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CHAPTER 13

Keslow, Colorado

1729 Hours, August 22** nd ***, 2052*

"Did he tell you?" asked Sam as Marcus emerged from the motel room that they were using in lieu of an interrogation cell.

"Not at first." he admitted as he accepted a drink of cool water from her. He drank half of it in a single go before slowing down to sip slowly at the rest. The weary look that made his eyelids and ears droop displayed how tiring the past several hours had been for both of the participants.

"But you got a location, right?" she pressed. Unlike him, she was fully armoured save for her helmet, obviously anticipating a rapid deployment as soon as Mr. Johnson told them what they wanted to know.

"Yeah. I have one." he said as he drained the last of the water into his maw. "It's apparently a small house out in the foothills about twenty minutes from here."

"Is Warren alive?" she asked, cutting to what Marcus knew that she really wanted to know.

"He didn't know. He claims to have just been giving the others information about the situation here. Johnson supplied them with the house, but insists that he hasn't been there in a month or so."

"You believe him?"

"No." he sighed. Sam held her hand out for the empty glass that he still held and he gave it to her. "But I think he's had enough. He may not be on our side, but I doubt that he's trying to mislead us." At first Marcus had tried to talk the information that he had wanted out of the defiant man but had failed on that approach; the man hated him far too much to make it easy for either of them. He had then resorted to making insinuations about the man's family having a hard time without him. Marcus hadn't had the desire to making any direct threats; as angry with the man as he was, he didn't think that he had done anything that warranted a bullet to the skull. At least not yet at any rate. That had caught the man's attention and had made him start talking almost immediately, divulging the location of where the man he had been spotted conferring with was staying. Whether or not Mr. Johnson was more concerned for his family or his own hide Marcus was uncertain, but he gave the man the benefit of the doubt and assumed the former.

"So we're going to check it out?" asked Sam.

Marcus nodded. "Yes, we are. We'll leave as soon as we can get ready."

"Should I get the sergeant?"

"Sure. Johnson didn't know how many of them there are and I don't want to be caught unprepared. Tell him to meet us outside in an hour."

"Right away, Alpha."

**

Eldora Resort, West of Denver, Colorado

1800 Hours, August 22** nd ***, 2052*

Owen blink-clicked a rune in his visor and magnified his view of the land that was spread out below him. The slight humming of the adjustment was audible as he focused his attention to a glimmer of light on the distant road.

"Is it them?" asked Sasha from beside him, her own helmet clicking smoothly into place over her head. She closed the hinged panel under her muzzle and checked the seals as he surveyed the oncoming light.

The small patch of road that he could see in a break in the trees was teeming with activity. Several vehicles, both civilian and military, were passing by and the light was reflecting off their varying chassis. Owen couldn't make out too much detail, the image slightly pixellated at being over zoomed, but he could easily make out the shape of several armoured vehicles bearing the distinct 'H' logo that the Humanists had adopted. "Yeah," he breathed, "it's them."

"Shit." hissed Sasha as her own visor digitally enlarged the convoy. "Look at them all!"

"Like moths to a flame..." said Owen. He reset the zoom and shook his head. "Maybe we'll get lucky and they won't be scanning the channels. They might just pass right by."

"I doubt it, boss." said Lily as she and John came to stand next to the two observers, their armour whirring softly. "Our luck can't hold forever."

"Not with you jinxing it like that." retorted Owen. He knew that he was being more than hopeful, but he didn't want to acknowledge the fact that they had less of a chance than a snowball in hell of making it. Experience showed that false hope was better than no hope.

"I thought you didn't believe in luck." said John.

"I don't." Owen admitted. "But I think now would be as good a time as any to start. I take it you're both ready?"

"As ready as we'll ever be." John said. "Which isn't very."

"It's better than nothing." scolded Sasha. Silence reigned for a good few seconds as Owen once more ran through a mental checklist of their preparations. Ammo dispersion was almost unnecessary as they each carried different weapons besides Sasha and Lily, who still retained their SCAR-H assault rifles from their initial mission up in the mountains. Owen had taken up his requisitioned hunting rifle and given his sidearm to John along with all the ammo he had been carrying, which was only about three twelve-round magazines. Lily had given over some of her magazines to supplement his lack of a dedicated armament, her Beretta M9 also being a 9mm. Sasha carried her usual Kleiger 3, the same one that Owen had given her upon their initial meeting, in addition to her assault rifle. She had tried to get Owen to take it, his rifle only having about twenty rounds in total, but he had refused and insisted that he would be fine. Each of them had a single flashbang grenade hanging from their webbing, but any frags that they had had were now jury-rigged into tripwires that Sasha and Lily had set up to slow down any unwanted advance up the hill. All in all, they were seriously lacking in the firepower department and Owen knew that the coming fight would be one of attrition. One that, without outside help, they were doomed to lose.

They had piled everything that they could from the sheds along with the ski racks that had been in front of the chalet into hastily erected piles to function as barricades just outside of the doors. John and Owen had also torn the doors from the other buildings and had covered as much of the windows on the chalet as possible with them using some nails that had been in one of the supply sheds, making something more protective than glass. There hadn't been a hammer, so they had used Owen's crowbar instead to hammer them in place. They had also managed to cut down the previous four entrances down to three by barricading the door leading directly to the kitchen with heavy appliances. All of this was a futile effort to make the chalet into a defensible position, but it was better than having a completely open shooting gallery for the Humanists to take pot shots at.

"What about Romulus?" asked Sasha as she turned to face Owen. He thought he could hear a bit of worry in her voice. He frowned, the expression invisible to the others behind his helm.

"I'm going to throw him in the freezer when they start to attack. That things practically a bunker." he answered, referring to the freezer in the chalet kitchen.

"What if we die?" was the next question from his girlfriend. "He'll be trapped in there!"

"Well," Owen said, "All the more reason not to die." He knew that the prospect of Romulus being left alone, sealed in a container without food or water was distressing, and it had made the decision incredibly difficult for him. He had grown very fond of the little wolf pup and he would hate to do something that would hurt the little bugger, but he knew that his chances in that bullet-proof refrigerator were better than those that Romulus would have in an open firefight.

Several sober moments passed as they all faced the fact that all of the odds were stacked against them. It wasn't the first time for any of them, but that didn't make it any less depressing.

Just then, Owen's link to the long-range vox set in the shack up the hill crackled and popped as Angie once again established a secure link.

"Colonel?"

"Receiving." he replied as he patched the others into the conversation using the squad communications network.

"I have some good news for you." she said. "I've managed to get a helicopter ready. Tom's going to be returning in a half hour with some wounded in the QTR and then he'll be ready to pick you up. Tracer and Tyler are prepping to go and a squad from Jerry's unit has volunteered to hitch a ride as support. If it all goes well, you only need to hold out for about an hour and a half before they get there."

The relief that washed over the small group was palpable in the very air that crowded around them. "Thanks Angie." Owen chimed.

"Don't mention it." she laughed. "You'd better hurry back; it's starting to get boring around here without you."

"Wait," said Lily, "Why not send the rest of our squad? I would have thought Marcus would at least be glad to see us again."

Owen considered that. He came to the same conclusion, he himself wondering why his second wouldn't be accompanying the relief party.

"They're otherwise occupied at the moment." came the clipped response. Owen could tell that she was withholding something, but waved it off. Now was not the time to be worried about another thing.

"Oh," he replied diplomatically before any of the others could press her for more information, "Okay then. Thank you Angie. Now, if you don't mind we have to get ready to fight for our lives."

"Good luck, Owen." she said. It was the first time that he could remember her using his first name, all the others having been either Mr. Smith or Colonel. Instead of making him feel any better, it only reminded him of the peril they were about to be thrust in front of.

The link was terminated and Owen breathed a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out. He rolled his shoulders and a pop sounded as he stretched his neck. The others shuffled off to make some last-minute preparations.

He unslung the Remington 770 that was hanging from his right shoulder and worked the bolt, the .30-08 round sliding home into the breech with a reassuring clack. He had sighted the scope earlier and brought it up to his helmeted head. Below him, the vehicles crept inexorably towards the resort and the first few came to a halt in the pseudo-suburb of the resort condos. Peering through the scope, Owen could see several people disembark and fan out in front of the APC they had ridden there in. Several were busy unloading a series of UGVs from an olive-drab utility transport while a cluster of them were beginning to gather around the hood of an SUV and looking at a tablet. One of them appeared to be pointing up at him and he scowled. They had gotten the message.

He flicked the safety off on the rifle and dropped it to a single arm carry. With his open hand, he reached into his webbing and withdrew the dog tag talisman from its pouch.

"Ego Memor." he whispered as he tied the metal wire about his right vambrace and turned to follow the others.

**

John watched the APC move steadily up the hill towards them, crushing vegetation beneath its eight heavy tyres. The other three were standing next to him on the small deck that surrounded the front of the chalet, Sasha and Lily talking to each other in hushed tones and Owen observing the approaching vehicle with a sense of clinical detachment hanging about his body.

John was terrified. He covered it with a slouched posture and silence, but he knew he wasn't alone. He wasn't quite sure with Owen, the man having resumed the emotional capacity that he had had before their stranding. That was to say that he displayed about as much emotion as a rock. At least John knew that the two fems weren't discussing how good the weather was and were at least as scared as he was. Misery likes company.

The vehicle growled to a halt several dozen metres from them, throwing up chunks of dirt and pieces of torn-up grass as it locked its wheels. It was an olive-drab LAV-IV armed with what looked like an autocannon of some sort set into a slanted turret placed atop the heavy vehicle. The white letters that had been stencilled to its side in block letters had been scratched out and the ubiquitous 'H' symbol was emblazoned on both of its flanks and again on the nose above where John knew that the driver was seated. Kitbags and Jerry cans were hung unceremoniously from its sides and tucked into the stowage racks located along the upper rim of the vehicle. Several antennae sprung up from the back corners and wagged lazily in the air above it. Both the unlit headlights and smoke launchers stared angrily at the Phoenicians as the back doors swung open and a squad of well armoured troops in full combat dress deployed. The now-disembarked men noticed the four soldiers on the deck and covered them while careful not to point their weapons directly at them.

Owen took the initiative, starting to walk towards the idling APC and cautious soldiers. John and the furs made haste to join him and caught up to him as he was heading down the stairs.

"What are you doing?" asked Lily over the squad's private communication channel, unable to keep the edge of panic from her voice.

"Just follow my lead. And for the love of God, do as I say." Owen said tersely. "I have a plan."

"Hold it!" shouted a man that John correctly assumed was the squad leader. He had a combat shotgun held in a tight grip that he held pointed just below where Owen stood. The rest of the soldiers took the flanks in support of their leader, various firearms held at the ready. The turret on the LAV turned to within a hair of their location. John swallowed quietly. He knew that the gun that the vehicle was toting would make short work of their armour and the fleshy bits inside.

Owen kept walking, looking for all the world like he was going to try and kill them all himself. John held Owen's pistol loosely in his right hand, taking as much care as he could not to point it at anything except the ground. Owen still held his rifle loosely and John and the others kept their guns close to hand.

"I said halt!" ordered the one in command, who John now noticed was a sergeant judging by the chevrons on his shoulder.

"Who is in command here?" demanded Owen, his voice hissing through the external vox of his helmet.

"That would be me." came the angered reply. Owen shook his head.

"I doubt it." Owen responded. This seemed to take the man aback, as he slowed his pace before he came to a halt in front of Owen. His eyes narrowed under his helmet.

"Fine. I'm not." he hissed. "Why do you want to know? Not like it's going to make an inch of a difference."

"Because I'm wondering if he would be willing to talk to me."

The soldier laughed.

"I doubt it, Colonel," he said with a sneer, "Michelson doesn't want to talk to you."

"Huh." shrugged Owen. "That's too bad... Well then, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing up here?"

"Offering you a chance to surrender." came the reply. "It would save all of us a lot of trouble."

"You could always just leave us alone. I wouldn't shoot you in the back." shrugged Owen.

"I'm afraid that's not an option." said the man in a manner that suggested he was anything but. "Like it or not, you are not getting back to your friends. The higher-ups were pretty clear about that."

Owen looked around, eyeing the soldiers that were starting to spread out around them. "I figured as much."

"Last chance, Colonel." smiled the sergeant. "You either come with us, or you die up here."

Owen's nodded his head a little as if he were considering it. Despite himself, he hoped that Owen refused. He knew that Humanists weren't entirely... friendly... to their prisoners. Even less so to any gene projects unfortunate enough to find themselves captured by the Humanist military.

Suddenly, the inter-squad comms popped and Owen's voice filled his ear. "John, take the man directly to your right. Sasha; the one on the left. Lily, I want you to make sure that one trying to sneak up on us from behind is put down. Then get behind me. Ready on my mark." Owen still looked as if he was thinking of taking up the soldier's offer, but John noticed that his hand was tightening slightly on his rifle.

John tensed, hoping that whatever Owen was thinking of would work. If it didn't...

"Well," said Owen, his voice once more coming out of the external vox. John almost acted early, but managed to catch himself before he jerked his arm and gave away their impromptu plan. "As tempting as that offer is, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline." Owen spread his arms as if in an supplicating gesture.

"Now look,-" The sergeant was about to protest, but Owen cut him off by using the squad comms again.

"Mark."

John's hand whirled up quickly, assisted by the suit's internal systems, and fired the pistol. His hand barely registered the recoil as the matte-black weapon thundered and spat a trio of rounds at its target. The man he had been aiming at staggered backwards, several ragged holes appearing around the upper portion of his torso and his own weapon firing as his dying hand pulled the trigger impulsively. The rapid chattering of both of the SCARs said that the two furs had made their kills and John quickly dove backwards to comply with the last part of Owen's plan.

He ducked in behind Owen just as the man drew his knife, the silver lettering on its midnight-black blade gleaming in the sun. He had grabbed the squad leader around the torso, dropping the hunting rifle and pinning the man's arms to his sides with the strength that the armour gave him. The struggling sergeant was now suspended in the air as Owen flicked the knife up to his neck with his right hand. The two sisters tucked in behind John and aimed their rifles outwards at the three remaining soldiers that looked on with what could only be interpreted as surprise and shock.

John expected to be cut down any second, but the flurry of shots never came. He looked around curiously and kept his pistol up as he took stock of the situation. The soldiers were still reeling from the sudden outburst of violence and were all shouting one obscenity or another at them in an attempt to make Owen put their commanding officer down. The gun in the APC was now pointed directly at the Owen, but didn't shoot. Apparently, Owen's gamble with his rapid hostage situation had worked. The Humanists were unsure of how to respond.

"Now," grunted Owen in the sergeant's ear, "You are going to go back down to the resort and tell your leader that we declined his offer. I'd suggest seriously trying to dissuade him from coming up here himself unless he has a death wish, because I imagine that he's going to try and get you back up here too."

The man nodded vigorously.

"Good man." said Owen. "Now get your APC to back off. When it's at the bottom, I'll let you go."

It took some time, and a reasonable amount of stuttered verbiage on the part of the sergeant, but the vehicle eventually turned around and started making its way back down the hill. The soldiers left with it, not taking their eyes off of the enemy who had just killed three of their number and taken their leader hostage. When they were all sufficiently far enough away to not be an immediate threat, Owen slowly lowered the man to his feet.

"John: grab his sidearm." ordered Owen, not bothering to use the private channel.

John strode forwards and pulled the pistol from the holster strapped to his thigh. As an afterthought, he pulled the magazines for the weapon from the man's webbing along with those for his primary weapon, an ACR, and tucked them into his own. They would come in handy later, he thought.

Owen then released him. The man practically flew down the hill, breathing quickly and tripping more than once. The Phoenicians watched him go.

"You should have killed him." said Lily with a snort of discontent.

"Maybe." sighed Owen. "I guess we'll see soon enough."

**

Lily crouched down behind the fallen log, hoping desperately that the advancing Humanist troops wouldn't see her despite her suit's camouflage function. She clutched the detonator tightly in her right hand, ready to hit the switch when the first APC came into the blast zone that had been rapidly set up in a narrow choke point two-thirds of the way up the partly grown-in ski run. It had been about ten minutes since Owen had sent the 'diplomatic party' packing, and they hadn't been idle in that time. They had set up a trap quickly on the hillside in a matter of minutes, hoping that the frightened Humanist soldiers could delay the others for a while longer. And that the assault wave wouldn't look down too often. Taking a quick breath, she risked a glance up over the log.

The hill was teeming with soldiers, the men, and women if she was seeing correctly, of the Humanist force moving slowly but steadily up the incline, their faces alert and postures low. Both of their APCs were moving in support along with a trio of remote-controlled drones mounted with support weapons. The advance was cautious and in a wedge formation with the UGVs, three desk-sized Mk V Tarantulas carrying .50 calibre DSWs on rear-mounted turrets, making up the end and centre of the formation. The APCs were in between the gaps while an infantry screen composed the bulk of the advancing front. They were smart enough to expect resistance at the top of the hill and had decided to make the assault in force, totally eschewing the access roads that would have limited the advantage of their numbers and advancing in the per-described wave, but they were still not expecting what was to come next.

As soon as the leftmost APC passed the marker, a single twig that Owen had bent and dug into the ground as inconspicuously as possible, Lily hit the detonator. The APC was rocked by a great plume of earth and rock as the detonation from the explosive charge that John had found on one of the dead troopers roared into being. The blast was directly underneath the heavy vehicle and did its job quite effectively.

The explosion took out all of the right side tyres and succeeded in tearing the front two completely off of their mounts. The explosion was also supplemented by a dense cloud of expanding shrapnel courtesy of several frag grenades that had likewise been pulled from the corpses, reducing two soldiers to screaming, bloody banshees and crippling one of the three drones that were rolling in support of the attackers by destroying its sensor suite. Metal screeched as the armoured personnel carrier was forced to come to a sudden halt, parts and rubber coming off of the vehicle in equal measure. The rear ramp clanged down and four more troops entered the battlefield. The soldiers were frantically looking around and trying to get their bearings. Lily noticed that several of the troops that hadn't been hit by the shrapnel but had been close to the explosion were shouting, their hearing more than likely compromised for the time being.

"Five minute engagement." came Owen's voice over the squad comms as a timer lit up in the upper right hand corner of her helmet's HUD. It was glowing in red digital numbers and started counting down immediately.

Heaving a breath and popping up over the log, Lily took aim at the closest Humanist soldier fortunate enough to avoid the worst of the explosion. She pulled the trigger, sending a burst of 7.62 shots from her SCAR directly into his chest. Blood blossomed outwards from his body as he fell to the ground, his grip tightening reflexively and making the weapon still being clung to shoot an uncontrolled smattering of shots into the air. Lily had already switched targets before he hit the ground in a heap, firing again and hitting a woman in what appeared to be marine-issue gear. She spun away with the shot, her arm mangled and useless as she dropped the gun she had been holding.

Owen and Lily were likewise firing into the confused mass of troops from other positions situated in a sort of semi-circle in front of the advance. More men fell and Lily even saw one of the Tarantulas take a hit in the hydraulics responsible for moving the mounted weapon, sparks flying and the gun slumping downwards to dig into the ground. At least two of those things are out of the fight, she thought.

Then the Humanists gathered their wits about them and started to return fire. Though it wasn't directed at anything in particular, it was still enough to make Lily duck back and take cover. She was sill cloaked but didn't want to chance a lucky shot managing to find its mark as the troops fired at anything suspicious. The timer on her HUD showed four minutes.

"Change positions and fire again; try and confuse them!" came Owen's voice. Lily put his words into action and ran, crouching low, to hide behind a small group of sapling pine trees. Though not offering anything in the way of bullet resistance, it would still obscure her from view.

She swung the SCAR up again, its sturdy weight not affecting her in the least thanks to the suit's artificial musculature. She snapped off a few rounds at the nearest target, a red identity tag having been placed over him by one of the others. The man fell, a messy crater where his face should have been and Lily could barely suppress a grin as she sprinted to another cluster of small trees. The timer read three and a half minutes and was still counting down. Then the APCs decided to open fire.

Though the one on the left flank was immobilized, its gun still functioned and it swung its turret around to point exactly where Owen's IFF said he was. The vehicle must have been sporting thermals and had acquired a particularly strong heat signature courtesy of Owen's active camouflage running warm from his recent burst of activity. Lily's eyes widened in fear as the APC fired before she noticed that the other one, the one closest to her, was likewise acquiring a target.

She barely had time to lunge out of the way, landing heavily on a mercilessly hard rock, as the autocannon roared in her direction. Lily's armour took the brunt of the fall and she rolled desperately to avoid becoming holed like Swiss cheese. The high-velocity rounds tore up a series of deep gouges where she had been laying a moment before, the dirt and grass torn up by the impacts raining down around her. She scrabbled back to her feet quick enough to dodge the second burst with a bit more grace. Miraculously enough, she still held her rifle in her hands as she ran straight for the treeline. Lily ploughed through the underbrush, frantically trampling plants and snapping branches in her rush to disappear from the LAV-IV's sights. She moved just in time to avoid another hail of lethal shots from the APC that struck a tree off to her right. The tree splintered and cracked before the entire thing toppled over and fell in front of her. She lunged over it, her armour scraping across the spiny branches.

Lily flopped to the ground on the other side of the tree and lay still. Hopefully, the fallen tree would block her heat signature while she got her bearings. Her comm crackled as Owen came over the comms again. "That's good enough. Break off and fall back to the chalet. We'll try something else." Lily breathed a sigh of relief as she noted that he was still alive and rolled over to get to her feet. Time for the next plan. Hopefully the Humanists took their time to reorganize themselves.