Yet with the latest strategy being employed by the mysterious Ha’curn, nowhere in the Grid could be considered the front. The small ten-ship wolf-packs were operating everywhere, and nowhere. They’d attack anything anywhere, being more of a nuisance than a real military threat. But they had made a mess out of the Grid. All populations, on every world, were in a state of panic. And there wasn’t a lot anyone could do about it.

  And overshadowing it all was the belief—the fear—that a much larger force was on the way and could arrive at any time.

  Hence Zac’s latest delivery of thirty-five REV recruits, their first deployment after Screening. Zac had to snicker at the thought of them coming here for training. REVs weren’t trained, they were discovered. Any volunteer who could tolerate the drug was accepted. And with this new version of the REV drug, more men were being found to be tolerant than ever before.

  In Zac’s day, REVs did go through some training. Not a lot, but enough drilling so the operation of the mighty weapons they carried attached to their arms would become instinctive. Because that was how it worked, by instinct. REVs couldn’t think during a Run, they could only react. Not until Zac came along. And that fucked up everything.

  These ACs were different. They could be controlled and directed. They carried conventional weapons, retaining enough mental awareness to know what they were and how to use them. They understood directions and targets. And their heightened abilities made nearly every operation and every weapon a demonstration of skill and acuity, even without training. Their bodies could just do it without trying.

  The first of three shuttles carrying the REVs to Vi-Cor base landed in what had once been the laser array chamber, located at an elevation of eighty-five hundred feet, with two-hundred-foot-high ceilings and carved out of solid granite by the Antaere and the Noc when they created the base. Clouds of landing exhaust were vented out before placement crews moved in to tow the vessel to a staging area. Then the rear door of the shuttle opened and the REVs streamed out. Zac was still uneasy with the fact that so many REVs could be in the same room at the same time. That was traditionally a recipe for disaster. But not anymore. He had to admit, this was better.

  A Marine first lieutenant approached him with a wide grin on his plump, bearded face.

  “Welcome back to real gravity, Zac,” said Justin Brandt. He was about the only person Zac could call a friend on the base. It wasn’t that Zac was antisocial—although that still came hard for him. It was just that he hadn’t spent much time here since the changeover.

  “Good to smell some fresh air after a month in a tin-can.”

  Brandt wrinkled his nose, taking in a whiff of the still lingering exhaust gas. “You call this fresh?”

  “Sweet alpine air, and cool to boot. I like it.”

  The officer took one of Zac’s two small duffle bags. “C’mon. Let’s get you to your room. A week, right?”

  “That’s it. So let’s get into town for a couple of days.”

  A pair of enlisted men passed the officers. Both officers returned the salutes. Zac looked back at them as he walked. “I want to go someplace where people aren’t saluting me all the time. Still not used to that.”

  “I like it. Makes me feel im-potent,” Brandt joked.

  “Remember, it’s the jewelry they’re saluting, not you personally.”

  “Damn you, Zac, you just ruined the whole experience for me.”

  Brandt noticed the gaggle of new REVs being directed out of the chamber. “Wish we had more for them to do. Back when we were fighting the Antaere there were a lot of planet-side targets. But the Ha’curn don’t have any; however, we are working on some ideas to make REVs effective in space battles.”

  Zac frowned. REVs had never been effective in space. Maybe the occasional boarding party, but certainly not in ship-on-ship operations. Brandt saw the skepticism in Zac’s expression.

  “Not much progress, just some ideas. You might sit in on a few of our meetings. Your input would be welcome.”

  First Lieutenant Justin Brandt wasn’t a REV. He was part of the support group within the Running Man Brigade, currently helping with the operational control of the ACs. Before that he’d been second-in-command of a Recovery Crew, following REVs like Zac into combat. He’d been in the shit and Zac respected him for that.

  “Before or after we go into town?”

  “Before. I’d like to show you how we’ve beefed things up around here since your last visit. I mean it, the place is being overrun by operator-trainees. With more REVs entering the program, the need for controllers has tripled. And most of them come here for training.”

  “Why here? Why not Earth.”

  “Too far out. Vi-Cor is becoming the hub of all REV operations in the Grid. We’re working a rapid-response for the wolf-pack attacks, and ES-6 is pretty much in the middle of the Grid. It makes sense to run things out of here.”

  Before exiting out the rear door of the shuttle chamber to enter the miles of tunnels carved into the mountain, Zac turned and grinned. “So this is REV Central? Who would’ve guessed we’d ever come to this? REVs and mortals working together, side-by-side, in peace and harmony. Times definitely are a-changing.”

  “Mortals? Speak for yourself, First Lieutenant Murphy. I have jewelry. Around here, that makes me a god!”

  After getting settled in, Zac went to the comm center and purchased a link with Earth. It took a while for his clearance to come through and his party to be located. But eventually the familiar face came on the screen.

  “Zac! Hell, man, it’s been a while.”

  “How are you, General Smith?”

  “Enough of all this formality, lieutenant. We’ve been through enough together to cut the bullshit. Besides, this is a pleasure call, nothing official from the tagline. I have to say, you are looking a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

  Zac smiled at the aging senior officer. They hadn’t seen each other since Zac was brought back to Earth from Enif, a beaten and drugged out shell of a man just freed from six months of captivity and an afternoon of combat against three Antaere REVs—known as NOVs. He wasn’t in very good condition at the time, and the thirty-one days it took to go from ES-6 to Earth wasn’t enough time for him to completely heal up, even with a cocktail mix of various rev drugs coursing through his veins.

  “Good to see you, too, Smitty. I’m on ES-6, having just done my duty as delivery boy for a new crop of REV killers to the base.”

  Smitty’s face turned serious. “Yeah, I heard Diamond has you shuttling troops back and forth. I wish there was something I could do about it, but even my extra star isn’t enough to overcome his popularity back here. Maybe in a while.”

  “If we have a while. Is there anything new with the Ha’curn?”

  The general shook his head. “Nothing. Their fleet broke up when Jerica Armitage closed on them. Since then we haven’t been able to track down even one of the wolf-packs. Even when we do have ships in the area, they bolt away before we can engage. From what I understand, they still have their four hundred ships spread across the Grid.”

  “What the hell are they still doing here?” Zac asked, almost as a curse. “If they aren’t going to conquer us, then go the fuck home. Come back with more forces if you have to, but in the meantime, leave us alone.”

  “That may be their purpose: keep us off balance until the main fleet arrives.”

  Zac sighed deeply. “Sorry, sir, I’m just frustrated, at the Ha’curn, at the Qwin, at my fucking life. This isn’t how I imagined it would turn out.”

  Smitty frowned. “And how did you think it would turn out? You joined the REVs at nineteen. Since then, your fate was pretty well sealed.”

  Zac slumped his shoulders. “You’re right, I don’t know what I’m talking about. I haven’t had any expectations for a while, except believing that each Run would be my last. It’s just when this, this thing happened to me, and then Olivia came back in my life….”

  “I know what you mean, son.”

  “So have you heard from her? Is she okay?”

  “The last I heard she was still in Colorado working with Cross out at his ranch.”

  “And the others?”

  “I’ve been keeping track as best I can; you know the whole brothers-in-arms thing. Angus is running an armory out on ES-5, not too far from you. Kyle and Donovan are both attached to REV divisions with the 1st and 2nd fleets. Diamond has them doing essentially what you’re doing, admin work with no combat.”

  Zac laughed. “I’m sure they like that.”

  “About as much as you like being a chauffeur.”

  “I think it’s Diamond’s goal to drive us all crazy. I think it’s working. And Ashley?”

  “The very talented—and deadly—Ashley Hunter has disappeared, as deep cover secret agents are prone to do. In fact the last I heard, her and Amber were in the Zanzibar heading for open space, probably at the bequest of the ship’s mysterious owner.”

  The smirk on Zac’s face was making his cheek muscles sore. “It would be nice to get the band together again, someday, for something.”

  Smitty laughed and patted his belly, which had grown several inches since the last time Zac had seen the officer. “That’s for youngsters. I think I’ll stay home and be your manager. I’m too old to go on tour again.”

  “Don’t worry. If Jack Diamond gets his way, that will never happen. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the guy didn’t like me.”

  “He doesn’t like anyone, except Jack Diamond.”

  “Well Smitty, this is costing me an arm and a leg; they charge for private calls, even if the link is with a two-star general. I was just curious if you’d heard from anyone. Thanks for the info.”

  “If I ever do talk to anyone again, I’ll let them know you’re alive and well. You take care of yourself Lieutenant Murphy. And son, wear the rank proudly. Remember, I’m the one who gave you that gold bar.”

  “The bane of my existence, sir. But thanks anyway. You meant well. Good-bye, Smitty.”

  “Bye, Zac.”

  Zac blew out a big breath of air and leaned back in the chair. REVs rarely made lasting friendships, so when they finally came along, he didn’t want to lose them. Maybe the past three years had just been a dream, a figment of his imagination. He should have known better to think he could be like everyone else. He was a REV. He will always be a REV. His blood chemistry told him so.

  11

  The next morning, Zac met Justin Brandt at one of the huge interior rooms set up as an operator facility. It was a strange dynamic within the base. The REVs had their section, and everyone else had theirs. But it wasn’t like the old days. The segregation was designed to keep the two contingents from becoming too familiar rather than for safety reasons. It wouldn’t pay for an operator—or anyone on the operator’s team—to become attached to a REV. Their job was to guide a weapon through a Run, nothing more. And often that Run could end in injury or death. They couldn’t know the REV or anything about him beyond his name, rank and city of birth. And even the city wasn’t necessary.

  The training room was about half-full at the moment, with everyone talking at once. Fortunately for the operators and their teams, they all wore headsets. Also, the stone walls of the room were lined with a noise-absorbing material which helped muffle the din.

  “A thousand people to control eighty REVs,” said Justin Brandt. “Not like the old days, is it, Zac?”

  Zac shook his head. He had very little experience with this new version of the REV program, relegated as he was to nanny duties. Before that, he’d spent time recovering from six months as an Antaere captive, where he was constantly shot up with an alien form of NT-4. In reality, he was lucky to be alive.

  Brandt led Zac through the room and into another granite-lined corridor before taking him through a set of doors. The room beyond was quieter than the operations center, with a couple of long counters in the center and an assortment of desks occupied by more cerebral types hard at work on their computers and datapads. Zac was led to a desk at the far end of the room. The man at the desk stood up when they approached.

  “Zac, this is Dr. Larry Coates,” said Brandt. “He’s leading the command-packet effort here on the base. Larry, this is First Lieutenant Zac Murphy.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Murphy. I’ve heard a lot about you throughout the years. Are you joining the unit?” The men shook hands.

  Zac pursed his lips while looking embarrassingly at his friend. Brandt mirrored the expression.

  “Unfortunately, no, Dr. Coates. I have more important duties to tend to.”

  The scientist frowned slightly, not knowing whether he’d been insulted or not. Zac changed the subject. “What is the command packet effort? Sounds technical.”

  Brandt spoke first. “It’s what we’re doing to help make REVs part of the fleet’s space operations. Larry will explain.”

  The scientist walked to one of the tables and picked up a REV command collar that was lying there. “Theoretically, we can control a REV assault on a starship. But for the command vessel to remain effective, it needs to be far enough away from the action and safe from attack. Yet with the speeds involved in space battles, as well as the vast area they range in, we could be talking about hundreds of millions of miles between operator and REV. And since command collars are too small to contain wormhole comms, we have to rely on traditional radio waves for the links.”

  “And you can’t afford any time delays,” Zac said, picking up on the line of reasoning.

  “Exactly,” said Coates. “We’re talking about several minutes, and that goes for giving commands as well as receiving data back from the battle. It just can’t be done with remote operators. The only solution is to send the REVs out with a set of pre-programmed instructions on how to carry out the mission. That’s what the command packets are for.”

  “You don’t seem very happy, Dr. Coates. Isn’t it working?”

  The man shook his head. “We can’t program in all the variables. Although the ACs can still think—to a degree—they require constant input to keep them moving in the right direction. Otherwise—”

  “They just stand there. Not like the old days, is it Dr. Coates, when they’d just wind us up and let us go?”

  “That did have its advantages, as well as its disadvantages.”

  Zac smirked.

  “Anyway,” said Coates, continuing. “We’ve developed a small assault vessel designed to get the REV to a ship. We can even get him aboard and fighting. It’s what happens next where we have the problems.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “Even if the REV manages to kill the crew, he won’t know how to pilot the ship. And if he doesn’t kill them all, he still has to be Twilighted, which will get him killed instead. Either way, we won’t be able to recover the REV after Twilight. I don’t have to tell you, lieutenant, but without the right mix of RG-9 and other drugs to bring down his levels, he’ll resume cascading after the initial dose of Twilight wears off. We only have about forty minutes to get the REV to a medical facility before he starts cascading again.”

  “It seems like a lot of work for very little benefit,” said Zac. “How often do you need to take over a warship, rather than just blow it to pieces?”

  Coates looked crestfallen. “That’s the other issue,” he admitted. “And because of that, the funding for this part of the operation is pretty small. But without more land battles, the REV program doesn’t have much utility, at least against the Ha’curn. We’re hoping to keep the REVs relevant.”

  “So more of them can get their asses shot off?” Zac said a little too harshly. He recovered his composure. “Sorry. Just some personal issues I’m working through.” Zac forced a smile at the scientist. “Don’t worry, Dr. Coates. I suspect this thing with the Ha’curn is just beginning. With a larger fleet against us, there will be plenty of ground landings where the aliens stick around for a while. I’m sure there will be plenty of work for the REVs just the way they are. But good luck with your research; I hope it works out for you.” Zac turned to his friend. “Let’s go eat.”

  12

  The Vi-Cor REV Base had three mess halls, one for the REVs, one for the operators and staff, and another for the officers. Although all the walls within the mountain were made of granite, care had been taken to make the officer’s mess look more conventional, with paneled walls and carpeted floors. From the ceiling hung two huge chandeliers made of rare Borin-Noc crystal, something very close to diamond. A small fountain was set to the side with a trickling waterfall over polished stones collected from the river splitting the valley at the base of the mountain. Zac had to admit, it was one of the nicer mess halls he’d been in.

  The room was almost empty at this hour of the morning, so Zac and Justin Brandt took a table near the fountain. A steward came up to them, offering menus and a pleasant smile.

  “The lunch special is native fish taken this morning from the Kennos River. Fresh as can be, and with asparagus shoots and a lemon juice sauce. Of course, both the vegetables and lemon are of a local variety, but they taste just like the real thing. Shipping perishables all the way out here from Earth isn’t practical.” The man knew Brandt, but not Zac, and was laying on the welcoming spiel a little too thick.

  “Thanks for that, sergeant,” Zac said. “But you know what I’d really like is a fat, juicy hamburger. Lettuce, tomato—or whatever they have here—with cheese and bacon. Make it a double patty if you can. And French fries, lots of French fries. And what kind of soft drinks do you have?”

  The steward smiled knowingly at the officer. “We have Pepsi products here, sir. Just like back home.”

  “Then that is what I shall have.”

  Brandt ordered the fish, and after the waiter left, looked at Zac with a sly grin. “I thought you guys went in for steak, and nothing but steak?”

 

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