring at us."

"Fuck off."

"Maybe we should just knife him and say the spiders did it," Hector's Intelligence Lieutenant Samson said, drawing half his blade. "No one would know."

"Put that knife away, Samson," I said, loudly and clearly into my throat mike.

The wolf-eyed clone just grinned at me. "I bet we could probably cut his balls off before his girlfriend could skip back here to save him."

"Lieutenant Hector," Hughes' voice rang in our ears. "Civilians are listening to this channel- control your men!"

I made a face at Hector like he had just been called to the principal's office and he cursed under his breath and made a sign to his second in command. "Not now, Samson."

I winked at the sneering Samson. "Good puppy. Now follow me." Then turned and gave my back to him with much more confidence than I felt. I barely managed to keep my knees from shaking, expecting to feel the knife plunge into my back at any second.

But it didn't. And it had been the bureaucrat- undoubtedly the 'civilian' listening next to Hughes- that had saved me. Maybe he was useful after all.

***

Ann-Marie and Juan kept ranging ahead, Zazlu in the bushes to the side, and I continued forward with 10 murderous clones at my back. I didn't attempt to make small talk.

I did, however, keep calling out to any spider in Red-Stripe's clan whose name I knew.

After two miles of walking through in the hot, sticky plains, a timid little voice burst into my head. "You are Bunches of Trees?"

Yes- who is this?

"I am green-shell-two-dots. We played tag. Blue-Wave is using me to pass you a message."

Where is he?

"In our village. He is the strongest hunter left. He cannot leave. But I was chasing snakes and heard you calling his name. He has a message."

Okay. Go ahead.

"I'm going to cut off your balls one day, faggot," Samson whispered into my ear, cupping his hand over his mike. "Trust me."

I just gave his statement a goofy smile, because I was straining so hard to hear the young spider's reply. My reaction actually freaked Samson out more than his words did me, and he backed off, giving me a strange look.

"Blue-Wave says do not go into the caves."

Why not? What's in there?

"In the caves lives a... lives a..." I could feel him fumbling with the images, like a child with a limited vocabulary. "It is hard to explain."

"Sir. We've spotted the first cave system," Ann-Marie radioed. "There seems to be a-"

"Now not Butcher," I interrupted.

"What?" I heard her say as I was concentrating, very hard. What lives in those caves, Two-Spot?

"A... bad idea lives there. Do not go in. Very bad idea that will spread, Blue Wave says."

And that was all.

"Can I make my report now, sir?"

I sighed. "Go ahead, Butcher."

"The path you've been following. It bypasses the first cave system and goes to the second. Right into the second, sir."

"Then that's where we'll go," Hector said. "This trail has to be a Hell-Spider one- look at how wide apart the two footpaths are!"

I racked my brain, but there was no way I could refuse. The caves didn't connect, and my stated mission was to close with Spiders and kill them. I couldn't turn down this intelligence, not after everyone back at base had just heard it.

I sighed. "Very well. We approach the second cave system- slowly. Butcher and Juan, stay hidden and observe the entrance. Zazlu, pull close and get the thrower ready. Everyone else- fingers OFF your fucking triggers. Don't fire until I give the order or I'll cut your balls off."

***

I looked just like any other cave entrance. With a well-worn spider path leading right up to it. We had watched it for thirty minutes as the Immortals got more and more fidgety but nothing came in or out.

I had a hard time explaining to Green-Shell-Two-Spot which cave we were looking at, but after he sent it to Blue-Wave, the answer was definite. "NO! That is the worst one, Bunches of Trees! Do not go in!"

"What are we going to do, sit here and pick our ass all day?" Hector said, standing up. "Let's go."

"Sit down, Lieutenant," I said, giving him my best Look. "We'll go when I say we're ready."

I saw Hector's jaw tightening when we heard a calm, slightly Spanish-accented voice in our ears. "You are ready now, Lieutenant Forrest. We have you on satellite. Assault the cave, that is a direct order from General Oakley."

Fucking bureaucrats.

I sent Juan in first, then Samson, and gave Juan specific non-verbal instructions to throw Samson in the way of anything dangerous they saw. Anything.

We covered the entrance from the bushes, getting mobbed by flies, but after thirty seconds, Juan said, "Looks clear."

I took the rest of us in, leaving Lesko and two other Immortals at the entrance with orders to report if ANYTHING showed up. They couldn't fuck that up, right?

The entrance room was typical cave. Dark, wet, slippery. We turned on our headlamps.

"I guess we have to go in deeper," I sighed.

"That's what she-"

"Shut up Juan."

The second room was even darker and more slippery. But at least it was cooler. There was a type of seaweedy thing hanging off some parts of the ceiling. Zaz, Juan, Butcher and I gave it a wide berth as we passed, but the Immortals just brushed it away as they stepped through it.

"Everyone, keep your eyes wide open," I said as we entered the third room. "There's something not right here- I can sense it."

My guys nodded or said "Yes sir," in such away that I could tell they knew. I had just relayed a warning from the spiders.

"OOOhhh, you can sense it," Hector said, watching us creep through the room like it was haunted. "How the fuck did you posers beat us in killing spiders?" he laughed, pushing through another hanging seaweedy thing. "I bet you don't even kill them. I bet you just wait for them to die of natural causes and take their skulls."

See, the trick is to not over-react, because then they know you're guilty. The play here is to go with it.

"That's exactly what we do Hector," I said. "We talk to the spiders and they tell us where grandma eight-legs is buried, and we go dig them up and no one can tell the skulls are a year old."

"That's why the monster we hung after the monsoon was still warm to the touch and dripping blood," Zazlu added, creeping around a hanging weed. "Because we're grave robbers."

"I bet you guys hadn't ever seen a spider head that big before," Juan said.

"We've seen big enough," Samson sneered. "The wave we held off when your Lieutenant Ridley bought it would make you shit your pants."

"Bitch, I've killed shit that would eat your wave whole!"

"Juan, enough," I said. "Let's move on. And Samson's right. When we found what was left of him near Ridley's body, Samson's corpse had shit its pants."

***

We went on that way for a while, the squads sniping back and forth as we stepped through one dank, dripping cave room after another. There was a room that was knee-deep in water, then one with

five ways out of it and then a big one to the left and then a small one to the left... look, to keep it all straight, I'd have to draw you a map.

Which is exactly what Butcher was doing on the notepad strapped to her thigh. As was I, but in a less detailed way. Because I also had to keep watching for Samson behind me, how the other Immortals were acting, and keep worrying about the green lights we were losing on our buffering bands. We had started with four at the cave mouth and were now down to three.

It was somewhere in that span that Hector brushed through one of the hanging seaweed things and a white slug the size of a cut fingernail dropped off onto his neck. It must have burrowed into his warm, sweaty skin immediately, because none of us noticed it. But I'm sure that's when it happened.

The deeper in we went, the more hanging things there were to avoid and the more cave muck there was on the floor. The floor started to slope down away from us, like we were hiking down the side of a funnel. As the turns got more complex and the footing more treacherous, I started to worry about getting back out at all. The point where I cross-checked my map with Butcher's and found two important errors while standing calf-deep in cave muck is when I called it.

"All right, this is obviously a bust. Let's go back," I said, turning around.

Hector stopped scratching his neck and didn't follow us. "What, we're giving up?"

"Yes. There's obviously nothing here."

"Pussy," he said. "This is exactly what Hughes said you guys were doing- always turning back before you actually met any spiders."

I glanced up to see we only had two green lights. "Look-"

"We're a squad and a half," Samson sneered. "You guys brought back all those skulls with just four of you! What are you suddenly afraid of?"

I looked at Zazlu, who agreed with his eyes. We couldn't turn back without raising questions.

I tried raising the young spider or Blue Wave again, but got nothing.

"Fine," I sighed.

The next room was sloped even more severely and we had to hold on to the walls to keep from slipping. The cave muck was a maddening mix of slippery under your feet and viscous around your ankles, making it exhausting to slog through. My legs were starting to get rubbery.

"Look, we haven't even seen a single sign of spiders yet-" I began.

"We saw that huge trail leading to this cave," Samson said. "It took a lot of spiders to make that."

"Exactly," Hector agreed, eagerly perched at the entrance to the next room, a low hole we had to duck into. "Now come on!"

"Hold on!" I yelled, just before he would have entered. On a hunch, I turned off my headlamp. "Butcher, how many green lights do I have?"

She swallowed. "Zero, sir. Red light only. How about me?" She flipped off her lamp so the glare didn't hide the lights.

"Zero for you too, Lieutenant. Looks like this cave blocks radio signals, huh?"

She nodded, and when I turned to Samson, I had to grin. His clone face was as pale white as it could get, looking at the single red light showing on everyone's bands. We had prepared for this since Ridley, aware of the possibility that each death might be our last. They hadn't.

I couldn't help it. "Shit just got real, huh, Samson? Don't you want to keep exploring? Maybe there's a whole Hell-Spider NEST up ahead!"

He threw Hector a look that I knew well. A Second Lieutenant warning his CO that this was a bad idea. A look no First Lieutenant would ignore.

"Come on!" Hector repeated. "That doesn't matter!"

"Hector," I said, "if you want to go through that hole, go ahead."

"Fine." And he was gone.

We heard the noise of some sliding and then, "See! It's fine!" I kept looking at that inclined hole, knowing it wasn't right. "Come on!" he said.

"Alright Hector, come on back."

"No! You've got to see this!" he yelled from the darkness. "It explains the spider trail outside! Now it all makes sense!"

I frowned, but motioned to Ann-Marie. "Butcher, you're the most sure-footed. Take a look. But be careful."

She nodded. "Sir." Then started lowering herself in. She went feet first, then rifle, then torso, and as soon as I saw her fingers release their grip on this room, she yelled.

"SHIT SHIT-" and there was a splash.

"Zazlu! Hold me!" I yelled, going headfirst through myself. Zaz grabbed my belt as I dove in and kept me from falling into same the waist-deep pond of cave muck Butcher was struggling in. I reached for her. "Butcher- take my hand!"

She tried to walk and it was too thick, and she tried to swim and it was too thin, just like quicksand. Her struggles caused waves to ripple out through the muck, and then all of a sudden white slugs started raining down around her. I looked up and the entire ceiling was covered with hanging seaweed.

"Butcher! Come on!" I yelled. "Hector- help her!"

"Just a little further!" Hector laughed, letting the slugs fall on him without a care as he explored something deeper in the room.

"Zaz! Let go! And Flamethrowers!"

When he let go of my belt I slid into the muck face first and started slapping the slugs off of Ann-Marie. I didn't know what they were then, but I didn't care. Zazlu opened up with a jet of fire and toasted the seaweed hanging above us, stopping the white rain.

"Did I get them all? Do you see any more?" I asked, brushing her hair, shoulders and chest frantically.

She was doing the same to me. "I think so."

"Let's get out of here!" I said, and my foot kicked up against something heavy that I instantly recognized. A Hell-Spider corpse, buried in the muck. I picked Butcher up by the waist and placed her standing on its back.

Butcher could reach Zazlu's hand from there and got pulled up and out. I did the same and Juan pulled me out. I turned back.

"Hector! Come back! That's an order!"

"Fine, whatever," he laughed, brushing slugs off him. Against my instincts, I pulled him back to the room we were in.

"Everyone, turn around!" I ordered. "Butcher! Check your lower body for slugs!"

"You too sir," she said, and we both dropped our fatigues and made sure nothing was crawling up our legs or boots. "I'm clean," she said a minute later, finishing wiping the muck off her.

I shook out my pants and put them on again. "Me too. Alright, you guys can turn arou-" I looked up to see half the Immortals grinning at the show Ann-Marie had just put on. "Hector! Control your men!"

"Perks of the job, Forrest," he laughed. "Now if you're done playing doctor we've got to go back in there and figure out what killed all those spiders."

"We know what killed them," Zazlu said, his face as red with anger as mine. "They fell into that shit and couldn't get out again. Just like Lieutenant Butcher almost did because of you!"

"We were fine. We can climb. We have hands," he said, flashing his fingers at us. "Now come on, we've got to see-"

"See nothing! We're done here," I snapped, then looked at Ann-Marie's muck covered fatigues. The map on her thigh was ruined. Mine was barely legible. I started picturing the long climb out of the cave, uphill for most of it, with many wrong turns, the slick floor fighting us the whole way...and I just felt exhausted. With every breath, I felt like it would be better to just stay here. I fell to one knee.

Zazlu tapped my shoulder with his elbow. "Come on, sir. We've got to move."

"I know, but just a minute..."

"Now."

"Right." I forced myself up and started pointing. "Butcher, lead us out. Zazlu, burn every seaweed we come across. Juan-"

"Immortal Squad, with me!" Hector said. "We're killing us some hiding spiders!"

"Hector, step away from that hole! I'm bringing all of us back alive, even you Immortals."

"And I'm completing our mission," he laughed. "We're finding out the truth, even if we have to stay here all day! Now, Squad, follow-"

Like a psychic Hell-Spider, I sensed Zazlu flick the safety of his flame thrower, heard the click in my head even though we were all shouting. As if reading my mind, Juan had been sliding up behind Hector, and Ann-Marie sliding sideways to flank the squad.

I hit Hector in the chin with the butt of my rifle.

Zazlu fired a burst of flame over our heads, just enough to make the rest of the squad draw back from Hector, Juan and I. Who were punching each other. I got him in the face and the balls, Juan grabbed one arm and hit the back of his head, and then I was pulling the plastic restraints from my back pocket.

I hated MPs, but I had to admit that those little plastic zip-ties they carried to string together the wrists of drunken soldiers were the lightest, most effective restraints ever. Which is why I had stolen ten of them from a lazy MP before I left base.

Samson and the Immortals recovered a second later, but Ann-Marie was already pointing her rifle at their sides. "FREEZE! RIGHT NOW! DO IT!"

By then Juan and I had Hector face down on the ground and were muscling his wrists behind his back. I forced his wrists through and pulled the restraints tight.

"Let him go!" Samson screamed.

"I ordered him up to the surface," I panted. "And he wanted to lead us back into that death trap. With no green lights. You know that's insane."

"FUCK You Forrest- I'll kill you!" Hector screamed, writhing face down on the ground.

"Juan, stand him up. Samson, you're in charge of the Immortals. We're going back to base, now. We'll sort this out there."

Juan and I started dragging Hector up with us, and Samson came to his senses and followed. Using a combination of her map, mine, and her memory, Ann-Marie led us back to the surface with only two wrong turns. The ascent was even harder than I imagined, now having to drag a protesting Hector with us. Every time I felt like giving up, Zazlu prodded me forward and I found a little more strength.

I was exhausted by the time we saw the sun again. I fell to one knee, enjoying the warmth and called Jinx to come get us.

Lesko and the Immortals guarding the cave were looking at us strangely, from the bound Hector to Samson to me and back. Luckily Jinx was landing before we had to answer any questions. Hector refused to get on the helo and Zazlu just looked at me and said, "Sheep?"

"Sheep," I agreed and rifle-butted Hector in the back of the head. We threw his unconscious body forward into the helo, Juan and Butcher jumped in, and we took off immediately. The other helos were landing for the stunned Immortals as we climbed away.

"What the hell just happened?" I asked, exhausted.

"Don't know," Butcher said. "It's like that room hypnotized him."

"It was before that," Zazlu said. "He was scratching his neck for minutes before that."

"So what? A crazy-rash?"

"We call them the brain slugs," Blue Wave's deep voice rang inside our heads.

"You know I-" I sighed, then covered my mike. You know, I hate this rule that spiders can't tell us about things until we've see them. Relay that to Butcher, Wrestler and Natural Hunter.

A second later I saw my team nod agreement, and then Blue Wave said, "You did not have the picture in your head before. The young one did not have it either. Also, I am closer now. I should not have left the village but I did, trying to reach you before you entered the caves. The Butcher asks what the brain slugs do."

Please.

"They are mental creatures, like us, but a hive mind. They burrow into their prey and reach the brain from inside, and then control it."

So they compel the prey to go into their cave and die? I asked, remembering how Hector had acted.

"Worse. They compel the prey to convince other members of its clan to enter the cave as well. Then they infect the others. The others bring others, until the entire clan is destroyed."

Good thing we subdued Hector when we did. How do we cure him from the slugs?

"He cannot be cured. You must kill him."

Zazlu's eyes got wide and he shook his head. Ann-Marie looked like she was considering it.

"The Wrestler says you cannot- too much suspicion will arise. But you must, Group of Trees, or else he will lead your entire clan, one by one, into the muck pit."

I looked at Zaz. He shook his head more forcefully.

"The Wrestler says the prisoner cannot die alone with four members of your clan. That it is better to somehow kill him after you return. But you must NOT allow that idea back into your village! It will destroy it!"

I checked Hector's band, which read five lights again, then pantomimed just rolling the unconscious body out the side of the helicopter. The Iranian's eyes were intense.

"No," he mouthed to me.

I looked at Ann-Marie. She thought for a second, then nodded grimly.

"The Butcher is picturing... lemmings? Following each other into the muck pit. And being reborn to do it again."

Shit. The clone tanks. There were ten to fifteen bodies for each of us soldiers, more being grown every day. And the farmers. And their kids. And if any infected went through the wormgate, back to Earth...

I stood up and checked Hector's band one more time, checked behind us to make sure the other helicopters were too far away, and then rolled the sleeping soldier off the side of the helicopter to his death.

I watched him hit the ground and explode, then yelled, "Holy SHIT- Stop him!"

"He's gonna jump!" Ann-Marie added.

"Fuck- damn-" I cursed, making noises of a struggle with Juan's help. "Damn it! He fell out!"

"At least he was wearing his band," Ann-Marie sighed.

And then I sat back down, looking at my men. None of us were smiling.

Five seconds later, Samson yelled in our implants, "What the fuck just happened?"

"It was fucking Hector," I replied. "He started coming to and then jumped out!"

"You killed him Forrest! As revenge for Ridley! You took his band off and then killed him!"

"I wish! We should have taken his band off. When he started waking and saw that he still had it on, he threw himself out! He wanted to get back to base before we did, probably to get his side of the story out first." I closed my eyes and tried to make my voice as persuasive as possible. "You saw how he was acting, Samson- you have to back me up on this when we get back."

"You just better hope he resurrects."

"He had five lights. He'll make it back in better shape than any of us."

"He better. Out."

***

We made the rest of the trip home in silence.

Was it technically murder? Or did we do the right thing? Hector might have infected the entire base. Blue Wave told us there was no cure. Then again, Blue Wave had never heard about penicillin or brain surgery. Because he was a giant spider.

We landed without incident, no one meeting us on the Flightline, and it was only after we had checked our rifles and body armor back into the armory that four BlackShirts showed up and tazered me into unconsciousness.

***
Chapter Eleven

I woke up in the brig, handcuffed on both wrists to my chair. I was still wearing the same muck-covered fatigues from the mission, now cold and clammy on my body. My head ached, my back was sore where the tazers had hit and I had a growing bruise where my face had met the floor after the tazers. And the bureaucrat was sitting across from me.

He still looked perfect.

My throat was dry, but I managed to croak, "Who are you?"

"I am Inspector General Anthony Himenez. I have been sent to this planet to represent the interests of the people of Earth."

I had to chuckle. "All of them?"

Himenez smiled and leaned back in his chair, flipping through pages on his electronic notepad. "You are an interesting case, First Lieutenant Forrest. I can't decide whether you are the worst officer on this planet or the best."

"Do I get a vote?"

"Your mission to the cave system consumed 7.4 man-days of soldier availability, 503 gallons of jet fuel and one cloned body, from the death of another officer while he was in your captivity." Himenez looked up at me. "Lieutenant Hector resurrected without incident, by the way."

"Thank the gods."

The bureaucrat flipped another page. "And this mission, which cost the people of Earth nearly four hundred thousand dollars, resulted in exactly zero enemy kills. However, the report written by your Second Lieutenant while you were resting, recommends the entire sector around the cave be marked as clear of enemy activity." He pinned me with a precise, intense stare. "So, was this mission a victory or a loss for the war effort?"

He gave a pretty good Look, I have to say. But not as good as mine. However, it wasn't time for that yet. I shrugged, pulling at my handcuffs.

"I'd say the results are mixed."

He smiled. "Indeed. Since the report that Lieutenant Hector wrote after his resurrection recommends sending two more patrols to the caves immediately, to investigate signs of massive spider activity."

Oh shit. We had killed the body with the brain slug in it. How was this possible? What did that mean for-

"And the informal report that his Second Lieutenant Samson filed with me agreed that there were signs of spider activity, but disagreed that any more patrols should be sent to that cave." He looked at me like an amused grandfather lecturing his young ones. "So what am I to make of all that?"

I didn't care what he made of it. All I could think of was Hector, walking around infecting others, sending infected messages back to Earth, infecting my squad. I pulled at the cuffs, rattling the chair.

"Am I under bureaucrat arrest or something? If I'm going to be court-martialed for what happened to Hector, let's bring the real military in here and get it over with! I'd like to see my lawyer immediately- it's Second Lieutenant Zazlu Mohammed."

Himenez chuckled. "There will be an official inquiry on how an unconscious, restrained prisoner fell to his temporary death while under your control. But only after my inquiry is over."

"So what, you're above the law?"

He answered without hesitation. "I am."

Then he leisurely looked down at his pad and flipped a few more pages. "I have arrested mayors, governors, presidents, and kings for corruption. I have run down the most fearsome war criminals in human space and seen them sentenced to multiple life sentences." He looked up at me casually. "That used to be just a saying, you know, before cloning technology. But now we can lock a criminal away until he slowly dies of old age behind bars, then resurrect him into a new, vibrant young body and let him watch his life waste away all over again. As many times as needed." He smiled at me.

I started to understand why so many higher ups on base feared him. He looked right at me.

"They do that to traitors now. Instead of the firing squad. Three lifetimes of hard labor. Pending the prosecutor's recommendation. So now, I have some questions for you, Lieutenant, if you don't mind."

I could barely speak. "Go ahead."

He flipped a page on his pad. "So let me understand this mission. You deploy to the caves. You find evidence that a large amount of spiders have entered the second cave system in the past, but you cannot find any enemy activity inside the first few rooms?"

"Correct."

"Lieutenant Hector urges that you continue, but you override him and take him under custody, make your way back to the entrance, and then this exchange happens." Himenez pushed a button on his pad and a recording played, scratchy radio transmissions.

My voice: "Jinx, come pick us up! Hurry."

Jinx: "Roger. Thirty seconds out."

Thirty seconds of silence, then Hector's frantic voice over the sounds of the helicopter: "NO! We've got to go back! I won't go without-"

Zazlu's voice: "Sheep?"

Me: "Sheep."

And then a thump, and Hector couldn't be heard.

Himenez stopped the recording and raised an eyebrow at me. "Sheep is a code word for what, exactly?"

I swallowed. "An inside joke in our squad."

"Ah." He hit play again. It was the conversation we had as we climbed, me asking what happened, Butcher saying the room hypnotized Hector, Zaz mentioning neck scratching, and then my voice: "So what? A crazy-rash?" A pause, then me saying "You know I-" And then, silence.

Himenez stopped the recording after thirty seconds of static, then looked at me. "What made you stop talking, in the middle of your sentence?"

No. NO. He could NOT find out about this. I was not going to spend three straight lifetimes breaking rocks. I shook my head. "Nerves. It was a heavy mission. We were all freaked out."

"Indeed. Your squad members were so upset, that after that single heated exchange, they stayed absolutely silent for the next two minutes and fifteen seconds."

"We were processing."

"An amazing feat of radio discipline, considering the circumstances. In fact, the very next sounds are you reacting to Hector's suicide." Himenez played that, then turned off the recording again. "Interesting how it takes the average human fifteen minutes to recover from being knocked unconscious, as you did in this room after your tazering. Yet Lieutenant Hector, in the same cloned body, recovered enough in less than three minutes to overcome four captors while bound and throw himself out of a moving helicopter?"

"I didn't hit him very hard."

"And how does someone check the number of lights they have on their buffering band with their hands tied behind their back, exactly?"

I started sweating. "He must have seen the reflection off some metal surface as he was lying on the floor."

"I see." Himenez made a note on his pad and considered it for a moment as the sick feeling in my stomach grew. Then he smiled. "Well, luckily for you, Lieutenant Hector has no memory of the incidents inside the helicopter, and Lieutenant Samson corroborates your account of Hector acting strangely inside the caves. And since Lieutenant Hector has resurrected without issue, I'm going to recommend that General Oakley only conduct a cursory inquiry into this incident. You should be free in more than enough time to lead your squad on their next mission."

I exhaled. Himenez walked to the door, then looked back at me expectantly.

"Thank you?" I said.

He gave me a slight nod. "As I said, Lieutenant Forrest, I haven't quite figured you out. Your squad records the most enemy kills while using the least cloned bodies, which is admirable. However, there are many inconsistencies in your Squad's actions that I will be looking into over the coming days."

My throat started feeling tight again.

"But I believe you are intelligent, and I will need intelligent officers to move to the next phase of this war."

"Next phase?"

He rapped on the door to summon the guard. "They say generals always fight the last war, and your Oakley is no different. These short, half-day patrols, cycling back and forth to this base to eat and sleep do not take full advantage of the buffering band technology. It is inefficient," he sniffed, as if that was the worst thing imaginable.

"And what's the alternative? Carpet bombing?"

He sniffed again. "That is even more inefficient for the dollar-to-kill ratio. No, imagine your squad being dropped into a sector and killing all the enemy in your path, without stopping to eat or sleep or tend to its wounded. Continuing forward non-stop until your bodies physically dropped dead from exhaustion. And then, new clones being helicoptered to where the patrol died, picking up the weapons from your dead bodies and continuing the battle, without pause. As many times as it takes to kill every spider on this planet." The guard opened the door. "That is the efficient, modern way to conduct a war, and that is what I have been sent here to effect." And then he stepped out.

Holy fuck.

***

As Himenez had predicted, the inquiry was inconclusive, with Zazlu, Butcher, Juan and Jinx all testifying that Hector threw himself out, Samson having to admit Hector was acting somewhat strangely beforehand, and Hector seething with anger at me, but having no real evidence to present. At the bureaucrat's recommendation, I was reinstated back to command of Infinity Squad with a detailed record of the incident filed in my personnel folder. So was Hector, back to Immortal Squad.

And that was only one of the things I had to worry about right now.

"He's smarter than Hughes and more patient than Oakley," I whispered to Zaz and Butcher the second I got them alone in our barracks. "Himenez is going to be a problem. He's going to start looking into everything. We need to clean up our loose ends, now."

"What are we going to do about Hector?" Ann-Marie asked.

"I don't know. He must have been thinking of the slugs and the caves when he died, so the thought or memory or something followed him into his new body."

"I meant, what are we going to do about him thinking you murdered him? He could take you out right here on base, he's so angry."

I shook my head. "I don't know."

"And what are we going to do about Three-Spot?" Zazlu asked. "He's getting weaker and we've lost our link to Red-Stripe. We can't warn them of patrols."

"I don't know. Himenez will be watching us too closely. And you should hear what he has planned for our pa-"

"And what about the brain slugs?" Butcher added. "We can't let them near the base! If there's anything on this planet that needs to be made extinct, it's them."

I was about to yell but then I forced myself to exhale.

Then inhale.

Ridley had been adamant that a leader of a squad, like the captain of a battleship, should never say 'I don't know'. And now I was seeing why.

I held up my hands to calm my Lieutenants down. "What we need," I said, "is a plan."

***

We gathered Steve and all the privates together and told them to go back to wearing their buffering bands and sidearms at all times, no exceptions. We also told them to never go into those three caves southwest of the valley, no matter what anyone, including Zazlu, Butcher or myself, said after this point. We also told them to never be alone with any member of Immortal Squad, and never to be outnumbered by them in the common areas. And, in a stunning break from the past, we told them why.

We didn't tell them everything, but we told them about the brain slugs and how they hunted, and what it would mean if the slugs got on base or, god forbid, through the wormgate. We also told them about Hector's 'accident', and why the Immortals may want to kill us. And we told them about Himenez.

I sent Steve off to find ways to counter a brain slug infection, or even remove it. I sent Zazlu away with orders to clean up any evidence of his black market customers, suppliers, accomplices, bribers and bribees. I told Ann-Marie to start finding out anything she could about Himenez, covertly, and I told Juan to have Dakota get information out of Himenez, overtly. I had a feeling the bureaucrat would be seeing a lot of Dakota's legs in the near future. And, just on the off chance, just as a back-up, I had Grimstone start making helmets.

***

Steve and I were hotly debating the merits of salt bombing the caves when there was a knock at our barracks door. I looked up from the ad-hoc war table we had set up to see Doc Murphy being let in. She noticed all the activity, felt the emotion in the air, and was frowning as she came up to me.

"Is everything okay? You guys seem so...worried," she said, looking around.

But that wasn't what I wanted to talk about right now. "Are you wearing make-up?"

"What? No!" she said, blushing and turning away to pull the collar of her lab coat over her bright, glossy red lips. "Maybe I put something on- I don't remember!"

"Doc, you look beautiful. I'm flattered."

"It's not just for you! God! Why do you always make everything so hard-"

I pulled her close as if we were going to kiss right there and whispered into her ear, tenderly. "Doc. Things are a little tense right now. The boys can't handle anything else and you looked like you had bad news. So I made a joke, for the morale of the squad. Just go with it."

Her hands were against my chest, her thigh pressed against mine, and my hand felt so right pulling the small of her back to me. Shannon looked up and her breath was hot on my cheek as she spoke. And she wasn't pushing me away.

"Fine. You're just so hard to read sometimes, Lieutenant. I'm sorry if I misinterpreted your intenti-" And then her eyes got big.

Now it was my turn to blush. My body was 'reacting' to her presence and she couldn't help but feel it, growing against her leg. "Um, let's go somewhere private, Doc."

"Let's."

I ushered her inside the coat closet to some knowing looks and smirks from the privates. She took a step inside and then had to turn immediately, since the closet barely had enough room for both of us to stand. She was pressed up against me again as I stepped in and closed the door, putting us into near darkness.

"What is this place?"

I gestured at the clothes hanging everywhere, a motion that brushed my fingertips through her silky red hair in the confined space. "We use it to store extra fatigues back from the laundry. And I think we made Juan and that shy Asian girl from Comms play 'Seven Minutes in Heaven' in here once."

"And this is your idea of keeping it professional?"

"We don't have to use all seven minutes, Doc."

Suddenly, Shannon's Murphy's body was pressing against mine in very interesting ways, arms, thighs, and hair going everywhere. But then I realized she was just trying to get something out of her skirt pocket. She slapped a piece of paper against my chest.

"The results from your amygdala testing," she said, breathing a little harder. "Seven seems to be your lucky number. Up to three deaths, there seems to be slight but repairable change in the state of your consciousness. That's all the clinical testing on Earth went to, in non-stressful conditions. But after five stressful deaths it gets worse. And after seven deaths, if the trend holds, is where the irreversible changes happen. You can't come back from there. You're a new person. How many deaths are you up to now, Lieutenant?"

I gulped. God, I couldn't even remember. Maybe the death marks the Immortals wore around their neck weren't a horrible idea.

I felt her hand touch my cheek in the darkness. "Hey, hey," she said. "I didn't mean to scare you. You won't be a bad person, just a mix of your original memories and the clone's. Your cognition should remain the same."

"Should. Thanks. Very comforting, Doc."

Somehow, in the darkness, my hands found her hips again and rested there, just below her thin waist. That was comforting, actually.

"Well, it would help if I could get more data," she said. "But that's not possible now, with the prisoner being shut off, is it?"

"Not really."

"And why would you need a Hell-Spider to test your brain functions?"

I sighed. It was time. "Because they're psychic, Doc. They can read minds and see minds and they can talk between minds just like you and I are talking right now."

She shoved my hands off of her waist. "Lieutenant Forrest, I swear! I hate it when you make me the butt of your stupid jokes instead of just-"

"It's the truth, Doc! That's how I could tell you were thinking we were on a date, that day in front of the spider."

"And I can tell what you're thinking now, Lieutenant!" she scoffed, bumping her hip into my still prominent male reaction. "I don't need to be psychic for that! Let me out of this closet-"

I grabbed her by the shoulders, firmly. "Doc, I'm dead serious. You can't tell anyone about this. We've been talking to the spiders for a month now. We made friends with them. Even a peace treaty. The brass would hang me as a traitor if you tell anyone."

"And very convenient, since I can't confirm this myself now with the prisoner."

"You have to trust me. Please."

I felt the tension in her shoulders change slightly. But enough. "Very well. For now. Now open the door Lieutenant."

I squeezed her slim, strong shoulders. "But it hasn't been seven minutes yet."

"Lieutenant."

"Okay," I laughed. "But you have to promise me you'll do one little thing for me first."

I could almost hear her smirk in the darkness. "And what's that?"

"Talk to our medic Steve about a little thing we call brain slugs."

***

That evening, Second Chance Squad killed two Hell-Spiders.

The news spread through base and Zazlu and I nervously pretended to eat in the cafeteria waiting for them to be cleaned and brought in.

"Anyone we know?" I whispered as they were hung, trying not to make my attention obvious.

He was frowning over his plate. "Yellow-Sun. And the other I do not recognize. We had eaten with him once."

"From an allied clan?"

"Probably. This patrol was not in the valley, but south, in the grasslands east of the swamp. They were perhaps hunting together."

I sighed. "Red-Stripe will not be happy."

Zazlu gave me a fierce look. "He should not be. We are breaking the peace treaty."

"Well what do you want me to do about it?"

He just frowned and stared down at his plate, eating.

"Look, Zaz, we'll stop by Three-Spot on the way back."

He just grunted at me.

I finished eating what my knotted stomach would allow and on the way out, we walked by the leader of Second Chance Squad as he stood admiring their skulls. He was a tall blond with a short prison crew-cut, tattoos on both forearms and a nasty scar across his cheek. The nametag on his fatigues said "Grant."

"Nice job," I said through gritted teeth. I couldn't look up at Yellow-Sun's hanging skull.

Grant sighed in satisfaction. "We're just trying to do our job, same as you. Get back home as fast as possible."

That made me pause. "They told me your entire squad was pulled from military prisons. Why the hell would you want to hurry back to that?"

He smiled at me, his scar rippling. "They promised us full pardons. But only if we won the war against the spiders. Quicker we do that and get back home, the quicker we get back to our lives again."

Zazlu and I were giving each other a look. "And what was your life, back home, exactly?" he asked.

"I was a Marine Scout sniper. Two of my boys were Delta Force. A couple British SAS. Got a couple of Navy Seals and West Pointers, too."

"No fucking way," I said.

"Hey, if I was being sent on a god-forsaken bug hunt," Grant laughed, "I wanted the best of the best beside me."

I sized him up, ending my look in his blue eyes. "And what, exactly, were you in prison for?"

"Hitting a senior officer." And he said it with a smile.

I saw Hector and Samson lead three other Immortals into the cafeteria, their eyes turning predatory when they saw us. I looked back at Grant, talking as I backed towards a door. "There may be a faster way to get back home and get your pardons, but without all this-" I pointed at Yellow-Sun's skull, "unnecessary bloodshed. We should talk about it sometime."

Grant gave me a serious look as I was leaving. "We should."

***

Zazlu and I discussed Second Chance Squad as we walked to the Holding Area. There was a lot of potential there. I ordered Zazlu to start exploring it.

The same BlackShirt as before was guarding Three-Spot's room, but Zazlu approached him first, there were smiles, pats on the back, and after something small exchanged hands between Zaz and the guard, we were let in.

Three-Spot was curled into a tight ball in one corner. And his food bowl was half-empty.

Oh, Three-Spot, you didn't!

"It was too cold, Group of Trees." His gravelly voice was weaker than I remembered it. "I could not resist, even though I knew it was poisoned."

How bad is it?

"It is moderately painful. But getting worse. I feel my stomach will reject the food and empty itself. Then I will only be forced to eat more."

Don't eat any more! We'll get you something else!

Zazlu looked at me. "How?"

The door opened and Inspector General Himenez walked in, smiling, perfectly dressed and shaved as always.

"Lieutenant Forrest, Lieutenant Mohammed," he said, "I happened to be watching the feed of this room's security cameras from my room and noticed you two enter. So I decided to see what the excitement was about." He smiled at me. "Especially since General Oakley ordered the guards to let no one but the science staff inside."

I saw Zazlu tense up. We had just burned one of his BlackShirt contacts. That guard wouldn't be doing us any favors again.

"I was the one that captured this prisoner in the first place," I said. "I wanted to see what they were doing to him."

Himenez was nodding. "That is understandable. I read the report about his capture during my wormgate trip here. That was quick thinking on your part, with the Halon. I also have been reviewing the recordings of the cameras in this room."

He put his hands behind his back and stared at Three-Spot. "The way this one holds himself, the way he looks at his food and his visitors, I'm coming to think they're actually far more intelligent than we first believed."

That sent chills down my spine.

"Actually, this one just sits motionless, staring at the walls most of the time," I said. "Just like a cow. I wouldn't give him too much credit."

Himenez nodded, still looking at the spider. "Perhaps." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I also noticed that, every few days, these cameras experience a glitch to their audio and video, recording only static for three to five minutes."

Oh shit.

"And every time those stretches of static occur," he continued, "you or one of your Infinity Squad Lieutenants have recently passed the security cameras in one of the two halls leading to this room." He turned his smile to me again. "Do you like staring at cows, Lieutenant?"

Even though my pulse was pounding in my ears, I managed to say, "There are a lot better things to stare at on this side of the base than some spider. That hot blond radio operator, for one."

The bureaucrat chuckled. "Yes, that is true. I'm having her reassigned to an administrative role back at the Pentagon, by the way. I've concluded she's too much of a distraction to have around a forward operating base." He looked up at the corners of the room. "I also put in an order to upgrade these cameras. We can't have security systems shorting out at random."

He indicated the door. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm sure you've got important business to attend. The scientists who will enter in a second do. I've ordered them to accelerate the prisoner's torture schedule. We need to learn much more about this enemy. And how to hurt him."

The spider's voice entered my head as I was leaving. "Bunch of trees! The Wrestler says he has lightning snakes in his backpack! Could I have them now?"

No. I'm sorry.

"Why not? I can smell them!"

I'm sorry! The third human is an enemy. We cannot act in front of him.

"But my hunger! The poison!"

Look, I'm sorry! We'll be back soon.

With a sick feeling to my stomach, I let Himenez usher us out the door.

***

Three hours later, Dakota was shaking her head. "No, I couldn't get a thing out of him. Just some polite, bland answers and after about three minutes he politely ended the interview."

"What?" Juan scoffed. "Did you do that thing, you know, with your-"

"Yes, I did the thing," she said, giving her boyfriend a stare as she pulled down the hem of the shortest skirt I had ever seen her wear. "But he didn't look. At all."

Juan couldn't believe it. "What! Is he gay or something?"

Dakota's lips were a tight line. "No. He's just very... disciplined."

I crossed my arms. "Yeah, we're coming to realize that. Butcher, how about you?"

Dakota was in a short skirt, heels and crisp white dress shirt with a few strategic buttons undone. Next to her stood Ann-Marie, in her usual pressed fatigues, combat boots and semi-auto strapped to her thigh.

"He's like a boa constrictor," Ann-Marie said. "He's patient, methodical, and he captures his prey by slowly cutting off one asset after another until they make a mistake or suffocate under the pressure. He's been on 22 investigations for the U.N. Security Council and succeeded on all of them. He's a stickler for details and cross-checking records, he has ultimate authority to recommend punishment in any case he brings forward and has recommended multiple life-sentences 5 times. His main goal is to make the execution of the war more efficient, but he has a secondary charge of reducing corruption, and he's free to pursue anyone and any case he finds. He served two years mandatory service in the Spanish army, Logistics and Sniper training, and he has a sister and two nieces back on Earth."

She smiled at Dakota. "And I didn't even have to shave my legs."

"But you do shave your legs, right?"

"Shut up Juan." I turned back to Ann-Marie. "Butcher, that's great, but how do we defeat him?"

She was shaking her head. "He's like a force of nature. You don't defeat a tornado, you just survive it."

"Great."

"But the brain slugs, on the other hand," she said, "are the deadliest enemy on this planet, have few defenses and are all contained in one area. We can take them out right away and then batten down the hatches to survive Himenez."

I looked at Zazlu. He nodded.

"Okay," I said. "Here's what we're going to do..."

***

I checked out ten flamethrowers from the armory, and the desk sergeant mentioned how it was weird that no squad other than Infinity ever asked for them regularly. Except for the Second Chancers. Zazlu procured ten hazmat suits from somewhere, and because Steve wouldn't shut up about it, we salted the outsides of them.

Then Zazlu and I went to see Jinx about a trip.

"Guys, I can't," he said after we pulled him away from his card game in the back of the hangar.

That was unusual. "Jinx," I said, "it's us."

"I know, but... it's that Inspector guy. He's locked everything down, so that we have to have an authorized mission code before Flight Control will give me permission to leave. I can't even rev the engines on my bird without a code!" He looked genuinely torn up about it.

"Fine," I sighed. "Where do we get the code?"

"TacOps."

"Great."

***

Since I had already burned my bridge with Flores we sent Ann-Marie in alone to get the approval. She came out ten minutes later.

"The results are mixed," she said. "I got the code. We've got an authorized mission to enter the other two cave systems."

"What's the bad news?" I asked.

"We have to take the Immortals with us. Oakley's directive, remember? That we're not allowed to leave the base without another squad accompanying us. They have reminders posted over all the walls in TacOps."

"Did you try to get one of the other squads?" Zaz asked. "The Second Chancers?"

"Yes I tried," she said, looking annoyed. "The Seconds went out yesterday, the Omegas are going out tonight. It's Immortals or no mission."

I shook my head. "Fuck. But I'd still be in charge, right?"

"Yes. Comms is going to be listening on the radio. If Hector gives you any trouble, you have authority to remove him immediately."

"Fine. We'll have Hector guard the choppers and Zazlu plus the Immortals guard Hector while the rest of us firebomb the slugs back to the Stone Age."

***

It turned out Hector was as eager to get going as us. His squad was already waiting in the hangar, huddled near the helicopters, by the time we had gotten all of our hazmat suits hidden in our backpacks and strapped our flamethrowers on.

"Good to be working with you again," Hector said as soon as all our implants were set to the same channel. "I'm eager to see what surprises the rest of the caves have to offer. To further our war effort."

"I bet you are," I muttered. "Squad! Mount up!"

Flores only gave us codes for the automatic piloted helicopters, so that he and Himenez could track exactly where we went and how long it took. All ten of Infinity Squad got into two waiting helos at the front of the line and the ten Immortals got into two at the back. We took off without incident.

About five minutes in, Hector raised us on the radio.

"Hey, Lieutenant Forrest! Sir!"

"What, Hector." I didn't have time for his shit. This was only the second or third time most of our privates had been out in the field. And we were going against brain slugs. I was worrying about how to keep them from freaking out and tearing off the hazmat suits when they got claustrophobic.

"This is about how high we were when I rolled myself out of your chopper, huh?"

"We're not talking about that now. Keep this channel clear."

"I just wanted to tell you I didn't have any hard feelings about that. I got one more death mark but hey, war is hell, right?"

"That's fine. Thank you. Over and out."

I could hear the smile in his voice and it made my skin crawl even before he said it. "All I'm saying is: have a nice flight."

And then the rotors of the helicopter behind us blew off.

"NO!" I screamed, looking out the side. That was the one with the privates! Telson, Harper, Delton, Finch and Steve! All in their birth bodies! "NO!"

Hector started chanting as I watched my men fall to their death. "First to kill, first to die, first to hear the bullet's cry!"

Then the rotors of our helicopter blew off, and I felt the sick sensation of dropping faster and faster. I gripped the seat, watching the ground rush towards me and prayed that the fall killed us before the flamethrowers exploded.

"Immortal Squad! Immortal Squad! Immortal Squad! Immortal Squad!"

***

We woke up in the tanks, screaming. One after another after another and sometimes two at once. Even I couldn't tell who was who, except for Zazlu. I would have known his face anywhere. The older, male resurrection doctor who wasn't Doc Murphy seemed shocked but also a little bit delighted at all the sudden business.

I sat up, starting my checklist. I was fine. And that one was Zazlu. He nodded back at me.

"Butcher?" I called out, even as the doctor was still fumbling with his datapad.

No answer. Fuck.

"Juan!"

"Here, sir." Right in front of me.

Okay. "Steve?"

"Here," a clone two tanks behind me sighed, looking sadly at his new body.

"Telson!"

To my right. "Here." He looked on the edge of crying.

"Grimstone!"

To my left. "Here, sir." Grimstone seemed okay.

"Harper? Harper!"

"Here." Way back in the corner. He looked like he was going to vomit.

"Delton?"

"Here."

"Finch?"

"Here." He was the last awake clone in the room, shivering and holding himself in his tank.

Nine out of ten. No, I wouldn't accept that.

"Butcher!" I yelled. "Ann-Marie!"

I stood up, dumping water all around my tank and looked around the room. We had taken nine out of the twelve waiting cloned bodies, but Butcher was no where to be seen. I looked over the tanks again and then something occurred to me.

"Wait. Have any of you even seen a female clone?"

***

Grimstone had. And he tried to prepare us, but we could never have been fully prepared. Zazlu, Juan and I coached the others through their first death, we let not-Doc Murphy identify us with our Key Phrases, and then we retired to the barracks, to somberly open a few beers and wait for Ann-Marie's return. We had to wait three hours, until the nightly shuttle came down from the orbiting station. Minutes later, Ann-Marie burst into our barracks cursing like a sailor.

All five-foot-ten, blond, 34-22-34 of her.

Gone was the short brunette college soccer star. In her place was the closest mankind had ever come to making a Barbie doll.

"Can you FUCKING believe this?" she yelled, marching right up to her bunk and kicking it with her long legs. "They don't even HAVE female soldier clones! All they have is mother-fucking pleasure models!"

"Butcher, I'm sorry," I said. "Here, calm down. Have a beer."

"I don't want a FUCKING BEER!" she screamed, knocking the bottle from my hand. "I'm in a pleasure model! That's all they fucking have!"

"It probably takes a lot of money to invent a new line of clones," Zazlu said, very, very gently. "With so few women in combat positions, the market probably dictates-"

"Fuck you and fuck your market!" she cried, then reared back and punched Zazlu right in the chest with all her strength. He didn't move.

"Ow?" he offered.

"You have got to me kidding me!" Ann-Marie yelled. She dropped to the floor to try and do a push up. Try.

She managed about two and a half before her arms gave out. "You have got to be kidding me!" she wailed, pounding on the floor with her fists and feet. They made cute little tippy-tap noises.

"Butcher, come on, get up," I said, taking her arm. "Please?"

She did, wiping the corners of her eyes. The closest I had ever seen her to crying.

"They didn't even have fatigues that fit me," she said, letting me lift her up. "Just this stupid t-shirt and shorts!"

I really tried not to look at her stupid t-shirt and shorts, because Butcher's new body was endowed, to say the least.

"They're F cups," she sniffled, catching me looking. "Who knew they even made bras bigger than D?"

"Sorry!" I said, forcing my eyes up to the ceiling. "Really, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, sir. You should have seen what I said to the female doctor when I woke up and saw myself."

"Was she, um, in one of those bodies, too?"

"SHUT UP JUAN!" three of us yelled at once.

"You know what the worst part is?" Ann-Marie laughed, tired after her yelling. She dropped down onto her bunk. "Guess where they put the barcode for female clones? So as to not mess up all this perfection?"

I tried not to look as she indicated her firm, bouncing breasts. "Butcher, I don't even..."

She turned and inched down her already low shorts, to show a barcode burned across her spine, right above her tight, supermodel butt.

"A tramp stamp! That's how they ID pleasure models!" She fell into her bed, laughing and almost crying at the same time. "Oh, what the fuck."

"Okay, Butcher is taking the rest of the day off," I said, then looked around at the other first time clones as well. "In fact, all of us, take this day off. We'll tackle the brain slugs tomorrow."

I noticed Grimstone at his bunk. He was testing out his new body, feeling the muscles, stretching. He looked pleased, although he was doing his best to hide it from the others. I walked over to him. Sadness now was normal. Smiling was not.

"Hey," I said quietly. "You okay Grimmy?"

Sitting on his bunk, he looked up at me. "I never was much of an athlete growing up, sir. Asthma, weak knees, all through high school. And I hated wearing those glasses."

"Well, that's a silver lining, I suppose."

I saw Juan slowly approach Ann-Marie's bunk, two beers in hand. "The only time I've ever died," he said, "has been in fucking helicopters. Fuck them."

Butcher laughed weakly, then accepted the bottle. "Yeah. Fuck them."

Yeah, I thought to myself. Those fucking, untrustworthy, murderous helicopters.

***

"It's murder, straight and simple!" I said, slapping Oakley's desk. "Someone in Immortal Squad, I don't know who, sabotaged our helicopters and murdered 10 men in your command. We have to deal with this!"

"And what should I do?" Oakley said, narrowing his eyes at me. "Conduct another 'inquiry', just like we did after Lieutenant Hector died as your prisoner?"

"This isn't the same thing at all, sir!"

Standing behind Oakley, Hughes grinned at me. "It seems very MUCH like the same thing, Lieutenant. Are you implying both of you should be court-martialed, or neither of you?" I just looked at him in disbelief as the SMaj added, "And how come it only seems to be Infinity Squad who has trouble with helicopter crashes?"

Oakley was shaking his head, pushing back from his desk. "First you lose a helicopter to 'enemy action', and now you want me to report that we lost two more to internal sabotage? Absolutely not. This was a mechanical failure, due to improper tightening of a bolt in the rotors. That's what the report to Earth will say."

I slapped his desk again. "Sir! That is unacceptable!"

The noise brought the BlackShirt guards barreling through the door, automatic shotguns leveled.

"Everything okay, sir?"

Oakley waved them off. "Yes, yes. Lieutenant, it's final. All of your men resurrected without incident. Move on." He pointed a finger at me. "And your squad's production has severely dropped off the last few missions. Get your head straight and pick it up, or you'll see what real discipline looks like. Dismissed."

I set my jaw as I looked at him, sitting unarmed behind his desk. His buffering band sat unused on a shelf behind him. Hughes, at least, had started wearing a sidearm, but his band was clipped to his belt, unworn as well. And I remembered how long the BlackShirts had taken to respond. I looked around the room, with its self-important pictures, stupid awards and pointless ornamentation. The next time I was coming into this room, I was bringing a grenade.

Game on.

***
Chapter Twelve

I woke up early to help all of the privates through their first time waking in the new bodies. So did Zazlu. Telson had some shock when he saw himself again and I talked him through it, while Zaz helped Harper. Steve and Grimstone seemed to be fine. We heard giggles and sharply inhaled breaths behind Juan's privacy curtain and left Dakota to counsel him in her own special way. But Ann-Marie's bunk was already empty when I got up, which was a bad sign.

I put on two pots of coffee for the squad as we waited and worried.

We had finished one pot and everyone had dressed and gathered around the tables when she burst into the room, glistening with sweat. She had her long, curly blond hair tied in a pony tail and was wearing a t-shirt and running shorts. Her old t-shirt and running shorts, which means they fit about as well as saran wrap.

"How can something with legs this long be so bad at running?" she laughed, wiping sweat off her forehead with her sleeve as she went to her bunk. "Two ten-minute miles? I'll do better tomorrow." With one foot on the ground, she put one foot up on her bunk to untie her running shoe. And then she started stretching that leg.

I gulped. "Um, Butcher..."

"I can't believe my old running shoes still fit," she said, finishing her deep forward stretch of one leg. "Ten inches taller and my feet are still the same size? How did this woman not fall over?" And then she started stretching the other leg, bending away from us again. Deeper. She put her nose to her knee and laughed. "Well, I'm definitely more flexible than before."

I saw Grimstone blush and suddenly turn away. Telson was starting to hunch over as well, covering his middle.

"Ann-Marie... you may want to..." Her legs were a mile long, perfectly shaped, and her old shorts fit her like a belt. Even I found myself, um, distracted.

She turned to face us, arms above her head and one hand pulling the other elbow to stretch out her back. Her shirt rode up, exposing her bellybutton and smooth, flat abs to me. "But I think my extra height will be a tactical advantage in-"

"Lieutenant! Can you put on a robe or something for god's sake?" I yelled, covering my eyes before her breasts tore her shirt open right in my face.

"What?" she said, then noticed the entire squad staring at her. "It's the same stretches I always do!"

"But you never looked like that," Zazlu said, also covering his eyes. Partially.

Butcher crossed her arms over her chest. "So I was ugly before?"

I tried to look her in the face. "No, not at all! You looked fine before. But now you're just-"

"What?" she demanded.

"You're a fucking wet dream, chica," Juan finally said. "I can't stop looking at you in those damn short shorts."

She looked down at her outfit and started turning red, pulling down on the bottom of her shorts to try and make them anything other than indecent. "Well, I'm already going to be wearing men's fatigues cinched around the waist! And it's not like there's anywhere around here to shop for different sizes! So if any of you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them!"

Dakota stood up from Juan's bunk and slowly circled Ann-Marie, looking her up and down. "You know, you may be about my size now. I've got plenty of things that might fit you except for..." Dakota coughed delicately, "...up top." She stopped, looking at Butcher's chest under the skin-tight t-shirt, then tilted her head quizzically. "Are those...real?"

Ann-Marie blushed. "I... don't... know how to-"

And then Dakota was cupping Butcher's breasts, squeezing them. "Nope. These are fake."

Ann-Marie's scream about ripped my ear drums out. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING-"

***

Fifteen minutes later I gathered the squad around the tables again. The men had taken a break to splash cold water on their faces and the women had returned from Dakota's room. Ann-Marie was now presumably wearing Dakota's underthings and t-shirt under her men's fatigues, and had added combat boots, black tactical gloves, a long sleeve shirt, a baseball cap and a scarf. Her only visible skin was on her face, and she had finally stopped muttering about "implants," under her breath. It was time to start.

"Alright, Infinity Squad, listen up," I said, making sure my voice carried to the back wall and beyond. "We've been through a lot in the last day. But to be clear, what happened yesterday was no accident. We were taken out by Immortal Squad, partially for revenge, but also to give them a free mission to the brain slug caves, which they still haven't returned from yet."

Their faces told me half the squad had figured that out ahead of time and half had not.

"And just so we're all on the same page- we will not let this stand. We are NOT going to go guns blazing into the Immortal barracks, but we WILL take care of business. In our own way. The Infinity Squad way. Hoo-ah?"

"Hoo-ah," they answered, solid and confident.

"We have a lot of enemies against us, but the Lieutenants and I have been working hard to get us a lot of allies, too. And we're going to call in every one of them if we need to. To get the justice that we're due and to win. Hoo-ah?"

"Hoo-ah!"

Juan raised his hand. "Sir? What about Himenez?"

"We are not going to survive Inspector General Himenez," I said. "We are going to defeat him. Everything in the world is eaten by something. Cats eat mice, dogs eat cats, lions eat dogs, and even vultures eat lions if they're wounded enough. We have to figure out what eats inspector generals and then we're going to feed Himenez to it."

"Hoo-ah!"

"And the brain slugs?" Ann-Marie asked. "They've probably penetrated all of Immortal Squad by now."

"They are the real enemy. Everything we do from here on out is to make them extinct. We've got to get one infected person under a brain scanner and then we'll have the proof we need to kill the rest. Really kill them. It seems like the idea passes through resurrection. So we have to put the Immortals down for good."

That sobered everyone up.

"And the prisoner situation?" Zazlu asked after a few seconds of silence, frowning.

I answered to the group. "As you know, not all Hell-Spiders are our enemy. The one trapped here on base has been particularly helpful to us. We're not going to let him be tortured. We're going to let him free and pin the blame on someone else. Soon."

I had watched Dakota writing furiously on her notepad, getting more and more excited as I revealed each secret. Now I turned to her directly and said, "And of course, everything I just said is off the record."

Her jaw dropped. "Come on! That's not even remotely fair!"

"We're going to solve all of these problems and no one is going to know we were even involved. That's the Infinity way."

"But you just gave me four Pulitzer Prize level- I mean, I HAVE to-"

"Sorry, Dakota. Top secret." She slammed her notepad down with such a pout that I had to chuckle. "Meeting dismissed," I said. "You'll get assignments as we have them."

Zazlu and Butcher came up to me as the privates dispersed.

"So, how was that?" I asked. "Sufficiently Ridley-like?"

"He would have been proud," Zaz answered. "So, how exactly are we going to do all that?"

I resisted the overpowering urge to yell "I don't know!" and instead said, "I have a few ideas." Which wasn't a total lie.

"I can't wait to feed Himenez to something," Juan said, passing us. "Like the thunder bees!"

"Figure of speech, Juan," I sighed. "No blood on that mission."

Zazlu looked disappointed too. "Oh. So we will just take it to his boss?"

I smiled. "Everyone has a boss. Even him."

"Uh, sir?" Butcher asked, looking down at her phone. "Omega's back from patrolling the valley. And they got three skulls."

***

I couldn't look, so I sent Zaz to the cafeteria to watch them being hung.

"Anyone we know?" I asked as he came out.

He nodded. "Not Red-Stripe. But three of his good hunters. We ate with them twice."

"Damn it," I hissed. "We have to-"

The sound of knives-on-knives invaded my head. "Lieutenant Forrest, we must talk." He wasn't asking.

Red-Stripe, how am I hearing you? Has Three-Spot recovered enough to-

"Three-Spot is dying. Your clan has frozen and starved him, and when he asks for food you give him poison. He eats because he has no choice, then vomits and is fed only more poison."

We are trying to-

"While under a peace treaty, members of your clan have killed three of mine early last night. I have come down from the north with twenty hunters. We will enter your base to balance the scales shortly. Prepare yourself."

"NO!" I screamed, and the three of us started running towards the perimeter fence.

***

I don't know why, but I just thought that being near the fence would make it easier for him to hear me. Luckily, I was right.

Red-Stripe, do not enter the Cleared Zone! I thought as we reached the fence near the main gate. I looked up at the machine gun turrets that had been installed after Three-Spot had snuck in at night. It was broad daylight now; if they tried to cross that barren field in front of the gate they would get murdered. I sent that image to him.

"We have other means of entry," he said into my head. "The hunters guarding your walls are predicable, easy to read. We will move when they do not look. I can easily bring twice this number into your village and kill half of you before the alarm sounds."

I looked at Zaz and Butcher. They were just as stunned.

"You could have done that at any time?" Ann-Marie asked.

Each word Red-Stripe said was like a butcher sharpening his knife. "Any time. The peace treaty you made with Three-Spot was your only protection. Now you have betrayed it and him. So it becomes void. Prepare yourselves."

"Wait, wait, wait!" I said, literally going down onto one knee in the dirt. "There has to be another way to balance the scales! We could kill another Thought Eater for you! Or the brain slugs!"

"There are no more Eaters. And even our children know to stay away from the slugs, unlike you. Nothing will make up for the friends or the time we have lost."

"Time? What do you mean?" Butcher asked.

"The blitzkrieg against the northern clan was going well. They were fleeing before us, disorganized, broken. Almost ready to turn on their leaders. But we paused when we heard of the first two deaths against the treaty and of Three-Spot's sickness. Now the northern leaders have reached their fortress, and ten times my hunters could not reach them. As long as their leaders live, the people are afraid to rebel and join our side."

"We'll do it!" I said. "We'll kill the leaders of the northern clan!"

"There are a hundred hunters in his personal bodyguard alone. And his fortress walls are ten spiders high, impossible to climb."

"Sir..." Butcher was warning me.

I waved her off. "Does it have an open roof, like your village?"

"Yes. If this is a ruse, Lieutenant Forrest, the consequences will be dire."

"It isn't! I can have an answer for you in three minutes!"

I turned to Zazlu. "Go to the Hangar! Run! Figure out if Jinx can fly an Apache!"

***

It turned out he could, and he was awesome at it. We asked Flores for the codes to go on a one hour mission but we fueled the attack helicopter for a six hour round trip. We broke every rule Himenez had made, we burned Jinx as an asset, but when we came in low over the trees and crested the wall of the northern clan's capital, me in the Apache's front gunner seat and Jinx in the rear pilot's seat, it was all worth it.

The northern clan leader and his group of bodyguard thugs stared up at us in one packed, befuddled mass and we started dropping death on them like rain. Every missile Jinx fired seemed to toss five Hell-Spiders into the air, or at least parts of them. The chain gun under my command was like the finger of God, cutting spiders in half and responding instantly to my commands. I remembered everything Red-Stripe had told us about how this leader treated his subjects, letting them starve while he and his cronies grew fat off their work, and I happily took revenge on their behalf. And then some.

Jinx only fired when there was a clear shot to a group of hunters and I used the chain gun to pick off the runners, always avoiding gray and green shells. The women and children were innocent in this, Red-Stripe had said, and we left them alone.

While the blue blood still spurted from hundreds of spiders bodies, we landed in the center of the massacre. I took out a shovel and loaded parts of spiders into the cargo net hugging the back of the helicopter until it was full. As I was stepping back into the open cockpit, it didn't feel right to leave without saying something, so I turned to the gray spiders huddling fearfully in the mouths of the nearest caves.

"You are free!" I yelled. "You need fear these bullies no more! If you need any friends to help you, just look to the south! The south!"

They just looked back at me silently, so I got back in the cockpit and we took off.

As we lifted over the high rock wall around the village, I could hear Jinx breathing heavily into his mike.

"That. Was. Awesome," he panted. "My hands are shaking. That's what I always dreamed of doing, ever since I wanted to be an Army pilot as a kid!"

"Well, you're welcome," I replied, as Jinx pointed us towards the white-topped mountains on the southern horizon. But I was already worrying about what was beyond them. "But this will probably be our last mission together. I can't imagine Himenez will let this stand. You'll probably be grounded. You may even get shipped back to Earth."

After a second, he answered, "Maybe. The auto-pilots are replacing us everywhere anyway. Not just on this planet, everywhere. I'm just glad I got to be a part of something like this, before it all ended. Thanks for that, Lieutenant Forrest."

"Thank you, Jinx. You're an honorary part of Infinity Squad now, if you ever need it. You were recording with the gun camera, right?"

"From when we popped over the wall to when we landed. You want me to erase it?"

"Not this time," I said. "This tape we want Oakley to see."

***

The BlackShirt waiting to arrest us did a double take when he saw the amount of spider parts crammed into the cargo net.

"How many spiders is that?" he asked, lowering his tazer slightly.

I hopped from the cockpit as the rotors slowed. "Well, we killed a hundred of them. But we could only carry 200 pounds back to base."

***

They skipped the tazers this time, but the jail cell, the chair and the handcuffs were the same as before. As was Himenez's appearance, perfectly put together as always. I made a vow to find a way to put a mustard stain on his tie before this was over.

He entered, sat at the chair before me in a relaxed fashion and shook his head.

"You know, Lieutenant Forrest, I figured you were smarter than this. Theft of an army helicopter. Falsifying flight plans. Corrupting another officer. Improper prosecution of the war. You'll lose your command at the very least. And I will have to recommend at least 3 years of hard labor based on all the charges."

I laughed. "Have you seen the video? We killed one hundred spiders in ninety seconds. How is that not efficient?"

"I have seen that video. I have also seen this one." He turned his datapad around to me and hit play. It was security camera footage of Zazlu, Butcher and I near the front fence. The sound was muddy, hard to hear until I yelled "No! No! No!" and went down on one knee. "There has to be another way to balance the scales!" you could hear me say before it got too quiet again. Himenez shut the recording off and looked at me.

I was sweating.

"It is possible to find the most amazing evidence of even the best hidden crimes," he said, "if one is willing to look through enough security camera footage. Who were you talking to, Lieutenant Forrest?"

"I... the..."

His eyes were on fire, his gaze unshakeable. "You did not get this Hell-Spider target from TacOps or our satellite images. You have a source feeding you information about Hell-Spider locations. What is it? Who is it?"

I know the trick is to go with it, to stretch the accusation to an illogical extreme and make it sound ridiculous. But my heart was beating too fast, my outward appearance too nervous, to make that believable just then.

"We... we get our orders from Oakley and Captain Morse, same as everyone."

"That is a lie." He played the audio recording of the trip back from the brain slug cave again, where I stopped talking in the middle of a sentence before two minutes of silence. "You were listening to someone, right then. Someone who ordered you to toss Lieutenant Hector out of the helicopter."

He bared his teeth at me. "There are conspiracies going on at this base. Plots within plots and conflicting agendas. And I will figure out who is behind them. Tell me your source, now, or I will have every member of your squad arrested and kept without food, water, and sleep until one of them does."

I closed my eyes, swallowed.

"It's... it's the Benefactors."

He drew back. "What?"

"The Benefactors... they've broken the code to our tactical implants and they can talk to us whenever they like," I said, stammering. "They just keep talking and you have no choice but to listen. They ordered us to kill Hector. They told us about the spider village. But they said they'd kill us all if we told anyone!"

His eyes narrowed. "What motive would the Benefactors have for that?"

I shook my head. "I don't know! But just show them the tape of that mission and see what they say! I bet they order us to stop using the attack helicopters."

Himenez leaned back in thought. "I may just do that."

"But you can't let on that you know! They've got Oakley too! They're too powerful to go after!"

His eyes narrowed. "We'll see about that."

General Oakley burst into the room, followed by two BlackShirts. "What's the meaning of this? Why is this Lieutenant under arrest?"

Himenez looked up at the General, appraising him, looking very hard at him. "He has committed crimes. He filed false reports. He attacked a target three hours from his stated plan."

"And killed one hundred Hell-Spiders in one mission!" Oakley barked back. "He was doing what I ordered. I told Lieutenant Forrest to step it up, and he did. He's a fuck-up, but I need this fuck-up's results right now." He turned to the BlackShirts. "Uncuff him."

"General, I must strongly disagree," Himenez said, setting his mouth in a thin line. "I am still in the middle of my investigation." The cuffs fell off me and the bureaucrat got more tense. "This will go into my report."

I saw Oakley flinch for a second, but then he said, "And I'll attach the video of his actions to my report, and we'll see how the higher powers want this war prosecuted! Have you seen the satellite images of where he attacked today? I've got TacOps counting the heat signatures now. There are thousands of spiders up there to kill!"

Oh fuck.

"And we're going to keep sending those Apaches up there until we get them all!"

Double fuck.

Himenez stood up. "General, you've read my recommended tactics. We need to be methodical, using the clones to grind across the sectors non-stop until-"

"And we're still going to do that! We're installing your extra tanks, aren't we? We'll have the capacity for 500 resurrections on-planet in two more days. But in the mean time, I've still got a war to fight."

"Very well," Himenez said, walking to the door. He glanced at me as he left. "I have a new investigation to start at the moment."

Oakley watched the door close behind the bureaucrat and snorted, "I'm getting tired of that fucking number pusher thinking he owns the place. I bet he's never gotten his boots dirty." Then he looked at me. "And if you tell anyone I said that, Lieutenant, I will have you arrested and stripped of command."

"Yes sir! And I agree sir, crunching numbers is no substitute for battlefield decisions, snap judgments being the bread and butter of comm-"

"Shut up, Lieutenant. Next time, file proper flight plans with TacOps so everyone knows where you're going or I'll give your squad to the Immortals and make you a janitor."

I rubbed my wrists. "Sir, I would, but..." I leaned forward. "I think there's something going on."

"What do you mean?"

"Talking to that bureaucrat, I think... something's gotten into his head. I didn't want him knowing about our target because I think something or someone is controlling him from a distance. I think he's going to start asking very strange questions soon. He's going to start babbling about Benefactors or mind control. He may try to make us do things which would tear this command apart."

"Keep your conspiracies to yourself. I won't have that kind of talk on my base. Now get the fuck out of here."

I knew I hadn't convinced him, not by a long shot. But I had planted the seed, and that was enough.

I had set the clash of the titans in motion.

***

I met back up with Zazlu and Butcher in our barracks. All told, it had been eight hours since I had last seen them.

"You're still here. I guess that means Red-Stripe has accepted our balancing of the scales?"

"He sent his scouts out to check about three hours ago, when you first radioed back," Ann-Marie said, now letting the skin on her face and neck show to the world. "He had scouts hidden like snipers close to that city. He's learning from us fast."

"Or his kind has been doing this type of thing for so long it's instinctual," I replied. "Anything else?"

Zazlu was frowning. "Two things you should see."

***

The first was a room under construction. Storage space and offices had been cleared out and now workers were laying all sorts of piping and wires through the floor. The pipes seemed to be preparing for each room to have over a hundred sinks spaced eight feet apart in them.

"Oakley mentioned this," I said, peeking through the open door. "Himenez wants to increase the number of simultaneous resurrections we can do."

"There's three more like it being built on base," Ann-Marie said. She mentioned the room numbers and I pictured it. The base buildings were set up like a letter 'H', and each new resurrection room would be at one corner of the letter, as far apart as possible from the others.

"Three more like this," she continued, "the same size, means around four hundred clones waiting at any time."

"They're stripping the lifeboat to build this," Zazlu said. "But a second lifeboat is expected in orbit in a few days."

"That's enough to give Himenez his rolling army of clones," I sighed. "God knows how many deaths we'll all go through then. We'll all be craving strawberry ice-cream and walks on the beach."

"You guys will," Butcher snorted. "My clone stock doesn't-" Her eyes got big. "Oh GOD! Am I going to become a dumb blonde? Oh fuck!"

"Butcher, don't worry. I'm not going to let you die seven times. Trust me."

"What were this chick's SAT scores? Did her mom drop her on her head?"

I sighed and turned to Zaz. "What's the second thing you wanted to show me?"

***

We stood in the back of the cafeteria, watching. The Immortals all sat at one long table, whispering, smiling at each other and looking around at the rest of us like we were prey. That was sort of normal. But they also had half the Omegas sitting with them, which usually didn't happen between two competitive squads. And every now and then, one of the Omegas would reach back and scratch a little red bump on the back of his neck.

"The Immortals came back from the caves six hours ago, eight alive and eight resurrected," Butcher whispered to me. "The whole squad turned right around and took eight Omegas patrolling with them. Four Omegas came back alive, and four resurrected. And the eight Immortals that had resurrected the first time, they came back alive this time."

"The slugs are infecting them all and eating half," I said, and Butcher and Zaz nodded. "But it doesn't matter, since the resurrections still feel the pull to go back to the caves, because that's what they were thinking when they died."

"But only the ones coming back alive have the active slug in them," Zazlu said. "If you think of each slug like a little Hell-Spider it makes sense. They're building a psychic network here, the same way the spiders send messages across long distances or work as a group."

I felt a cold shiver in my stomach. "We have to stop this before we become the strange minority here," I said. "Or else it will be full-on Revenge of the Body Snatchers and they'll just start overpowering us."

I saw Lieutenant Grant leave the line with a tray of food, trying to decide where to sit. He was looking between the Immortals and some admin folks.

"The Second Chancers been on patrol with the Immortals yet?" I asked Butcher. She shook her head.

I intercepted Grant as he was headed for the infected table, saying, "You don't want to sit with those guys."

"Really?" It was said as a challenge, from someone who had been in tough situations before and didn't appreciate being told where to sit. "Why not?"

"I'll tell you. Come here."

We sat down at a far table and told him the entire story of the brain slugs, what they were doing and what a huge threat they were. We took our time, presented our facts logically and were nothing but sincere.

"Bullshit," Grant replied.

"We're dead serious," I said.

"What is this, some initiation prank on the new squad? And how in the world would you even learn this?"

"We have a source. Someone who knows brains very well."

"What, that cute redheaded doctor in the clone room?" Grant asked.

Now why did I feel a stab of jealousy right then? "Doctor Murphy is aware of this situation, yes, but we have a better source."

"So tell Oakley."

"We can't," Ann-Marie said. "It's not time yet. We need more proof."

"Sure," he laughed. Grant got up, his tray empty. As we had talked, he had eaten quickly and without pauses, just like a Marine. Or a former prisoner.

"Just keep your eyes open," I said. "Watch for what we talked about and you'll see."

"Sure," he laughed again, and then left.

"That's all we can do," Zazlu said.

I shook my head. "I hope it's enough. For some reason I want to fight them less than the others. One more thing- Butcher, do we still have the Key Phrase for one of those Hangar techs?"

"Yeah, McCullough. He got turned into a clone by a hydraulics accident two weeks in."

"Dust it off. We're going to need it."

***
Chapter Thirteen

Bright and early the next morning Oakley ordered all four Apaches to lift off carrying extra ammunition, on a mission to decimate the capital city of the northern Hell-Spider clan and all its suburbs. Unfortunately, Apache 1 had an engine problem that kept it from even starting. Apache 2 encountered a rotor wobble during pre-flight check that would ground it for at least a few days. Apaches 3 and 4 took off without issue, but hit a fuel systems errors just ten minutes into the mission and had to return to base for troubleshooting.

Damn helicopters. You can never trust them when you need them.

"Thanks Grimstone, it worked perfectly," I said, waking him up a few hours later. "Now keep those tats covered up unless you're ready to die again."

"That tranquilizer was pretty fun," he yawned, grabbing his shirt off a hook and buttoning the sleeves over the barcode and the name 'McCullough' tattooed on his wrists. "But I may choose cocaine next time." He was already drifting off again.

"Get some sleep," I laughed. "You had a long night."

***

We spent the rest of the day preparing.

I had every member of the squad recite each other's Key Phrases and the ones we had stolen from other soldiers, until they knew all of them by heart.

We went over all the battlefield medicine that Steve had taught us and packed little trauma kits into pockets on everyone's fatigues, as if resurrecting during a mission wasn't even an option.

I ran the entire squad out to the farms (passing a shocked Hughes who was running Phoenix Squad back in) and introduced every one of them to Tornier and the others who had taken marksmanship training from us. And then both groups sat down together to a home-cooked farm lunch, relating, understanding. Bonding.

I took the squad out near the perimeter fence under the guise of marching practice and had them each psychically say hello to Red-Stripe, who was still standing vigil somewhere right outside the Cleared Zone. They all took it pretty well, and I had Red-Stripe promise he could now recognize each of their mental images, even though he kept saying that mine was different from last time. Then Ann-Marie gave us the heads up that Himenez was coming and we had to pretend we were marching again.

I had Zazlu teach us five stealthy ways to kill someone with a knife while knocking their buffering band off at the same time. And we started practicing with rubber knives, a hundred times each.

Because we knew what was about to happen. Our spot in the patrol rotation would come up again tomorrow, along with Immortal Squad. Hector would push for a mission to the caves again. I was going to put up a fight, but eventually let him win the argument. He wasn't going to kill us again- the slugs didn't want that. They wanted to turn us, eat half and send the rest back to convince even more of the base. Hector had no idea that we knew what the slugs really were, and we weren't about to tip our hand. We were going to let him 'convince' us to go into the second cave again.

If we could kill them without their bands in the first few rooms of the cave, we were going to put on their uniforms, return to base and pretend to be Immortals as we broke Three-Spot out of the Holding Room and delivered him to Red-Stripe. After fire-bombing the cave.

If we killed them but couldn't knock their bands off before they transferred, half of us were going to commit suicide by cocaine from the caves and pretend to be the people whose Key Phrases we had stolen, tell Red-Stripe's team to attack, and then free Three-Spot and kill the Immortals in the confusion. While the other half of us fire-bombed the cave.

If the imposters ran into Himenez during the rescue mission, they would blame the Benefactors and claim to hear voices. If they ran into Oakley they would blame the brain slugs and we would bring infected bodies back from the cave as evidence.

It was an audacious plan, but it solved all three problems at once. We had to, because we were watching with dread as the shuttle made run after run to the orbiting station and the four new resurrection rooms filled with tanks and clones. They would be fully operational in just a day or so, if they weren't already. After that we'd be fighting a whole new kind of war.

And Butcher got a report of two clones in unmarked uniforms seen abducting a third clone into a helicopter. The only helicopters flying now were those going to the brain slug cave. The body snatching was beginning.

Himenez was also getting closer. He started interviewing all of Zazlu's old customers. One time he followed Ann-Marie around the base for hours. Just followed her, making notes. We also saw him whispering to Hughes as we passed in the hall. It gave me shivers to think what they could have been talking about together.

And Three-Spot was at death's door. If we stood outside his hallway and asked how he was doing, he couldn't even respond with words anymore. We just heard a weak moan in our heads and felt a snapshot of the burning pain twisting his stomach. It was the final stages of being poisoned. I hoped we could get him in time.

I wouldn't have trusted anyone but Infinity Squad to pull off this kind of plan. We were going to see if we really were 'lighter, smarter, faster', as Ridley had hoped.

***

At sunrise the next morning, an 'emergency' message into everyone's tactical implants woke us up. All Squad leaders and their Lieutenants were ordered to report to TacOps at once for mission briefings.

I walked in with Zazlu and Butcher at my back. Captain Flores was leaning his cloned body over one side of the Master Map pointing something out, with the cloned First Lieutenant Ching and Second Lieutenant Nyguen of Omega Squad standing next to him. On another side of the square table stood General Oakley, SMaj Hughes and Lieutenants Hector and Samson of the Immortals. Himenez was across the table from them, with the cloned Lieutenants Pappas and Okafor of Phoenix Squad. The last side of the table had First Lieutenant Grant and Second Lieutenant Clark from the Second Chancers, the only soldiers still in their original bodies. We entered and stood in the open spot next to the Second Chancers.

"Well, now that we're all here," Oakley sneered at me, "we can start."

Yes, we had taken a little longer. The other Lieutenants had prepared only themselves. We had gotten all of Infinity Squad up and ready. They were all dressed, fed, buffering bands on and sidearms loaded, and our tactical implants were live, so we had two-way comms between all of us.

Oakley reared up to his full height and began.

"Gentlemen. We are about to start a new phase of this war. A phase with different tactics and missions than before. A phase which some have guaranteed- " He glanced at Himenez. "-will lead us to victory. If we all work together. And so, god help me, I wanted to hear your advice."

He swept his hand towards one corner of the Master Map. It showed our base, with a symbol for each of the squads and numbers for how many soldiers they had,. Fifteen for the other four squads and ten for us. There was also a generic soldier symbol, with a '500' next to it.

"We have just completed construction of four new resurrection rooms," Oakley continued, "which gives us unprecedented throughput in clone capacity. Which is good, because our enemies are just as numerous." He indicated the rest of the map.

Next to the base was the huge swath of the Hell-Spider valley, still marked blue and cleared, with a white '0' in the middle of it. The Night Hunting Grounds were pink for light contact encountered, and had a white '5-10' next to a little black eight-legged spider symbol.

I snorted, wondering how 'military intelligence' had concluded 5-10 spiders lived on the mountain permanently, when hunting parties of 20-30 went there every night and the lightning snakes drove all of them off each day. The average was wrong both ways.

South of the valley were the grasslands of the southern clans, a big, wide, open space marked red on the map with '100-200' next to the spider symbol. That was about right, actually. West of that was the swamps where we had killed the river snake, marked black for unknown, except a tiny strip of land near its edge marked bright red, with '100-200' spiders. The brain slug caves.

Really, Hector? You reported 200 spiders possibly living in those caves? That wasn't even a believable lie. I wondered if he had impersonated Flores too, to get that change onto the Master Map.

But north was the real action. The mountains north of the spider valley were pink, but above that, the valley where the northern clan lived, everything was dark red. Blazing red. With '2,000-5,000' next to its spider symbol.

"And so we have a dilemma," Oakley told us. "Where to attack next? The new clone tanks will let us make a sustained, pressing, rolling attack on one area continuously until it is cleared, and that is what we are going to do. But do we first go west to the smaller infestation-" he pointed at the brain slug caves, "or north, to this massive colony? Or south, to the grasslands? Squad leaders, what are your thoughts? Around the table."

The Immortals were first, right next to him. "The caves first," Hector said. "With such a small zone we could clear it quickly. You'd get to report another sector cleared immediately and we'd get you many, many skulls in a short time."

He sounded completely normal and rational. The brain slugs were good. Really good.

The Omegas answered next. "Yes, the caves. It is a nice, contained area."

And the slugs were spreading. We had to stop them before they took over any other squads.

Pappas of Phoenix squad wavered. "I don't know. I've read Infinity's first report. There doesn't seem to be anything there. And even the Immortals haven't brought skulls back from there yet. I say go north. That's were the biggest kills were made recently- have you seen that video?"

I groaned internally. My own video was going to defeat my own master plan.

I also felt a weird itch along my left wrist. There was nothing there, but I rubbed it.

"Yes we've all seen that video," Oakley growled. "Forrest, I know you want to go north. Lieutenant Grant, what do you think?"

"Hey-" I started, but Grant was already talking.

"I don't see it," the blond soldier said, tattooed arms crossed and shaking his head. "Those caves are tight, dark and winding. The perfect place for getting ambushed. We can't get long range kills, can't use our technological advantage, and a few spiders could take out a whole squad. It feels like a quagmire we're going to pour a lot of lives into. I say we go north."

Grant was a sharp soldier with a good eye, and had it perfectly right. But I had to shut him down. Right now Oakley thought the vote was two squads caves, three squads north.

"North may sound like a good idea, but we can't turn that way and leave enemy behind us," I said. "It's tactically unsound. So as much as I hate it, I have to agree with the others. We deal with the caves first."

Grant looked up at me, confused. "By that logic we should hit the grasslands first, then the caves, then the north."

Also perfectly right. But also wrong.

"I could agree with that," Pappas said.

"No," I said quickly, rubbing my left wrist again. The itch had turned into a slight burning sensation. "We're better off hitting the caves first. Quick. Done. Then the others."

Now Grant was bewildered. "What is this? Just yesterday you warned me not to go in there at all!"

I just barely caught it. Hector's eyes flicked from me to Grant and back again, and I saw a sudden realization dawn. He, Samson and the Omegas suddenly stood up a bit taller at the same time.

Fuck.

"No I didn't. You're thinking of another clone. What I'm saying is-"

"Shut up Forrest," Oakley barked. "Captain Flores, what are your thoughts?"

"Now you know how I feel," Juan said from back in our barracks, while I watched Flores stand up a little taller as well. He started nodding, looking at the map.

"I think we can accommodate all parties. We send the most successful cavers, the Immortals, in first with the Second Chancers. Really show them what's at the bottom of those caves. Then we send the Omegas, in with Phoenix. All the way down. And then we send Infinity in last. With all of us right behind them." Flores looked from the map at me with a satisfied grin. And then he scratched the back of his neck.

Oh holy shit.

Flores couldn't have gotten infected- he never left the base! Unless he had been abducted.

I sensed Zazlu and Butcher tense next to me. Everything was going wrong.

And then Inspector General Himenez took off his wire-rimmed glasses and started deliberately cleaning them. "I have a few thoughts on this issue, if I may."

"Fine, fine," Oakley grumbled. "But keep it short."

Himenez put his glasses back on.

"I find it strange," he said, looking at me, "that the squad leader who just recently returned from a highly successful, lone-wolf hunt to the north now is trying to turn us away from going there as a single, combined army. A squad leader who now wants to go into those caves, even though his second in command recently recommended those same caves be marked clear of spider activity. A leader whose squad was very successful in contacting and killing Hell-Spiders. Right up until they were ordered to patrol with other squads."

I was starting to sweat- where was Himenez going this time? And why was my wrist on fire?

He turned to Flores.

"I also find it strange, that the Captain of Tactical Operations is agreeing with Lieutenant Forrest, especially since many others have reported bad blood between them for much of the past."

"Bad blood doesn't matter in uniform, Himenez," Oakley growled. "We're professionals here."

"So professional, that TacOps just seriously recommended that we ignore one of these-" he slapped down a printed satellite image of the northern spider city, obviously full of spiders, "in favor of going after one of these." He slapped down a printed satellite picture, of the empty, waiting brain slug cave mouth.

Flores sniffed. "We'll get to that city. In time. After we consolidate our strength around the caves first."

"An interesting change of heart from what you and I discussed just a few days ago, Captain."

"I've gotten more data since then," Flores said. "Those satellite images aren't the most recent."

Himenez smiled. "Indeed. The most recent satellite images look like this."

He slapped another picture down, of the northern spider city. It was in color, zoomed in to a mass of spiders gathered around two beings in the middle. A clone in fatigues. And a shiny, metal, Benefactor encounter bot.

"What the hell is that?" Oakley demanded as we all recoiled in shock. "What's going on there?"

Himenez smiled. "Why don't we have Lieutenant Forrest tell us?"

I looked at him. "What? I don't know!"

"Yes you do," Himenez said. "You tried to convince me that the Benefactors were pulling all the strings, behind the scenes. So I looked at your record. Infinity Squad was this base's worst, with zero recorded kills or contacts, until a visit from the Benefactors. And then you suddenly became it's star spider hunters."

Oakley was looking at me suspiciously.

"I don't know what he's talking about!" I said.

"You tried to convince me that the Benefactors were feeding you information about how and where to kill Hell-Spiders," Himenez said. "But then why would they visit the site of your biggest kill just a day afterwards, and do this?"

Himenez tapped the still picture. The encounter bot was looking at the clone, who was frozen in the middle of a welcoming gesture, opening his arms wide and high.

"They are making peace," Himenez said. "Why would they do that after they told you how to massacre a hundred spiders?"

"I don't know!"

"Looking at the records, something else happened right before you started on your incredible streak of getting more skulls than anyone had ever seen, Lieutenant," Himenez said with a smile. "You captured our only Hell-Spider prisoner."

"No! That's not-"

"Who has been feeding you information this entire time."

"That's ridiculous! They can't even talk!"

The bureaucrat settled back and crossed his arms. "Not verbally. But what if they spoke to you mind to mind? Voices in your head. Like a sort of telepathy." He smiled. "And to test that theory, I ordered two scientists to saw off the prisoner's left claw during this meeting. Slowly."

As soon as the image was put into my head I felt it- the ragged hacksaw blades cutting through the tendons in my wrists- as if it was happening to me! Zazlu grunted under his breath. "I feel it too."

"NO!" I yelled, drawing my sidearm. I shot Himenez in the thigh with the Colt .45 and then pointed it at Oakley. "NO ONE MOVE!"

Butcher had her semi-auto out as well, trained on Hughes as he was reaching for his. "Don't do it!" she ordered.

Zazlu had his pointing at Hector and Samson's heads. They stopped reaching for their knives.

"Juan! Grimstone! Get Halon! Take out the guards and free Three-Spot, now!" I yelled into my throat mike.

"Twenty seconds," Juan promised, and I could already hear them running.

"Red-Stripe, take out the guards, come over the fence, we need you to carry Three-Spot home!" I yelled next, letting Oakley make of that what he may.

The knives-on-knives voice replied in my head immediately. "We are coming."

"I'll have YOUR fucking head up on my wall, traitor!" Oakley yelled, shaking with anger as I kept my Colt on him.

"After he serves five consecutive life sentences breaking rocks," Himenez said from the floor, squeezing the wound in his thigh with his hands to stop the bleeding. He didn't even notice that I had missed his artery on purpose. "Along with his entire squad! Unless they surrender- right now!"

"Not a chance," Zazlu sneered. Ann-Marie kept her gun pointed at Hughes.

I tightened my finger on the trigger, still aiming between Oakley's eyes. "I don't care what you threaten us with. But if anyone in this room touches a radio, it's a headshot. No waking up in the tank for you."

"Guards are down," Juan said into our ears.

"We have reached the building," Red-Stripe said into my head.

"Five spiders sir, they're picking Three-Spot up," Juan said a second later. "They're taking him out."

"Take the squad and follow them," I replied. "Run!"

"Rifles from the armory?" he asked.

"No time. Run!"

Hector was smiling at me. "It's not going to last, Forrest. We're going to have fun hunting you down. And then we'll see who's better, in here," he said, tapping his temple and nodding. Samson, the two Omegas, and Flores were nodding just like him. In unison.

I should have just killed them then. But they were all soldiers in the room, half wearing buffering bands. We only could have gotten three before the rest tackled us. And I didn't want to kill everyone in the room.

Grant was just looking at me, shocked. "What are you doing?"

"Keep your eyes open," I hissed to him. "See if things make sense. Then you'll see what we see." That's all I had time or extra brain power to say.

"Squad?" I called into the mike.

"We're at the fence, going out now," Juan panted. "All accounted for."

"Butcher, Zaz, ready... out!"

Zazlu and Butcher ducked back through the door, guns still up. I wished I had a grenade to drop right then, but I hadn't brought one and Grant and Clark were innocents. So I shot the Master Map, sending glass shards flying everywhere and making people shield their faces as I left.

And then we ran.

***

We got to the perimeter fence and saw the hole the spiders had cut through it. I looked up at the machine gun turrets to see why they weren't firing and saw the gunner slumped over from a razor claw wound. To his back. These spiders were scary.

I saw the last of our squad and some spiders disappearing into the jungle across the Cleared Zone and we sprinted to catch up. I could just picture every soldier on base rushing to the armory to get body armor and rifles that we didn't have, and the blades on all the helicopters we couldn't hide from start to spin up. It motivated me to run a little faster.

Zazlu matched my pace. Butcher, in her new body, no longer ran like a college soccer star. Now she ran, well, like a girl. But she kept up with us using sheer, raw willpower. Which says a lot about her willpower.

We caught the rest of the squad a mile into the jungle.

"So much for getting in and out the Infinity way," Butcher panted, as we ran alongside the spiders still carrying Three-Spot. I had to look; his left claw was missing, tendons just dangling.

"You should have let me kill Hector and Samson," Zazlu said.

"There's more brain slugs than just those two," I replied. "And as long as we didn't kill anyone, we can still make a deal. With Oakley. Or Himenez."

"The guy you pointed the gun at? Or the guy you shot?" Butcher asked, gasping for air, falling behind. "Not... likely..."

"Butcher, you're totally gassed. Ride Blue-Wave," I ordered, and the large spider stopped and lowered himself like a trained horse.

"Only... until the village," she said, straddling his back.

***

Riding, she beat all the rest of us back to the spider fort. The spiders carrying Three-Spot got there first, and the squad followed five minutes later. It had to have been ten miles. We didn't sprint all of it, but we didn't move slower than a fast jog until we were inside the walls. What can I say? These bodies were made to run.

As some spiders were sealing up the entrance behind us, Red-Stripe directed others to lay Three-Spot inside his own cave and a wave of gray shells rushed over to try and stop the bleeding. You can't tourniquet something that has an exoskeleton. I offered up my personal medkit with its staunching powder and gauze, and Zazlu did the same. The gray shells took them, then pushed us out as they crowded around Three-Spot.

The spider leader turned to me. "They are already pursuing you. Our outer scouts sense it."

"They probably had the satellites on us before we left the Cleared Zone." My lungs hurt from running, but I said, "We should leave. If we stay, you're in danger, too."

He looked at me. "But where else would you go?"

And he was right.

***

We broke out the crates we had stored there, giving rifles and grenades to squad members stationed evenly all around the top of the rock wall. Red-Stripe put two of his hunters with each of ours and sent twenty others to hide in the jungle as potential siege-breakers. He was learning tactics so fast. Or maybe he had known them all along.

I did a quick circuit of the top wall, checking on each of my guys and giving them water, and they all seemed to be doing okay with the proximity to the spiders. They had already seen the hunters up close before, but I just wanted to be sure before I took my position.

Then we heard two Heavies tromping through the jungle and I felt my guys curse in despair. Nothing I had just given them, not the rifles or grenades they had would scratch those walking suits of armored death.

Which is why we brought out the .50 cals.

Just like with the White Thought Eater, when the first Heavy burst out through the treeline to show itself, Butcher and I simultaneously put an armor-piercing slug dead center in its chest. Made for going through engine blocks and then killing what's on the other side, the bullets did their job. We saw the back blow off the powered suit and important parts fly out, covered in the operator's own blood.

The second Heavy turned to run as the first one started to topple, but Butcher and I were already swinging the sniper rifles over. The back armor was even weaker than the front.

Clones wearing Omega and Phoenix uniforms ran to get away from the two dying, exploding machines they had been following, and my guys opened up without me even having to give the order.

After the first few exchanges, I said into my mike, "Conserve ammo! We don't have an unlimited amount."

From somewhere else on the rock wall, Zazlu replied, "But they do."

And that was the issue, wasn't it?

We got to see the "rolling waves of clones" strategy in full effect. We played it smart, took cover and only fired when we had a good shot. They fired at will, ran across long stretches of the Cleared Zone without fear and always pressed, pressed, pressed.

We killed about ten of them in a vicious, unending firefight, but then we heard helicopters landing in the trees behind their lines and suddenly there were just as many as they had started with. And now they were closer.

Before gunpowder, most "great battles" of history only lasted tens of minutes, because it's only physically possible to swing a sword at kill-or-be-kill speeds for so long before the body gives out. And even most firefights in the gunpowder era were long stretches of boredom, punctuated by short intense moments of terror. Because humans can only stay keyed up for so long. This was different.

It was never-ending. They just kept pressing and pressing. We killed one behind a rock and another would jump forward to take his place. We heard another helicopter drop off its troops and then try to circle over to see if it could strafe us. A .50 cal bullet from Ann-Marie's rifle through the floorboard, through the co-pilot's seat, and out the top of the cockpit convinced the pilot to turn around. But then we heard two more Heavies rumbling through the jungle at us. They were firing automatic mortars indirectly, the shrapnel ziiiip-ing and tink-ing off the rocks as we ducked for our lives. Grimstone got hit in the leg and Harper dove over to use what Steve had taught him.

But then the bullets were hitting closer, we had to keep down all the time. Clones were at the base of the wall now. Soon we'd be fighting them hand-to-hand on the parapet. The spiders could help then, but eventually we'd have to reload. Or sleep. Or just rest for one damned second.

"Sir..." Ann-Marie's warned, holding her sniper rifle close as she tried to squeeze behind a rock that was too small to hide her. Bullets were flaking off parts of the rock on all sides.

"Over here too!" Zazlu called. He and Juan were barely holding back five Phoenixes as they tried to storm up the wall.

I threw grenades, my last two, to relieve the pressure on Ann-Marie then turned and sniped one of the men storming Zazlu. Another helicopter was landing.

Something had to be done.

I jumped off the parapet and slid to the floor of the village. "Zazlu, hold them back for ten more minutes!" I yelled, then looked over at Red-Stripe. He was under a rock ledge to keep out of the shrapnel, sitting in his calm yoga pose and sharpening his razor claw. "Ten minutes, then use the siege breakers to take them from behind!" I told him.

"More will just come," the spider said. "The siege breakers will be trapped between."

"I'm about to solve that!" I yelled back. "Ten minutes and then attack!"

"Ten minutes is a long time in these conditions," Zaz said, popping up to fire at attackers from behind rocks.

"Zaz, I'm sorry! I know I haven't listened and led you into some tight spots but just give me-"

"Ten minutes. We've got it."

Of course. We were in the field.

"Don't be late," he added, peeking up to fire again.

"I won't." I knew exactly how long it would take, because I had run the distance many, many times.

I put the barrel of my Colt against my chest, aiming at my heart. I hated this part.

***

I woke up in a tank of water, gasping. The water was colder than before. Maybe because the room was so much larger.

I looked around at the new resurrection hall. Thirty rows deep, soldiers were walking up randomly in tank after tank, and Doctor Murphy was frazzled trying to keep up, running from one to the next. And two BlackShirts were patrolling the room, shotguns at the ready.

She trotted towards me as fast as she could manage in her low heels. "Key Phrase?" she blurted out when she was still five feet away.

"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

She reached my tank, flipping pages on her datapad then looked up, confused. "Captain Flores? But I just saw you walk by the hall a minute-"

I grabbed her wrist as the BlackShirts started to take an interest in us. "I really don't have much time. And it's been a rough day, Doc."

I tried to say the word exactly as I always said it to her, from when we had first met to our last encounter in the closet. Doctor Shannon Murphy looked her stunning, one-in-a-million green eyes right into my factory issue ones, and then she knew.

I saw her swallow as the BlackShirts approached, their fingers on the triggers.

"Captain Stacy Flores, TacOps, I confirm your identity," she said, forcing the quivers out of her voice as she raised the barcode burner to my heart. "This may sting a little bit."

I could have kissed her.

I put on the fatigues, boots and buffering band waiting beside my tank and ran out of the resurrection room even as five more clones were walking up. Maybe I could have pulled the wires out of a few before the BlackShirts got me. But unarmed, without grenades, I couldn't have taken out an entire res room that size. Or the other three rooms.

I burst out a side door and started running for the farms.

***

"We're only going to get one shot," I told the farmers lying on the crest of the hill. "So make it count."

Tornier was there, and seven other older men who had seen action somewhere in their past and knew how to calm their nerves. But we also had about ten kids, maybe eighteen, who had first fired their .308 hunting rifles on the one day we had trained them. The kids' rifle tips were shaking like paintbrushes.

I was in the middle of the line next to Tornier, looking down the iron sights of the rifle they had lent me, a rifle I had stolen to give to them in the first place, at the two idling troop helicopters 200 yards away. The door to the hangar opened and ten cloned soldiers started jogging toward the helos.

Two hundred yards isn't impossibly far. Revolutionary marksmen with smoothbore muskets would get kills from that distance regularly. If they had years of hunting experience. And could get over the mind-numbing adrenaline of firing at another human who may fire back. And had been trained. For more than a day.

"All together now," I said in the most reassuring voice I could manage. "We're going to do it all together. Inhale. Exhale. Two, one, fire."

All nineteen of our rifles cracked at the same moment and eight out of ten clones fell. I jumped to my feet and fired four times to bring down the other two as they ran for cover.

"Charge!" I yelled, sprinting down the hill.

No one followed.

I heard Tornier spit and say, "Aw hell." Then he yelled, "Tully, with me! The rest of you stay!"

The three of us ran towards the flight line. I slowed to let them get closer.

"You don't get to say 'Charge!'," Tornier yelled, running next to me. "Only I get to say 'Charge!' to my boys."

"Sorry!"

"Some of us have to live on this planet after all this is over, you know," he said, and right there, in those thirty seconds it took us to close distance to the wounded clones lying on the ground, was the first time I really thought about it.

What was my plan for afterwards? After all this?

We knocked away the rifles of the Omegas and Phoenixes too wounded to use them and shot the hands of the ones still reaching for theirs. But we didn't kill them. That would defeat the point.

I blindfolded and tied the soldiers up with some of Tornier's duct tape and then hopped into the two auto-piloted choppers and hit the GO button to send them on their way, empty. That would tie them up for fifteen minutes, too.

I reached for my throat mike. "Zazlu, it's set! Atta-"

Shit. I wasn't on the same implant channel as the squad anymore. And it would be a fun task to try and get a base tech to put me on it.

"Tornier, I suggest taking your guys back to the farms. If anyone else comes I don't want your involvement known. Like you said, you have to live here after this." He nodded, and I caught him before he and Tully started jogging back to the ridge. "Oh, and no matter what happens, try and seek out a large Hell-Spider with a bright red stripe across his face. Just thinking about him for ten minutes will be enough. He's one of the friendlies. If you offer him some sheep, I think you and he will have a lot to talk about."

Tornier gave me a strange glance, then he and Tully raced back to their group. A few seconds later I heard the sound of four-wheelers driving away.

I loaded up on grenades from the wounded guys and then took up position behind them to get anyone else coming out the door.

As I waited for ten seconds, then twenty, then thirty, I wondered. At the spider village, we had seen Omegas and Phoenixes and even a few Immortals, but not Hector or Samson. What were the head Immortals doing this whole time?

And then I got my answer, as a human-piloted helicopter circled to land with four Immortals hanging out the sides of it. They started firing on me even as they made their final approach, because I wasn't hard to spot. I was the guy standing next to ten tied up, bleeding soldiers, using them for cover.

I ran for the hangar door, their bullets following me and dove through, but not before I saw what they were bringing back in the helicopter.

A huge, dripping mass of seaweed.

***

Okay, I had to tell the Squad what I had just seen. And to attack in this lull, before the next wave of clones were sent out. And to come save my ass. Without tac implants or going to Comms. There was only one way.

I sprinted to our barracks and tried to push away the naughty feelings of rifling through Ann-Marie's trunk as I looked for a very personal item. Her cellphone. I hit the speed dial for Juan's number.

It rang ten gut-wrenching times until he picked up.

"Butcher?"

"Juan, it's me, Lieutenant Forrest!"

"Oh, sorry, sir! I know I'm not supposed to-"

"Shut up Juan. Tell Red-Stripe to attack."

"But we just heard two choppers land."

"They were empty! Tell Red-Stripe to send the siege-breakers, now!"

"Okay. I'm telling him." A pause during which I heard the sound of constant gunfire. "Done."

I loaded and stuck my spare Colt .45 in my belt as I asked, "How's it going?"

"It's rough, sir. Two more hit but not dead. The spiders helped us throw them back a few time-FUCK! Whew. Okay. It was getting really hairy right when you called."

"Why the hell did you pick up the phone then?"

"I thought you were Butcher," he said.

"You can see Butcher."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Tell everyone NOT to die," I said, opening the door to our barracks and peeking out. "The Immortals are bringing the slugs back here. I bet they're going to put them in the tanks. If you die you could wake up infected."

"Okay. Oh shit- it's happening!"

"What!"

"The spiders are charging!" he yelled. "Fuck yeah!"

"What's happening? Tell me!"

"They're all like, fucking mowing them down! From over there! And there too!"

"Damn it, Juan. Put Zazlu on the phone!"

Sounds of bullets, running.

"Zazlu."

"Zaz, what's happening? Juan couldn't narrate a silent movie."

"The spiders caught them from behind like perfect siege-breakers. Two groups, galloping up silently, got most of them before they could turn and fire. If they did, we got them. Two spiders hurt, but... there...they got them all! There's still a Heavy in the woods, but we're looking good for now, sir."

"Okay, great," I said, exhaling. "I think the Immortals are infecting the tanks, Zaz. Don't die or you could wake up Hector's best friend."

"Roger."

"And, uh, any chance you could come get me? We've got to stop the next wave of clones from being infected. And the next."

There was a pause. "We've got wounded."

"Leave Steve there with the wounded and bring the rest here."

"Steve is one of the wounded."

"God damn it! How does he always- never mind," I said. "Okay, leave one healthy private to talk to the gray shells about triage and bring the rest here with all the hunters Red-Stripe can spare."

"That will just be me, Butcher and Juan. And about five spiders."

I sighed. Against 45 soldiers, 30 BlackShirts, and thousands of psychic brain slugs.

Lighter, smarter, faster.

I guess it had to be this way.

***

I did my best Flores walk and checked two Stinger missiles out of the armory. I don't even know why we had those here.

Then I snuck outside, waiting for the next set of troops to run out to the returning auto-piloted helicopters. As they took off, I locked the shoulder-fired anti-air missile onto the first helicopter and then let the Stinger loose. The first helicopter exploded, giving 5 clones the second shortest mission of the day. I did the same to the second helicopter, as I imagine the soldiers were screaming at the auto-pilot to climb faster. Sometimes machines just aren't the answer.

That left only one working troop helicopter on the entire planet, the one still wet from the Immortal's cargo. I let that be and climbed on the roof of the cafeteria to watch the cavalry come in.

***

I noticed that they weren't sending clones out that same hangar door anymore. Real Flores in TacOps must have learned. Or maybe the freshly resurrected soldiers just had other prey on their mind.

"Come on guys, hurry," I said into Ann-Marie's cellphone, thinking of Doc Murphy or Dakota running from a horde of infected.

"Almost there," Zazlu answered. "Riding Hell-Spiders is actually pretty soothing. If we made the right saddle, it'd be smoother than a luxury car."

"On the trip home, we will ride you," Blue Wave answered him, as I saw them at the edge of the Cleared Zone, three humans riding three spiders, followed by two other hunters.

I squinted to make them out. "How come Ann-Marie got to ride Red-Stripe?"

"She is the prettiest," the knives-on-knives voice said. The group paused before the Cleared Zone. "Lieutenant Forrest, how are we going to do this?"

I sighed. Had Ridley ever been asked that question this many times in one day? I took a breath to think.

"Okay, the base is laid out like an 'H'. The clone rooms are at each end of the H, and we have to take all four out. We're too few to do them all at once. But the first thing we need to hit is the armory. Come in through the cafeteria."

"I sense a growing number of brain-slug hosts inside," Red-Stripe said. "That is troubling."

"We're going to reduce that number," I sighed. "First rule: anyone you sense infected with slugs, kill them with a blow to the head, not the spine, or knock off their buffering band first. That goes for us too, Zaz, Butcher, Juan."

"Hoo-ah."

"Anyone in a black shirt, wound first, kill if necessary, but leave their band on. Same for anyone with the 2nd Chance logo. Don't chase anyone who runs from you, they're desk pushers, not a threat. And don't kill the females."

"How do we tell which ones are the females?" Blue Wave asked.

We all shouted "Shut up Juan!" before he had a chance to say anything.

***

I made the cooks and busboys clear out of the kitchen, ordering them to lock themselves in their rooms and say no to slugs. Then I brought the team in. The humans went first, the spiders following as I led them out the same glass cafeteria door I had kicked in what seemed like a lifetime ago.

We moved down the hallway fast, almost to the armory when Red-Stripe said, "Two humans with hostile thoughts are approaching, from our left."

"Spiders forward," I hissed. "Remember the rules. And do it quietly!"

Two hunters took position around the corner, and when the BlackShirts turned it, claws flashed and cut the shotguns from their arms and stabbed their knees almost faster than I could see.

"Black shirt, no kill," I felt the hunters think and both knocked the BlackShirts heads into the wall before the guards were even reacting to what they saw.

They hit the ground unconscious, in less than two seconds after they had turned the corner.

"Holy shit," I said to Zaz. "We may win this thing."

That's when ten Omegas fresh from the tanks came pounding down the halls and we ducked into the armory as bullets came our way.

Now, of all the places to be trapped, the armory is a pretty good one. You've got all of the guns, bullets, grenades and flamethrowers you need right in the room with you. But we were trapped; armories usually only have one door.

Zazlu knocked the stunned desk sergeant out as he was still trying to breathe from seeing five Hell-Spiders and four war criminals burst into his office.

I closed the armor plated door and locked it as we tried to think.

"They didn't have many weapons," Butcher said. "Just sidearms. They were probably coming here for rifles."

"They've got the BlackShirts' shotguns now," Juan replied.

"They were infected," Red-Stripe said. "I could see it in their minds. And even now I can hear them telling the slug network of our position."

"Then we're not staying long," I said. "Zazlu, flamethrowers."

"I'm not walking around these tiny halls with a flammable gas tank on my back," he shot back. "Besides, I think we'll need these more." He was holding up bullet-proof riot shields. Why did we even have all this stuff?

We got ready, then I asked Red-Stripe, "Are they looking at the armory door right now?"

"Yes."

"From which side? Left or right?"

"Right."

We opened the heavy door six inches and rolled grenade after grenade out to our right, like a broken grenade vending machine. It's not like we didn't have enough.

One shotgun blast panged off the door before the explosions started.

Red-Stripe turned his head, sensing the air. "One is killed. The rest are fleeing."

"Which way?"

"Right."

We went right.

They turned to fire at Zazlu and Juan, who were on point, crouching behind riot shields as they ran. Butcher and I popped over the shields to fire, because you couldn't hold the shield and a rifle at the same time. We chased the nine Omegas into one resurrection room at the end of the hall and paused outside the door.

"Zazlu, Butcher, you hold the hall with two spiders. Juan, rest of spiders, you're with me. Kill all infected."

We paused to breathe, and then Juan kicked in the door with me poking around his shield and the spiders behind me.

Non-Murphy resurrection doctor was dead on the floor and nothing was moving in the room. Just three by thirty rows of sleeping clones lay in the tanks before us. All wore buffering bands. All were naked.

"They took off their clothes," Juan said, nodding towards the piles of fatigues next to the door. "There's no way to tell which ones they are!"

"Oh, we're not even playing this game," I said, starting to fire my rifle into every single tank up the nearest row.

Eight clones sprang into motion in tanks throughout the room, pulling handguns or shotguns out of the water. Juan and I ducked as the spiders surged forward.

In a short, intense, fire- and claw-fight, we got them all. We tried for headshots or razor claws through their skulls, but about half the Omegas would be resurrecting again, somewhere. One spider was hit twice in the side, blue blood oozing out, another hit once in the knee. Damn it.

We pulled all the wires from of all the clones' heads, then I went to the main panel and read it before I grenaded it. There were four other resurrection stations active besides this one, the other three rooms and the one working lifeboat in orbit.

We came back out to the hall to see that Butcher and Zazlu had advanced all the way up to one junction of the 'H' and were involved in a rough firefight there. Made sense. If you were going to hold a hallway, you didn't want to hold just an end of it and get trapped, you wanted to hold an intersection. I heard the two grenades I had left on the main panel go off behind us. Three rooms to go.

We ran up to the intersection, two spiders limping.

"Phoenix and Immortals," Ann-Marie said between shots. "Some BlackShirts." And Omegas we had just killed, running up still dripping from the res tanks.

We needed to get past. Waiting only brought more enemy towards us. But these guys had rifles and shotguns, and I wasn't going to kill myself to get behind them again. We were pinned.

"Hey sir," Butcher said, crouching next to me. "Do you think any of these spiders can do a good Oakley impression?"

I started laughing.

It turned out White-Sort-of-Boobs could, even with a bullet in his knee. What the soldiers fighting us at the intersection heard in their heads was, "This is General Oakley. If you are fighting in one hallway, retreat to the other hallway! NOW! We are re-cuddling there."

"Re-grouping!" I whispered, sending him a better mental image.

"We are re-grouping there," the spider corrected.

And like good soldiers following the voices in their tactical implants, they retreated. Well, the BlackShirts and some of the Phoenix did. The infected listened to their own psychic voices in their head and stood their ground, not afraid to die. We weren't afraid to kill them, so it worked out. We kept their heads down while the spiders advanced but most clones died with their buffering bands on. We ran to the door of the other res room in this hall. We paused outside of that one too.

"Three, two, one-" I said, and then we kicked the door in.

This time the inhabitants did fire back right away, hard, and before the riot shields started cracking I looked up and saw clouds of seaweed hanging from the ceiling, just waiting to drop slugs on us. The clones waking up in the res tanks, probably the ones we had just killed, were already being showered with the white insects.

"Back! Back!" I yelled, and we rushed backwards out the door.

I looked over at Zazlu. "Gee, this would be a great time for a flamethrower."

He sighed. "Hold on."

He ran down the hall with some spiders to our barracks, where he had hidden the last working flamethrower before we had blown the armory up. They returned with it thirty seconds later, fresh human blood on his arms and the spider escort's claws.

"We got rushed by a group with clubs," he said, strapping the flamethrower on. He nodded at the res room. "They're probably waking up in there right now."

We set up. Standing well to the side of the door, I kicked it in once. A hail of bullets from at least three different guns went where I should have been standing. I kicked the door open from the side again. Same result. Kicked again, and fewer bullets this time.

I looked at Red-Stripe. "Tell me which kick they're not going to fire."

"Okay."

"Don't be wrong!"

"Okay."

After about five more kicks with varying responses, he said, "This time."

I motioned Zazlu forward, put Juan with a half-destroyed riot shield in front of him, then kicked again.

We heard their screams as Zazlu emptied half his tank spitting fire up, down, left, right before they could fire back. But they died with their buffering bands on, even the ones that came screaming back into the same room we were killing them in.

"This is just going to get harder," Zazlu said, noticing that. "Now they're all concentrated in two res rooms."

Yes, it was going to get harder. Doc Murphy was manning one of those two res rooms in the other hallway.

This main panel I smashed with the butt of my rifle. I only had one grenade left, and I was saving it. As it broke, it read three other res stations active. Two rooms down, two to go.

***

As we were running down the long middle hallway of the H and past many panicking civilians who were trying to get themselves shot, I heard Oakley's voice in my head.

"To the soldiers fighting in the hallway! Surrender! Now! Or face dire consequences!"

I turned to White-Sort-of-Boobs, run-limping next to me. "Quit it."

"It was not me, Bunch of Trees."

I tapped my throat mike. "Oakley?"

"That's General Oakley to you, criminal! Now surrender! This has gone far enough!"

"Has it? Do you finally believe that psychic bugs are trying to take over this entire base?"

"The only ones acting possessed is YOUR squad, you fuckwad!"

"Yeah, that's right," I said, ducking behind a corner as a BlackShirt took a parting shot at me. "We're the ones that have been taken over. We're the ones trying to make every human into food in the bottom of a cave. We're the ones who put all that seaweed hanging over these res tanks so brain slugs infect this entire base. Why don't you put that in your report to Earth?" I said, only half joking.

"I have already made my report through the wormgate! And you all are named! Every criminal act you have done has been reported!"

"Not every act," Zazlu said, firing a quick burst to kill another clone who was charging us.

Another three clones burst from the cafeteria as we passed, trying to ambush us with knives. One sliced Zazlu across the back but then the spiders attacked, killing two permanently but not knocking the headband off the last one in time.

"Do they even have any clones left at this point?" Ann-Marie asked, coming up after sniping another Immortal through the civilians running away from us. She started treating Zazlu's wound as Steve had taught us.

"Have we killed five hundred yet?" I said back.

"Not likely," she replied.

"Then yes," I said. "Hey, Oakley! What are you going to do when we destroy the last res room and all your lights turn red? You still going to send soldiers out to die against us?"

"What are YOU going to do, fuckwads, when I get a hold of you? Try taking these last two resurrection rooms! I dare you!"

"Sir," Zazlu panted, grabbing my shoulder before I moved forward, even as Butcher was finishing bandaging his back. He covered his mike. "It's getting worse each time, sir. Next room it will be twenty or thirty of them. After that maybe forty or fifty."

"And Oakley's got to be barricaded in one of the res rooms with the BlackShirts," Butcher said. "That's the obvious place to retreat to. That's the last stand location. We won't be able to take that."

Juan came up too. "Yeah, what's the point? They're just going to rebuild them."

"The point is," I started, then stopped. "It's the right thing to do."

"But what's the point?" Zazlu asked. "We can't win. Not permanently. What do we want?"

When the bullets had started flying, I had focused too much on the mission and not enough on the war. Ridley had warned about that. So yeah, what did I want?

I wanted Three-Spot to be safe, and that was done, I guess. I wanted the brain slugs dead, but we had hosed that chance. Hector was out of reach, too. I wanted my squad safe, and half of them were bleeding, maybe on their way to another death but definitely to jail. I wanted the spiders safe but they had been protecting us as much as we did them. But mostly, I wanted to ask my entire squad and a certain red-headed doctor to come with me, as I got out of this army, out of this war, off this planet, and just disappeared forever.

I had one idea how to do that. It was a long shot, but I had been thinking about it for a long, long time and it was the only explanation.

I started yelling into my mike. "Fuck you, Oakley! We're going to kick down the door of that res room you're in, and then we're going to hold you down as we feed your brain to the white slugs we've hidden in the res tanks! Get your BlackShirts ready, and prepare to be eaten, because HERE WE COME!"

Zazlu and Butcher were looking at me like I was insane. I covered my mike and whispered, "Let's go to Comms."

Into our ears, Oakley was saying, "What? Those white things- what are those? Are they supposed to be there?" as we threw away our throat mikes, backed away from that hallway and climbed the stairs leading to the Comms tower.

Where our last hope lay.

***

After a short firefight with two BlackShirts we unfortunately had to kill (one resurrected), we kicked open the door to Comms and discovered it was where something else also lay.

Inspector General Himenez.

His leg was bandaged, propped up on the counter as he was uploading something and listening to comms traffic with another officer. There was a gun and a walkie-talkie on the counter as well. He saw us and dove for it. So did I.

I got to the gun first. But he was going for the radio.

"They're in here! Comms tower!" he yelled before we wrestled the walkie-talkie away from him.

"Now why did you have to go and do that?" I said.

Himenez put on his own buffering band and held it down. "I don't care if they kill us all. Anywhere you wake up, I'll follow and bring you to justice."

"Not anywhere," I said, and then there was knock on the door.

"Lieutenant Forrest?" Doctor Murphy said, being let in by Butcher. "It's chaos out there, the slugs are everywhere and I was looking for you when I heard this voice telling me..." Her eyes got wide, seeing the five spiders crammed into the tiny office with us.

"This is the correct female?" Blue Wave asked me. "The one that is easy to tip over?"

"Yep, you did great Blue Wave." I turned to their leader. "Red-Stripe, you better get your guys out of here. They don't make these in your size," I said, tapping my buffering band.

"It has been a pleasure," the knives-on-knives voice said in my head. "You are truly one of the greatest hunters of your clan."

Why did his praise make me so proud again? I looked up at the towering spider.

"Thanks, Red-Stripe. As are you." I touched his slick, black shell. "Also, no matter what happens, search for a man called 'Tornier' in the farms behind the base. Working together, your clan and his could tame this planet in ways you can only dream of."

"I will. Good luck."

The spiders left and we shooed the terrified Comms officer out with them, but I grabbed the buffering band off her head as she passed. Himenez wouldn't move.

"Anywhere you go," he said, holding his own buffering band around his head with both hands.

"Suit yourself," I said.

Zazlu caught my arm. "We are trapped in a tower. If they just kill us here, we will resurrect into their hands."

"Or their slugs," Butcher added. "What's the plan?"

In response, I used Comms to radio to the orbiting station.

Lieutenant Grant answered.

"So that's where you've been this whole time," I laughed. "I thought you were sitting this one out because you loved us."

"Don't try it," Grant said. "Just because we were in prison once doesn't mean we're on your side."

"That's not what I was thinking. In fact, you're one of the few men left that I can trust to do the right thing."

"I don't care what you say, Forrest. We're guarding the lifeboat. We're protecting the last hope for everyone on this planet. If you resurrect here, we'll arrest you and turn you in."

"I know. That's why I want you to turn that resurrection station off."

"Off?"

"Just for a minute. There will still be two stations down here to take any casualties, but we're not planning on making any more."

"Why should I?"

"Have you been listening to what's been going on down here?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Have you been watching? The satellite feeds? You saw those Immortals make a run to those caves and come back, right?"

"Yeah, we saw that."

"In the middle of the most important battle yet? Kind of weird, huh? We need you to remember that after we're gone. Tell people what you saw, what you heard. Now, is that station switched off yet?"

I heard him take a deep exhale. "Okay. It is. We still read the other two stations on the ground. If you do anything to hurt those people down there while this lifeboat is off-"

"We never hurt anyone but ourselves. That's the Infinity Squad way. You're a good soldier, Grant. Give us at least a minute. Out."

I walked over with the buffering band I had taken from the Comms officer and put it on Doc Murphy's head. "What is this?" she asked, suddenly scared. "A suicide cult?"

"Yeah sir, I'm not seeing the plan here either," Ann-Marie said.

"He is trying to get you lost in a crowd of clones," Himenez laughed. "But it will not work."

I switched the main antenna to transmit on all the main interstellar frequencies as we heard boots marching up the tower steps. I picked up the mike. "This is Lieutenant Forrest of Infinity Squad! I'm looking for Encounter Bot Two, if that is your real name."

The pounding on the door became louder, like a battering ram was being used. And then shots started coming through it. We all ducked behind the last row of computers, except Himenez, who just yelled, "They're in here! Come get them!"

"Sir, seriously, what's the plan?" Zazlu demanded, trading shots through the closed door at our attackers.

"The plan is to get lost and never be seen again," I said. "Encounter Bot 2, we need evacuation! I know you are still around! Two females and three... okay, four males. We need evacuation, now!"

"They will never get here in time," Himenez gloated as the door was almost broken down.

"Not unless we go to them," I said, and pulled my last grenade out.

Damn. And I was really hoping to save it for Oakley's office.

"Sir, I don't think that-" Butcher began, then got a certain horrified look on her face I had only seen once before. I knew why. Her buffering band had just gone red too.

I pulled the pin.

"Lieutenant! Please!" Murphy screamed.

"Forrest!"

"Sir!"

"You have to trust me," I said, dropping the grenade as the door crashed in.

***

We woke up in a tank of hot, relaxing water.

Everyone was screaming except me. I was either going to be right or be dead, there was no need to scream about it.

I looked around. The resurrection tubs were just like ours, fifteen of them laid out in three rows of five. But the room we were in, none of us had ever seen before. It seemed like it was grown, not built. All the walls were curvy organic shapes like we were inside some big metal heart.

"What just happened? Where are we?" asked a stunning blonde pleasure model to my right, sitting up in the tanks without bothering to cover herself. That would be Ann-Marie.

"Where... what..." an identical stunning blonde pleasure model said, waking to my left. She saw her new, huge, wet breasts and shrieked, throwing her hands over them. That would be Doc Murphy. I would miss her red hair.

The male clone in front of me was looking around. "Is this..."

"Yeah, Zaz, it is," I said.

"Woah!" the clone behind me laughed. That would be Juan.

To the back left, a clone was sitting up and looking around in a very precise manner. That would be Himenez.

"Now that we're actually here," I told the group, "I feel obligated to mention that I was only about 50% sure that this would work."

"But this isn't the lifeboat," Ann-Marie said. "I've been there."

"No, but we are in space."

The door to the room opened, and we all tensed when a clone walked in. He was unarmed, and didn't wear fatigues, just a plain flightsuit. He had no nametag and no distinguishing features.

"Hey Lieutenant Ridley," I said. "Long time no see."

The man chuckled and shook his head. "You always were too smart for your own good."

"Lieutenant!" Ann-Marie gasped. "You resurrected on a Benefactor ship after you died?"

"Yes," he chuckled. "But the bodies back then weren't nearly as good as the ones you're in. The Benefactors hadn't stolen the secret recipe from the humans yet."

"How many trips to the lifeboat did it take you?" I asked. "That Encounter Bot can't be fun to steer in zero-g."

"Five. Who knew cloning was so complicated?" He looked at me. "You shouldn't have been able to figure this out."

"You shouldn't have gotten photographed next to an Encounter bot trying to make peace with a bunch of Hell-Spiders," I shot back. "That caused us a lot of trouble."

"Satellite pics? No one looks at all of those anyway."

I nodded at Himenez, who still hadn't spoken. "He does."

Despite the hot water, Doc Murphy was shivering in her new body, tucked into a tight ball in her tank. "What's going on? What resurrection station is this?"

"I'm sorry! Let me get you some towels and clothes," Ridley said, opening a cabinet that was growing out of the curved wall.

While he passed out towels, I answered, "Doc, this is the station that the Benefactors use to abduct people at the moment of their death, while making it look like their buffering band failed."

"Why?"

"Well, in Ridley's case, because they needed someone to talk to the Hell-Spiders," I said. "Spiders are psychic, they talk between organic minds. Doesn't work so well if all you use are the Encounter bots."

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you guys," Ridley said, passing out clothes behind me. "I didn't choose to wake up in these tanks, and when I did, the Benefactors told me I could talk to the spiders and no one else. I almost lost it the next time I saw you all, straggling in through the gate, sweaty, muddy and all snake-bitten."

"I wondered why an encounter bot wanted to read my report," I laughed.

"And why did the Benefactors need to talk to the spiders?" Zazlu asked.

"Hell if I know," I said, looking expectantly at Ridley.

He sat on the edge of a res tank as we dried ourselves. In these tanks, the water drained out the bottom after a while, so you didn't have to stand up and show your goods to everyone as you dressed. I still tied the towel around my waist as I dressed, just like I had hundreds of times during my childhood on the beach.

"The Benefactors believe they are charged with giving alien races access to the wormgates when they meet a certain standard," Ridley said. "That was only one other race for the last three hundred years. But now five separate species, including humans, are being given access to the wormgates almost at once. They're going to meet, eventually. There will be misunderstandings, and there will be conflict. The Benefactors want to limit that."

"So they wanted to set up a special force, to protect neutral sites where the different races could have safe places to meet and talk," Ridley continued. "To prevent incidents during meetings which could lead to inter-wormgate war. And to gather information for disputes leveled by one race against another."

"A security force for a space U.N.," I said.

"Kind of," Ridley replied. "This force would also be responsible for preventing unauthorized items from passing through the wormgates. The really nasty stuff like nukes, self-replicating nanotech, Precursor viruses. Stuff that could kill whole worlds."

Ridley looked at us. "This force needed to be adaptable to all environments and circumstances, astute in politics and personal relations, unmatched as border guards and detectives, and absolutely unsurpassed in the art of personal combat. Of all the known sentient species, one fit the bill best."

Juan was nodding. "Humans."

Ridley made a face. "No. Hell-Spiders. Humans were third on the list. The Benefactors actually approached the spider clans a year ago, in the flesh."

Ann-Marie sat up. "Sir, have you seen a Benefactor? In person?"

Ridley smiled. "I was a Benefactor, for a while. That's what I resurrected into, I think. Or some half-human mix. That's why it's hard to keep the 'I' and 'we' separate when I talk about them now."

"What do they look like?" I asked.

"That's classified," he said, smiling, then continued. "But the spiders weren't interested. Too insular, too attached to their jungle. And I don't think we ever really got the point across that we were from outer space. That's hard for them to picture." He frowned. "And then some exploding bee killed the Benefactor envoy. Which was a big deal to us. Them. Anyway, then the Benefactors made sure humans were given access to specific gates that would let them 'discover' the Hell-Spider planet."

"So we could meet and talk some sense into the spiders?" Zazlu asked.

The Lieutenant laughed. "No, so we could do what humans always do. See big, black, scary seven foot tall monsters and try to kill them!"

Juan was zipping up his flightsuit. "How does that help? That would just piss the spiders off."

"Exactly," Ridley said. "The idea was to finally get the spiders to realize what beings from outer space could do to them, and why it would be better if they were the ones doing the policing. You can't beat mind-readers for a pre-emptive peacekeeping force, and no one's more motivated to become peacekeepers than those who have almost just been massacred."

"That's why you went to the northern city after I bombed it," I said. "You were trying to recruit again. But it didn't work."

Ridley shrugged. "That was the wrong type of spider clan, so I didn't really want it to work. I'm low on the totem pole here, but I've convinced them I know how to recruit."

"That you do," I laughed.

He looked me right in the eye and smiled at me. "And based on what I'm hearing about your exploits on that planet down there, I'm also halfway to convincing the Benefactors that an all-spider team may not be the best way to go."

I gulped. "Well, if you're making a force like you described...I'd probably want to start with someone who's great in the field. Someone tough as nails that people will follow into the gates of hell."

"Yep. You always need one of those," he said, patting Zazlu's shoulder.

"And a dead-eye sniper who's the best damn intelligence officer in the army wouldn't hurt."

"Love to have one of those," Ridley admitted, nodding at Butcher.

"And you always need a doctor," I offered, watching Murphy's reaction out of the corner of my eye. "One that specializes in resurrection technology."

"That would be handy," Ridley agreed.

I sighed. "And I guess... if you're trying to catch smugglers and resolve trade disputes across seven different alien cultures and languages, you'd need someone fearless, someone who's an absolute bulldog for hunting down records and can gather facts like a supercomputer."

Ridley made a face again. "Who? Juan?"

"No!" I laughed. "Our Inspector General over there. If he's willing."

Himenez was just looking at me. He still hadn't spoken, but I saw the gleam in his eye.

"We'll see," Ridley said, looking the bureaucrat over. "But what I do need is a team leader."

"That you do. But you've already got one of the best, sir," I sighed.

"I was talking about you, doofus. I'm going to be too busy recruiting the other teams to lead the first one."

"Oh," I said, blushing. I hadn't expected to lead anything, now that Ridley was back.

He looked me in the eyes. "Lieutenant, you did a good job, no, an exceptional job, keeping this team together, achieving your objectives and most importantly, keeping them true to their conscience, when a lot of temptations, stress and bad orders were thrown your way. That's the kind of man I want guarding a wormgate when literally an entire star system is trying to bribe or force their way through it."

I felt my chest swell. I had made a lot of mistakes the last few months, tried to do the best I could in his absence. But hearing him say that now made me feel I had done the right-

"And you'll need someone to talk to reporters!" Juan added. "I know a good one!"

Ridley set his mouth in a line. "No. We don't need that. At all. We stay out of the press. I don't want people to even know we're there, like the Secret Service."

"We'll find something for you to do, Juan," I said. "We may need an alien food taster. Or someone who's killed a dinosaur." A sudden thought hit me. "And if we're dealing with Benefactor technology and six other advanced species, we'll need a tech. Someone incredible who can hook a printer to a toaster."

"Yeah. I know," Ridley said. "Lucky we went and abducted him too before he got arrested. He and the other squad members you left on planet are playing pool in the break room." Ridley frowned. "It's 3D pool, though, and I don't think they understand the rules yet."

I sighed in relief. I hadn't wanted to leave the privates and Steve on-planet, but my options had gotten too limited too quickly. I had told them to blame everything on me and hope for a dishonorable discharge. But this was better. There was real potential in some of them.

Ridley smiled. "It also doesn't hurt to have one psychic, terrifying horse-sized monster on your team, either." And then Three-Spot walked in the door, with a shiny new metal razor claw grafted to his arm.

I stared at it, then Ridley. "What the fu- how long have we been out?"

"Three days," he laughed. "Our buffering bands really buffer." He laughed again at my shocked face. "What? We had to make your new bodies." He shook his head. "Two females and four males. With less than a minute's notice. What are we, a fast food joint?"

I was just shaking my head, then grinned at Three-Spot.

"You really want to go policing the universe with me?"

"Yes, Group of Trees. With your expert pack of hunters." He looked at Doc Murphy. "And your future mate."

"What! No! I'm not..." Shannon protested, but then started blushing very deeply. And when I reached a hand over from my tank to hers, she took it. Sometimes having a psychic wingman helps.

"So no ill effects from all that poison?" I asked the spider.

"With enough freshly-killed food, I am recovering steadily."

"And having one claw hacked off? That won't stop you?"

He held up the metal replacement excitedly. "This is temporary. Ridley says they can make metal claws so that I can interface with your thinking boxes. Or open cans! Or even fire your metal spitters!"

I had to laugh.

Like I said, Hell-Spiders are hard to kill.

***THE END***
***

FLEET INTER-SERVICE COMMUNICATION: PRIORITY 1A

FROM: UN HIGH COMMAND, DEPGENSEC, SWITZERLAND

TO: GENERAL OAKLEY, COMEARTHFOR, ANGIE'S STAR II

RE: IMMEDIATELY CEASE ALL OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS

MESSAGE:

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY FOR ALL FORCES ON ANGIE'S STAR II: CEASE ALL OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS. THE BENEFACTORS HAVE REPORTED THAT HELL-SPIDERS ARE SENTIENT AND NOW UNDER THEIR PROTECTION. THIS MIRRORS THE FINDINGS OF INSPECTOR GENERAL HIMENEZ'S LAST REPORT, TRANSMITTED MINUTES BEFORE HE WAS KILLED IN ACTION.

DEPENEMYINTELL IS UNAWARE OF ANY BENEFACTOR FORCES ABLE TO MONITOR FOR SMALL-SCALE INFANTRY ACTIONS AGAINST THE HELL-SPIDERS, BUT THE BENEFACTORS ASSURE US THEY ARE ALREADY IN SYSTEM, SO CEASE ALL OFFENSIVES IMMEDIATELY.

REVIEWING YOUR REPORT ON THE MUTINOUS ACTIONS OF INFINITY SQUAD AND OF THE CONTAMINATION OF CLONE TANKS, DEPGENSEC AGREES WITH YOUR CONCLUSION: ALL MEMBERS OF INFINITY SQUAD WERE INFECTED WITH AN UNKNOWN ALIEN PARASITE WHICH HEIGHTENED ALREADY DEVIANT TENDENCIES. THE BENEFACTORS ARE ENFORCING A QUARANTINE ON ANGIE'S STAR II UNTIL BRAIN SCANNING EQUIPMENT ARRIVES. ALL HUMANS WILL BE SCANNED AND ALL INFECTED WILL BE RESTRAINED FOR FURTHER STUDY.

THE RESULTS OF YOUR INITIAL RORSCHACH TESTS CHECKING FOR INFECTION, HOWEVER, HAVE UNCOVERED AN UNRELATED ISSUE: A CONVERGENCE IN THOUGHT PATTERNS AND LATENT BEHAVIORS OF SOLDIERS AS THEIR NUMBER OF RESURRECTIONS INCREASE. DEPGENSEC IS UNSURE WHETHER THIS TREND WILL BE A POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE IN BATTLEFIELD CONDITIONS, BUT BUFFERING BAND USE IS ORDERED RESTRICTED UNTIL THIS IS DETERMINED. ESPECIALLY IN LIGHT OF THE MULTIPLE, SIMULTANEOUS FAILURES OF THE BANDS DURING THE ATTEMPTED CAPTURE OF THE INFINITY SQUAD TRAITORS.

BECAUSE REPORTS OF THIS ATTEMPTED MUTINY, ALONG WITH NEWS OF BUFFERING BANDS FAILING TO RESURRECT THEIR USERS WOULD CAUSE A DRASTIC DROP IN MORALE, AND SINCE ALL TRAITORS HAVE BEEN CONFIRMED DEAD, THE NAME 'INFINITY SQUAD' AND ALL ACCOMPANYING PERSONNEL FOLDERS WILL BE STRUCK FROM THE RECORDS AND NOT MENTIONED AFTER THIS MESSAGE.

MAY WE NEVER SEE SUCH A GROUP OF TREASONOUS, INEPT, CALLOUS AND DESTRUCTIVE SOLDIERS IN HUMAN SPACE AGAIN.

END MESSAGE

***

A Call to Action

This book is the work of an independent author. If you found what you've just read to be a fresh change from the usual military sci-fi books and movies you are fed, please discuss and review "Infinity Squad" where other folks can see it. I don't have the huge marketing machine that most Hollywood products do- I just have you.

A single, armed, reader.

But that's all it ever takes to change the world, if you're willing to clone yourself.

Join the discussions on Goodreads.com to talk to other fans, email me directly with ideas or corrections at shuvom@comcast.net, and, if you're feeling really adventurous, check out the "Free State Project" on-line. (That's how I escaped the crazy world, without having to die and be resurrected in space.)

I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.
