General Richard Antonio Ziusudra. The heaviest weapon known to mankind turns towards me, a pistol appearing in his hand.

  “Take your threats and shove- uh- them-.” I snap, stuttering through a shivering lip.

  Rebellious words that are equally bluff.

  One hand catches Helen’s, pinning it to the pulser’s grip and trapping the gun with her armor.

  “Watch your tone.” Richard warns.

  I hate it, but he is right. Death waits down the path of smartassness that I was walking.

  “Those vaults aren’t accessible to you either. For all your strength I doubt you could survive a mountain collapsing on you, and even if you did survive and have no need of oxygen, by your logic the AI would still be able to claim land! I’m only following your bluffing lead.”

  Richard chuckles, a harsh crunching thing that is far more spinechilling than anything 1st LT ever did.

  “What was your real name?”

  “Athena Finley.”

  “Ah, Athena, the goddess of wisdom. A good name, albeit one so many bearers fall short of. I find it infinitely pleasing to find one who may fulfil that promise. Would be a shame to kill you and every irregular within this bunker so,” He gives Helen a gentle push, daring her to draw the pulser. “I’ll offer you a compromise. Deliver the vaults to me, send your forces alongside us to the front, and live.”

  “A compromise suggests you are giving something up.” I snap.

  He shrugs, such a human gesture from such an alien body. “Maybe a part of me enjoys the killing.”

  My brow tightens, arms folding over my stomach.

  “We are trying to rejoin the Singularity, I admit you have the power to compel obedience, between you on the inside and the million earthlings out there, your victory is assured, even if you withdraw and starve us out.” I say, hoping to plant a seed within his mind.

  With my warping ability a siege would be entirely in my favor, I could warp most of the army to Hygieia and buy time for her to fabricate our ticket home.

  “Standing orders are to kill any irregulars. Those who break the flash training and show initiative are especially dangerous.”

  “Why tell me something I’ve already heard? Seems like a waste of time.” I say.

  Richard laughs again. “Haha! I see no profit in fighting you at this time, only dead humans. There are many enemies out there,” He gestures across the mountains, towards the other factions, “But each irregular limits our capacity to wage war. They- YOU are a self-inflicted casualty I am tasked with executing.”

  “Like the Lieutenant.” I offer.

  “Like the Lieutenant.” Richard confirms. “I have witnessed a hundred thousand years of war. Endless fighting, more combat than all the humans on this planet combined. So let me be blunt irregular. Wearing two helmets was stupid. You’ve left your gasmask connected to our lines, I’ve seen and heard everything about your pocket army and the forces within this bunker. I could fight you, I could kill you. Both are within my ability to wage war.” He says, materializing his own melee weapon, it’s like a mace, except four feet long and covered in steel teardrops that connect via their smallest apex to the rod.

  Upon the mace’s appearance our grav sled begins to falter, clattering to the floor and hissing in protest of the abuse, like a thousand pounds were warped above it and came crashing down. Part of me screams at the raw danger beside me, yet I am safe, Richard does not need a hammer to kill me, not when a single finger would do.

  All the pieces to his compromise finally add up.

  “The wig outs.” I say, eyes going wide. “Dump them on me so you don’t have to kill them?” The second I say those words I know it’s the truth. “Ah, shit. I’m your asylum aren’t I.”

  “Quick on the uptake Goddess of wisdom. Executions murder more than morale, and as you noticed are messy. Each dead wig out provokes instability in my standing forces, exiling those soldiers to this bunker is an excellent way of maximizing my gains. Keeping my men focused.”

  His deal is incredibly shit. I’m no psychiatric doctor! College was for an engineering degree and a minor in accounting, number crunching, bean counting, the complete opposite of soothing broken souls! The sum total of four billion draftees.

  Even as I protest the thought settles into a foregone conclusion.

  So many people.

  We could symbiote up an army.

  Those who are too far gone could become biomass, fueling everyone’s return to Earth.

  Ew.

  I want to reject him, but certain death is the alternative.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Only the living may judge.

  Dead is dead.

  I sense a circular argument entering my mind, repeating itself ad infinitium, with each loop conjuring another solution to proposed problems. The Technomancy has mind wipe gear in the facility, same with flash training capabilities, maybe there is a way to heal those wiped out Earthlings.

  Richard is offering me a way to smuggle humans back to Earth.

  Shit shit shit!

  Richard knows I don’t have a choice.

  “Fine. We will be your asylum. Send the irregulars our way.” I say.

  The mace vanishes and the sled hops ten feet into the air, Helen slumps over the controls, wrestling the ship down to a steady height. I can sense her annoyance leaking out of reactor ports but she keeps silent. Not daring to annoy a bioweapon. Richard continues talking, feet never moving from the sled.

  “Compassion is the most attractive quality a woman can have, tis also the most likely trait to get a soldier killed. I would caution against wearing an open heart Athena Finley.”

  I bite back a response. That’s rich coming from the bioweapon who just offloaded his mandatory executions! Who exactly is dumping their dirty laundry on whom? Either way, Richard outmaneuvered me, I’m not sure if he is full of shit, or the wisest man I'll ever meet.

  “Its not often that a bioweapon gives altruistic orders.” I say, returning the needle.

  He doesn’t answer, remaining silent until we reach the ambassadorial lobby. Then turns to look towards the mountains.

  “The Holiest Singularity thanks you for conquering the Novans and welcome you back into the fold Commander Finley of our newest division. Hmm, now what shall we call you? How about the 113th Unluckiest Irregulars, Oh, or the 777th Goddess’ Guardians is free.” Richard offers.

  “You’re not funny Dick!”

  Nearby aids groan, expecting to be splattered with blood.

  Richard knocks on the codpiece, “Dick? Must have left mine in the pod.”

  I can’t help myself and giggle at the dumbest dad joke I’ve ever heard.

  “113th is fine, you can keep the cutesy petnames for your Field Marshal.” I say, taking a seat on the cushions.

  “Very well, you’ve been promoted to Major Finley, commanding officer of the 113th Syrean Irregulars, our transfer of personal shall begin immediately. Pursuant to that goal we shall leave a security detachment behind, starting with Sarah Green-”

  Her squeak is audible through her mask, so blatantly unsoldier-like I have to wonder about her mental fitness. Probably a weeping mess, one only a symbiote will fix. Unless she pulls a Helen and makes the symbiote all weepy and worthless.

  Richard continues as if he never heard her interruption.

  “-You have one week before I expect a summary of standing forces. We are not equipped for mountain warfare, a trench is not a road, nor can you dig through stone with shovels. So your first mission is to create an egress, prove your wisdom and find a way through the mountains that we can march a million troopers through. Do not concern yourself with the last mile through the mountains, I shall be your speartip.”

  “Yessir.” I say, uncertain how I feel about suddenly being put on homefront duty.

  Roaches can dig a tunnel easily enough, as can the super-laser-tank. It’s actually a great drill… Almost better than the Drakken laser drill.

  Mentally I stop, renaming our super-laser-tank to the Drakken laser Tank, my own special DT. Although this isn’t for smashing mineral lines or hold positioning a ramp like a clever cunt.

  “General Ziusudra, Juggernaut redesigns are coming shortly, permission to deploy experimental craft?”

  Richard cocks his head, entirely unreadable.

  “Permission granted. I will not sideline those who wish to fight.” He says.

  I can hear the smile behind his words. On the verge of a laugh yet stoic. He beckons the remaining members of his team onto waiting grav sleds, mission accomplished.

  “What about the Azhurai?”

  “Oh them? They weren’t the only ones hiding an army. Ha, those Conglomerate clowns were crazy, did you know they sent a hundred thousand constructs across the mountains? A hundred thousand! Bet they were trying to take the entire continent in one push. Too bad for them I showed up, dividing their forces in a series of pincer counterattacks along my brother and sister.” Richard laughs, a cackle more at home in a villain’s jaw. “Those solarium suckers think mere technology can win a war. Ha! We’ll handle them in due time.”

  “You’re just going to ignore them?”

  Richard shrugs, his shoulder cannon bouncing off the ceiling.

  “We can’t push the issue. Not now. Maybe with a decade of shooting down their resupply ships we could starve em out, but the Collective’s second wave should hit us soon. I need the manpower to defend against it. Besides, Azhurai tech is really fucking impressive. They’ve recalled all golems to their spire-fortress. Currently those knocked off runts are linked into a shield. We’ll besiege them, but breaking it is beyond our current offensive abilities, if we had nuclear weaponry then maybe we could crack that shield. But for now the battle over positioning is won, and only a logistical war remains unfought.”

  “You can’t be serious.” I growl.

  “What do you want from me Athena?” Richard snarls, voice grumbling with enough energy to coat my eyelashes in solarium crystals.

  Golden eyelashes, what a kickass look! I blink, fluttering the golden needles together, which makes the lil buggers stick.

  “Ah hell.” I murmur, teasing the crystals off with fingernails. “Gold is a bit gaudy on me General Dick.”

  “Idiot.” Richard mutters, doing something that dissolves the solarium into a flash of yellow. “Don’t trust the AI here, he only serves his own ends, but that would include shooting down Azhurai supplies, a century or two of that and negotiations may begin.” Richard says, signalling to move out.

  A century of siege warfare?! What the hell! NO! We’re gonna break that bitch open like scrambled eggs.

  “Very well General Sir.” Is all that my mouth says.

  >Terran Thena: No way are we waiting a century to crack the Azhurai base. I need ideas.

  >Matriarch Hygieia: Siege-nauts first

  >Matriarch Hygieia: Tulverians second

  >Matriarch Hygieia: then we can frag the petting zoo

  I laugh, covering my face with both hands for several moments. Her joke isn’t funny, but surviving a second bioweapon has me giddy. So stupidly giddy I can’t frown when Sarah Green pulls off her mask and opens that damn slutty mouth of hers.

  “Hey Thena, it's been a while.” Says Savannah, my old roommate.

  My last memory involving her was listening to her say Whorely made better cookies.

  If I had been armed, I would have shot her right in those stupidly straight teeth.