 
# The Eagle's Last Stand

## Gibson Morales

# Contents

Out now: The StarMaster's Son

Series Logo

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Author's Note

Bonus Material

About the Author

Copyright

# Out now: The StarMaster's Son

## A Political Space Opera Series

**The most powerful man in the universe has died under mysterious circumstances, and now the StarMaster's underachieving son must save his empire from collapse...**

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When Felik Ullon inherits the StarMaster's prized ship, what seems like a blessing launches him into a universe of schemers, dark dealings, and truths too uncomfortable for even a black hole to swallow. If Felik is going to survive, he'll have to discover how his father died, uncover an alien conspiracy, and prevent his brothers from plunging the galaxy into civil war.

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**Now available!**

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**(Turn the page to see the cover)**

**The Eagle's Last Stand**

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A Prequel Novella in

# 1

"We're going down!" Menendez cried over the radio.

The dip in Dagos's gut told her they needed a miracle if they hoped to stay airborne. Everything slowed to a slug's pace as she braced herself.

"Are we hit?" Sledge yelled, gripping his x-shaped seat belt.

The pilot spouted some technical code that Dagos vaguely knew as accidental engine failure.

The high rises twisted below them as the chopper teetered. Dagos dug her fingers into the seat handles. There was the split-second sensation of weightlessness. And then gravity took the reins. The chopper dove.

Her entire body pumped with adrenaline as the centrifugal rush of the chopper shoved her against the foam of her seat. The horizon spun around them. Chrome skyscrapers and glinting sunlight and the hazy blue sky whirled past.

In front of Dagos, the gray-haired woman in the stretcher woke up, eyes vein-riddled in terror. Harnesses held her body and the gurney down, but her arms flailed as she screamed for help. Her heart rate monitor kicked into overdrive, almost in sync with the chopper's alarm.

Dagos clutched her seat belt, her orange para-rescue uniform fluttering like crazy as wind raced through the aircraft cabin. She gasped for breath, her lungs burning. Her vision dizzied. For an instant, the other Snake-eaters in the cabin became nothing more than silhouettes. Someone yelled for _parachutes_ over the radio. The ones stowed below their seats.

Then she managed to breathe, giving her a renewed clarity. She'd be damned if she died like this. Due to engine failure when a million Anunnaki wanted her head.

"Forget the chutes," she growled into her mike. High rises were stabbing up at them. They didn't have time for parachutes. "Rappel. Three and three." She couldn't help yelling at the top of her lungs. The effort left her dazed as she unbuckled her seat belt. Willing herself toward the chopper's side exit, every buffet of wind threatened to topple her over. Two feet felt like forever. Direction and situational awareness were drifting from her mind. There was only the open door frame.

Somehow, she staggered to it, ripped the orange nylon cord from her belt and snapped it onto the wall clip handle. Protocol demanded she give it a tug to double-check its strength. Instead, she kicked off, praying she didn't fly into the propellers. Her gut flew into her throat as the buzz of the cord's loosing rang in her ears. Then the wind screamed at her. Between that and the blood rushing in her head, she might as well have been wearing ear plugs.

Windows and pigeons streaked past her. A dozen a second. She could've been Spider-man, swinging from skyscrapers. A drunk Spider-man. Suddenly, the cord went taut and her body jerked. Every inch of her seized up.

In that instant of pain, all her senses sharpened. Hyper-alert, she registered the rooftop garden below. Twenty feet? Ten feet? No way to know for sure. The helicopter dragged her back. She wouldn't get a safer landing than this. It was now or never.

She slapped a hand to her belt and depressed the cord's release switch. Once again, the short feeling of weightlessness precluded a fall. This fall like the devil grinning at her. Because she'd escaped death, but, grass or not, this was going to hurt like hell.

She tried leaning to the side and promised herself she wouldn't hit the brick path surrounding the grass. Panic smothered her as her body twisted in mid-fall.

A crash into grass. She bounced. Another thud into the grass. She bounced again and her body skidded against the brick, edges and nicks digging through her para-rescue uniform. She lay on her side, everything numb. Her bones felt like they'd shifted positions by a few inches. Seconds slipped away, her vision a blur. She blinked, willing it to clear. She couldn't move yet. _I'm totally vulnerable._

In the corner of her eye, a figure flew through the sky and collided with a neighboring building. Dread tightened in her and she tried not to think about it. But she knew it was Raimes. She'd been sitting right next to her. She would've been next in line. Except, no, that wasn't a certainty. The fall had rattled her brain. It could be any of her teammates who'd perished. There were three on each side of the chopper and who knew how many had managed to escape.

A violent tremor ran through her. At first, she thought she was going through her death throes. Then she realized it was the chopper meeting the street.

As her heartbeat retreated from her ears, she heard a growing commotion from below. Hollers and curses. Based on the lack of frantic screams, either the helicopter hadn't hit anyone in the crash or it hadn't left anyone alive. Dagos tried to escape that grim thought, but couldn't. Besides her and the five other Snake-eaters, the pilot and the old woman had been on board. She didn't see how they could've survived.

Dagos discovered her body respond. She inched her left arm out from underneath herself. Without warning, her body tilted forward. She jerked her head back, but hit the grass with more force than she expected. Lying flat on her stomach, she gritted her teeth and stretched the arm she'd landed on. Miraculously, it moved. Her entire body throbbed in a weary sort of pain, and her left arm didn't stand out in that regard. But it didn't hurt any worse. Grimacing, she staggered to her feet, her knees as hot as coals.

She peeled off her helmet, shook out her shoulder-length blonde hair, and inhaled deeply, pain spiking in her back with the effort. It might've been serious or just a soft tissue injury. She doubted it was internal bleeding or she would be in a lot more agony. She sighed. None of her injuries mattered anyway. So long as she wasn't dead, the life Conifer could mend any wounds, major or minor. The Anunnaki were a wretched species, but human forces had hijacked some of their best technology. Of course, the life Conifer was a thousand miles away and hard to retrieve. Instead, she'd probably have to rely on Orun's healing tech. And she still had one major rescue mission to complete.

She was closing on forty years old and these stunts never got any easier. She cracked her neck and right ankle then took inventory of the rest of her limbs. All in all, everything worked. Well enough to complete this operation? She'd find out one way or another.

The rooftop garden broadened out around her. A few feet away, a purple mat lay curled along the brick.

"Thank God people can still find time to do yoga," Dagos grumbled out loud.

"Don't you mean, thank the gods?"

Her heart skipped a beat at Menendez's voice. He was close. In two seconds, she spotted the legs of his orange para-rescue pants poking out from behind a hedge on the other side of the roof.

"You better be careful," Dagos barked, dragging herself over to him. "Say that around the wrong person, like a Snake-eater, and you might get shot."

As she cut around the hedge, she expected to exchange a grin. Instead, Menendez's dark-brown face was crinkled in obvious pain, his helmet and sunglasses a few feet away. A branch speared out from his stomach, his uniform tainted with dark orange. He wasn't sitting up, but the other end of the branch prevented him from lying flat on his back. She didn't want to think about how badly that must've hurt.

"Why do you think I said it?" he said. He coughed and specks of blood dotted his uniform.

"Hermano," she said quietly, using his nickname.

"Permission to speak honestly." He winced and assumed it. "This mission was all fucking wrong."

_We knew the risks,_ she almost said. Were those Commander "Ham" Hamilton's words or hers?

If they didn't rescue a girl from an Anunnaki base by eighteen hundred hours, their enemy would win the war. With the chopper gone, they needed a miracle to pull the mission off now.

Dropping to a knee beside him, she grasped his quivering hand in her own weak grip. They both knew there was no way he'd make it off this roof in anything but a body bag, if that.

"You don't know the half of it," she said.

There was a hint of mirth in his eyes as he watched her. "I don't want to know, do I? I'll bet Ham tasked you with something heavy..."

His head sagged to the side, his hand's shaking slowing. "Building across the street. Sledge made it..."

And then his hand went stiff.

# 2

Most of the time the temperature ran high enough to make Courtney sweat. But right now, her body shuddered like she was in the middle of a frozen tundra. After spending so many hours in Anunnaki detainment, Courtney had no idea if she was trembling from fear, sickness, or both.

A dimly lit cell surrounded her. The only light filtered in through the swirling blur of air above her. It was like looking through heat waves on a hot day. A sort of resonance field to keep prisoners from escaping, not that it was an option. She hated this cell even worse than the last one, where she was at least sitting on an elevated platform.

Suddenly, the swirling vortex vanished and a flash lit up the pit. Courtney plastered her hands over her eyes.

Her body trembled, the shakes climaxing in her arms. She didn't feel outright afraid, yet she sensed approaching danger.

Slowly, she let her arms drop, accepting the barren metal cell, the rising walls and then the top. There he was. The nine-foot gray man with an elongated head. The Anunnaki.

Like all Anunnaki, his orange serpentine eyes dwarfed a human's. In fact, once you got past the difference in eye color, he looked mostly the same as the others. The lack of hair, the scale-like skin. You had to travel into the very secluded areas of the world to find someone who didn't know this was an Anunnaki. Or Naga for short. Nebirian to get technical.

The difference between this Anunnaki and all the others was he was the first to frighten her so intimately. There'd always been someone to protect her from the others. There was nothing holding this one back.

With a thud, the Anunnaki hit the ground and squatted down to face her, his metallic extra-dermal layer punctuating his tight physique.

Courtney forced her entire body into a rigid pose. The moment she faltered in front of him, showed weakness, signs of reaching the breaking point...he would have her. She had to act tough.

"What do you want this time?" she growled.

"Now would be a good time to drop the attitude," the Anunnaki said in a deep voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Play dumb as long as you like. But I'd bet my life you have the information we want." The Anunnaki sighed and slid his hand, three fingers and two thumbs, across her neck, pulled back the lining of her tattered blue dress and lingered over a shoulder tattoo that read _USMC_.

"Such dedication to your husband," he said.

"Get away." Her arms jerked up. Suddenly he clutched her wrists.

He grinned, released her and gestured to the orb on his palm. "Don't make me use this."

A breath escaped her, but she didn't flinch. "You might have to. I'm not going to tell you snakers anything."

The Anunnaki's expression hardened. "Listen up. I know there are rumors that we can't hurt our prisoners. Well they're wrong. You see I'm not just another Naga soldier. I don't play by any rules. I don't answer to someone above me at this base. I am Overseer Drekken. I have complete freedom as to how I get results."

Courtney glared back. She didn't want to believe him, but she had definitely heard of this Anunnaki like this. He was a rogue overseer, who didn't abide by any rules. _That snaker is like a damn psychopath,_ Menendez told her once.

"You won't get any results. Shock me all you like."

"What if I were to probe your little Suzanna?"

She gasped and shook her head wildly. "You're lying. You wouldn't hurt my dog." He had to be bluffing.

A slap caught her across the face.

As if reading her mind, he said, "Are you so afraid you forgot? I just told you, I have complete freedom."

Her heart pounded, but she couldn't give in. Not yet.

There had to be some way out. Nothing came to mind. If she told them what she knew, the Earth was finished. Finished for humans.

"You snakers really don't have any good in those brains of yours, do you?"

"Enough to capture you."

She tried to form words, but fell short. The overseer was right. She'd taken a calculated risk to fly from Groomlake to Edwards Air Force Base. All her data suggested the risk was minimal. Less than a five percent chance they'd intercept the flight. But even she could be wrong occasionally.

In a shaky voice, she asked, "How can I trust you? How do I know my dog will be safe if I talk?"

"Courtney, you're just a girl the human forces have been exploiting for your intelligence. I can overlook that."

"What do you mean?"

"You tell me the coordinates and I can have you released with a sweep of my fingers. You go back to Edwards. Back with your family."

Courtney scoured Overseer Drekken's face for signs of lying or hidden emotion, but it was nothing like analyzing data patterns or solving a mathematical equation. It came down to how much she would take for the human forces. She couldn't help but remember the Snake-eaters discovering her, alone and starving, in that abandoned ranch in Minnesota almost ten years ago.

She'd been a middle schooler from the Twin Cities visiting a friend when the war engulfed the town. It was the Eagle who saved her. She'd always assumed the stories of her as Earth's savior were exaggerated. But the Eagle really was a hero. The Eagle even made sure she got back to her family, safe and sound. It was a lot more than the state troopers had done.

She owed the Snake-eaters too much to give in.

# 3

The building Dagos crash-landed on turned out to be one of Los Angeles's luxury apartment high rises. One of the last built before the Anunnaki's rampage put all non-military construction projects on the back-burner.

Dagos read the sign on the side of the mostly glass bulkhead. _Wendenberg Estates_ , it said in the fancy cursive reserved for tasteless luxury apartments. The world had been getting pretty tasteless by the time the Anunnaki showed up, hadn't it?

She recognized the Wendenberg family name. They were a wealthy bunch who'd shacked up with the Anunnaki, like so many other rich families, earlier in the Shroud War. She remembered reading about the exodus of the rich in a newspaper over breakfast with Commander Ham. It had been Mother's Day.

She remembered because he'd cooked her quinoa, tomato, goat cheese omelet. Brought in the paper, and even been massaging her neck, when he half-laughed, half-groaned and began rubbing his own neck. "I'm starting to think I might need a massage myself. Too many of these aches. But the special forces will do that to you."

"You could always use the life Conifer," Dagos suggested.

He waved it off, and frowned. "Some injuries you keep to remind you."

That pulled her up short and she looked at him sideways. "You don't have to play the macho card. If it's hurting, use the Conifer."

"It's not a macho thing," he said in a very serious voice. "It's about learning from pain. Making sure you don't repeat past mistakes."

She had to think about that because his words hinted at more than combat and tactical mistakes. In her mind, you didn't dwell on your mistakes, though. You carried out your mission for better or worse and you moved on. In fact, this mindset was one of the reasons Commander Ham selected her for his team of Snake-eaters.

Her and Menendez's helmets in each hand, she sat down on a wooden bench and plopped both on either side of her.

The US government had tasked her with rescuing Courtney Wilson from a heavily-fortified Anunnaki base run by the notorious Overseer Drekken. A herculean task to begin with and she was already at least one man down. Plus, one helicopter down.

She slammed a fist so hard against the bench, a piece of the wood splintered. She had approximately seven hours to find Courtney. If she didn't rescue her by eighteen hundred hours, this war was as good as over. The Anunnaki would be able to activate their doomsday weapon.

For an operation this high up the operational chain, she would've thought the engineering teams could've concocted some secondary usage for their helmets. Something like out of an old spy movie. But budgets were tight and timelines were rushed. Their helmets were, at most, disguises. Failed disguises now.

Snake-eaters usually wore helmets, but the para-rescue one wouldn't be deflecting any bullets or Anunnaki pulse surges. Still, she might need to continue this illusion of a para-rescue personnel, so she slipped hers on.

Thick vines surrounded the railings on all edges of the roof. It resembled the décor of a Vietcong bunker. The plants probably required a lot of water. It didn't rain _a lot_ in Los Angeles, however.

Looking around, it occurred to her that any building worth its salt should've been infested by local refugees. She doubted the Wendenbergs were paying a street militia to keep people out.

She peeked through an opening in the vines. Menendez said Sledge had survived and ended up in the skyscraper across. It looked to be an office building. The rooftop was as barren as an Anunnaki prison chamber. No signs Sledge landed there. She gripped one of the vines hard. She needed to find him before someone else did.

Most of the windows were in fair condition, aside from the neon-colored graffiti and dirt smudges, but one was straight out shattered.

That looked promising, and she whirled around. A pale man with brown, slicked-back hair, dressed in a badly wrinkled light blue dress shirt was staring directly at her from the doorway of the glass bulkhead.

"You know what I always liked about these doors? They don't creak. Quiet as a mouse's fart."

Dagos hesitated. Everything about him looked harmless, except for a long red cut running down the right side of his face.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I used to be the office manager," he said. "Now I live here."

"What about gangs?"

"Gangs? Oh, you mean the blood mobs. Far worse than gangs. Gangs are ultimately in it for money. But blood mobs, well, it's self-exclamatory, isn't it?"

Suddenly, a garbled bark came from the man's back pocket. He whipped out a walkie-talkie, his face drawn in unease. The words were in Russian, which Dagos spoke. _Any damage to our building?_

"You're not here alone, are you?" Dagos asked, wishing they'd been able to smuggle firearms onto the aid helicopter.

The former-office manager licked his lips and extended his arms, peeling back his shirt sleeve. A black tattoo of a lizard ran on his wrist. A blood mob calling card.

"This is my _boss's_ private garden," he said quietly. "He won't be happy to find a trespasser."

"I'm happy to go," Dagos said, knowing she already wasted too much time here. If she was dealing with this, someone must've been giving Sledge trouble, too.

"Sorry," the officer manager said, extracting a Mark 23 and leveling it at her.

Dagos jumped back and sidestepped behind one of the hedges before he could work up the nerve to eliminate her. She was sure he was a nice guy, but she needed a gun and his checked out.

"Just come out," he said, his voice shaky. "I'll make it quick and painless."

He was approaching. The way he held the gun straight out in one hand, far in front of him spoke of an amateur. He obviously didn't suspect any resistance from her. She squatted on her haunches, shifting her footing to make sure her body could react as quickly as possible. He was two strides away when she peeled off her helmet. As he wove around the bush, she sprang forward and cupped the helmet over his firearm and shoved it down. Leaning in, she raised her right knee and dug it into his stomach.

The gun dropped to the floor and he staggered backward. Pivoting, she delivered a round-house kick directly to the side of his left knee. He was down like that, whimpering.

She scooped up the Mark 23 and walkie-talkie and stepped out of his range. Ejecting the magazine, she found herself in possession of 12 rounds. This would do for now.

"Listen to me. I've killed people and Anunnaki," she said, training the gun on his head. "Tell me the fastest way down."

The man looked up at her in an odd mix of anger and appreciation. Like a teenager who'd been grounded for stealing his mom's car keys, but knew, deep down, it was for his own good.

He panted for a few seconds as if pushing away the pain. "Down the stairs one level. Take the elevator to the second floor. Use the stairs down the hall. There's a guard there."

"Sorry about your leg," Dagos said, realizing that with medical supplies so limited, she might've left him with a permanent limp.

He hid his face from her. "The Komodos will hunt you down for this. For whatever you do to the guard."

"Then they can get in line."

With a quivering hand, he pushed back his hair and prompted himself up with an elbow. "You're her, aren't you? The Eagle."

"Maybe," she said, making her way to the bulkhead stairs.

# 4

With working electricity in most cities sketchy at best, Dagos half-expected the elevator to stall, stranding her in the middle of a tower that apparently belonged to a blood mob. Commander Ham had briefed them on the blood mobs days earlier. They were, in his opinion, nothing more than street gangs driven to extremes. An alien race on your planet would do that to you.

Still, a US Navy Seal had no business locking horns with locals. It was an unnecessary mission risk. And people already distrusted the government enough after all the rumors that politicians and the military knew about the Anunnaki threat well before the public did. She didn't blame them.

If word got out that a Navy Seal, let alone the legendary Eagle, was starting trouble in Los Angeles, that would make any future missions all that more difficult. Major cities presented serious tactical value and they couldn't afford to alienate anyone. She also couldn't allow her reputation to be tarnished. The Eagle was more than just a myth. It was a reason to hope and believe humanity could stop the Anunnaki.

But the thing she feared most was that if this mission went south, the Anunnaki would learn the coordinates of the four Conifers. Special alien artifacts. When combined, they would awaken an Anunnaki weapon of biblical proportions.

Due to this threat, the US government had hidden the Conifers so well than only a handful of people even knew their locations. Courtney was one of those people. Or rather, she'd deduced them accidentally. The others with that knowledge were either unreachable or would take weeks to track down and warn. Dagos knew that one Conifer was at the bottom of the ocean, for instance. Currently, deep-water subs were impossible to come by.

So, the possibility of moving the Conifers somewhere before the Anunnaki could find them was out of the picture.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Dagos counted to three before she exited. The marble floor gleamed in the dim lighting. Then she noticed cigarette butts and crushed cockroaches. This seemed fairly docile compared to the tunnels of Al-Qaeda and Taliban compounds where she'd broken her teeth executing Islamic fundamentalists in her first years as a Navy Seal. Those tunnels were lined with Kalashnikovs, bags of opium, ammonium nitrate, and bottles of Valium.

At the stairs, she paused and listened. She could still hear a commotion from outside and gnawed her lip. She needed to check the chopper for any survivors. She hated to think what would happen if the Komodos took one of her Snake-eaters hostage. Plus, it was a sure bet that if she was worried about this, Sledge would be as well. More than likely, she'd find him outside or at least salvage some useful gear from the wreckage.

She proceeded down the stairs, ready to fire at the first sign of danger. A burst of Russian sounded from her walkie-talkie. She cursed herself under her breath for leaving the volume unchanged. She pulled it out and lowered it, her mind deciphering the message. Someone wanted to scavenge gear from the helicopter. Not good.

"Who's there?" a man asked. She tensed as a figure came into view from below. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, wearing a basketball jersey and baggy black pants. A Komodo tattoo shone on his left shoulder. One of his hands was parked inside his pocket in a way she recognized. He had a gun.

"Out of the way," she hissed, motioning with hers.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Just let me through." She took a cautious step and saw the light spilling in from the door on the first floor.

"I didn't say you could go," he warned.

"You really think you can beat me to the punch?" she said quietly.

"You really think you can shoot me without anyone hearing?"

Assuming he wasn't bluffing, he had a point. Discharging a firearm was going to draw some attention. Wherever the rest of the Komodos were, they'd likely be on edge after the chopper crash.

"What are you packing, anyway?" she asked in a lighter tone.

He looked relaxed and drew out his revolver. As soon as it was free, she squeezed the trigger. The gun clacked to the marble along with blood from his wounded hand.

Cursing, he darted away, screaming in Russian into his walkie-talkie with his good hand.

Dagos grabbed his weapon and stashed it in her pocket, knowing things would get very hairy in short order. But she had a schedule to keep if she wanted to find Sledge before he encountered the Komodos.

She passed through the glass doors and onto an elevated walkway. Billowing smoke called out to her. Twenty feet below, a crowd had amassed around the ravaged emergency aid helicopter that had torn up the asphalt. The trail of burning debris and sliced-up vehicles helped orient her.

The front of the chopper was too smashed for their pilot to have made it. But the rear looked intact enough. If she could get inside, she could grab the extra set of clothes they'd stashed there plus the other gear. Their mission-specific gear. As she walked along the railing, she registered the black lizard symbols on some of the people's clothes. Men with Kalashnikovs and Uzis hanging from shoulder straps. Immediately, she retreated to a crouch. They had the chopper surrounded.

She bit her lip. There didn't look to be an easy way past the crowd.

Without warning, a cold metal tip dug into the back of her neck.

"You're the one causing all the trouble, huh?" a man whispered with a thick Southeast Asian accent. She couldn't believe she'd let them get the slip on her. That jump from the chopper must've jarred her worse than she'd thought.

She started to turn around, when he said, "Don't move. Just drop your weapon."

Two more men, tanned with pepper-colored beards and multi-colored bandannas, lumbered in front of her with shotguns aimed directly at her face. Sighing, she relinquished her gun.

# 5

After frisking her and confiscating the revolver and Menendez's designator, the men dragged Dagos back into the building. She used the opportunity to burn every instance of the floor map diagrams on the wall into memory. Once they got through the fancy corridor, they ended up in a small, nondescript room with a single table. It looked as if someone had intended to decorate it, but never got around to it.

With a shove, Dagos found herself beside the table.

"Take a seat," the Southeast Asian man said. Komodo dragon silhouettes streaked across his pink headband.

She obeyed, weighing whether or not she should explain why she was here. No doubt they'd ask her soon enough. She could cut right to the chase. Maybe they'd even let her free. On the other hand, they might also decide to sell her out to the Anunnaki.

She remained quiet as she stared at the tiny scratches and blemishes on the otherwise barren laminate surface of the table. Racking her mind for escape possibilities brought her nothing. Ironically, the possibility of Sledge finding her remained her only real hope. If anyone could pull it off, he could. He'd once saved her bacon from an Anunnaki prison chamber when a dozen politicians had written her off. Wanted her replaced with a look-alike. But Sledge figured out how to break her free.

Pink Headband barked something in a language Dagos didn't recognize. Maybe Cambodian or Thai. Someone responded on the radio in the same language. And even though she didn't speak the language, she sensed a warning. In response, Pink Headband's voice cracked.

"I'll be back," he said quietly. The gun fell away from her neck and she was left in the room with the two guards. She glanced at them, but they were murmuring to themselves, shotguns propped against their guts. Thai. She was pretty sure.

"Why'd Pink Headband seem so worried?" she asked.

One looked at her as if surprised by the nickname she'd given their boss.

"We know who you are," he said dully with a slight accent.

"Who's that?"

"You're the Eagle."

"You must have me confused."

"You look a lot like her."

"And what if I were? What would that mean?"

A hint of deviousness sparked in the guard's eye, his voice rising. "You're smart. Use your imagination."

Just then the door opened. Two more guards hauled in a second prisoner. Dagos's eyes flashed with recognition then her spirits sank.

Still in his orange uniform, Sledge plopped into the seat opposite her with a look that said, _We really screwed the pooch on this one, didn't we?_

You could almost see the rural skepticism etched into his classic Midwestern features.

Dagos almost gave her own sarcastic comment when Pink Headband swooped in and dug a pistol into Sledge's temple. He winced and Dagos's whole body tensed.

"What's the name of this woman?"

"Shelby Dotson," Sledge grumbled. They all had fake names and this was Dagos's preplanned one.

"With a y, not an e-e," she said.

Pink Headband shot her a fierce stare, which she happily met. If he thought he was going to intimidate anyone, he was wrong. Finally, he focused back on Sledge.

"Tell me her _real_ name."

"Shelby Dotson," Sledge repeated.

"Take a good long look at the table. It's new. We had to get another. The old one was too stained in blood and shit from stupid people who lied to me. Who is this woman?"

Sledge met Dagos's gaze as if to say, _We knew this would happen_. They'd requested a make-up kit for her. To make her look a little different. A simple make-up kit they could've found in a few hours of searching the city outskirts. But Commander Ham wouldn't sign off on such a risk in blood mob turf. He told them they'd wait for a shipment. That never came, though. They had to proceed with the chopper pick-up or abort the mission. And they couldn't abort.

Like Menendez had said, _This mission was all fucking wrong_

Sledge rolled his eyes. "Speaking of stupid, if you guys were smart you would've asked Shelby her name separately. That way you could cross-check what names we gave. Just a basic interrogation tip for—"

Pink Headband whacked Sledge across the forehead with the handgun. Dagos watched his eyes momentarily waver as a red welt formed. It was odd seeing a man as large and burly as Sledge hurt by someone so much smaller.

"No more games," he said, looking directly at Dagos. "Tell me your real name or I'll blow his brains out."

He wasn't lying. She could hear the commitment in his voice. Whether it was psychopathy, desperation, or something else, he'd pull the trigger if he felt she wasn't being honest. She needed Sledge. She couldn't complete the mission without him.

Sledge frowned at her. Yet there was more than a hint of desperation in his eyes. She knew Sledge wasn't worried purely about dying. As Snake-eaters, they were all ready to die for the right cause. But not if it meant failing the human race. That's what he feared. Mission failure. A lot of people were counting on them to complete this operation. Courtney most of all. Dagos couldn't help thinking of her almost like a niece. She was one of the few people she comfortably allowed to babysit Laura.

She swallowed.

"My real name is Amelia Dagos."

The gun dropped from Sledge.

"AKA the Eagle." Pink Headband wasn't asking, he was telling. He stepped back and cocked his head at the four guards. "No one dies. You keep them in this room, but keep them alive. Understood?"

Collectively, they nodded, and he strode out of the room, looking like a million thoughts were going through his head.

"I'm guessing we're about to get a lot of new toys," one man grunted.

The others grinned. "About time. Maybe we can get a few kegs, too."

That sounded less than good.

Without warning the entire room rumbled violently. Vibrations waved through Dagos. Her pulse quickened as the uproar from outside returned. This time far more frantic and alarming.

The guards' faces turned pale. One drew his handgun and pointed it at Dagos. "The hell'd you do?"

For once, she came up empty. Panic made people do stupid things. There was a chance he would shoot her then and there.

Then chatter burst from their radios in Thai. But one of those words was a cognate. The two recent guards rushed out and the two pepper-bearded ones from earlier remained, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Dagos didn't blame them. The one word she recognized from their walkie-talkies just now was _Naga._ Another name for the Anunnaki.

# 6

The overseer grinned down at Courtney, tucking his hands behind his back. She knew he couldn't have good news. "Your dog was in worse shape than I thought. Despite our best efforts to save her, she didn't make it."

Courtney felt her body go red-hot. She'd had Suzanna since 6th grade. Before the Anunnaki. Her black Labrador had survived the assault on the small Minnesota town. Stuck with her in the ruins of her friend's ranch, all the way to Groomlake, where the Snake-eaters realized Courtney was a resource they needed badly in a war where the best human minds had already been eliminated.

Her chin dipped, and she expected to feel tears running down her cheeks. But there were none.

Instead, she found herself speaking with surprising authority. "If I wasn't going to talk before, I'm definitely not now."

A foolish comment, but an honest one.

"I believe humans have an expression: the bigger they are, the harder they fall," Overseer Drekken said in a low voice. "That applies to your spirit. The stronger you are, the worse it is when you break."

That suited her just fine. Let them try their best to break her. As a standard precaution, during orientation to her role at Groomlake, Menendez had taught her a handful of techniques to stay sane during an interrogation. She drew upon them.

_Deep breaths. Think of the best times of your life._

She settled into a routine breathing. That wasn't too hard. The second part proved a little tougher. The Naga had appeared when she was in 8th grade. Before then, she'd been fairly popular. Never short of boys asking her out to the dances. Life had been...more innocent then. She might've focused on that.

But a far more meaningful time was her marriage. She'd met Chris at the Groomlake facility. As a Marine, he'd witnessed the Anunnaki's mind Conifer technology first-hand in a battle in southern Mexico. In fact, he was the only survivor who hadn't gone out of his mind. Naturally, the Snake-eaters and a few politicians wanted to debrief him. When he saved Commander Ham's bacon after an Anunnaki prisoner broke free inside the facility, the Eagle invited him to be a Snake-eater. And he'd accepted.

Chris was a quiet, broad-shouldered soldier with a hardened face that sometimes seemed to mask his good looks. She never pegged him as the type to start telling her corny jokes. But as soon as he started, she knew she'd never be able to get rid of him. Pretty soon, she found herself thinking about him more and more.

They got married four months later. Those four months of flirting then dating then truly romantic moments almost made her forget the war sometimes. There'd be days where the two of them would drive out to Lake Mead with Suzanna and some camping gear. Or he might surprise her and reveal a permit to visit the green zone in Las Vegas. She'd discover herself in a fancy casino restaurant with a wonderful man she both cherished and respected.

Hermano Menendez's training kicked in again. _Remember there's a whole world outside your prison cell. Remember your friends and loved ones._

She couldn't let the Anunnaki isolate her. So she thought hard, but all that came were troubled memories.

Commander Ham wouldn't even reveal her husband's final mission. He gave the bogus "It's classified" line. She'd had to wait until the Eagle came to her quarters one night and laid it all out. A routine bag-and-tag operation, but the Anunnaki had hit them with new technology. Hunter drones that wouldn't die until they were completely wrecked. _He was gone in a heartbeat,_ the Eagle had said.

Courtney issued a sigh. She would never see him again, but, yes, she would remember him and all he stood for. If she gave the Anunnaki the Conifers' locations, she'd be letting his death be in vain. It pained her to think of it as that, but it was sickeningly clear that so much rested on her shoulders. The lives of every human. The memories of every human, both dead and alive.

_Accept the reality. You are where you are and you might not make it._

She couldn't help wishing for her husband to burst into the chamber, guns blazing and rescue her. Less than a fantasy, she forced the idea away. The best she could hope for was a team of Snake-eaters pulling off that maneuver.

"What's going through that head of yours?" the overseer asked, snapping her from her trance.

Her mouth fell open on pure instinct.

The Anunnaki's face gave away nothing, yet there was a hint of cunning in his voice.

To his credit, he guessed what she'd been thinking. "Maybe you're weighing your chances of being rescued. If only you knew how well we're guarded." He drew the word out and then a strange enthusiasm stole over him. "If I'm to be honest, I welcome a rescue attempt."

Pure dread unfurled in her as she opened to her new reality for the first time. Logically, rationally, it was impossible to imagine a feasible way for her to escape this prison. She would never leave.

# 7

"You know who I am," Dagos said sharply. "You could do a lot worse than to let the two of us go free."

"Yeah, they call us _snake-eaters_ for a reason," Sledge added.

The two guards were sweating profusely, their shotguns leveled at the door as if the Anunnaki might barge in at any minute.

Dagos inhaled deeply and shifted in the chair. She couldn't deny her own unease. Her here, so vulnerable, was like a gift basket for the Anunnaki, complete with a bottle of their life source, _manna_.

"Hey," she snapped at the guards. They ignored her. She rose an inch. That got their attention.

"Sit down!" the man yapped.

Dagos did a check around the room. She and Sledge sat directly opposite each other. The guards were standing to her right, at the far end of the table. On edge, but focused on the door. Dagos exchanged a meaningful look with Sledge and motioned to the guards then the table. He mimicked the gesture with his eyes.

_One,_ Dagos mouthed, pressing her palms up against the bottom of the table.

_Two,_ Sledge mouthed.

On _three_ they shoved the table up, right at the two guards in a single fluid motion. It wasn't exactly textbook close quarter combat, but it worked like a well-choreographed shootout maneuver. The light wooden frame of the table crashed against the guards, battering them against the wall. They were unconscious before Dagos and Sledge had even gotten to full stands.

"Where'd you come up with that one?" Sledge asked, grabbing a shotgun off one guard and lobbing it to Dagos.

She caught it and turned for the door, her eyes dimming. "Operation with Menendez."

She didn't need to outright say he died. Sledge wiped away dust in the air that had caked off from the ceiling in their sweep of the table. "Always was creative. Remember when the Hermano snuck us past that assault unit in Brazil?"

She did and grinned at the memory. On an operation many months earlier, Menendez had claimed the optical Conifer that could create holograms of whatever the user was thinking. He'd navigated them through a small army of Anunnaki warriors without a scratch simply by making them look like Anunnaki. It was one of those rare moments when you got to laugh at your enemy. "Are you getting sentimental on me, soldier?"

And that was as much as they would grieve for now.

Sledge let her decide for herself and joined her by the door, leveling his shotgun. Gunfire and hollering sounded from outside, but the walkie-talkie he'd slipped into his pocket offered nothing. Anunnaki standard operating procedure suggested they'd only get radio silence thanks to a jamming signal. The Anunnaki's objective then, at least, was offensive in nature. Whether that meant an abduction, a massacre or something in between, Dagos knew they had to hightail it out of there soon or face far worse than the blood mob.

Time as the Anunnaki's prisoner taught her first-hand how brutal they could get with their probings and interrogation techniques. The thought made her picture Courtney sallow-faced and bruised, and her heart sank. Best case scenario, Courtney would escape Anunnaki captivity with nothing more than a few scratches. But Dagos knew far too many people who weren't the same after they got out of an Anunnaki prison.

"You got point," Sledge said, all but telling her to get moving.

She wanted to slap herself for losing focus.

Leaning in, she nudged the door ajar and led with her shotgun. Instantly, the ruckus of shouting and gunfire closed in. Oddly, she found comfort in that chaos, even now, no longer a spring chicken. In school, she'd never excelled at any particular subject, not even at any particular sport, but she'd found her calling in war. In the madness of a shoot-out, she found that flow of highly effective combat maneuvers, low-risk micro-decision making, hyper-alert situational awareness and luck and followed it all the way to the other side. Out of the tide of the firefight.

She scanned the hall in a quick visual sweep. Nothing. And then motion flashed to her left. Shadows from the direction of the street. She sidestepped into the doorway an instant before two figures dashed through the hall and out of sight. She didn't bother looking at their faces. It only mattered that they carried twelve-gauge shotguns. That meant they were humans.

Then, a chrome-colored creature burst onto the scene. It looked like a massive metallic lion with a giant snake's head. Technically an artificial, robotic life form, the sirrush stopped with the same predatory pose of a tensed wolf. Dagos knew at once that it had sensed them.

"Go!" she cried, bolting down the hall. Sledge barreled along beside her.

"Really wish we brought our own guns to this party," Sledge muttered.

"Shut up and color!"

They were ten feet from the corner, when a chunk of the dry wall erupted into dust. Dagos's ears rang, her head throbbing. Unlike all the cool aliens in sci-fi movies, the Anunnaki didn't use lasers. But their resonance blasts still packed a wallop.

They burst through a pair of generic back corridor doors and entered into the part of the apartment structure more suited for its former clientele. A golden marble floor with intricate designs hosted the darkened storefronts of famous fashion, jewelry, and accessory brands. French perfumes, Italian shoes, Swiss watches. Boutique shops that hadn't seen any real customers in years. Like the rooftop garden, the head honcho of the Komodos must've claimed them as his own private collection because they looked completely untouched.

"Oh good, we can die pretty," she quipped, rushing to the glass doors of a shoe store. The door opened without a hitch and she breathed a sigh of relief. The shop wouldn't be a very good hiding spot if they had to smash the glass.

Heart hammering in her chest, she slid behind a rack of pumps, her shoulder pressing against Sledge's. In front of her, a mirror revealed the sirrush bounding into the hallway of shops. There it slowed to a single step at a time, its snake-like head angling clockwise with surgical precision.

It would detect their thermal heat in the mirror.

"Fuck vanity," Dagos said under her breath.

Just then the hiss of a burning match sounded, and Sledge flicked one to the ceiling.

With a _creak,_ the sprinklers began spinning and water droplets cascaded over them. For a Navy Seal, there was nothing quite as refreshing as being doused in the middle of a battle.

Then the infamous whine of the sirrush's resonance blast went off again. And again. In the mirror, she watched the creature lobbing pulse surges in every direction, like a panicking beast. To an untrained observer, it would've resembled exactly that. A frantic creature. But she knew better. The method to this madness was trapping them. Or flushing them out. It would accomplish one of those.

She gritted her teeth. The sirrush wouldn't be alone for long, of course. Soon Anunnaki foot soldiers would show up. And then they'd really be in trouble.

"Give me that walkie-talkie," she whispered. "And get ready to run like hell."

"The ole misses bomb?"

"Yup."

Everyone called it a misses bomb, but _misses_ was really supposed to be MSES, or make-shift electrostatic. Electrostatic bombs were the Achilles' heel of Anunnaki. The special frequency of the electrical discharge temporarily disabled most of their technology. The effectiveness of a make-shift electrostatic bomb depended on the individual bomb. In this case, she didn't expect much. Maybe fifteen to twenty seconds of a nullified sirrush.

He handed her the walkie-talkie and she rose up, water dripping down her face. The sirrush's metal hide was also slick with water.

"The door," she said.

Without hesitation, Sledge shattered the glass with a shotgun shell. The sirrush whipped around right as Dagos lobbed the walkie-talkie. The radio slid directly under its feet, the battery pack exposed. As it halted there, Sledge blasted it. In a surge of blue sparks across its body, the sirrush froze.

Dagos didn't have to say anything. They were already barreling out the shattered glass door and through the corridor. In five seconds they were past the sirrush.

Ten seconds and they came to a fork in the hallway.

"Nine'o'clock," Dagos cried, glad she'd memorized the diagrams when the Komodos brought her inside.

They darted left. Sledge's shoes squeaked in his pivot, but neither of them slipped. They had run countless drills jogging through water-logged marshes and muddy roads.

Three out-of-order escalators awaited them. One leading to the ground floor. One leading to the second floor. And one leading to the third floor. Dagos went for the ground floor.

They shot through an elegant lobby, avoiding benches and artificial potted plants, and directory displays, and onto the broad street outside.

The warmth of the afternoon sun was a welcome change to the interior of the apartment skyscraper. Doing a tactical sweep, Dagos noted the eight-foot walls of piled up cars, organized at the intersections and between buildings. Blockades. Smart.

"Can't believe we made it out of there," Sledge said.

"I just wish I had time to grab a new blouse," Dagos sighed.

"I'll assume you meant for tactical purposes and not superficial gratification," Sledge said.

"You come up with those last two words yourself or you read them from one of those conspiracy theory books?" Dagos teased.

Sledge looked at the puddle forming at his feet and gave his uniform a shake. "We do need new clothes, though."

Dagos began shaking her uniform out, too, knowing even drops of water could provide a bread crumb trail for the sirrush. She wished she had her classic black bomber jacket. They stopped dripping after a few seconds and Sledge asked, "Which street?"

Heading south would help put as much distance between them and the Anunnaki as possible. They couldn't go too far, though, and abandon the chopper wreckage entirely. A run-down three-story apartment two hundred meters beyond one portion of the wall seemed the perfect position for monitoring this area.

She called it out to him. Ten seconds later, they were clambering over the pile of cars. She couldn't help checking the shiny blue surface of an over-turned Corvette for signs of the sirrush closing in behind them. Fortunately, she didn't see it.

Yet as soon as they made it over the cars, they whirled around with their shotguns ready to blast anything coming at them. When nothing attacked, they peeked through a tiny opening in the layer of vehicles.

Suddenly, the sirrush burst through the glass door of the Estates, swiveling its head left and right. But it didn't rush in their direction. Dagos swallowed and cocked her head back. Groaning, Sledge massaged his knees and they frog-walked along the battered pavement.

The remains of an old cigarette shop rested on the bottom floor of the target building, shopping carts lying toppled where the windows had once been, every shelf ransacked long ago. Refugees were sleeping inside, wearing thick down comfort jackets or hoodies despite the warm weather. Almost all of their supplies bore the logos of the various companies who donated them.

Dagos pitied these people, but she also respected that the seemingly helpless could be pretty dangerous on the wrong occasion. Case in point, the blood mobs.

They jogged down the adjacent alley, busted open a backdoor in unison with the butts of their shotguns and hiked up the steps, past a frightened stiff dark-skinned woman, her eyes locked on their weapons.

Dagos wanted to tell her she knew how she felt. Because she still didn't feel safe. In fact, she never really did. Even sleeping in a fortified bunker thousands of miles from the latest Anunnaki sightings, she could never truly let down her guard. They were dealing with an enemy that could warp soldiers around the planet in a matter of minutes.

And she knew that if they hadn't already, the Anunnaki probably would've deployed a couple drones to monitor the situation from the sky.

The two Snake-eaters crept into the first room on the right and proceeded with short, cautious steps. A good thing because about seven people were snoozing on a pair of mattresses. Three women, three kids, and a baby.

Dagos motioned for Sledge to watch them from the hall and skirted around to the window. She watched from behind a white curtain for several minutes as the family dozed. Aside from the smog and a few crows, the sky was clear.

The sirrush had retreated inside the Wendenberg building.

Normally, the Anunnaki would've flooded the area with soldiers and surveillance drones. Either they didn't believe the Komodos when they said they'd captured the Eagle or they were trying to lure her into a sense of false security. Or perhaps they knew they wouldn't find her using the same tactics they used to hunt average humans. She had outrun quite a few of their best efforts by now.

She fell away from the window and stepped out of the hall. There, Sledge pushed a beige shirt, jeans, and a blue scarf into her. A green shirt and baggy sweats hung over his broad shoulders.

She exchanged a grin. Yeah, sometimes saving humanity from a killer alien species meant stealing a couple clothes here and there. Nothing personal. And they'd leave the family a set of fancy para-rescue uniforms.

At the end of the hall, they outfitted themselves. She padded her hair down and wrapped the blue scarf around her head and pulled what was left around her mouth. Sledge slipped on a gray headband. Then they sank onto the wooden dresser there.

"If we can make it to the rendezvous point before eighteen hundred hours, we've still got a chance at pulling this off," he said.

"That chopper was our way past about a dozen Anunnaki check-points," Dagos pointed out. The Anunnaki were willing to receive human patients in need of medical attention and provide it. At first, some theorists believed the Anunnaki possessed this shred of decency. Dagos knew the truth. She knew that the old woman in that stretcher would've been as good as dead in Anunnaki hands. Because the Anunnaki only wanted human patients for medical experimentation.

The woman had terminal cancer, but she probably still would've suffered for a few weeks in the Anunnaki base before she succumbed.

All this passed through her head in a matter of seconds. She pushed the guilt away.

Then Sledge pushed it right back. "You think we would've accomplished the secondary objective and taken her out of her misery before..."

"Do we ever accomplish the secondary objectives?"

"Not enough."

Commander Ham didn't care about those, though. As long as she and the Snake-eaters pulled off enough to maintain her image as the Anunnaki's boogeyman, the drinks were on him.

When Dagos thought about the lives at stake, any guilt at utilizing a dying woman as bait disappeared.

"You know we can't call it quits," she said quietly. "If the Anunnaki break our girl..."

"Courtney was always too smart for her own good," Sledge muttered.

"She was also stubborn as hell. If they haven't broken her in ten hours, they won't break her by tonight."

But if they didn't make it inside the Anunnaki's Los Angeles base by then, they'd lose their shot. Intel suggested the Anunnaki were transferring Courtney to a different base at eighteen hundred hours. And then it would be nearly impossible to rescue Courtney before she broke. Sooner or later, the Anunnaki would break her. Everyone cracked eventually.

"I know I wasn't that tough when I was her age," Sledge said.

"You were tough, though. I wouldn't mind if Laura turned out a little like her," Dagos said, a momentary warmth at the thought of her daughter replacing the feeling of impending failure.

"Well, she didn't even cry when Orun took her. That's a start."

Dagos nodded. It took time to get used to a good Anunnaki. Even she'd only just begun really trusting Orun. And that was more because she knew you could never truly trust anyone. She swallowed, trying not to think about what a psychologist told her once. _Maybe the reason you distrust people so much is because you know what you're capable of._ If he knew what she had to do on this mission....

In that way, an Anunnaki like Orun was as good a babysitter as a human. Plus, Orun knew what she did to Anunnaki who'd pissed her off in a personal way.

"So, you and Ham aren't back together? Because there were rumors..."

Dagos would've slapped Sledge if he hadn't saved her bacon once or twice. And because she owed him this. If she completed this mission, there wouldn't be a time to talk with him later. "I'll put it this way. Laura's going to grow up with a mommy and that's it."

"She'll always have an uncle," Sledge said, slapping his chest.

Dagos fought against the frown weighing on her mouth and injected some energy into her words. "We're getting way off mission."

"Well, we can't go above ground."

It would be practically impossible to come up with a new fake identity on such short notice. Heck, they'd barely scrounged up the resources for this operation in time.

"Sewers will be a toxic waste dump," she said. The dirty bomb that had gone off two years ago had spread underground.

And then an idea popped into Dagos's head. It was ludicrous, suicidal, and beyond risky. There was well beyond a chance of this backfiring. And it wasn't one of those cool ideas that was so crazy it might almost work. It was simply crazy.

"Hey, if we're playing the Trojan Horse card, let's give them the ultimate Trojan Horse," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "Me."

# 8

The bloodied helmet tumbled to the cell floor and Courtney flinched. At first, she thought it was a full-on head, but the helmet was empty.

"So much for a rescue attempt," the overseer said dully.

Trembling, Courtney stepped over to the helmet and bent down. Fear made her hesitate, but when she picked out a paramedic logo on it, she knew it couldn't be one of the Snake-eaters. At once, she clasped it between her palms and lifted it up for inspection.

"Why do you say that?" she managed.

Looking almost straight up at him, the light carved a hungry expression across his gray face. "A local blood mob told us they're tracking two highly trained soldiers. One of them fits the Eagle's description."

That set her mind on fire. She had so many questions. Her heart hammered and she grew aware of how shocked she must've looked. Menendez's voice echoed in her head. _Never let them see you bleed._ She drew a deep breath before she spoke. "So why the paramedic helmet?" she said, just managing to inject a bit of impatience into her words.

"I'm guessing your friends thought they could infiltrate our medical unit. Their chopper was carrying a patient," Overseer Drekken said like he had a bad taste in his mouth.

_Their chopper?_ Suddenly, the Snake-eater's plan came into focus. A chopper crash must've killed all but two. No doubt they'd deployed their best for an operation to rescue her. When she'd last seen the Snake-eaters, they all looked to be in tip-top shape. That suggested at least a few she'd known personally hadn't survived. The realization tightened like a belt around her heart.

She tried to look unconcerned even though her mind was still reeling. "This was supposed to worry me, right? Weaken my resolve. If anything," she paused for effect, "this gives me more hope they'll rescue me."

For all the reaction of the overseer, she might as well have said nothing. Then she noticed she was rising. A few seconds later, the cell floor leveled with the overseer.

Without a second thought, she sprang forward. In the corner of her eye, he advanced. Adrenaline rushing in her, she rolled to the left. Her leg tugged back.

Twisting over her shoulder, she discovered his claws wrapped around her ankle.

She expected a strike of some sort. A painful surge of electricity or crushing of her limb.

Instead, her vision dizzied and an intense wave of heat spread from her toes to her fingertips. She couldn't make heads or tails of the fever until she sucked in a breath against the tightness in her chest. That's when it clicked.

Anunnaki air was a different combination of oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide than human air. She'd assumed they'd been pumping in air tweaked for humans into her cell. But she was wrong. Overseer Drekken had bided his time, exposing her to stressing updates, all to deal her this enervating blow.

Intense pain wracked her muscles. Her heart pounded and she felt her consciousness dwindle.

She heard a gasp and realized it was her own.

"Save me the trouble and tell me the coordinates of the Conifers," the Anunnaki said.

Something optimistic lingered in the back of her mind. _They can't kill me_ , she thought even as a burning hand squeezed her lungs. Seconds plodded by as she gasped for air. She swore her lungs were shriveling.

Dark blurs crowded at the edges of her vision. The chamber around her bent and distorted. Had something gone wrong? Overseer Drekken didn't seem intent on saving her.

The burning hand gave her lungs another squeeze.

"Please," she croaked.

# 9

"I didn't know you were so eager to throw yourself to the wolves," Sledge said with less sarcasm than Dagos would've expected.

"Unless you can think of something better, it's now our default plan," she said, weaving around a badly faded blue Mazda minivan. As team leader, she had the "luxury" of foregoing a debate. Still, as a friend, she knew Sledge wouldn't give in.

He folded his arms across his chest as they hiked along the bumpy asphalt road. A beagle rifling through trash darted away at the sight of them. "And what am I going to say? I'm a local who happened to find you?"

"Say you're a bounty hunter and you've been tracking me. The Anunnaki will more than likely let you into their territory."

Sledge looked less than impressed and grunted. "They'll probably kick me to the curb. If they even believe it's really you."

A breeze carrying the scent of trash and piss met her nostrils. She winced.

Her plan had a lot of holes to be sure. She was okay with that, though, if it gave them a shot of getting this mission off the ground. As to how Sledge would somehow free her and Courtney, that was a different story. A problem she couldn't quite wrap her head around. Yet she could hear Commander Ham's voice in her head. _Good. Make him think_ you'll _be the one staying behind._

Sledge groaned, and Dagos knew he only needed to get his complaints out of his system. Which he had.

"Ham would kill me if I let you sacrifice yourself," Sledge said, carefully watching a wrinkled homeless man lying on the sidewalk. "So, we better make sure we've got at least two designators."

Dagos pursed her lips. He was referring to golden bracelets that Anunnaki wore on their wrists or ankles that let them use certain technology much more conveniently. Essentially, they were like ID or credit cards. Humans could use them too, if they were specially programmed. Ham secured them a total of six designators for this operation with the express purpose of using them to escape from the Anunnaki base, once they rescued Courtney, via a snake-hole. An Earth-based wormhole.

Commander Ham said each designator allowed for two passengers on a snake-hole. So even if the Anunnaki confiscated one or two, they'd probably still have enough for each of them, plus Courtney.

But he'd lied.

Separately, he revealed to Dagos that each designator only allowed passage for the wearer. To get Courtney out of there, a Snake-eater would have to stay. That way Courtney could use the designator for herself.

Ultimately, it was to be Dagos's job to reveal this news at the right time. Ideally, Ham told her, one of the Snake-eaters would die and they could simply recycle that person's designator. But if they all survived, Dagos would have to pressure someone into staying back.

Dagos stopped mid-jog, bent down, and revealed the designator on her right ankle.

"Then we need one more," Sledge said. "Those Komodo bastards took mine. Mitchell and Johners never made it out of the chopper."

"They took Menendez's. Raimes's out of reach," she replied, trying not to think about her smacking into that building shortly after her.

"It's the chopper then."

"One more designator," Dagos breathed, knowing it would be for Courtney and Courtney alone.

If a designator was all they required, they could hunt down an Anunnaki and scavenge one of the gold bracelets. Because theirs were specially programmed, they needed to find one off another Snake-eater. Or steal Sledge's back from the Komodos.

"Either way, we're heading back to the Wendenberg Estates," she said, reorienting herself. She spotted the skyscraper quickly enough. They needed to get there ASAP, too, or risk finding a helicopter that the locals had already cleaned out.

Within six minutes, they were hunkered behind a graffitied cinder block wall that stretched for about ten feet. That's where a crater ended it.

A row of overturned orange Metro buses blocked off the street and their view ahead. The familiar symbol of the Komodos ran along the vehicle roofs. She didn't see any of their foot soldiers, but there were half a dozen buildings with a couple hundred windows between them where their scouts could be lurking. They might not have suspected Dagos and Sledge thanks to their new clothes. And plenty of refugees in the surviving cities carried around firearms. They'd even passed a couple homeless with pistols hanging out of their pockets in the last few minutes.

"You know what I think?" Sledge asked.

"What?"

"We go right up to them, we're asking for trouble. And they've made it so a person has to go right up to them."

"Right you are..."

"I say we pull off a stunt to showcase our skills. Let them think we're guns for hire."

She couldn't shake off the feeling this just wouldn't work. Unless the Komodos were idiots, they'd want to see their faces. Or they'd outright recognize the oddity of two fantastic shooters showing up an hour after two Snake-eaters prisoners had escaped.

A different angle was their only option to get inside. They'd trained to overcome obstacles like this, but that took time. Time they didn't have. Every minute they spent trying to reach the Estates was another minute that a local scavenger might steal the designator they needed for himself.

She spitted and cleared her throat. "When we were brainstorming plans, Ham mentioned a local city police force."

"He said the blood mobs ruled the police."

"You and I have a very different memory sometimes," she grinned. "Do the words West Coast Militia Patrol ring a bell?"

Sledge removed his headband and massaged his forehead. "Now there's an idea."

"Their closest base is out of the way, but maybe they can help us get through that blockade."

Rule number one for local improvisation. Rely on old contacts. If you didn't have any, make new friends.

Half an hour later, they reached the downtown structure that Dagos recognized as the WCMP outpost from their mission briefing. She'd never visited Los Angeles before the Shroud War, unfortunately, so it was hard to know whether all the graffiti and trash on the streets was due to war or simply part of the city's traditional aesthetic.

The sight of faded, dusty tents donated by companies and shopping carts stocked with cardboard boxes both depressed and angered her. She watched some old man roasting hunks of meat on sticks with a boy around an oil drum. That boy was presumably his grandson, but could just as well have been an orphan. There were hundreds of refugees. Few resembled a typical family. She knew all too well how the Shroud War tore people apart. Parents and children, siblings, lovers. Whenever she questioned her actions or her mission, she thought about the alternative.

Newsfeed images cycled through her head of Anunnaki warships cutting through a haze of ash over the high rises and landmark towers of New York. The uproar of millions of people screaming at once, emergency vehicles and alarm systems whirring, staccatos of gunfire trading with pulse surges. The biggest city in America brought to its knees in a matter of days. She only wished she'd been able to join in with the police, firefighters, and other first responders. Everyone thought of her as a hero, but there were so many more.

Maybe it was a sign then, when she spotted men and women in police uniforms and similar gear with holstered weapons handing out rations to a line of refugees along the steps of a park.

"That's them," she said and looked at their shotguns. "We better put these away."

Sledge accepted hers and tucked them into a thick street robe he'd found a few blocks earlier.

They approached the line and she registered the sea of tents in the park. Scraps of trash, cans, bottles, and rotten food dotted the yellowing grass. Clothes, wooden panels, and cardboard signs covered the trees. It was a sorry sight, but she'd seen worse overseas. Her job was to ensure this country never became the _worse_.

"Excuse me, who's in charge here?" Dagos asked one of the servers.

The woman was in her late-forties, yet still slim. She had the look of an active field patroller. Given this post-apocalyptic new world they were living in, few could afford to be overweight and sedentary.

The woman sized up Dagos and Sledge, her eyes briefly darkening. Clearly, they were not refugees.

"Who's asking?" the server barked.

Dagos forgot she was wearing a scarf around her mouth. That wouldn't earn her a whole lot of trust now would it? Slowly, she removed it and let the woman see her full face. Her eyes lit up with recognition.

"You look like...you know that?"

"Who?" Dagos asked, tilting her head.

"Well," the woman hesitated, glancing at the refugees in line a few feet away. She was smart enough not to say it for them to hear. That was one way word-on-the-street spread.

"Listen," Sledge cut in. "I'm not saying she's the person you're thinking of. But if she were, she'd probably be here on an important mission and need to speak with your commander. Pronto."

The officer nodded curtly and called to someone. "Sam, cover for me. I got some business."

"You always got business," a lightly tanned man with a scruffy beard complained, rising from a beach chair.

"My name is Cecilia," the officer said, leading them away. "I've got a lot of questions, but I probably shouldn't know too much, huh?"

"That's about the measure of it," Sledge said.

"But maybe we can get a few things answered by you," Dagos said. "I'm guessing you heard about the helicopter crash?"

"Heard about? I _heard_ it," she said. "Like a dying elephant."

"What else do you know about it?"

"Word is that it was the US government. Are you here to make sure no one talks about it? Seems like a cover-up is a moot point with the Anunnaki running around." Cecilia raised an eyebrow. "Unless there's a deeper conspiracy you're trying to hide."

Dagos laughed it off and yet, she knew that such a thing wasn't as crazy as it sounded. With all the compartmentalizing that went on at Groomlake, she could hardly be sure what other missions were going down. Given how much information she hid from her teammates on some operations, she had to assume her superiors kept secrets from her.

"Nothing immediate, no," Dagos said wryly. "We're here because that chopper brought us. We're the only two survivors. As far as we know."

Cecilia's face dropped. "Did the Anunnaki shoot you down?"

"If they'd tried, we wouldn't be here at all," Sledge said. "Engine failure."

"Yeah, things are breaking a lot now. There's just not the time or budget for a maintenance team. Two weeks ago, one of our MRAP's transmissions goes out. Guess why we can't fix it? Our in-house mechanic died last month fighting the Scorpions."

"A blood mob?"

Cecilia nodded as they reached a chain-link fence gate.

"Leave the scarf off your face. If you're armed, you'll want to put your weapons in that. Our guards are pretty trigger happy." She gestured to a trash can with the word _GUNS_ spray painted on the side.

Dagos and Sledge exchanged a look and stashed their shotguns with a collection of carbines, submachine guns, and handguns.

At the fence, Cecilia flashed her badge to the guards, two teenagers with matching green army uniforms and the constant look of nervousness etched on their faces. The German Shepherd there gave Sledge and Dagos a sniff then laid down. One of the guards grunted and opened the gate for them.

" _Gracias_ , Hector," Cecilia said as they walked through a metal detector, then to Dagos and Sledge, "There are too many blood mobs for us to handle. The most we can do is work with the more docile ones and try to bluff against the bigger ones. A whole lot of politics."

They passed through a cement walkway, framed by barbed wire and metal bars bent in a triangular pattern, and a second check-point and dog. An asphalt courtyard broadened out before them, full of MRAPs and armored SWAT team vehicles.

As far as Dagos could tell, this had been an actual police outpost before the war. It was nice to see something still being used for what it had been intended.

Sledge cocked his head at the handgun holstered on Cecilia's hip. "Men and women like us weren't made for politicking."

She shrugged. "We do what we have to. There isn't a local government anymore. Not a real one."

"A puppet of the blood mobs?" from Dagos.

"Yes ma'am."

As they crossed the courtyard, Dagos couldn't help but ask. "You've gotten us pretty far in. If we were blood mob spies we could cause a lot of harm. Doesn't that worry you?"

"Well, we want to let the locals get to know us. We thought about going the authoritarian route. It seemed like the obvious choice under the circumstances. But then people would see us as just another blood mob."

"Hearts and minds," Sledge said.

"Something like that."

They passed another set of guards into a dirty white corridor with halogen lighting. They turned right into a busy hall, whispers stirring in their path, and started up a series of stairs.

Behind a glass wall were office desks, whiteboards, and explanations from balding men with circles around their eyes, wearing striped dress shirts and suspenders.

They took another right and Cecilia knocked on the door of a Captain Mitchell Rossy.

A man in a full SWAT outfit opened the door. He had blond hair with specks of gray and skin slowly succumbing to age. Dagos pegged him to be a few years older than herself.

"I need to speak with the Captain," Cecilia said.

"He's busy," the guard said dully.

"With what, exactly?" Sledge snapped. "Considering a damn chopper crashed two hours ago."

The SWAT guard narrowed his eyes, obviously not used to anyone questioning him. Dagos fought back a grin. Sledge loved playing this game. Pretending to be a crotchety wild man to an unsuspecting whelp. Then, when the time was right, he'd give them a taste of who he really was.

But the guard must've had some sense in him. He'd probably been a real SWAT team soldier before the Anunnaki. Because rather than tell Sledge to shut his trap, he studied Dagos's face.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like the Eagle?"

"Has anyone ever told you that I am the Eagle?" Dagos said, mirroring the expression she'd used on so many morale posters and propaganda videos. A look of determination and hope surviving amid endless strife.

The officer shifted his shoulders and shook his head as he nudged the door open. "A few years ago, if you told me you were one of the most famous soldiers on the planet, I would've told you to go play Russian roulette. In those few years though, I've been attacked by alien robot dogs roaming the streets, met teenagers from private Beverly Hills academies who formed blood mobs, and watched a freaking Anunnaki mothership crash-land in the middle of the city. I should note that mothership destroyed my favorite steakhouse." A knowing smile split his face. "Get your asses inside."

The officer clapped Cecilia on the shoulder. "I'll take it from here."

He shut the door behind them and led them to the oak door across the small room. Another man dressed in a SWAT team uniform stood aside.

They entered into an office with a single middle-aged, brown-haired man and a common black police uniform. Surprisingly, the SWAT team officer flicked his thumb back. The captain nodded and hurried out of the room. Who kicked his boss out of his own office? Now this guy had Dagos's undivided attention.

"Pardon the theatrics," the SWAT team officer said, peeling off his black helmet and setting it on the desk as he pulled himself up a seat. "Now you know my methods for self-preservation. Or one of them. I'm sure as a fellow VIP, you can appreciate that."

Dagos couldn't deny that she could. Just revealing herself today the ways she had amounted to breaking more protocols than she cared to count.

"I'd say he's got a little of Ham in him," Sledge said.

"Ham? No thanks. Never liked pork. The name's Mitchell Rossy. Call me Mitch."

Dagos and Sledge shook his hand in turn then sat in front of the desk. "Are you truly the Eagle?" he asked.

"If you're truly the leader of this base."

"Fair enough. Let's get right down to it then. I was discussing matters of the blood mobs with my lieutenant before you two showed up, so I hope this is important."

Dagos stopped herself from laughing. "A lot more important than blood mobs. Besides, we tangled with them earlier. But one thing at a time. And our priority is the Anunnaki. Can we agree on that?"

"It's hard to be worried about an alien race who mostly keep to their ship when you've got the worst of humanity on your doorsteps."

"I hope you're not referring to the refugees you're feeding," Sledge said.

"I'm talking about blood mobs. They—"

Dagos raised a palm. "Sorry to cut you off, but, like you, we're on the clock. We're trying to save a girl from the Anunnaki. I know the ones here have laid low over the past year. But if we don't save that girl by eighteen hundred hours, there won't be much of a Los Angeles, or any major city, left."

Mitch ran his hair back with a gloved hand and groaned. "That sounds awfully familiar to those radio broadcasts I used to hear."

"My radio broadcasts worked. People respond quite a bit to fear. Because of those messages, we got the manpower or the funding or the resources to accomplish our objectives. And that's how humanity has survived this far."

"Yeah, okay. How do I enter into this? This little girl, is she in Jakarta?"

The crashed mothership the Anunnaki used as a base.

"Yes. And we need the West Coast Militia Patrol's help. You see, we were planning a covert operation to infiltrate the Anunnaki's outer lying defenses."

"The chopper?"

Dagos nodded. "Accidents happen, though. And now we're in need of a way to get to the crash site."

"So..."

"So we can retrieve specific gear necessary for mission success."

Mitch folded his padded arms over his tactical vest. "Specific gear necessary for mission success?" he mocked. "Where's all that charisma from your speeches, huh?"

"There's a time for speeches and there's a time for serious talking. We're at the latter," Dagos said. She couldn't take his bait. She couldn't tell if he didn't believe in her or he simply wanted to get something juicy out of this for himself. The answer would reveal itself soon. It always did. "Is there any way you can secure us an escort to the crash site? Once we're there, we can salvage our gear and finish the rest of our mission."

"Where exactly did your chopper hit the ground?"

"Right outside the Wendenberg building."

"That's Komodo turf. No can do. A sudden, open assault would be suicide. And I don't have the resources here. I'd have to convince my superiors at the HQ."

Dagos interlinked her fingers. She could bring up the armored vehicles parked outside, but she could guess his response. It was basic tactics. If they moved too many of those out, other blood mobs would smell vulnerability and threaten to overtake this outpost.

"You could spare two or three vehicles. Get us in, get us out," Dagos said. "Virtually no risk to this position. We might require some spare troops. Think of it as a show of force."

"They say you were in Afghanistan, head-shotting Al-Qaeda soldiers before you were head-shotting Anunnaki. I always wondered if you guys understood the fatal flaw of battling an enemy with the home field advantage. The flaw of making war in someone else's backyard and trying to figure out all the rules."

"Of course we knew that would be an obstacle. We worked around it," Dagos said, her temper rising.

"I assume you two are trying to make allies right now. And I'm the first one you came to. Aren't I?"

"Get to your point, Mitch," Sledge said, acting the angry man himself rather than letting Dagos slip.

"My point is that you two can't possibly understand all you're asking me to disrupt with this request. There are delicate dynamics at play here. If I were still just a SWAT soldier, I'd support your cause. Hell, I might join you personally. But I'm in charge of this outpost. I've got to think about more than myself. Those refugees out there would starve without the rations we pass out each week."

He laid his hands flat on his desk and frowned. They lapsed into silence with that and Dagos understood this was his final answer.

# 10

As Mitch's bodyguard escorted Dagos and Sledge across the parking lot of armored vehicles, she doubted she'd ever hear from him again. And while she understood his position, she didn't think she'd miss him.

So, when he called, "One last thing," she wheeled around faster than in some firefights.

A key flew at her. She caught it and blinked at him in the second story window.

"Take Fig all the way down. You might find someone willing to help you. Or rather, they might find you."

She jingled the keys. "Who am I looking for?"

"Like I said, you'll run into them. Hmm, bad choice of words. Well, it's up to you. Look for a warehouse on Fig and Ninth. Tell them Mitch sent you. Better hurry, though. Blood mob hunters will be out in full force soon.

He had a funny way of helping them.

"I say we go for it," Sledge said quietly.

Dagos waved a thanks to Mitch and to his bodyguard, said, "Show us our ride."

Cruising through Los Angeles in an armored car sounded like a much better idea than trekking on foot. Because working cars were rare, driving was asking for trouble. But a military vehicle was like a big warning sign. Most of the MRAPS had mounted machine gun turrets, so Sledge could scare anyone stupid enough to try and screw with them.

But after they picked up their shotguns from the trash bin, she found the guard leading them away from the MRAPS and SWAT vehicles to another lot. Maybe Mitch figured they needed speed and had reserved a standard police cruiser for them. She'd settle for that.

Instead, the bodyguard stopped in front of an old Ford pick-up. It looked like it had a skin disease and cracks webbed across the passenger window.

"This is a joke," Sledge said, kicking a flat-looking tire. "Tell Mitch that if we die it's his fault."

The bodyguard hesitated. "If you're traveling around downtown, you won't find anything better to blend in than this."

"Yeah, blend in with those dead bodies in the cars."

Dagos bit her lip and opened the driver's door. "Tell Mitch we appreciate it."

She hoped she didn't have to take that back.

The guard scratched his shoulder. "Still, watch out for the blood mob patrols. If you're not quick, you'll hit their rush hour."

To Dagos's pleasant surprise, the engine started just fine. Then again, so had the helicopter's.

They eased past a dozen other worn-down, crapped out vehicles that must've been old drug cars or seized from blood mobs. A man rolled back the gate for them and they were on their way.

Sledge fiddled with his seat belt. "Damn this thing's itchy."

"This can't have any more fleas than that van in Mogadishu. Remember that?"

"I loved that van. Oh, look a bullet hole in the hood."

"Now where's Fig?"

"He was referring to Figueroa, so I'd say over that way."

Since she drove about once a month, she felt a little rusty every time behind the wheel. Fortunately, the roads weren't blocked off at any point. They did navigate past a lot of other randomly-placed cars, though. Some empty, some with people staring out at them, and some with only the remains of drivers.

As they rolled down Fig, movement caught at the edge of her vision.

"Blue SUV, eleven'o'clock," Sledge warned. "One hundred meters."

She hit the brakes and killed the engine, deciding their best bet was to try and blend in. Maybe these were the guys Mitch had been referring to. Maybe not. She berated herself for not demanding more information. But she knew how it went. You didn't always play by the rules when it came to law and order. Sometimes you had contacts you weren't supposed to. Contacts you didn't brag about.

If these guys were worth their salt, they'd spot an out-of-place pick-up on the road. If they couldn't detect something new in their environment, there was no way they'd be able to help get them past a Komodo blockade.

"They're rolling down their windows," Sledge said.

Sometimes he had a bad habit of narrating.

"I'm not driving. I can see," Dagos protested, bringing her scarf around her mouth.

The sight of HK416 assault rifles poking from the vehicle made her stomach clench. If they planned to kill them, it would play out a lot like this.

The SUV raced toward them on the opposite side of traffic, swerving at all the right places to avoid a collision with the stopped cars. Whoever was driving knew the roads. Whether it was speeding for them or the driver always drove this fast was anybody's guess.

She took a deep breath, her pulse quickening as the blue vehicle closed the hundred-foot mark.

_Keep on driving,_ she willed them.

The driver was still gunning it and she sensed it would go past them. Then it halted to a screech, a mere twenty feet away on the opposite side of traffic. The driver was a thin black man with dreadlocks and a scar running down his cheek. He leveled his HK416 at them and pointed down.

Carefully, she lowered the window, both her and Sledge with their shotguns aimed right back.

"Nice afternoon for a drive, huh?" she said.

"The fuck you wearing that for?" Dreadlocks replied, referring to her scarf. "Take that off or we'll turn you into Swiss cheese."

He and the three passengers cracked up at that, relishing in the corny joke.

Dagos knew this was a power play. Asking them to drop their guns would've gotten neither of them anymore. Telling her to take the scarf off her face though was a subtle way of imposing his will on her. Aware of this, she obliged.

"I would've asked you to drop your gun," Sledge whispered to her.

Dreadlocks stared hard. "You're pretty for an older woman. Pretty women shouldn't be driving around here."

"You only think I'm pretty because you see me on TV all the time," she said, her eye twitching at the "older woman" part.

"Oh yeah. What channel are you on? The porn channel?"

The group whooped, but Dagos rolled her eyes. She'd heard a lot worse.

"I'm the Eagle. Don't you recognize me?"

Dreadlocks cast his head from side to side. "Bullshit. Come on, what are you doing around here, lady?"

"A guy named Mitch sent me. Ever heard of him?"

Resentment flickered in Dreadlocks' eyes. "Mitch? Yeah, I've heard of him."

The guns sucked back into the car and the windows rolled up. The vehicle began turning.

"Get ready," Dagos said as much to herself as to Sledge, turning on the ignition and putting the pick-up into drive. She hit the gas right as the blue SUV u-turned onto their side.

"Always ready for punks like this," Sledge said, twisting around and resting his shotgun on the shoulder of his seat. She curled her arm back and planted hers upside-down over her shoulder.

"You need training wheels?" Sledge said, referring to him guiding her blind-fire aim.

"I'll be okay. It's a shotgun after all."

They shared a quick laugh before a burst of gunfire drowned them out. Dagos cursed under her breath, but it might as well have been out loud for as much as she heard over the din of automatic fire from behind. Shards of glass flecked against her shoulder. So much for the back windshield.

Beside her, Sledge unleashed a flurry of slug shots. She squeezed the trigger and her arm jolted. In her side mirror, the blue SUV jerked to the left.

More shards of glass sprinkled onto her arms and shoulder. This time from her window. She swerved right, noting the tiny red dots running along her arms. Damn was she going to need the life Conifer or Orun's healing tech.

"Nine'o'clock," she cried, plunging her foot on the brake.

At the same time, she swung her shotgun around in her right arm, hoisting it on the window sill. Dreadlocks' co-pilot didn't expect the maneuver and ducked back in mid-reload as they met side by side. Sledge was too quick. A pink mist exploded from the window and spread over the blue of the SUV.

Heart pumping in her ears, Dagos forced herself down as it rammed their way and hit the gas. Something thudded under them. Maybe a cone or a body for all she knew. When she raised her head again, the pick-up's front windshield was shattered and an overturned bus lay ahead.

Her blood froze as she swerved hard. Time slowed as the front headlight collided with the back of the flipped-over bus. The entire truck lurched, the impact sending waves of pain from head to toe. With a raw wrenching noise, the bus ripped a hunk off their hood. But she managed to regain control and veer away before the bus crushed her.

"You okay?" she asked, hitting fifty on the speedometer.

"Bastards got me on the shoulder."

Dagos glanced to see a trace of red staining his green shirt on his left shoulder. He'd taken a lot worse.

"So yes."

"Screw you. Shit hurts," Sledge growled. "And how'd you come out unscathed from that hit?"

A ripple of gunfire silenced them as bullets whizzed past their face. Cloth exploded from Dagos's seat. On pure reflex, she drilled the SUV with a cloud of bullet holes. And still she counted three bad guys, including the driver. Bloodied, but alive. A line of cars wedged between them, bullets ricocheting inside their hollowed frames, and she noticed the constant bounce in their drive. She could only guess how many tires had been knocked out.

"Hey, running low on ammo," Sledge said. "Can't believe that prick didn't give us any guns."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Dagos said, catching sight of a few M16s in the backseat.

He extinguished the rest of his ammo then she covered him while he loaded an M16.

The SUV swerved at them again. Dagos took the opportunity to blast their rear-view and a chunk out of the steering wheel. That did the trick. Suddenly, the SUV spun back and forth, banging into stationary cars. Dagos got some distance and Sledge shredded their right side.

The SUV fell behind them, this time not purposefully. Dagos watched them slow down noticeably then winced at the cuts on her left arm.

There was a rush of movement in the rear-view mirror. She snapped to attention and watched a van plow directly into the side of the SUV. The _crunch_ sounded nasty.

"Watch it!" Sledge shouted.

She hit the brakes as two faded red vans cut her off. The next thing she knew half a dozen figures in paramilitary uniforms and face masks had their guns trained directly on them. That's when she noticed the Komodo symbol on the side of their vans.

"Nobody move!" one yelled.

Sledge froze, his hand inches from a new magazine. Dagos's hands hovered over the steering wheel, nowhere near a weapon.

# 11

"You've been out for an hour," Overseer Drekken said as the cell formed around her. Courtney blinked and rubbed her eyes. Her neck ached and her whole body felt sore. She could've survived or gone to hell. She wouldn't have known the difference.

"I've learned the names of the helicopter crash survivors if you're curious," the Anunnaki said with cool interest.

She shifted and tried to wrap her throbbing head around that. Her heart skipped a beat. She didn't want to know anyone's name right now. It would only up her anxiety.

She made a noise to stop him, but the overseer either didn't hear or didn't care. "Sledge and Dagos. The last one you know better as the Eagle, of course."

She recoiled as if he'd spit at her. Her heart raced again and pinpricks rolled across her arms and neck. She had to slow her breathing.

"I have to be honest, I don't think they'll be able to save you," the overseer said, applying the coup de grace. The words lit another fever in her. Randomly, muscles spasmed.

She gazed at the overseer, willing him to take mercy, but he felt a million miles away. As far away as the life Conifer deep in the Mariana Trench. She wiped the cold sweat off her forehead, wondering if she'd thought that or said it.

_Don't tell him,_ she thought. _Don't tell him._

Pain stabbed in her left rib. Her lungs clenched for a second that never seemed to end. _What if I told him just one?_ The question popped into her head followed by a rush of defiant anger. She couldn't break.

Raw agony bit at her throat and lungs. The pain was so pervasive it was as if she'd never lived without it.

She reached out for Menendez's advice, but the words jumbled together in her frantic mind. He'd told her something about remembering friends. Loved ones. A dull dread surfaced when she thought of her husband, memories of their cherished days corrupted by his death.

Her mind grasped for another source of relief.

_Sledge._

His name evoked a memory that felt like a lifetime ago. Dazed in pain, she couldn't filter out the good from the bad.

A large dark room surrounded her, the walls framed with giant screens of weather patterns, live images of different combat zones, and various other satellite-based diagrams. Rows of desks topped with PCs, phones, and the occasional personal effect ringed around her. Commander Ham took a sip of his whiskey.

"Looks like it's a matter of mopping up," he said with a confident, authoritative tone.

"Right you are," Menendez said over the radio.

Ham nodded, fighting back a smile and pressed the talk button on his microphone. "Good work. I'll see you soon."

"Over and out."

The radio cut to static.

"Well, congratulations," Ham said, taking Courtney by surprise. "Who could've thought a teenager's plan would work."

"I-I..." Courtney stammered, but she didn't know what to say. She'd never been good at taking credit. Not even for acing math tests back in middle school when most of the other students failed.

"Has anyone ever told you that you could go far here? As long as humanity survives, that is," Commander Ham said with deadly inflection. Then his features brightened. "Here. I'd say you've earned this. Outsmarted a damn Ascendi."

He placed a bottle of vodka on his desk and poured a shot glass for her. "The Eagle snagged this from the Kremlin many years back."

"Is it wise for me to kill my brain cells if my intelligence is such an asset?" Courtney asked.

A tight grin split Ham's sharp-jawed face. "My brother used to say the same thing. You know where he ended up? Teaching biology to high-risk kids in some underfunded school. He could hardly afford his car payments."

"Is he still alive?"

"Oh yeah. Made sure they found him space in a refugee camp out east. Maybe he can teach them alien biology." Ham seemed to find that hilarious. Without warning, he nudged her in the arm with the shot glass. A few drops specked onto her hand.

"Come on, take it. Won't kill you, I swear."

She bit her lip. She didn't know the appropriate response. Maybe she should humor him? She'd never tried alcohol before. A tiny voice warned her not to, though. Something about the look in his eyes rubbed her the wrong way.

"I have to go," she said, pitching to her feet. As she strode by him, his hand cut her off.

"See that scar?" he said, referring to a grizzled bump on his thumb. "I got that saving a hospital in Kabul from the Taliban."

"You must be proud," she said dully, a slice of unease cutting up her shoulders.

"Sit down. Let me tell you about it, alright?" he said. An order, not a question.

He placed a hand gently on her arm, and she swallowed dryly. Suddenly the commander felt as alien to her as the dead Anunnaki she'd seen dissected a month before. It occurred to her that he and the Eagle were no longer a couple.

Conventionally, Commander Ham's high cheek-bones, deep-set blue eyes, and muscular physique were attractive. But not to her personally. Did he actually believe she'd be interested in him? He was old enough to be her dad. He probably would've been gray-haired if he didn't shave his head completely bald.

"Ever heard the saying, you scratch my back, I scratch your back?" he said.

She froze in that moment, totally vulnerable. She'd only ever seen Ham call the shots around here. If she upset him....

Then there was movement at the edge of her vision.

"Can't you see she ain't interested?" Sledge grimaced, strolling down the aisle toward them, his left arm in a sling.

Ham's mouth became a thin slit.

"I thought you didn't want to listen to your teammates having all the fun?"

"Changed my mind," Sledge said, pulling a seat up for himself.

Ham tilted his head and his eyes sharpened. "You look tired, Sledge. Go get yourself some rest, huh?"

The tension between commander and soldier was palpable.

"I think I'll sit right here," Sledge replied, glancing at Courtney and nodding almost imperceptibly.

Days later, he'd passed her in the hall. She'd thanked him and asked if he wasn't worried about getting fired. Sledge had laughed, but he explained that it would've been MAD. Mutually assured destruction.

All that flashed through her head in a matter of seconds. Gratitude for Sledge eclipsed her fear at dying. Gratitude for all the Snake-eaters. They'd gone through so much for her, for humanity. She owed it to them to fight this out until the bitter end.

# 12

The Komodos tossed them into the back of the van. Because her arms and ankles were bound by ropes, Dagos tripped inside and barely managed to break her fall with her shoulder hitting the wall. It hurt a lot more than it should've. Someone yanked her up and twisted her around so she could see the soldiers in the back of the van with her. Two couldn't have been older than sixteen. Scrawny teenage boys. The other was a red-faced man almost as big and muscular as Sledge. It was easy to compare them, sitting side by side.

All three wore a tactical vest with a revolver tucked into a stomach holster.

She looked at Sledge, but there wasn't a whole lot to communicate. No guns, no backup. Yet some intense stubbornness flickered in his eyes. His expression told her he didn't plan on staying a prisoner in this van. She nodded and his eyes began working around the van. Sledge was "the big guy" on their team, but every Snake-eater possessed skills in environment analysis and tactical planning. Right now, he was concocting something, making mental measurements.

She'd just have to do her best to catch on as soon as he initiated it.

One of the teenagers pulled out a tattered iPod complete with earphones. The other muttered to him. The taller one shoved him playfully and made a crude joke in Spanish before sharing the earphone. Dagos listened to some old pop tune about a girl who everyone loved a little too much.

As much as she tried, she couldn't get a good view of the driver and co-pilot in their bulky seats. But she noticed hunting rifles poking off their laps.

"Hey bucko, I got an itch on my ass that I can't scratch," Sledge murmured. "Mind untying these ropes?"

The red-faced guy chuckled, baring a toothy grin. "You're gonna have a lot worse problems than that soon."

"If you won't untie my ropes, will you scratch it for me?" Sledge said, deadpan.

"You're lucky I don't knock you unconscious," the red-faced guy growled.

"I'm a little deaf in my right ear. Too many gunshots. Mind speaking up?"

The heavyset red-faced man leaned over, his voice raised, "I said you're—"

With a momentum betraying the fact that he was sitting down, Sledge slammed his head to the right. His forehead _smacked_ against the man's nose and he cursed, clutching it. In a heartbeat, Sledge shoved him to the floor, and they were mass of wrestling bodies.

_You always were headstrong,_ Dagos thought as the teenagers beside her scrambled for their pistols.

Generating intense torque only possible because of too much training, Dagos spun around and brought her feet up. Her boots crashed directly into one teenager's groin. Then she leaned back and her boots connected with the other's face. He slumped over, eyes wavering. The iPod and earphones fell to the floor of the vehicle.

In the corner of her eye, Sledge was jerking his feet into the man's left knee in rapid bursts. Enough to keep him from pulling his gun out.

Still cursing and grabbing his crotch, the teenager next to her ripped out his pistol and raised it with a trembling arm. But she curled her body up and bit down on his wrist as hard as she could. Red hot liquid dripped from her mouth and she dug in with her teeth. A fist smashed against her head. But as her vision blurred, she ripped outward with her jaw. Blood spilled all over the seats and the pistol dropped.

Sledge howled a curse from the floor. Dagos didn't have to look to know he couldn't last long there with his ankles and wrists tied up.

She pivoted around and tucked her arms over the teenager's head, squeezing it in against her waist. In a single rush, she felt his body go limp and he collapsed, unconscious.

She moved to help Sledge, when she heard the unmistakable cocking of a bolt-action hunting rifle.

"Now everybody calm down," the pale, skeleton of a co-pilot said, adjusting his aviators.

The big red-faced guy wiped the blood from his nose, released Sledge, and got to his feet.

"Good try, though. I must say the Eagle lives up to her legend." Aviators motioned to the seats with his gun and Dagos reluctantly sat. Sledge stayed down.

"If you know who I am, why not let me go? The war effort needs me."

"Because the Anunnaki will kill us if we don't hand you over. It's self-sustainability," he said, drawing out each syllable of the word.

"For how long?" Dagos said, not surprised by his naivete. "You don't think they'll let you live if they win the war, do you?"

"Do me a favor and kick me over that iPod, would you? Looks like the two _amigos_ won't be listening to it any time soon."

"Take it yourself." Dagos invited him by shifting her feet away.

"Now don't play games with me, woman," Aviators grinned. "I gave you an order. You're a military type, so I'm sure you know how to follow those."

"Alright," she said, placing her boots around the iPod and squeezing.

"Nothing fancy. This ain't soccer. Just slide the damn thing over," Aviators grumbled.

"Bitch isn't giving you trouble, is she?" the driver muttered. Suddenly, the car jerked violently and Dagos's head banged against the wall.

_Asshole._

"Watch it," Aviators protested. "Gonna throw my back out."

She still held the iPod flat between her feet. Kicking it over might be a crazy and reckless move. Exactly what the situation called for.

She flicked her legs and the iPod flew toward the co-pilot. As he reached out and caught it, she swung her legs again and wrapped her boots around the barrel of his rifle. In one fatal instant, the co-pilot panicked and yanked back. Dagos tugged at the gun and prayed she didn't aim it at the wrong person.

In the chaos of the struggle, it went off. The red-faced guy with the bloody nose gave a pained breath, put his hand to his stomach slowly, and dropped to the floor.

Aviators cursed.

Dagos exploited his sudden guilt and twisted the hunting rifle out of his grip. On cue, Sledge rose to his feet and grabbed it from her boots. Even holding the gun awkwardly behind his back, a single shot put Aviators on permanent silent mode.

The car screeched to a halt. "Hostages are loose," the driver hollered into the radio. "I repeat, hostages are—"

Another gunshot and he began coughing up blood instead. Sledge let the gun drop, knelt and drew a tactical blade off the red-faced guard and severed the ties on his wrists then cut Dagos loose. In a couple of seconds, they were both armed and dangerous.

Sledge gave her a long look. "I saw you kick one of them in the groin. That wasn't nice."

Her ankle stung suddenly, and she realized the designator was cutting into her circulation.

"I took both kids out of the battle," she said, removing the designator from her ankle and securing it on her wrist. "They'll have some scars, but they'll live to tell the tale. Now can we focus on the mission. I'm guessing there's about to be quite a few guns trained on us."

"Not if I take the wheel," Sledge said, lumbering over to the driver's seat. He placed a hand on the dead driver's shoulder to push him aside and paused. Dagos followed his gaze out the windshield and cursed. They weren't dealing with just Komodos anymore. They were dealing with Anunnaki.

# 13

Sledge threw the driver's body down, scooted to the back of van, and checked the windows. "Yup. Seven of them."

"I should probably be flattered, huh?" Dagos said, her eyes locked on the three Anunnaki soldiers standing in front of the van. A mere fifteen feet away, she could clearly see the chrome combat armor that covered everything up their over-sized, hairless gray heads. At an average of nine feet, an Anunnaki soldier possessed obvious strength and size advantages over a human. The combat armor only accentuated those differences. Still, they had weaknesses. A series of knobs, grooves, and discs occupying square spaces on the Anunnaki's chests served as their breathers. Oxygen filtration apparatuses to help them manage in a different kind of air than their home planet's.

They could shoot those and, theoretically, weaken the Anunnaki. It wasn't an instant change, though, and weakening didn't mean killing.

The other option was to aim for their heads. They were big, obvious targets.

And yet as these thoughts skipped through her mind, the Anunnaki pulled dark-gray metal sheets off their backs. With flicks, the sheets expanded on all sides to form giant shields.

That's when the Anunnaki began approaching.

"You seeing what I'm seeing?" Sledge asked.

"Wish this thing had a moon roof," Dagos muttered, stepping back from the wheel. "Get over here. I'll ride shotgun this time."

In a single stride, Sledge was settling in beside her and revving the engine. Ahead of them, the Anunnaki mounted their shields on the street.

"The sooner the better," Dagos said, clipping her seat belt and adjusting her hold on her bolt-action hunting rifle.

Sledge kept one hand on the wheel and rested the other on the dashboard with a pistol. The next thing she knew they were plowing at the line of Anunnaki shields. Dagos had broken through shields like this before. Granted, she'd been riding in MRAPs or Hummers. Would a street van muster the power to break the line?

The answer came with a violent crunch of the bumper, and they swung forward, their seat belts digging into their chests. Dagos's entire body tensed at the impact. She only hoped the van could still function.

"Piece of crap," Sledge said, putting it into reverse.

A slice of unease cut into Dagos as the dark-gray of Anunnaki shields dominated the passenger side mirror. They were on the verge of surrounding them.

Sledge revved the engine and they barreled at the narrowing gap between two shields in front of them. A split-second later, the shields scraped against the van on either side, sparks jumping into the air as the side mirrors snapped off.

Somehow, they cleared the barrier. The familiar crackle of gunfire and whines of Anunnaki pulse surges sounded. Metallic tapping in the back of the van invited pockets of sunlight. Piece of crap, indeed. At this rate, the Komodos and Anunnaki would shred their ride in a few minutes.

"We can't outgun them," Dagos said.

"So we gotta outrun them." Sledge knew the drill.

"Turn around ASAP. Fig and Ninth is our only shot."

"ASAP coming right up," Sledge cried, turning so sharply the car lifted a few inches off the ground.

"Your window," Dagos said as they leveled.

Sledge rolled it down and fired off two rounds from his pistol then leaned back to let Dagos continue their minor offense. She popped the tire off the Komodo van bringing up the rear and watched it veer off before fixing her sights on an Anunnaki skiff ten feet above. Dark gray adamantine shielding and the poor angle limited her shots and she pulled back to lower her window.

Bits of aluminum broke off from the hood as the Anunnaki let loose a storm of pulse surges.

"At least we know they're not trying to kill us," Sledge said.

_Just take us hostage, so they can probe us._

A blue and white street sign read _7 th_ _St._ Almost.

From below, the skiffs resembled the bottom of a boat's hull. Except with more metal, alien symbols, and opaque anti-gravity orbs. A bolt-action rifle wouldn't punch through those, but she didn't have a better target.

She focused on one and got off three successive hits before a pulse surge sent tiny steel bits off the van door and splintering into her elbow. She winced, but somehow felt less pain than she'd expected. Withdrawing into the van, she slapped a fresh magazine into the rifle.

Dozens of holes decorated the van's ceiling and offered a better firing angle. A foolish Anunnaki was peeking down with its head. She zeroed in, but it retreated before she could score a hit.

"Shit," Sledge said dully.

Dagos looked to see an Anunnaki hunter drone hovering in front of them. A pair of heavy-duty resonance blaster cannons fixed on them. Too quick to stop, the machine emitted deep booming hums. Just like that, the hood popped up with a burst of smoke, the transmission growled, and the van began slowing dramatically.

"We better hightail it outta this thing," Sledge said, his frown full of alarm.

They needed more than that. Dagos racked her mind for a real plan, but couldn't think of anything. She lacked geographical knowledge of this area and the Anunnaki could simply drop in and manhandle them once they were out of the van. Scraps of old faded paper fluttered in the wind. Posters with the Lakers and Clippers logos.

She vaguely recognized the Los Angeles basketball teams.

Then she noticed the wall of aluminum sheets, cinder block, and plywood panels fifty meters down the stretch, past a few deserted houses and cars that had been stripped clean.

An old signpost read _STAPLES CENTER._

She grabbed the wheel and turned right. The van made it thirty feet in the direction of the wall before it came to a complete stop.

"Follow the old posters," Dagos said, hopping out and rattling off the rest of her ammo. Then she abandoned the gun and broke into a full sprint.

Ham had briefed them on the major landmarks of the city. If this was what she suspected, she could buy them some time.

Suddenly, something moved in the window of an overturned RV in front of them. She made out a small child staring back at her. A tanned girl who couldn't have been older than seven. Best case scenario the Anunnaki ignored the kid and moved on. She preferred not to think about the worst-case scenario. Unfortunately, she knew from experience that it was far more likely.

_Forget it and keep moving,_ Commander Ham's voice echoed.

She had a lot of blood on her hands and she wouldn't add one more child to that.

"We're saving that girl," she said, swooping over to the RV and clambering to the open passenger door. Even as pulse surges battered the paint job, she lowered her hand through the doorway. "Come on, sweetie."

The girl ran over, smiling. "Sucker!"

Bewildered, Dagos could only watch as the girl ripped the designator off her wrist. When the girl turned and ran to the end of the bus, the Komodo symbol emblazoned on the back of her t-shirt came into view.

"Move!" Sledge yelled, wrapping his hands around Dagos and shoving her off the bus.

That brought her to the here and now. She sprinted ahead, still in disbelief at what she'd witnessed. Blood mobs had corrupted even the damn children. But of course they had. She'd seen children corrupted all over the world.

Commander Ham winked at her in her mind's eye. _Forget it and keep moving_.

Back to searching for an escape.

"Look for a hole in the wall," she cried as Anunnaki soldiers jumped off the skiffs. Old cars and piles of debris served as their only real protection.

As Sledge brought up the rear, questions raced through her head. Was he still a necessary asset for this mission? Would he be better off if he aborted his role in this op? Part of her wanted to leave him behind and trick the Anunnaki into chasing her and her only. Of course, she knew they wouldn't let him escape. And she did still need his help. No matter how good she appeared in the videos, she was only as good as her team.

Sledge ejected a few rounds from his pistol as they slipped through the branches of an uprooted tree. The Anunnaki soldiers paused for a second, too large to get through, then smashed through the weaker branches with their shields.

They skirted around a bus, the skiffs still tracking them overhead, the Anunnaki soldiers gaining purchase every second. If the aliens so much as touched them, they could knock them out. And that would be game over. Dagos would wake up in an alien prison. This time, Sledge wouldn't be able to break her free.

A single chain-link fence separated them from the wall.

"Ladies first," Sledge said, diving in and yanking a chunk free. Dagos crawled through without looking back.

Feet later, Sledge fell in step as they scanned for an opening in the hodgepodge wall.

"You're nuts," Sledge grunted.

"I know," Dagos said, turning over her shoulder. Her blood froze. The Anunnaki soldiers were less than twenty feet behind. They'd close the gap in seconds.

"Right there," Sledge yelled. She saw it, too. A piece of cardboard among the layer of cinder blocks. It had to be a way through the wall. A way in.

She ran in head-first, half-expecting to hit cinder block behind the cardboard. But as her hands and head met the cardboard, it gave and a tunnel extended before her. Down she slid. Into the Sore. Where a dirty bomb carved out a crater of death and ruin two years ago.

# 14

This time, Courtney awoke to a sharp brief pain in her arm. She looked to a syringe falling away.

Her body was oddly situated. She was suspended on a vertical panel, metal braces keeping her limbs attached magnetically at the joints.

Cold fingers wrapped around her chin and dragged her face forward. Up close, tiny cracks and ridges tarnished the overseer's scales.

"What was that?" she cried, at once aware of the swirling in her head.

"Every time the air level in your body changed, I let you fall unconscious then injected you with what was necessary to sustain your life." Overseer Drekken motioned to the syringe. "But this is a drug that will prevent you from going unconscious."

"What?"

"Soon you'll begin suffocating again. We'll inject you with only enough oxygen to prevent death. But the intense pain you felt from suffocation won't go away. I'll let it go on for five minutes. If that doesn't persuade you, we'll up the duration of your suffocation."

She fought back against an instinctive wave of panic. As soon as she panicked this was over. Instead, she drew a deep breath and tried to calm her mind. To focus on anything else. Like the old chamber they'd returned her to. She was on an elevated platform encapsulated by a resonance field. Beyond that the walls and ceilings looked like they were made of endless rows upon rows of over-sized rib bones complete with vein webbing. Except it was all composed of metal of varying shades of black. The Anunnaki had nailed the creepy torture chamber vibe.

"I don't know what data you have on human anatomy," she said. "But when I was younger, I had a heart condition. If you keep this probing going, you might kill me before I reveal the Conifers' locations."

The overseer had to think about that one. He must've suspected the lie, weighing it with the chances she was telling the truth.

"So, I guess I'll have to call off all probing," he said deadpan. Then he hissed in amusement. "Is that what you expected me to say? If you die, you die."

Groaning inwardly, Courtney gathered her thoughts. "I expected you to give me some time to recover. My life has to be worth a few hours, right? Or at least, the knowledge in my head is worth that."

This Overseer Drekken seemed genuinely willing to consider. He said something to himself in Nebirian, then to her, "Three hours and I resume."

As he roamed off, a tinge of hope crept into her consciousness. She'd successfully bought herself time, but she needed to do more than that.

Suddenly, the restraints on her wrists and ankles retracted. She hopped off the metal panel and spun around to see it flattening into the floor.

Obviously, her prison bubble didn't leave her much to work with. But there had to be something to use.

_Look for the change in your environment,_ the Anunnaki Orun told her at Groomlake once. _Study that change. Analyze it._ What changed about her environment here?

She gazed at the resonance field that formed a giant bubble over the platform. Every so often it flickered. The Eagle once told her she'd met a prisoner who claimed some pattern existed between a resonance field and an Anunnaki base's electrical frequency. The frequency of the electrical charge was the special code that allowed the Anunnaki to palm walls and form openings. It changed occasionally in most bases.

She hadn't really bothered to work it out the pattern in the other prison chamber because she didn't have anything to replicate an Anunnaki electrical charge. No generator or Anunnaki designator to tweak. It would be like when her friend snatched up keys to a car that had no gas. And, thanks to the war, most gas stations were out of service. If she owned a designator and some equipment to toy with it, she might be able to make use of that pattern.

She bit her lip. This was a pointless exercise in frustration. Yet, it occurred to her that if the Eagle did get inside, she might be able to make use of the electrical frequency. It was a long-shot, but better than nothing. She fixated on the resonance field around her, noting the length between shifts in the balance of its composition.

# 15

Dagos pushed herself up with trembling arms. A giant crater spun around her. She massaged her head and realized that was just her vision. She had slid through the tunnel and tumbled until she hit dirt.

Sledge groaned beside her. "Well, no Anunnaki."

She remembered escaping them. That was the good news.

"We've got about half an hour to figure a way out of here," she said, referring to the buildup of radiation. In the days after the dirty bomb exploded, the government and pharmaceutical companies had distributed experimental anti-cancer medication, letting some of the survivors' bodies acclimate to the heightened radiation. But the last she'd heard blood mobs had destroyed the plant that produced those pills.

Even thirty minutes would raise their risk of cancer by a lot. Any longer than thirty minutes guaranteed a more immediate death.

"With all due respect, if our plan was survival, I don't know if coming here was the best idea," Sledge said.

Dagos turned around and shifted her weight from foot to foot, taking inventory of her body. No bones were broken. "I know this was stupid. If we stayed, we'd be dead."

Sledge issued a long sigh and looked around. "Let's get started then."

They began their march through the crater.

"So, did Mitch betray us or did these guys betray Mitch?" she wondered aloud.

"Sometimes it's not betrayal," Sledge said. "Could be that he mistakenly judged them as nicer people than they were. He _thought_ they'd do him a favor, but maybe they never really agreed."

For some reason, she felt silly for assuming it was a betrayal. A tinge of guilt rose in her again. _Maybe the reason you distrust people so much is because you know what you're capable of._

"How many designators are we down now?" from her teammate.

"Two."

"At least that puts things into perspective," Sledge said, drawing his revolver. "Where's the closest exit?"

"West of here," Dagos said. "But I think we better get some cover first."

The Anunnaki would send in aerial drones soon, no doubt. They wouldn't risk the lives of their soldiers down here, though. Not when they only needed to wait half an hour.

She decided not to bring up the fact that the exit was going to be heavily guarded.

What struck her about the Sore was the debris. This was what remained of the Staples Center and Los Angeles Convention Center. Old support pillars, the skeletal frames of underground parking structures, stairwells all by themselves. Chunks of the bleachers, ravaged structural frames with concession stands still intact on the second or third floor, the stadium video screen. If you studied it, you could create a rudimentary map of where things had been.

Dagos had witnessed a lot of destruction. By now, she'd grown numb to the horror of wide-scale destruction.

The shock came at seeing the remains of the people. Long-dead corpses strewn around, some still wearing their jerseys or sports memorabilia. The elements had reduced most to skeletons and only an occasional fly bothered landing on them.

Fighting back her revulsion, she walked up to a ravaged souvenir shop with racks of paper-thin clothing still hanging.

"Those won't do us much good for blending in," Sledge said as they skirted around a few bodies near the front of the store.

Dagos poked around the debris. Oddly, she discovered a few cardboard boxes in good shape, but they'd already been cleaned out. Finally, she found an untouched one at the bottom of a pile. The tape had shriveled away and she popped it open. Old Lakers clothes still rested in the bags.

They tore open a bag and outfitted themselves in Lakers jerseys and gray sweat pants. Sledge grabbed a pair of blue Dodgers caps for them off a shelf and they donned them. Now they looked like locals to any Anunnaki aerial surveillance.

They kept to the edges of the crater, where the debris formed a slope upwards. Dagos hoped that this would both limit their exposure to the radiation. But also, the inhabitants. Most would've lived in what remained of the Convention Center. Several halls were still intact, if not half-buried in dirt.

Twenty minutes must've passed when they spotted their tents, sleeping bags, and clotheslines. And finally, the Frayed.

Even from a hundred feet away, she could see the burns and sores on their faces. No wonder they called this place the Sore. Ham told her some of the experimental pills would keep them alive, but it wouldn't stop all the deteriorating effects of radiation poisoning.

"Poor bastards," Sledge said.

Dagos cleared her throat. "Don't lower your guard."

"You really think..."

"Anyone can potentially be a threat. We both know that."

She took Sledge's silence as an admission and they pressed on over the hills of debris, keeping to the ridges and cliffs to limit their visibility to the Frayed. If the Anunnaki spotted them, she could only hope they saw two Frayed drifters and thought no more of it. More than likely, they'd assume, regardless, that they were headed for the west gate. It was the main exit route. If they had more time, they could ask the Frayed about others. But she wasn't about to risk that.

Without warning, a raucous broke out. Gunfire and pulse surges. Definitely outside of the crater. Dagos couldn't quite pinpoint it. But with a sinking sensation, she knew it must've been the Anunnaki overtaking the guard post that kept the Frayed stuck inside.

"Unless we can find another escape route, we're as good as dead," Sledge said.

She racked her mind for another way, but he was right. They wouldn't make it to the other side of the Sore in time. They would have to go to the exit with the Anunnaki or succumb to radiation poisoning.

Then something moved in the corner of her eyes. They looked up to see a figure waving to them from the top of the wall. Not an Anunnaki. A human.

A black rope unraveled over the side, inviting them to leave.

"Freedom!" someone yelled.

Further down the slope, three men with vein-ridden, beat-red faces emerged from behind a splintering desk. Dagos couldn't believe they were being tracked and hadn't caught on. Then she saw why. Each man wore military tactical gear. Kevlar, Arctic camo sleeves and pants, elbow and shoulder pads. Frayed, but former-Special Forces.

"You two, hands up," a bald-shaven man with a crooked nose barked, shouldering a suppressed MK16 SCAR-L. A red dot appeared over Dagos's chest.

Another trained his laser sights on Sledge. The third had his carbine trained up at the figure on the wall.

"We're Snake-eaters. Sent by the US government," Dagos said, lifting her arms wearily. "What's your name, soldier?"

"Good. We've got some payback to deliver. And my name's Wilson."

"Why's that?" Sledge asked.

"Isn't it obvious? Your government abandoned us here. Left us to die. You can either denounce your government or take our places."

He was clearly American, but his use of _your_ made her wonder if he hadn't done something so bad he no longer considered himself such. Either that or he truly felt betrayed.

"Sorry, but I think that rope was meant for us," Sledge said.

"Maybe it was, but we've got families to find," Wilson said, his tone verging on desperate.

Dagos clenched her jaw. A former-Special Forces soldier desperate to see his family was more dangerous than any blood mob soldier.

"And we don't?" Dagos asked.

"If your government really cares about you, they'll get you out of here ASAP."

Dagos's eyes dimmed. She wanted to argue that Commander Ham would save them, but if he didn't see the benefit in that, he simply wouldn't. It wasn't about whether or not the government cared for them at this point. It was about whether or not they were an effective part of the war effort.

"Take it easy, soldier," she swallowed dryly.

A grin split Wilson's face. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Your government won't save you any more than they'll save us."

"There's more to it than that," Dagos said. "We're on a time-urgent mission, Wilson."

Getting out of the Sore was pretty time-urgent, too.

"You said we could join you, right?" Dagos asked. Not that she planned to, but if she had to pretend to switch sides to save her skin and finish this operation, she would. She'd never really be betraying her government, only acting like she was.

"Oh, you're that loyal, huh? If you want to join us, you'll have to pass our test. The test is you stay here and let us leave. Maybe we'll throw the rope down for you. Maybe we won't."

Dagos understood the implications. He would force them to stay here. It would obviously be too much of a risk bringing them along.

In response to her silence, Wilson licked his lips. "If the government _does_ rescue you, be sure to let them know Team Circa is back."

She vaguely recalled the name. It didn't mean much, but maybe hers would.

"I've got another idea. You might recognize me as the Eagle. From all those videos. I have a lot of sway thanks to my position. Come with us. Help us complete our operation. Afterwards, I'll make sure you get to see your families again."

Wilson cast his head from side to side. "Things we've done, it won't matter." Yet she could see a hint of hope in his weary eyes.

"This mission means everything to us. You know the government. If we're successful, they'll find a way to exonerate you. Besides, we aren't exactly damsels ourselves."

Wilson bit his lip and exchanged a look with the soldier beside him. He shrugged. "We could always take her hostage."

Wilson frowned and looked back to Dagos. "Nah. Wouldn't be worth it. I think we'd be better off on our own."

Dagos couldn't believe him. Then again, he'd spent the last couple of years as a Frayed. That was bound to hollow out your core.

"Think about it. There are Anunnaki and blood mobs out there. And once you betray us, any government soldiers will kill you. Come with us and we'll have six."

The man looked down, clearly wrestling with the idea. She was close. She had to sweeten the deal somehow.

"You know about the Conifers, right?"

"What about them?" Wilson asked.

"Currently, human forces possess all four of them, including the life Conifer. We can heal you. It doesn't matter how bad it is."

"Bullshit," another soldier said.

"You want to know how the Eagle's survived so much, well that's one of her secrets," Sledge said.

Wilson cut the distance between them by a step. His nostrils flared for a second that never seemed to end. Dagos could see a decision forming in his eyes. She didn't know what he was deciding, though. She'd either get a bullet in her gut or—

Her eyes stung at the rush of red, and she looked away. He must've been aiming the laser directly between her eyes.

"Tell it true. You swear on your life that you'll pardon our sins, heal us with the life Conifer, and help us find our families?" Wilson shouted.

Dagos breathed out slowly. "I'll do everything in my power to get your crimes forgiven and get you access to the life Conifer. And if your families are out there, we'll find them. I promise you. One soldier to another."

In a heartbeat, Wilson lowered his weapon, and the red vanished from her eyes. Black dots spun in her vision, but she registered Wilson's men drop their weapons, too.

# 16

_R eports of Anunnaki on Venice and 1st. All other areas normal, _a local radio broadcast said. Mitch turned down the volume dial.

"You just couldn't find it on your own, could you?" Mitch said, leaning over Dagos to open the glove compartment. He still wore his SWAT team uniform.

"At least we made some new friends," Sledge said from the backseat of the Hummer. The survivors of Team Circa bordered him.

"I don't have enough ration bars for all of you, but you can take what's there," Mitch said, adjusting his Kevlar vest.

Dagos grabbed a bundle, passed them out, and tore open a military-grade Snickers bar for herself.

"So, why'd you save us?" she asked bluntly. Really, she was wondering why he'd even bothered following them. Because how else could he have known they ended up in the Sore?

"I saw potential in you."

Everyone shared a laugh at that.

"On a more serious note, I gave you the address because I..." He cleared his throat and pointed almost imperceptibly to the backseat.

"We've got bigger fish to fry than whatever you're up to guppy," Wilson said.

"Hey, you're talking to an important officer of the West Coast Militia Patrol who just saved your behinds."

"Yeah, one too rusty to duck out of the way before getting laser painted."

Dagos shrugged apologetically. "Continue."

Mitch sighed. "I gave you two that address because I figured the guy you'd meet would sell you his army."

"Sell us his army? You sent us on a wild goose-chase to find a mercenary?"

"Not a wild goose-chase and not a mercenary. A mercenary dealer."

"Big difference," Sledge said, rolling his eyes.

"Please never roll your eyes again, okay big guy?" Dagos said. It just looked plain weird on a man who made his living being intimidating and almost heartless.

"Sorry."

"So yes, I hoped you two would find an army to get you to Jakarta."

"He's lying," Wilson said. "You know that right?"

"Oh, I do," Dagos said. "If I had a gun right now, I'd point it at your balls, Mitch. Since I don't, why don't you spare me the trouble and come clean?"

Mitch smiled nervously. "You know how I talked about politicking? The mercenary dealer uses blood mob armies. Some of which are pretty dangerous on their own. The Militia Patrol has to deal with them. But if those blood mob armies lost some men slaughtering the Komodos and some Anunnaki in this area, that would kill three birds with one stone."

Dagos nodded. It was a calculating, but clever strategy. As good a way as any for the Militia Patrol to manage the numbers of their enemies.

"Before you hate me, remember that I saved you, okay?"

"Saved us so that we can hire this army, right? Don't worry, I don't hate you. I'd do the same thing, myself."

The other soldiers laughed, but this time it wasn't quite as mirthful. There was a hint of uncertainty as if they weren't sure whether she was being honest or not. The truth was she didn't know herself. Mitch's strategy made a lot of sense. Ham would've approved. Which meant it was something she would need to get on board with.

Whether it was Commander Ham or someone else, certain jobs didn't leave a lot of room for kindness and empathy. It was impossible to run a team of Snake-eaters without being calculating and ruthless. There were those who could get down and dirty and those who could not.

It felt better to believe you could change this by not participating in dirty operations. But, in truth, shady missions were a confession that black ops signed every day and would continue signing. That's what soldiers like Wilson couldn't get used to.

These thoughts kept her occupied, and she neglected the meal bar in her hand. She knew this wasn't a helpful way to feel. It wouldn't be long before they met Mitch's connection, where these concerns would only weigh her down.

She took a bite of her Snickers and tried to look happy.

"Got any water?" she asked.

# 17

They reached the warehouse at Fig and 9th without incident. In an underground parking lot of old food trucks, a unit of attack dogs and burly, grizzled men in Kevlar ringed around Mitch's Hummer and leveled their MP7 SMGs. That's when Dagos knew they were in the right place. Events moved rapidly and, in short order, they were seated on the counters, stools, and plastic containers inside an old taco truck.

Dagos had just finished conveying her requirements.

The mercenary dealer was a clean-shaven black man named Frederick, who wore a turquoise silk suit and pants that would've cost at least three hundred dollars before the Stock Market went kaput.

"You see this," he said, flashing his black and silver Breitling watch. "I didn't get this taking risky ventures.

"You know that's a rip-off, right?" Wilson said, wearing a black balaclava. "The—"

"No one asked you," Frederick said, his voice like a whip. "Like I was saying, I didn't earn this by taking risks. Why the hell should I risk sending my best men in to attack the Komodos, huh?"

Mitch said bringing in Wilson with Sledge, himself, and Dagos would be a nice show of force, but Dagos suspected they'd only made him feel more intimidated. Like they wanted to impose themselves on him.

"Come on, you owe me," Mitch said.

"I owe you for helping me with a few men who wanted me dead. Yeah, fine. You saved my ass. That's not the same as loaning you a whole army. There's no way you guys can afford this either."

"Hasn't anyone told you who I am?" Dagos asked, knowing the man wouldn't respond to much else.

"Let me take a guess. The Eagle. I don't care."

Dagos arched an eyebrow. To his credit, Frederick must've had one heck of a network on the street.

"I don't think you understand," she said. "The United States government is going to be really, really happy with you if this works. They'll be able to pay you anything."

Frederick crossed his arms. "Sure. The dollar ain't worth shit anymore."

"Inflation may have skyrocketed, but the Militia Patrol still uses it," Mitch grumbled.

"Buddy, let me ask you something. What's your dream in life?" Sledge asked.

"My dream? What sort of question is that? Not to die from the Anunnaki."

Sledge pursed his lips and snapped upright, fist clenched. Frederick's men at the door ripped back the slides of their rifles and Sledge stopped in his tracks.

The air smelled of tacos, but a bad taste spread down the back of Dagos's throat. The local big hitter scavengers had enjoyed the better part of a day to probe the crashed chopper from top to bottom. She opened to the reality that a lucky trinket-seeker would've chanced upon their designators and gear by now. Worse, they only had an hour and a half before the Anunnaki transferred Courtney to a base far out of reach.

"I'm asking because the United States government can get you to your dream," Sledge said.

Frederick burst into laughter. "Ain't no one buying that bullshit. But listen up, I'm going to give you guys something. Cause I'm not here to waste anyone's time. I think you have three goals. Get in to Jakarta, free your hostage, and get out of Jakarta. And where I'd come in is helping you get in and get out. Am I right?"

"Yes," Dagos said.

"Good. Then maybe I can offer you something reasonable." He picked up his walkie-talkie. "Jody, bring the watches over."

A few seconds later, a young dark-skinned woman entered and handed a small pony-themed backpack over to Frederick then left. He unzipped it slowly and extracted a golden watch. A designator.

"I'm guessing these were yours?"

"How?" Dagos blurted.

"Someone had to buy the salvage before the Anunnaki showed up," Frederick winked. "Now tell me, what good will these do you?"

"How many do you have?"

"Three."

Enough to get her, Courtney, and Sledge out. But enough to convince three more into coming. The problem, of course, was there was no way to guarantee these were the same ones they'd specially programmed for this operation. While designators weren't easy to come by, this Frederick obviously had connections and the methods to score highly-valued items. It would've come as no surprise if he had a few random designators lying around.

"Those will get us out," Dagos said. "We still need a way in."

"Yes, I think I can help with that," Frederick said, interlocking his fingers. "You see I'm looking for an insurance policy."

"Most of the good insurers have gone out of business," Sledge said.

"You'll make for good insurance," he said to Dagos.

"Insurance for what?"

"Ever heard of the lost treasure of Jakarta?"

# 18

Dagos stepped out of a Mediterranean food truck and closed the door behind her.

"All done?" Sledge asked, his brow knitted with obvious disapproval. He and Wilson's men were seated on camping chairs in a circle, sharing a smoke in the middle of the giant underground parking lot.

"You know what I did was necessary," she admonished, gesturing for a cigarette from Wilson's pack, lighting it, and pulling up a seat for herself. In her other hand rested a Samsung phone.

"Nothing necessary about it," Sledge said.

"Well, you and I differ in our definition of the word," Dagos said.

Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose, stowed his cigarette in between his teeth, and pitched to his feet. "Why don't you give that to me? I'll find Fred."

"At ease, gentlemen," Dagos said, not wanting her and Sledge's disagreement to make anyone uncomfortable.

The five soldiers lapsed into silence. Dagos adjusted the designator on her wrist, knowing she couldn't be certain this was the same designator she'd flown in with. It was a matter of trusting Frederick. No, she corrected herself. It was a matter of having no other choice.

Sledge never liked when she recorded speeches. Most of the time, senators or high-end government officials all but demanded it, pressuring Ham to convince Dagos for them. And she was obliged to follow through. But the speech she'd recorded right now had been all her own making. Based on experience, it was a necessity. If it never got played, all the better.

Wilson coughed unexpectedly.

"Been a long time since I smoked a cigarette," he said, nudging one of his allies with his elbow. "We used to talk about this moment. We said one day we'd smoke a real cig again and here we are."

"I remember."

You couldn't tell the three of them apart because of their face masks, but Dagos knew no soldier was simply cannon fodder.

"I don't believe I've met all of Team Circa," she said.

"No, I guess you haven't," Wilson said, flicking his thumb to the man on his right. "This is Raymond."

Raymond exchanged a shake with Dagos then Sledge.

"And this is Jack."

Jack gave only the briefest of waves.

"He, uh, doesn't say much."

"There isn't always a lot to say," Sledge said. "Just noise."

"Just noise," Raymond nodded in agreement.

Wilson coughed again and cleared his throat. Frederick had given them each a canteen, which he grabbed and took a swig of. Then, pointing his cigarette to Dagos, "I never really thanked you for this opportunity."

Dagos enjoyed a soft laugh. "Well, I never thanked you for not shooting us."

Wilson slipped off his balaclava, and his gaze fell to his designator. It dawned on Dagos that he was fixated on his own mangled reflection on its golden surface. His eyes flicked to Dagos, and he gave a crotchety groan. "They sent us in a few days after the dirty bomb went off. Our mission was to either retrieve a VIP or find his body. I assumed we'd be in and out in a matter of hours." He paused for a puff of his cigarette. "With our special suits, we were supposed to be okay. But our damn chopper had an engine failure and things went south from there."

Dagos couldn't help but see the parallels with their own situation. More than likely, the Anunnaki were broadcasting certain types of energy waves to disable aerial vehicles. Yet, no one at HQ had informed her of this. For the first time, she opened to the possibility of sabotage. Or worse, incompetence. She crossed her arms in contemplation.

"Something catch you off guard?" Wilson asked.

"The same thing happened to us. Maybe it wasn't an accident."

"Who sent you?" from Raymond.

"Command run out of Groomlake," Dagos said. "A classified department."

"Yeah, well, not us. SOG. They still around?" Raymond put out his cigarette on the side of his chair. He was referring to the CIA's Special Operations Group.

"Got merged with another agency about a year ago," Sledge said.

"You might find it strange for me to say this, but it was more likely the Anunnaki than anyone on our side," Wilson said. "Even though the government deployed us, it was on behalf of some rich Saudi. Someone's nephew. US still wanted to keep some doors open over there for oil, I guess."

Dagos would've killed to go back to missions that innocent. It occurred to her that, in one sense, she was doing exactly that.

"So, how'd a guy get the name Sledge?" Wilson asked, changing subjects.

Sledge gave a dry grin that said, _Screw you for asking, but I'll tell you,_ and rubbed out his cigarette on the cement.

"When I was fifteen, I brought a sledgehammer to school so I could bash the class bully's brains in. Got caught before I could pull it off. That earned me my lifelong nickname." He smacked his hands together, interlocked his fingers and rested them on his lap. "And there you have it."

"Even then you had a fine sense of justice," Mitch said wryly, appearing from behind one of the trucks with Frederick.

The mercenary dealer looked them over. "It's about go time. My men will meet you at the train station." He paused and saw the phone in Dagos's hand. "Is that for me?"

"My own _insurance policy_ ," she said, handing it over to Mitch. He'd know what to do from there.

_You like starting trouble with the people who fund us?_ Sledge asked over the mike hanging on their inner uniform collars. Speaker buds rested in their left ears.

His timing in combat was first-class, but for bringing up unnerving questions, he could use some work. In this instance, questioning an operation they were already too deep in to reverse. That was Sledge.

She chided herself for judging him. What right did she have, given what she was going to have to do to him?

Except they both knew he had a point. Frederick's apparent willingness to smuggle them inside Jakarta required a major concession.

According to intel, the Anunnaki mothership Jakarta contained a stockpile of gold, which, when combined with other materials powered their ships. Gold was still as valuable as ever and much more stable than cash. So, the idea that a ton of it could be resting only miles away had long tormented many power-hungry warlords and traders in Los Angeles.

Frederick had invested into a project to try and seize that gold. A project involving the city's tainted underground tunnels, anti-radiation suits, excavation machinery, and a lot of time. Unsurprisingly, for years a handful of senators and high-ranking economic advisors had their eyes on Jakarta's treasure. To the degree that they often pressured Ham and the Snake-eaters to throw together an op with the sole purpose of acquiring it. Supposedly, they could fund the war effort with it. The very same gold cache that Dagos had just promised to Fred.

Well, she'd face that storm when it came.

Team Circa's performance was a more pressing concern. They'd been out of the loop for a couple years now. Their marksmanship skills would be rusty. Their mental fortitude maybe even shakier.

Their cart shook beneath them as it cruised along the train tracks. She gripped her MP5 submachine gun to stop it from swinging on her shoulder. The former Metro line would bring them to the dig site in a few minutes.

And so it did.

The cart screeched to a halt and stopped at a roadblock. But the tunnel continued, a swath of excavation lights posted above, shovels, and bins full of dirt.

She and the ten others there hopped out with their packs. Team Eagle, Team Circa, and Frederick's employees. Only Mitch remained aboard, his yellow anti-radiation suit making him look like more of an alien than the Anunnaki.

_Good luck,_ he buzzed, extending a hand.

_Thank you,_ she returned and shook it.

_I guess I'll know within the week if you're successful or not, huh?_

She appreciated his dark humor and met it with her own. _No, you won't._

The suit's blank screen covered his face, but she imagined him smiling.

Then she joined the others as the cart reversed.

For twenty minutes, they hiked along a newly placed track that resembled something from a Western.

_You get these from Metro?_ Sledge asked.

_Nah, salvaged them off the old ones at Griffith,_ Frederick's guy, Thomas, said. It felt strange that she'd never actually met him in person. Not without his suit on. Frederick had sent them with an envoy to put on their suits. Then they met his men at the tracks, already wearing theirs. All she knew was that he used to be a Green Beret.

They passed a few helmets and shovels, but they'd kept the tunnel surprisingly tidy for a post-apocalyptic digging operation. Dagos chocked it up to all the safety standards and signs posted on cardboard along the walls. The threat of Anunnaki detection probably made everyone hyper-alert, even following rules that wouldn't affect their chances either way.

_Remember, this should put us in Sector R._

At the end of the tunnel rested the cart, full of explosive charges. Everyone grabbed a couple and walked up a narrow set of stairs fashioned of wood. At the top, the first of Frederick's men stuffed his explosive into a small hole. Then the next passed his over. One by one, the man pushed them into the hole. Then another of Frederick's men handed Thomas a pole, which he used to drive the explosive charges in further.

_Everyone out._

He didn't have to tell them twice. They cleared out of the blast radius, which Frederick had pegged to be no less than ten meters.

The explosives would either open a passage to Jakarta or literally blow up in their faces. Supposedly, Frederick's engineers had planned this out so that the bombs would carve out a hollow spot in the Anunnaki's ship.

A few seconds later, Thomas walked out of the stairway and joined them at their preplanned positions, five and five behind the niches in the walls on either side of the tunnel.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled. Violent eruptions screwed with their ear drums. The tunnel spun around Dagos. The next thing she knew she was lying on her back. Her entire body throbbed like her nerve endings had been fried. She looked up to see a freshly formed opening in the tunnel. And seven Anunnaki soldiers, their palms leveled, primed to let loose.

# 19

The whining of pulse surges replaced the groans of the tunnel. Everyone scrambled for cover behind the cart and along the walls. Shouldering her MP5, Dagos zeroed in on an Anunnaki head and squeezed. For the first time in ages, she missed. By a whole lot.

Instead of an Anunnaki head, the dirt above it burst into bits. She silently cursed the cumbersome anti-radiation suit.

_We need to get in there,_ she shouted into the mike clipped on the inside of her collar. Once inside the mothership, they wouldn't need their suits anymore.

And then Raymond's submachine gun kicked straight up, still punching out rounds. He stumbled backward and his back kissed the floor. His suit deflated as air rushed from a hole above his stomach.

Speaking volumes of their professionalism, no one missed a beat. They remained poised in tactical crouches and continued plugging away.

Dagos's senses sharpened, and time seemed to slow, every gunshot, every pulse surge lasting seconds. Drawing a deep breath, Dagos fixed her sights on one Anunnaki and dispatched it. A red mist burst from its left eye. Immediately, two grabbed it by the arms and dragged it out of sight as the rest kept them at bay.

A split-second later, another Anunnaki collapsed as a bullet mushroomed in its skull. As if of a single mind, the remaining trio scooped up their dead and pulled back. They must've realized they had their hands full.

"Change of plans?" Sledge mocked.

Dagos pumped a fist for them to wait, and everyone stood by, watching the Anunnaki worm their way into the darkness. A few thoughts stopped her from pursuing them. The absence of Nebirian combat shields and the way they had stood as concentrated targets concealed an unsatisfying truth. They'd clearly lucked out and caught those Anunnaki off-guard.

_Looks like the months of planning paid off,_ Thomas radioed quietly. Then, _Is everyone okay?_

Wilson squatted beside his fallen teammate. _Raymond didn't make it. No time to grieve him, though._

That settled that. Performing on the battlefield after a long hiatus was hard enough. Dagos couldn't imagine mourning the loss of your friend on top of that. She respected his determination. If Wilson needed to cry later, she'd gladly let him do it on her shoulder.

The nine of them rose together, grabbed their gear and jogged into the tunnel. A few meters in, Dagos and the others tore off the headpieces of their suits. Then the rest. It was nice to escape the over-sized clothes. Even nicer to be wearing the proper gear for a soldier of her caliber. Frederick had given each of them a not-exactly-new set of combat gear. A helmet, camo'd shirt and pants, Kevlar, firearms with plenty of ammo, and an assortment of odds and ends to help them along the way. Plus, the designators. All compliments of those invested in the search for Jakarta's lost treasure.

She flicked on her MP5's flashlight and donned a pair of night-vision goggles. With a blink, an eerie green chamber materialized ahead. Giant vines ending in shriveled sinew hung from the ceiling. The walls were deep obsidian bone-like grooves. An array of decagons and tiny geometric patterns filled out the floor.

The fact that so much of the area was dark hinted that the Anunnaki didn't use it much. Otherwise the walls would've lit up automatically. As Wilson cast a pool of light around with his flashlight a few bats flew away.

Prioritizing stealth was a losing game. Because if the Anunnaki followed standard operating procedure, they would activate their infrared vision in the dark lighting.

Dagos breathed in the humid air, listening for any hint of incoming Tangos. All she heard were their own footsteps and a distant humming that was expected for an Anunnaki base.

They entered an antechamber that resembled the inside of a giant, carved out pumpkin on Halloween. Hunks of pulp dangled from the ceiling and she felt the floor squish under ever step.

"This is where we split. Part of me wants to join you for the ride, but a job's a job," Thomas said, motioning to the rest of Frederick's men. Guns first, they proceeded through a large, triangular tunnel.

"Hope you find what you're looking for," she said, more because she wanted the Anunnaki to lose their gold than Frederick to score.

The only thing the mercenary's men needed to go forward with their quest had been an assurance the US government wouldn't contend their claim and an insurance policy of sorts. Frederick didn't want any of this traced to him if it failed. That's where she came in. If the Anunnaki caught them, everyone would say they were here as part of an operation led by the Eagle. Not Frederick or the other investors. She just hoped it didn't come to that.

She led Sledge and Team Circa up another triangular tunnel, this one filled with mounds of the pulp. Their rifle lasers traced every rat and cockroach that moved. Because everything that moved threatened to be an enemy.

Finally, they got away from the piles of goop and began crossing a narrow walkway in an oval-shaped chamber. Below them on either side, dozens of liquids coursed through carved out channels, mixing then separating again as large tanks and orbs absorbed gases or heated portions of the stream.

Having memorized the relevant sections of Jakarta, she knew they still had a good twenty minutes before they reached Sector U, Jakarta's prison area. Of course, that assumed no resistance. She fully expected the Anunnaki to throw their best at them.

As if on cue, something big and metal materialized at the end of the bridge. Everyone's footsteps slowed. Dagos took a knee and raised a fist, her designator gleaming in the NVG's view. The others followed suite. After a couple of seconds, the outline of a hunter drone formed before them.

Dagos guessed the only reason it hadn't blasted them was because it was trying to determine if she was among them. Her NVGs were the only thing keeping her face obscured.

"We got another behind us," Sledge said.

Dagos didn't bother looking over her shoulder.

"Permission to use my grenade launcher," from Wilson.

Suddenly, a painfully white light bombarded her eyes. She shut them and turned away. They couldn't get any farther if this continued. Not unless she removed her NVGs and revealed herself.

"Granted," she said. "Take out the one in front of us. We'll make a run for it."

At the __ mechanical _poof_ and subsequent explosion, she looked to see the drone drop to the streams of liquid below. Immediately, she rose up and broke into a sprint. Then flames blossomed on her right. The liquids must've been flammable. Hesitating at the heat, she closed her eyes again at the blinding white light. On impulse, she flipped up her NVGs and dashed ahead.

Until the Anunnaki recognized her, they'd hold off on killing them. Then she noticed the hunter drone floating on her left.

Its weapons systems hummed. She knew it wouldn't shoot her. The others were all fair game.

"Take it out," she cried.

"Shit's jammed," Wilson yelled.

Dagos answered that with a three-round burst of her MP5 at one of the drone's blasters. In unison, the rest of her squad both targeted and eviscerated them. But as quickly as they broke off, they twisted in the air and remained afloat.

The problem with hunter drones wasn't hurting them. It was destroying them. Because if part of a drone remained, it could rework itself into a weapon.

"It's trying to kill you all," she said, waving them on before her.

Wilson and Jack barreled past, but Sledge grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her before him. "It doesn't have to kill you," he growled.

Suddenly, her cheeks burned in shame. She'd hoped to stall by making herself the primary target. An amateur idea. All the drone needed to do was take out her legs and she was as good a prisoner as Courtney. She whipped out a smoke grenade, tore the pin, and lobbed it behind them. The gush of red gas would buy them a minute.

"Still jammed?" Dagos asked.

"Crappy thing!"

So yes.

"Hit it with everything then," Dagos said as they skidded to a halt in the next capsule. In a series of well-choreographed motions, the four-man squad pivoted around and began mowing down the drone. In seconds, their barrage tore the drone to shreds of floating metal. But each of those shreds twitched in the air then began morphing, gears and panels shifting for maximum killing efficiency.

Dagos lowered her rifle and raised her fist. The gunfire ceased. If they made those pieces any smaller, they'd be too tiny even for their sharpshooting skills. And there'd be too many flying shards to survive.

"Get out of here. We'll handle this," Wilson said, spraying the drone pieces with lead.

"You're disobeying," Dagos said.

"With all due respect, you were never my superior. Wish you had been, though."

Jack had already begun dicing up the pieces with his MP5.

"One last thing," Wilson said between well-timed bursts. "Could you really have healed us with the Conifer?"

"Yes."

"Time to go," Sledge said. She knew that urgent tone. She'd grown used to hearing it as a VIP. She nodded and darted onward with him. The wall in front of them was exactly as she'd expected. Her MP5's flashlight shone on the deep grooves that formed a grid over it. Deep enough to climb.

Then she remembered something. Turning around, she called out to Wilson, "Wait. Toss us your designators. We—"

"No time," Sledge barked. She relented and entrenched her fingers into the niches in the wall one hand at a time. As soon as she reached the top, she'd help Wilson.

She'd barely scaled a dozen feet when he detonated the grenade, still jammed in the chute. For a moment, she hesitated, the explosion's heat racing through her protective gear. An image of Courtney flashed in her mind, reminded her that this was less about her own life than that little girl's. Her solace returned, and they resumed their climb.

Forty feet up, her hands met the cold surface of Sector T. They still had a way to go before they reached Sector U, but they'd made progress.

She extended her arm to gain leverage, when something cold locked around her wrist. The raw clutches of an Anunnaki.

# 20

"I'm insulted," Overseer Drekken said as they came to. His tall gray form materialized overhead. Dagos's head was so groggy, his voice felt as loud as gunfire. "Such a precious asset in our possession and you only deploy a handful of soldiers."

Sledge looked like he was waking up from a good dream. "Let me loose and I'll insult you real nice."

The two of them were trapped together in one of the Anunnaki's sunken prison cells. Thick, warm air and light shining off every inch of the wall constantly taxed a prisoner's senses. They still had most of their gear, but no guns.

Dagos knew from stories that this overseer was both really cocky and really lazy not to bother removing their tactical uniforms. On the other hand, they owned nothing that could break through the cell's resonance field.

"Such luck to have caught you in addition to my other prisoner," Overseer Drekken said, his eyes roaming all over Dagos's body like he couldn't wait to begin probing her. "The Sinsers themselves will probably promote me to a regional commander."

"I doubt it," Dagos said. "Regional commanders have to be alive."

The Anunnaki's smile was full of indifference. "Get your kicks in now. Soon we'll find out where your friends went. I'd assume they were going after the treasure of Jakarta, but who could be stupid enough to believe that."

He must've meant Frederick's team.

"No one believed in aliens until you showed up," Dagos spat.

"You mean to tell me you can't even find our teammates inside your own ship?" Sledge taunted.

A tiny part of her wondered how long they could keep up their defiant attitude before they succumbed to the obvious.

The Anunnaki shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a big ship and some of it no longer works. But your _earthling_ brain probably can't understand how all those variables affect the big picture."

"Nah, it's not that. It's just that we humans don't care about little insignificant crap. Most of us don't anyways."

Dagos sensed he was referring to politicians and held in a laugh. The silver lining to all this was that maybe she wouldn't have to betray Sledge after all.

The Anunnaki flexed his fingers, and Dagos half-expected him to blast them. Instead, he drew a deep breath. "No reason to drag this out then."

He gave a snarl and a screech. Nebirian.

A few seconds later, he turned around and stretched an arm out as if to grab something. Dagos turned to Sledge and was fairly certain he mouthed, _We've really screwed the pooch_.

A second figure fell along the top of their prison pit. Dagos's stomach bottomed out. She couldn't believe her eyes. But even through the less than crystal clear resonance field, the brown hair, the heart-shaped face, and the skinny arms were unmistakable.

"Courtney," she said, her breath thickening.

At once, the girl in the blue dress leaned in, overlooking their pit. "Dagos? Is that really you? You guys actually came to rescue me..."

What started as amazement drifted into disappointment. Because, of course, the rescue attempt had failed. At least, it looked that way.

"Did they hurt you?" Sledge asked.

Courtney made a noise. "They, uh, no. No, it doesn't matter."

"I wanted you to see that they're alive and well," Overseer Drekken said.

Then something sparked in Courtney's eyes. "Dagos, one, one, zero, one, zero, one, one. That's the frequency of the electrical charges they're using. You'll have to convert it yourself, but maybe—"

The overseer shoved his metal boot into her gut. Dagos's brow furrowed, and she reached out. "Stop! Leave her alone!"

Sledge cast his head from side to side. "Courtney, you did good. Don't worry. We'll find a way out. And you're coming with us."

Another Anunnaki dragged her off and the overseer crouched to get a closer look at them. In a hushed tone, he said, "As she understands it, you're both going to be probed until she reveals the location of the four Conifers to us. She cares dearly for you both. But I'm sure you knew that, right?"

"You're a damn coward," Sledge said, spitting in his direction.

"A coward? Funny, I've read the data on your governments. Your practices aren't any better than ours. You two are fine examples. How many children were in that Afghanistan village when you called in the airstrike?"

Dagos's chin fell. So, they knew some of her past. Good for them. She felt the first spark of defeat. "Yeah, I made that call. If I hadn't, I would've been looking at a lot more deaths."

"What's the expression you say? Whatever puts you to sleep at night." The Anunnaki hissed in amusement. "Now, I'll make this easy for you. Where were your teammates going? What sector?"

They said nothing.

"Tell me and we won't have to probe you. Surely, you can understand that concept, can't you?"

Dagos gnawed on her lip. "You better get your probes."

"So be it," Overseer Drekken said, turning to go. For an overseer, he had a surprising talent for getting under her skin. Or maybe she was just at wit's end.

Sledge pounded his fist against the metal of the cylindrical holding cell and groaned. "What bullshit, huh? We get this far only to...what?"

The look on Dagos's face must've been a dead give-away that this was far from over.

"Oh, your tape. That's what you're thinking about, isn't it?"

She nodded and cleared her throat. "Like I said, a necessity."

Mitch must've broadcast her speech by now. Her call to arms for those who believed in the Eagle. For those who hated the Anunnaki. In short order, they'd be receiving some reinforcements. Maybe it had even inspired Frederick's team.

His face darkened. "Speaking of, when Wilson sacrificed himself, did I hear you ask for his designator?"

Dagos felt her innards clench. He'd caught that. She felt foolish now for asking, even though tactically it would've been a good move.

"You did."

"I was afraid you'd say that," he said, pacing around the cell. His forehead creased with heavy lines.

She shot him a deflective look. "Why?"

"Do I have to spell that out or are you stringing me along?" His voice rose in anger. Slumping against the wall, he gave a disbelieving snort. "Always thought it odd that they'd rigged those designators to get two people out."

There wasn't any good answer to that. He'd somehow figured out her lie about the designators. His face looked like it had aged ten years in a matter of minutes. Seeing him sitting against the wall, her only positive thought was she'd no longer have to worry about hiding her betrayal.

Seconds plodded by, the air on the verge of smothering her.

"We do what we have to," she said, stealing a line from one of her propaganda videos. A new authority filled her voice. "We're not fighting for land or resources. We're fighting for survival."

"Yeah if we haven't heard that one a million times..."

"And yet, what's your counter-point?"

He recoiled as if she'd spit at him. "My counter-point? We're not having a formal debate here." Disappointed mingled with hysteria in his words. "Maybe I'm just worried about you. Who you are. Me, I know I'm damaged goods. You're Earth's hero, though. If you become this... _person_ , what does that say about us? What does it mean if kids grow up cheering you, celebrating a holiday around you, when you were willing to do these things?"

Her face burned and she fought back the onrush of emotions that threatened to break her solidarity. She shook her head. It pained her to say it like this, but she couldn't stop herself. "Maybe you're right. I really don't care. Like that snaker said, it's what humans do. When the war is won, we can think about rebuilding a better society. Until then..."

She sensed another presence and registered Overseer Drekken overhead again. "I overheard and I thought you should know—your speech to your fellow humans was inspiring. I almost picked up arms in your name, myself. In fact, at least one hundred and fifty fighters charged our defenses. They were willing to die for your safety. And they all did."

# 21

Dagos swallowed dryly. All those lives lost in vain. Had they even put up a decent fight? She'd bet everything on the local resistance fighters giving the Anunnaki more than they could chew.

It occurred to her that Overseer Drekken could be lying to break her spirits. Yet he seemed far too confident to be making it up.

"Ready to tell me where your teammates went?" the overseer asked.

Dagos refused to meet his gaze.

"I'll give you some time to let it sink in," he said, walking away again.

She almost expected Sledge to offer some consolatory words. But all he said was, "What a way to go."

She didn't know if he was referring to them or the fighters she'd called upon.

As they waited, Dagos considered their options. Of their gear, she figured their mikes to be the most useful. They still clung to the inside of their collars.

Relaying a message from inside an Anunnaki prison pit was a non-starter. But, in theory, they still worked. And, at some point, Overseer Drekken would move them to a different area for probing. She might be able to send a short message in that moment. Since the overseer didn't seem to know the location of Frederick's soldiers, maybe they'd found themselves a nice hiding spot and were biding their time. She hoped her speech acted like a stimulant and crystallized a genuine desire to fight Anunnaki in them.

As the minutes dragged by, the tide of dread in her receded some. For the moment, Sledge's disapproval was the thing keeping her on edge. On some level, she deserved his rancor, yet it haunted her all the same. Amid their impending doom, she thought it the least wrong to see what she could salvage between them.

"Let's face it, this mission's bigger than either of us. Sacrifices had to be made," she said with a cautious smile. It dawned on her how calculating that came off. "I sound like a politician, don't I?"

A dull satisfaction replaced the faraway look in her eyes. "Did I ever tell you how I choose between calling someone by their name and calling someone by their title?"

She didn't follow.

He clarified. "I've always personally believed that no matter how much I disliked a superior or thought they were unfit, I'd call them sir or ma'am."

"As opposed to...?"

"As opposed to an insulting nickname. It's just part of being a straight shooter. But if I really like my superior, I call the person by their last name."

She saw where he was going with this.

"So, am I Dagos or ma'am now?"

"In time, we'll both learn the answer to that," he said pensively.

The possibility of losing his loyalty broke new ground. She'd never appreciated how much his support really meant. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

Half an hour later, the floor began rising beneath them without warning.

Dagos and Sledge tensed. The resonance field ceased. This was the moment she'd longed for. She steadied the mike on her collar, relieved it was still there. "Frequency code: one, one, zero, one, zero, one, one. They took us prisoner." No doubt the Anunnaki would alter the frequency codes, but that could take up to an hour to kick in properly. Until then, Frederick's men might be able to do some damage. "Repeat. Frequency c—"

Out of nowhere, a lance-like weapon stabbed at her chest. Heart racing, she reeled back, fully expecting to find her body a bloodied mess. Somehow, she was alive, but her collar and the microphone wire dangled loosely. It must've taken a truly precise warrior to excise an inch off her uniform without gouging her neck.

Four Anunnaki guards surrounded their prison pit.

Judging by their exaggerated shoulder plates, which curved into a single rise at the end, elegant, silver torso armor, and the heavy-looking lance-like weapons they wielded, these filled the role of elite warriors. They even wore triangular helmets that covered their faces down to their thin mouths.

"Sinserian guards," Overseer Drekken said, noticing her staring. "Have you never seen one?"

Admittedly, she hadn't.

"Are the Sinsers here?" she asked. The presence of the twelve leaders of the Anunnaki would've been both a shock and a gift. The United States had never been crazy enough to try and target them directly.

"Of course not. That's why they sent these four."

The Sinserian guards escorted them and the overseer into another pod. The only other person inside was Courtney, still in her dress from before, only sitting on a raised platform. She barely looked up at them. Dagos searched for signs of injury, but couldn't find any. Still, there were other ways to hurt someone.

The guards walked them to a platform opposite Courtney's and kept their "lances" trained on them as Overseer Drekken's eyes went black. He began typing at invisible buttons. Interfacing. The Anunnaki controlled most of their devices using a command system only they could physically see.

Suddenly, the guards pulled back their weapons. Dagos reached out only for an intense shock to rattle through her entire body. Snapping her hand back, she realized they were trapped inside a resonance field.

She looked over to Sledge. To his credit, he'd restricted his seething to himself.

The overseer lumbered over to Courtney's platform. "Listen up, girl. Every time I ask a question and you refuse to answer, the resonance bubble around the Eagle and her teammate will shrink. What happens when it's too small? Whether we find out depends on whether you give me the right answer. Understand?"

Courtney said nothing. She looked so unresponsive, her eyes closed even as she remained seated upright. For a fleeting second Dagos feared she'd lost her mind. Finally, she gave a fragile groan.

"Pretend all you want. I know you're not _that_ weak," the overseer said, glancing at Dagos and Sledge. "Remember to thank her for any pain you feel."

"Yeah right," Sledge said under his breath.

"We'll keep it simple. Where is the location of the optical Conifer? The Conifer that can cloak and create holograms."

Dagos clenched her fists. "Don't tell them," she said quietly. "We've been in worse binds."

"I don't know about that, ma'am" Sledge said.

He'd never called her ma'am like that before. Only as a joke. This time, he sounded serious. It was more disturbing than she could've thought. But she had another pressing matter to worry about.

"I-I don't know," Courtney stammered. "Please. Don't punish them. Punish me."

"Did I hear you correctly?" the overseer asked.

"I don't know," Courtney cried.

"Wrong answer." The overseer barked something in Nebirian.

Dagos and Sledge were seated about a foot apart. They scooted together as a precaution. Even then, Dagos felt something brush against her boot. She figured they could survive three, maybe four more rounds of questioning.

She squeezed her hands together, racking her mind for an option. Instead, it was Courtney who gave an answer.

"Release Sledge and I'll tell you the location of one of the Conifers."

"There's an idea," from Overseer Drekken. "I don't think we can trust each other, though. You won't know if I really let him go and I won't really know if you gave us the right location."

Dagos appreciated Courtney's negotiation attempt, but the Anunnaki was right.

"Neither of us is in a rush," Courtney said, sitting up straight. "If we—"

Without warning, the entire room went black. On instinct, Dagos pushed down her NVGs and activated them. A low-res green chamber filled her view. The black-out must've been the work of Frederick's team. They'd received her SOS. Her speech must've inspired them enough to go against their better judgment.

She only hoped that since the lights were off, so was the resonance field. "Our vests," she said to Sledge, also wearing his NVGs.

"What?"

As the Anunnaki snarled in Nebirian, she slipped hers off and flung it at one of the guard's kneecap. It was a direct hit and the warrior stumbled forward, teetering off balance. Dagos sprang forward and drove her boot into its other knee. Then she picked up her vest and swung it as hard as she could against the Anunnaki's helmet. That did the trick and it sunk to the ground.

A second later, she watched Sledge pulled off a similar maneuver in a green blur in the corner of her eye. With a lifespan stretching thousands of years, Anunnaki reaction time was a little longer than a human's. In the seconds the other guards required to activate their thermal vision, Dagos and Sledge picked up lances and raised the heavy blades up to the necks of their enemies. A single thrust severed the two Anunnaki's throats and they wasted into a pair of giant wounded snakes, grasping at the air for life right up until the moment their legs gave out. On the floor, their bodies stiffened.

One at a time, Dagos kicked off the helmets of the other two and plunged the scepter blades into their elongated skulls.

"Four down. One to go," Sledge whispered as they rounded on the overseer, still scrambling to make heads or tails out of the situation. His body jerked as he registered them coming. Despite his unwieldy size, he managed to sidestep away from their swipes.

Then Dagos gained purchase and thrust the scepter directly at his gut. With a _screech_ , the blade slipped off its armor. The lance's weight dragged at her. Suddenly, she found herself off balance. Shades of green spun around in her NVG as she struggled to keep herself righted.

At the edge of her vision, the overseer parried Sledge's slash in her direction.

"Heads up!"

Her pulse quickened as he barreled at her. On pure reflex, she swatted at his blade. When the lances met, his tilted down at the front and kicked up at the rear in a single fluid motion. With a _crack_ , the end of his lance connected with Overseer Drekken's chin and knocked him out.

"Nice move," Sledge said, flipping up his NVGs. A sheen of sweat glistened over his brow.

"I improvised," Dagos admitted. "And don't kill the overseer. We might need him."

"Those Sinserian guards were overrated."

Dagos shrugged. "They were skilled, but I doubt they had any real fighting experience."

"Yeah, probably just pranced around a lot."

It felt nice to joke with him again. Yet, she could still feel an invisible force separating them, like the resonance field rising around them. Only this wall was between them. Something in his tone told her.

He'd come around in time or he wouldn't. Suddenly, the lights returned and revealed the corpsified Anunnaki sprawled along the prison capsule floor.

She looked to Courtney. "Come on, Courtney. The Anunnaki are dead," she said, walking over to her, her hand outstretched even if she couldn't see her.

She got up slowly then stopped. "I can't."

"What happened? Are you injured?" Sledge asked and squinted. "I don't see a resonance field."

"There's no more resonance field. The Anunnaki told me this platform is pressure sensitive. The moment all the weight comes off, it unleashes a lethal voltage."

"Shit," Dagos said under her breath. She'd heard of the Anunnaki using these to torment prisoners. It was one of their probing techniques to drive a person mad.

The implications unfolded in her head.

"If one of us stands on the platform with you, will you be able to leave?"

"Let me guess. You want me to do the honors?" Sledge asked as frosty as before.

She looked at him intently and peeled the designator off her wrist.

"I'm willing to this time."

"Look, everyone knows you're too precious to go. You're worth too damn much on the outside."

Her face hardened. "Hell, I can't be worth that much if they're willing to send me on a mission like this. If it's not me, it'll be someone else playing the role of the Eagle."

Sledge looked to Courtney then down to her feet. "There's something you should know."

Dagos nodded. "Courtney, cover your ears."

She frowned. "Are you serious?"

"Classified stuff sweetie. The less you know, the better."

Courtney rolled her eyes, but pressed fists to her ears.

Sledge continued. "Someone warned me that you'd try to betray everyone."

"What?" Dagos's face screwed up in confusion.

"It was one of those government fellows who won't wear anything but black. Never got his name, but he's the one with the boy named Zacharia. Pulled me aside, warned me that they'd be keeping her on a pressurized panel. And if it came to it, I should expect you to try and make us do the dirty work."

"I..." Well, Ham never told her about the pressurized panels, but he wasn't wrong on that last part, was he? "Compartmentalized information?"

It meant something deeper, though. She thought about all the haphazard elements of this operation. All the things that had gone wrong, all the gear they didn't receive on time. There was one major question to ask—had the Anunnaki sabotaged their flight in? They could ask the overseer when he woke up in a few minutes.

She whipped her head at Courtney. "Courtney, did this one say anything to you about any betrayals or traitors?"

"Betrayals and traitors are redundant. And what do you mean?"

"When it taunted you."

"I don't think so. Anyways, are there any Anunnaki still alive? Maybe you can use one of their bodies for this platform."

Dagos felt stupid for not thinking about that. She looked to Sledge and they decided on the unconscious overseer. They stood at opposite ends of it.

"On three," Dagos said, shaking her arms out. Anunnaki were usually several hundred pounds. This wouldn't be a cake walk.

"Incoming!" Courtney cried.

Dagos looked over her shoulder and saw five enemy soldiers emerge into the chamber. Her eyes met Sledge's. "Go!" she said, abandoning the body and racing to Courtney's platform, a scepter in tow.

Heart racing, she pushed the designator into Courtney's hand as she hugged her.

"Thank you," she said, tears forming in her eyes.

"I'm not dead yet," Dagos said, patting her on the shoulder. "Now run like hell."

"We'll send help as soon as we can," Sledge said, nodding at her intently.

She watched them bolt for the wall, the former holding an Anunnaki hand he'd severed off a Sinserian guard. She thought back to one of Menendez's crappy jokes. _Anunnaki hands really come in handy._ Sledge pressed the hand against a wall and an opening formed. Yes, they did.

Pulse surges whistled through the air after them, but they were out in seconds. The Anunnaki exchanged howls, a couple shoving each other. Then four disappeared, chasing after Sledge and Courtney. One remained in the chamber, watching her.

"Your friends left you behind," she taunted.

The Anunnaki said nothing. For once, she hoped it spoke English.

"Could say the same about you," it said slowly, no doubt a little unfamiliar with the language.

"You recognize me, don't you?"

"The Eagle."

"Seems a little unfair that your friends get to go hunt and you're stuck here babysitting."

The Anunnaki angled its head in curiosity.

"At least, it would be for human soldiers. My point is how would you like to say you've beaten the Eagle? We could have a quick skirmish. I'm right here."

The Anunnaki hissed. "I see. You think you can escape if I step on the pressure platform. You want to lock me in?"

The thing wasn't as stupid as it looked. Though, to be fair, they looked an awful lot like humans. Just bigger and grayer.

Its eyes went black and it began interfacing, striding toward her. "I'll calibrate the platform so it won't explode if I'm the last one standing on it."

That complicated things a little. She couldn't simply run off the platform now. She had to beat it one-on-one.

"Thought you were going to trick me, huh?" the Anunnaki said, stepping onto the platform and flexing its hands.

Shifting her grip on the lance, she carefully began circling the soldier. Every few steps, she feinted thrust attacks and studied the Anunnaki, trying to get a sense of its speed, timing, and reflexes. Battling Anunnaki caught off-guard was one thing. But she'd outright challenged this one to a fight and he accepted. Meaning he knew exactly what he was getting himself into. She did not. This Anunnaki could be a lazy soldier who rarely spared or a hand-to-hand combat champ.

Without warning, he lunged and tore the lance from her grip.

She flinched, but if she wanted any chance of winning she couldn't surrender the weapon to him. A jump and she clutched the scepter, trying to wrestle it free. His strength and size advantages overwhelmed her. Locking eyes with him, she leaned in and put all her momentum into a single maneuver.

With a twist, she wedged the scepter out of his hands and it flew off the platform. That was the most she could achieve.

The Anunnaki hissed. "Too easy."

Given the stats on unarmed humans versus unarmed Anunnaki, things were going to get even easier for him.

She sidestepped away from a single strike then parried a second punch. Still, the impact left her off balance for a second then she regained her footing. As the soldier swiveled around to face her, she extended her leg at his left knee. With a sweeping blow, he knocked her to the ground.

She met it with a roll and scrambled upright.

"You do this often?" she mused, trying to buy herself a moment.

"Not that often," the Anunnaki shrugged.

She became aware that this fight was only a form of self-gratification for the soldier. She spitted to the side. He had officially rubbed her the wrong way. She hadn't sparred with Orun just to let enemy warriors get the better of her.

Based on the size differences and her lack of weapons, a specific fighting style called out to her. _Aikido._ Her old training rushed back to her.

She was the _tori,_ he the _uke_. Facing the Anunnaki, she took a deep breath for focus and awaited his charge. _Evade, get him off balance, and throw._

The Anunnaki launched in with a punch, and she pivoted out of the way, cradling the punch in her hands. As their momentum synced in _aiki_ , she felt the flow of his weight. Now she could channel his force as her own.

In a swift, controlled maneuver, she threw him down and bent his arm in her direction. The Anunnaki growled in agony. Without a second thought, she pulled on his arm to generate leverage and jutted her boot against his cranium. The enervating blow knocked him out. Or maybe it killed him. She didn't care.

Her forehead slick with sweat, she hopped off the platform, grabbing the bloodied scepter.

Not too soon, either. The overseer was waking up. The first thing it saw was the lance at its face.

"You get to help me escape," she said, digging out an EpiPen from her back pocket.

And then she plunged the needle into the overseer's head, poisoning him. If he wanted the antidote, he'd have to do whatever she asked.

# 22

Thanks to the ship's gravity generator, there was no need to strap in or even sit down. The Anunnaki ship was flying at several thousand feet an hour and all she felt was a mild vibration beneath her feet. Anunnaki didn't use windows, so she couldn't see the land rushing below them. She had to take the overseer's word that he was flying her to safety.

He would succumb to her demands if he valued his own life. When she said she didn't have the antidote to the poison, she wasn't lying. More than likely, the New Mexico base would have it. But who knew? She wouldn't shed a tear if the overseer died after saving her.

"I'm telling you that they'll shoot us down before letting you go free," Overseer Drekken grumbled, seated in a black console that almost resembled the exoskeleton of a scorpion, the tail linked to the ceiling. The rest of the capsule was oval shaped with about fifteen feet between the control console and the walls on each side.

She squeezed the scepter and swung it up to the overseer's face. "Didn't they ever teach you how to make an escape in snaker school?"

"What do you think?" he snapped.

She walked over to the walls and tried to distract herself with the glyphs. Humans called them Signs, for a lack of better understanding ofwhat the hell else to call them. They encompassed virtually every form of glyphic writing system found in the ancient world. And then some. Far too complicated for a human to learn unless you were Courtney. That was the intelligence of the enemy they were fighting every day. As if that weren't enough of a challenge, there were quite possibly enemies within their own ranks.

She rubbed her hand over her hair.

"I have a question for you. Did you screw up our chopper's engine?"

"Oh, I wish we had. I would've loved to take credit for that."

This was the answer she was afraid of. They'd really been sabotaged by someone on the inside. She pictured Commander Ham. But when she factored in Sledge's admission of the tip-off, she knew Ham wasn't the real culprit.

He'd complained a lot of the politicians and the suits with agendas. At first, her and the Snake-eaters attributed it to healthy griping by a man who'd gotten his hands dirty. But over the years, Ham would accuse certain people behind their backs. He'd tell her to watch out for the snakes among them as much as the snakes from outer space.

There'd be no way to know who to blame really. She couldn't ask Ham and she couldn't report this anomaly to any other superiors. None were trustworthy. She could only keep this between her and Sledge. Maybe a few other soldiers that she would vet in time.

Massaging a knot in the back of her neck, she couldn't help imagining what she would do if she were in Commander Ham's position. She would plan an operation so carelessly that any politician with half a military brain would protest. She would see who protested and who signed off. Whoever green-lit a self-sabotaged operation was the one she'd continue watching. As for the soldiers, she'd send her best. Because deep down, she'd know they were good enough to pull it off. Probably. If not, she'd remind herself that it wasn't all her fault. The pressure of the Anunnaki and the limits of bureaucracy were the real problems. And she'd use the loss to make sure the right heads rolled.

Her own understanding unnerved her almost as much as the possibility of this itself.

It was like Sledge had said, she'd changed. She'd adopted some of her commander's principles by osmosis.

The overseer claimed that Sledge and Courtney had made it out alive. As a result, Jakarta automatically shut down the snake-holes. That's why they had to take a ship out. She wondered how her and Sledge's operations would go down from here on out. Would he request a transfer? Or would he continue, only calling her "ma'am" instead of her name?

Suddenly the ship shook violently. Her heart pounded. This wasn't a plane. There wasn't turbulence.

"What happened?" she cried.

"They're blasting us."

She squeezed the scepter so hard her hand cramped up. She couldn't even die fighting. That angered her the most. Not the dying part. Dying was the easy part. Because all your worries went away with you.

"How bad?"

"Another clear shot and we're going down."

She didn't need to bother asking about a weapons system. She'd chosen this ship for speed. It was a high-velocity shuttle.

"They're preparing another volley," Overseer Drekken said.

"Take us down," she said.

"You want me to land?" he asked with relief.

"Yes."

A few seconds later, he said, "We're on the ground. I've signaled that you're surrendering"

"Oh, I didn't say anything about surrendering," she said. In a single stride, she had the scepter against his head. "Up the gravity generator to its max."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"And if I refuse?"

She pressed the blade against his skull. "I don't have to kill you. I can several your temporal lobe. Render you among the most mentally limited of your species."

He hesitated.

"I'll make it easy. Do this and you can leave. I don't care if you die here with me or later when my fellow _earthlings_ wipe you all out."

"Fine."

And the overseer hurriedly clicked a series of buttons on his console.

If Commander Ham or whoever wanted a martyr, they'd have one now. The seconds seemed to speed by. Like she was watching the closing scenes of her life. She couldn't quite wrap her head around it. All her emotions escaped her.

"You're on your own," Overseer Drekken said.

"Yes, I am," she said, giving his neck a swipe with the blade. Clutching his throat, he palmed the wall, and staggered through the freshly formed exit. Smiling at the only reality that awaited her, she launched the scepter to the other side of the ship. It was as good as useless against an Anunnaki pursuit team. She might as well have been unarmed.

Already, the ship began warming up, the whir of the gravity generator filling her ears. She licked her lips and decided to prepare herself. Her camo uniform, her boots, her over-pants. She removed them until she wore only a tank top and a pair of skin-tight leggings. Then she took a deep breath and laid flat on the floor of the ship. The vibrations tickled her insides, but within a few seconds they turned into pricking sensations.

Something bit on her head as hard as a sirrush. In seconds, the migraine spread from one end of her cranium to the next.

The gravity generator would fail eventually. No Anunnaki ship possessed one powerful enough to go on forever. You needed a planet for that. By the time it shut off or broke, though, she'd be dead. And her body probably beyond recognizable. She might've shuddered at the thought, but the tight force of gravity was pressing down on her. She felt like she was back in those deep-water operations where the pressure could burst an ear drum. As if on cue, a painful pop went off in the right side of her head.

By now, the Anunnaki would've surrounded the ship. She'd left Overseer Drekken literally speechless, so he wouldn't have a chance to warn them.

A whine came from her stomach followed by an intense pain. That must've been one of her organs. Something else inside her shuddered, and she felt an intense nausea. The capsule began spinning and black dots spawned in her vision.

Then sunlight spilled in along with a group of Anunnaki. She was too weak to count. Eight? Ten? A dozen? In a blur, they hit the floor beside her. The combination of the gravity and their weight made them as good as dead. She relished the thought. She'd just topped off her kill ratio nicely.

And then a cold pain swept through her entire body. Too much to bare. Worse than any gunshot. It was a surprise her nerve endings hadn't gone out yet. How long before her heart burst, she wondered? The pain was there. Like a giant drill pressing into her chest.

Her instincts began taking over. Begged her to give in, to accept the darkness forming at the edges of her vision. Yet she thought of the little blonde girl waiting for her. Her happy laughs and giggles. Laura. She wouldn't become an orphan.

With the last of her strength, she willed her body to hang on. But everything was darkening.

# Epilogue

The roar of AH-64 Apache rotors filled the air, tarnishing the otherwise serene landscape of the Santa Fe National Forest. Roving mountains covered by rich firs and junipers stretched for miles and miles. Normally, you couldn't find a nicer scene in the Southwest.

Harveth inhaled deeply, smelling a mingle of pine and sun-baked bark. But also ash. His ears were still ringing from the recent engagement. Apaches on Anunnaki. They had lit up the Anunnaki ships with Hellfire missiles. The Pentagon even deployed a few F-35s for good measure. Together their jets and choppers overwhelmed the Anunnaki fighters. Collateral damage was to be expected, of course. They'd driven out the Anunnaki and that was what mattered. Now it was onto the retrieval phase.

A steady fire was consuming a patch of trees five hundred meters down the slope, smoke gushing up, forming a haze in the stark blue sky.

_No signs of the enemy. You're clear to proceed to the landing site,_ the base's logistics operator reported.

"Copy that," Harveth said with a thick Southern drawl. The former Army Ranger hopped out of the olive drab open top jeep and onto the grass. With his M4A1 cradled against his body, but aiming down, he approached the landing site in quick, athletic strides, the rest of his patrol squad bringing up the rear.

Something urged him on even though he knew the Eagle was as good as a goner. Reports from the choppers suggested she'd activated the Anunnaki ship's gravity generator. By now it had shut off, but he didn't want to imagine how it had affected her body. Even if she was still recognizable, her organs would've given out and that included her heart.

Still, they ordered him to bring his VIP life preserver. In a way it annoyed him because if he lost it, they'd have his ass. The life preserver was so valuable, their base only possessed one. Apparently, the Eagle's handler believed there was a chance. Rumors were that the Eagle's handler had also once been her lover, though. So more than likely it was just a desperate hope.

Close up, the Anunnaki ship was surprisingly intact on the outside. It looked like a stealth bomber, but silver and angular, curving smooth instead of forming edges where it bent.

Within five minutes, he and his three fellow patrol officers clambered up the side of the ship and were walking to the opening the Anunnaki had formed.

"We sure the generator shut off?"

"Of course," Harveth said, leaving no room for any more silly questions.

Without a second thought he reached the edge of the opening and leaned in. A scene of death hit him. Bloodied Anunnaki, their bodies locked against the ground. In the center was the Eagle's motionless body. Her tank top and leggings hugged her body. Veins webbed across her arms and face, marked by red sores. Her eyes stared blankly, blood-red.

Even though he'd expected worse, his stomach sank at the sight. He let himself down and nudged an Anunnaki with the barrel of his M4A1. To his surprise, it gave a slight moan. His entire body tensed and he stepped back, leveling his rifle. Was it alive or was that just a sound from its body? He noticed one of its fingers twitching.

Better to be safe than sorry.

"How's it look in there?"

"Clear out the Anunnaki," he ordered and began double-tapping each of the bodies.

In a matter of seconds, he and his squad had ensured all the Anunnaki were eliminated.

"Holy shit," his teammate cried, knelt beside the Eagle. He removed his fingers from her neck. "I got a pulse!"

"How sure are you?"

His teammate checked for a pulse again, and his face lit up. "I'm certain."

Harveth didn't know what to say, but he knew exactly what to do. He tore the small VIP preserver Epipen from his tactical vest, swooped in, and plunged it into the Eagle's arm. What exactly the VIP preserver contained was beyond his clearance level, but rumors suggested it used some kind of Anunnaki nanites that could stabilize someone close to death. Cardiac arrest, internal bleeding, oxygen loss to the brain. Didn't matter. The nanites would fix any fatal injuries. The rest the doctors would have to fix the old fashioned ways.

Amazingly, the Eagle's body gave a slight stir. Not so much of her own volition, but more like he'd zapped her with a defibrillator.

Anyone would say it was a miracle she'd survived, but he didn't believe in miracles. If he had to guess, the Anunnaki managed to shut down the gravity generator prematurely in an attempt to save themselves.

He raised his hand to his head mike and pushed the talk button. "I need a medivac in here ASAP. The Eagle has landed."

* * *

AMELIA DAGOS WILL RETURN IN THE EAGLE'S REVENGE

# Author's Note

Dear Reader,

Did you know that one, two, or even a hundred bad reviews on Amazon won't really hurt an author's career?

The thing that swiftly destroys an independent author's career is when people who _liked_ the author's books don't leave the books any reviews on Amazon.

Obscurity is an independent author's biggest problem.

**So, if you liked this book, please take the next logical step of going to the Amazon listing and leaving an honest review.** Conversely, if there was something that bothered you about my story, feel free to let me know in an email (mobrosbooks@gmail.com). That way I can either change it or not make the same mistake in another story.

Writing a review only takes a few minutes and it will be a huge help not only to my survival as an author, but to all the readers out there who are looking for new books they might enjoy.

Thank you and have a great day!

P.S. Leaving 4 or 5 stars means you liked the book; leaving 1 or 2 stars means the book was awful.

P.P.S. On mobile devices you might have to scroll down a bit on the Amazon listing to find the "Leave a review" section.

# Bonus Material

If you're a fan of political intrigue, space operas, and extraterrestrial adventures, check out **The InterBleeding series**!

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**THE STARMASTER'S SON** (Book 1 of The InterBleeding) is out now!

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Books 2 and 3 will be out later this year!

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Sign up to my newsletter for exclusive InterBleeding series story material!

Sign up at www.gibsonmorales.com!
**About the Author**

Gibson Morales is the starving artist and authorpreneur (author+entrepreneur) behind the InterBleeding saga and the Aldrinverse series. His young adult science fiction novel _The Deadliest Earthling_ won the 2015 New Apple Summer e-Book Award. It's not exactly a Hugo, but, hey, he'll take it!

When he's not out partying on yachts with Instagram models and lines of coke, Gibson is getting lost in alternate realities in front of a computer. While he currently writes political space operas with rich world-building, he would be happy if readers considered it thought-provoking satire. Which is not to say that he has any problems with science fiction—he's in a mature and steady relationship with sci-fi now (sometimes when he's writing science fiction, he still fantasizes about satire, though).

Gibson lives in Los Angeles, CA with an alien he rescued from Area 51. As captain of his publishing flagship, Mo Bros Books, Gibson's mission is to explore awesome new stories and engaging characters. To boldly create what no writer has created before!

Join him on his quest by joining his mailing list at gibsonmorales.com now for updates, two sci-fi novellas, and The Archives: the InterBleeding Series Guide, all at the low cost of $0.00!

# Copyright

Text copyright © 2017 by Gibson Morales

All rights reserved.

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This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read his work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends about it, to help spread the word.

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Version 2.5

ISBN 978-1-943575-19-0 (e-book)

Mo Bros Books

PO Box 412091

Los Angeles, CA 90041

www.mobrosbooks.com

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Thank you for supporting my work.
