John crawled on his belly along the dry forest floor. That’s right. Field work again. And not just any field work. Field work with Caedes. Again.
In the woods, everything smelled crisp and fresh, alive. In a day and a half, it would reek of blood and death. Like Fair. He mentioned it to Caedes, who rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” But John couldn’t help himself. He was afraid.
Caedes crested the vantage point and waved the “okay” for John to follow. He joined the Icarus he once considered big until he met Nox in person. Sparing a second to shudder, John never wanted to see that beast again. When he crawled beside Caedes, he pulled out his binoculars. Amazed at the alien machines, he whispered, “What do those do?”
John marveled at the bald Icarus’ advanced eyesight as he called out, only slightly disgruntled, “The nacre glass machines there on the cliff face and in that valley… they’re called Crawlers. Amazing technology. Limitless in the terrain they can cover. And there, the Icarus in that suit? That’s for advanced armor and transporting the bigger vehicles.”
“Like that one?” John nodded to the mammoth warehouse on treads. Something about it made the hair on his arms stand on end.
Caedes cleared his throat. Okay. Not a good sign. The gravel in his voice shook, “That’s the Cruor Villam. The blood farm. Lucy and Matt brought some helpful information on it, but it’s not exactly the best news. See, they drop humans into it, and it can scoop them up. They’re drained of all their blood, and then it expels their remains from the back.”
The color drained from John as he felt green around the gills. “That… That sounds horrible.”
Lynn announced over the earpiece, “Trap two in place. On my way to three. Over.” She and Bones skirted the valley below the plateau, maybe half a mile away.
Cypher answered, “Acknowledged. Minimize radio contact within the line’s vicinity. Raise the alarm if you get into trouble. Over and Out.” He and Six prepared the frontal assault arsenal for the third quarter.
Caedes continued after acknowledging the team, “It’s a monstrous device. Two of the texts from the CoN archive implied that if we throw in a non-human, it might damage it. We don’t know for sure, but we’ll have plenty of volunteers to try with.”
He only referred to the millions of Icari forming a line to secure the caldera. This really was the end. John felt it in his marrow as he scanned the legions of enemy soldiers. They dressed the same as the ones he encountered at Fair: black tunics with matching pants and shining armor. Where the soldiers at Fair carried identical serrated swords, these brandished a variety of weapons. Obvious staves and halberds, but some harnessed whips and projectiles. A cornucopia of murder.
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A nudge alerted John to Caedes crawling forward. He followed. Scouting sounded so easy when he volunteered, but it honestly killed some of his spirit.
“You’ll make it through this.”
The grumble resounded so deep in the Icarus’ chest, John almost mistook it for thunder. Resolving himself to the reality they faced, the younger man admitted, “I know there’s a chance either way. But… I’ve decided I’ll go out fighting. No matter what. I might even have some fun. What’re you wearing for your apocalyptic battle gear? Spikes? Leather? I’ll bet you’re wearing leather.”
Below their bluff, X and R sped through the trees. They designed traps for their people to utilize. As invertebrates, John couldn’t guess how they remained upright. The humanoid aliens from Lukemore grew jellyfish caps of varying colors and design from their waist to their thighs like skirts or kilts. Kelp draped from their heads, forming deep green dreads. Their eyes glowed in shades of purple, pink, and blue. They whispered when they spoke. Natural trappers, they scoured the area and cultivated the landscape to their advantage.
Caedes actually looked over his shoulder so John could watch him roll his eyes. “Regardless of your failed attempt at humor, what you’re describing is what my people think of as the warrior’s spirit.” The younger man considered his words as he carried on, “It’s when you know there may be no coming back, but you will let the enemy know your name. Carve it into their history until they remember you with honor and reverence.”
John retrieved the topography map from his pack. “Well, that’s not how I started this year planning to be remembered, but I’ll take it.”
The Icarus turned back to the lines and asked, “I often forget your circumstance. What did you want to be when you grew all the way up?”
The numbers staggered John as he tried his best to represent the current status of the front lines in rough sketch work. “I wanted to be a history teacher. You know? The kind that every student remembers as their favorite. I wanted to travel the world and experience other cultures, visit ruins of other civilizations, and bring that back to the classroom with me. Wholesome shit.”
“And what makes you think you can’t still be that?”
“For one, I might die soon. Second, have you noticed any schools?” He finished the map and held it up for Caedes’ approval.
The Icarus took it and worked a few adjustments. He scowled in that usual way as he continued, “There are at least a hundred thousand kids ranging in ages camped out over the entire West Yellowstone area, and you think you can’t create a school? You’re living in history with the unique position of knowing how it all started. You could help a lot.”
John absorbed his observations. Maybe, if he survived—and that was a big maybe—he could work with a few other people to establish a school. He needed some theory and practical education first before he considered himself a teacher, but… He grinned. This gave him something to fight for. He owed the older man some kind of thanks. He stared at Caedes’ agitated mask and patted the man’s leg consolingly while confessing, “Just so you know. I’m straight.”
“Fuck you, John.”