Akamori Shinjo strode into the last bastion of humanity on New Xinjia ahead of his squad. Marines who all appeared to be seasoned combat vets surrounded them. Most of them looked tired and resigned to a fate worse than death. Combat fatigue was just as dangerous as an army of unrelenting dead led about by Necromancers. But they were sloppy.

Check points set up throughout the bunker took care of inspections for injuries, as well as using purpose-built scanning devices to search for signs of being shackled by Necromancers to ferret out sleeper agents and infiltrators. Since the zombie plague spread physically, it was important to screen infections out. That meant most of these soldiers had to be hypervigilant for a while. These men and women were strung out and in bad shape.

Passing through the inspection point was pretty simple. They each had blood drawn which was immediately screened for the virus. None of them tested positive which eased the tension in the marines. No one wanted to have their hopes dashed by a rescue team that was doomed already.

“The command team will see you once they conclude their morning brief.” A female marine said. Her rank sported the three chevrons of a sergeant. Her name tape was hard to read through the thick dark smear of gore over it.

“How long?” Akamori asked.

“Lately? It doesn’t last more than a half hour.” The sergeant said.

“Longer or shorter?”

“Much shorter. In the beginning, there was more to talk about. But we’re on our last leg now. Short of supply concerns, all we can really do is wait on the enemy to come down here and finish us.”

“Hopefully we can change that.”

“No offense, sir, but unless you’re packing a miracle, our odds are long.”

Akamori grinned. “Long odds are the best kind.”

“What the eltee means is that he has a habit of making the impossible, sergeant.” Sirsir added from the back of the squad.

She glanced back at Akamori, scrutinizing him more thoroughly this time. “Sword, huh? Didn’t see too many people using those here. None that survived for very long, anyway.”

He shrugged impishly. “It’s all in the swing.”

The noncom didn’t look convinced. “Mhmm. So. You guys can use magic?”

“Yep.”

“So…what? You got like wands or something?”

“No. Though I guess technically our weapons could be considered wands? They channel the magic and do what we want with it. For the rifles, they shoot magic instead of bullets. My sword channels magic for different effects. Is that what you meant?” Akamori asked.

The female sergeant watched them studiously for a moment and then nodded. Still unconvinced looking. “Don’t suppose you’ve got rabbits in hats or anything?”

Akamori blinked confused, “What exactly is it you think we do with magic?”

She waved the conversation aside dismissively as the massive metal doors behind them peeled apart. As they split open with a loud mechanical, pneumatic system, the checkpoint area opened up into a large circular command chamber. Akamori could see plates on the deck that could pop up and create temporary barriers to take cover behind. While of little use from a cover perspective, they would at least create flow jams and slow down the undead should they breach the position. A quick scan with his senses and he saw many other plates just like this one scattered throughout.

The large chamber funneled its occupants progressively to the center, where the last living senior leaders of the Brotherhood of Man operating on New Xinjia were positioned. Flanking them were subordinates operating radios and checking on computer systems Akamori didn’t recognize. It was like a beehive of activity that focalized around its leadership.

The female noncom led them along a path marked off by black and yellow striped tape because led them around the outer ring of soldiers and up a short set of metal stairs. At the top of the command area, large screens showed video of areas around the base under surveillance by security cameras. Turret emplacements and more.

The command team themselves comprised General Feng, Colonel Maddox, and a Captain Lee. They were all in various states of disheveled. None of them looked like they’d shaved in a week. Their uniforms appeared to have gone that long, with no attention as well. Posters all around them warned of infection, and listed symptoms to watch for and advised action taken immediately.

“Bites are bad.” The sergeant said as they watched the command staff wrap up a meeting. Akamori nodded to the screen the officers were speaking to.

“Who are they speaking with?”

She leaned over a bit to get a better look. “Looks like Admiral Smits. He got a promotion after Hidros. He’s in charge of 2nd Fleet now. They’re probably on their way, but can’t get here fast enough to save any of our bacon.”

“We’ll make sure there’s enough bacon left for him to save,” Akamori said.

“I’d be much obliged if ya did, sir.”

“What’s your name, marine?”

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“Corthon.” She said.

“Well Sgt. Corthon, it was a pleasure to meet ya.”

She gave him a stiff nod before walking away to rejoin her squad. Akamori turned to face the command team. They turned and gestured for him and his people to join them. He strode up slowly, taking them all in. Weariness and exhaustion hung at their edges like fog. These men were running on fumes, stims, and no hope. They needed a miracle, and he intended to give it to them. One way or another.

“Lt. Shinjo. I understand we have you and your men to thank for blunting the assault on the bunker entrance upstairs?”

“Indeed, sir, and please, just call me Akamori. Mr. Shinjo, if you absolutely must stay formal.”

“I’m comfortable with Mr. Shinjo.” General Feng said. The luster of his single gold star faded with wear and lack of polish. Similarly, his olive drab uniform top looked like he’d slept in the thing for at least a few days. Akamori was willing to bet a gold scale the man probably hadn’t seen a functional shower in just as long as well.

“We’re thankful you and your men came to help. We’re familiar with your exploits on Hidros, and frankly, having the heroes of Hidros here is a great morale boost to all the civilians, who, until five minutes, didn’t expect to make it another thirty minutes down here.”

Akamori nodded grimly. He’d seen that look in peoples faces up close enough to know the feeling. What made it worse was that now he could taste their despair in his aura now. His senses blanketed the entire level gently, and every last civilian didn’t think they’d live to see another sunrise. It made bile rise up the back of his throat. Along with a smoldering rage at the Sauridius.

Small wisps of steam lifted from his shoulders until a firm hand clapping his shoulder snapped his attention to Yasiin. “Sir. You good?”

Akamori blew the smoke free of his nostrils and nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Thanks.” Akamori turned back to the command staff. “I’ll need a quick brief on your defenses. What are we working with? And last, what can we expect of the enemy?”

Quick nods flashed between the officers before they refocused on him. “I’m sure the enlisted soldiers will have explained some basics with you already. Currently, we have several emplaced weapons, scanning devices and defensive emplacements provided by the Artificers guild. Those elves are greedy bastards, but the tech they sell is second to none with magic.”

The general tapped a few keys at his desk and weapons appeared from almost every square inch of the interior. If they did not bolt it down, it popped up, flipped out, or turned upside down to reveal something. Ward projectors, weapons, healing magic emitters. Overlapping fields of fire as well as fields of protection or healing. It would make a concentrated assault highly costly. It also funneled the enemy into one effective choke point, creating a kill box out of the entrance from the security checkpoint. Falling back through there put their backs against the wall, but forced the enemy into a magical meat grinder.

Akamori grinned as the others whistled or nodded, impressed. “Outstanding. Now all we need is a deck of cards.”

“We’d like to place you in charge of defensive operations. We understand you have the most experience combating magic users up close. Some of our troops are veterans of other campaigns, but as you can tell, we lack for veterans that survive their first campaign.”

“Yeah. Being a zero on a battlefield clogged with mages makes for a dicey situation at the best of times. How many points of entry are there? Conventional and non?”

Captain Lee gestured to the main entryway. “That’s the only conventional entry point. Intentionally designed so. Unconventionally? We have several air flow vents scattered around to keep fresh air circulating in. And before you ask, wards placed every other floor guard in the vents. Even if something wanted to come through the shafts, it would have to stop and claw its way past the wards.”

“So even if they do come, you’ve got time to prepare because it’ll slow them down.” Akamori nodded, satisfied. That was good.

“What about weapons for the marines?” Sirsir asked. “Those little pea shooters are fine for the undead, but anything bigger than your average zombie is going to shrug off multiple shots. You want a quick time to kill ratio or we’re all wasting our time.”

“Perhaps we can put to rest any concerns on that front then, sergeant.” The captain said to Sirsir. He pointed at rows of racks along the far wall that held many weapons. Many of them quite large.

“We even brought in some artificers to help with our standard designs to do things like reduce mass, or improve stability and fire rate. We’ve found the Guild to be quite receptive to our input, provided we paid adequately.”

“How much did all this cost?”

“Much. But the expense will have been worth it if it ensures our colony endures.” The General said, though he didn’t quite sound convinced.

A chirping sound drew frantic responses from the outer ring of technicians and operators flanking the leadership. General Feng rose imperiously. “SITREP” he boomed over the chaos, drawing imposing order by presence.

“We’ve detected a breach in the magical sensors. Spirits, sir, they’re pulling ahead of the physical undead.”

“Do the elevator shafts have the same layered defense system as the air vents?”

Lee frowned. “No. We do have something else though.”

“Deploying the shredders.”

Several hundred meters above, weapons exited retracting doors along the elevator lift shaft. They were micro spell rifles rigged into the facilities’ power systems. The system had converted all weapons to fire most effectively against soul magic and soul magic users. When the weapons fire, pallid green and white blasts of magic streaked out everywhere. Revenants, specters and more exploded into falling puddles of ectoplasm and soul magic. The weapons carried on for a long time and Akamori had to admit to how impressed he was that the weapon system was so embedded and functional. It lived up to its namesake by shredding ghosts up like strips of paper being fed to a garbage disposal.

“This will buy us time. Let’s make it count.” Akamori muttered to himself. He fully appreciated the weapons the Brotherhood were using and what the cost sunk into procuring them. He only hoped he and the boys could live up to the automated defenses. The real trick, though, would be to make sure there were enough civies left alive to make this whole expedition worth it.

Akamori spun and began barking orders. His squad immediately flowed into action. The marines sat gawking at first, unsure of what to do amidst all the alarms and squawking noises, but they too soon fell into order and helped.

You were right in thinking they would need a miracle. However, I have doubts on whether you’ll be able to deliver given you’ve spent most of your worship and you’re still just a nascent godling. Your followers are few. You need to expand. Bahumet said.

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