Andrew swept over the valley canvased in squadrons and legions. The blue sky above blessed them with a hot August morning. The mountains smelled of pine, spruce, and spring water. Fresh and unspoiled. For now, anyway.

Kyle waved up at him from the brush below. His deep green eyes popped from the black band painted over them. He wore a tie-die shirt and faded cargo pants. Not exactly combat-efficient, but why fight uncomfortably?

The ground-locked Progeny directed Chris and Jack into position with Karter’s approval. They hauled Molly and her covered trailers behind the front line with Smith riding on top. A clearing remained in their wake. Kyle spared Andrew one last glance with a fist to his chest before focusing on his task.

That brought him sweeping over Pride’s squadron. The units comprised soldiers of each allied race. This way medics, trappers, and warriors like the Lyriks and Icari, assisted each other in teams. Pablo and Lynn took up the first squad with Bones as leader.

The two held hands in formation, and Andrew doubted anything could pry them apart. They caught him flying over and waved.

Both wore combat gear to match his own: armored tactical vest over a black t-shirt, matching pants, and combat boots. Standard issue across the Collective army, now four million strong. The amount of gold differed for each person. Most dipped their combat boot treads in it. Some gilded elbow pads and coated fingerless gloves with it. A variety of resourceful options.

Andrew blew Lynn a kiss before scanning the next squadron. No time to worry about how terrified everyone must feel. Well, at least terror was normal. Lucy bounced up and down, waving at him. Matt smiled beside her. Both of them vibrated with an energy akin to… well… sex. It made Andrew’s hair stand on end and a shiver roll down his spine. All the same, he liked the blond girl’s spirit and waved to them both.

Colton, Cypher, Six, and the Valkyrie’s second-in-command, Para, manned the vehicular sabotage unit. They nodded solemnly to him from below. He returned it with a little barrel roll to break up the seriousness of them. Their grins meant success.

Now onto the front nearest the roads. Caedes led Ambush with John per the Icarus’ special request to the General. They sported the same combat gear as everyone else, with Caedes minding the same exception as all the Icari forgoing the golden elements. Safest this way. No need for one of their own to accidentally injure themselves on the metal.

The Lt. General called over the earpiece, “Hey, Andrew. How’s it looking out there?”

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Each squadron, including the Progeny, tuned into their own separate frequency, allowing for cleaner communication. Crosstalk only permitted by the squad leaders and only for dire relays. Four million people were too many voices to connect all at once.

Andrew stayed the course. “I’d say we did a fine job organizing a resistance.” He glanced over at her direction. She and Tameka hovered several hundred feet over the front line in front of Molly. “How’s it looking out there?”

Tameka answered, “They think they’re formidable. But we’re about to kick their ass.”

All the Progeny grunted over the line. In response, squad leaders raised their swords, staves, and batons. Their squads joined in the cheers.

Andrew beamed with pride and good humor. So much for a private line. All the weapons shone and glinted with engraved or dipped gold. Smith, Kyle, and Colton worked their asses off to provide every single soldier with two pieces.

“I’m heading back in.” Even as he flew over their fronts, they all cheered out of rank and waved to him. Fuck it. He spun a few times for them and added some flips for good measure. Like Sea World.

Andrew formed a squad with Lucas, Pehton, Tempest, Dolor, Tumu, and, a last-minute addition, Abresson. Another Tritan. His presence unnerved Tumu, judging by the tightness of his face and his sudden clamming up. Abresson meant all business with stern voids and strange scars along his midnight dark skin. He glowered at Andrew’s demonstration.

Lucas, however, grinned with heat in his fantastic eyes. Again with the lack of fucks given, Andrew alighted right into his man’s arms and kissed him hard. A kiss that said, “It’s my turn to be on top when this is all over.”

And the sandy blond Icarus took no issue. Andrew couldn’t help himself. It was the suit. That’s right. Lucas wore a crisp black button down, a black brocade double-breasted vest with a high collar, and matching slacks. As always, he tailored it to suit him and hide certain enormous attributes he refrained to advertise. A sexy, steampunky get-up. Made more strange by the fact that the entire Brethren wore similar looks.

When he asked, Lucas explained, “We’ve fought the last four wars like this.”

“You fight in every war?”

With a graceful shrug, the Icarus answered, “Our race enjoys fighting and fucking. It’s in our blood.”

With Lucas dressed like that, Andrew felt it in his blood, too.

Abresson sneered while Tempest and Dolor exchanged a knowing look. Dolor cleared his throat and nodded up to the sky.

From their vantage point—in front of Molly opposite end from Kyle—Andrew gazed up. Tameka and Sagan held firm as both Nox and Korac emerged from thin air. As he understood it, to move like that, they recently popped T.A.O. capsules affording them short-range Seamswalking capabilities. He hoped that was the extent of their bag of tricks, but he knew they weren’t that lucky.

Kyle came across the earpieces, “I don’t like this. Why is he making some regal entrance? Why didn’t they attack us while we staged?”

Andrew answered, “He’s waiting on Rayne.”

Tameka offered, “It’s the reason she took off last night and why she’s arriving last.”

Sagan finished, “To give us time.”

Someone walked over Andrew’s grave. Given the state of the last few months, that was probably one of several people he cared about no longer with them. This war… It needed to end. Warm fingers threaded through his, and Andrew squeezed. He peered into Lucas’ eyes and didn’t see something to lose. He saw something worth fighting for. And by Elden, Andrew planned to fucking win.