The God Mars Book Six: Valhalla I Am Coming (6 page)

“This is what you gave us samples of?” Richards
confirms.

“They’re damaged, but should be useful to study.
Beware the injector array…” I indicate the mechanism on the model.
“...it contains a magazine which can hold up to six individual seed
groups. Each seed group is a set of pre-programmed nano-machines
that are designed to enter the bloodstream and seek the brain stem.
Once they get there, they begin to scavenge the body for raw
materials to build with.”

“To build another one of these?” Richards
follows.

“Their cases are a kind of cellulose polymer and
ceramic made from what the seeds scavenge from the host body—the
brain and skull,” I stay clinical for the moment. “That makes them
hard to detect with conventional scanners. Even the injector tips
are nano-carbon. What iron, copper, zinc and other metals the seeds
can sift from the host are used sparingly for the processing core,
neuro-interfaces and other control hardware.”

“So it’s hard to see them coming,” Rios interjects
himself into our conversation.

“They’re good at hiding, and they don’t need to
broadcast or receive command signals to operate. Even when they do,
those signals are hard to detect, and the modules emit very little
EMR. But their bodies are warm—not as warm as a living human’s, but
enough to detect if they’re moving at night. And when they’re
moving, they’re not very stealthy. Otherwise, it’s pretty easy to
identify them by how the look, how they move, how they smell.”

“Like corpses,” Richards remembers from the video
Asmodeus uploaded. “Zombies.”

I give him a nod, accepting the comparison. I’ve
certainly thought it myself, even though these are really a kind of
horrible robot.

“And how hard is it to detect infection?” Jackson
risks asking me for intel.

“The seed nanites are equally difficult to track once
injected, but the mechanical injector leaves a telltale wound, the
newer dart delivery system less-so. But it becomes pretty obvious
within twenty-four hours.”

I take a breath. It smells stale in here, tight,
lived-in.

“You’ve seen the video. The host dies, though slowly
and horribly, over a period of about three days, as their brain and
parts of their skull are consumed. When the module comes online, it
takes control over voluntary and involuntary muscles, commandeering
the body and keeping it alive. It even excretes a cellular
preservative to slow decomposition if the body is damaged too badly
to maintain itself. Even with catastrophic organ damage, it can
keep a body moving as long as the module is intact and the muscle
tissue is viable enough to respond to electrical stimulation.
Sensor stalks penetrate into the eyes from behind, allowing the
drone to gather intel as well as seek new prey. From our own
studies of these modules, we believe they target by heat and
motion. They also have sets of pre-programmed algorithms, which is
how they can carry out missions without signals from their
command.”

“But they’re just flesh and bone and plastic,”
Jackson focuses on the obvious defense. “A well-placed bullet will
disable them.”

“’Well-placed’ is the key word,” I warn. “Shooting
the body will only slow them down.”

“We have smart weapons, Colonel,” Jackson dismisses.
“Or have you forgotten?”

“The drones are very effective at ambushes using
hide-and-wait tactics,” I decide to give my advice directly to
Richards, though Rios, Jane and Lisa are listening intently. “They
can bury themselves for extended periods.”

“He’s already loaded the seeds into projectiles,”
Lisa recalls what we learned at Katar, what Asmodeus merrily showed
everyone. “He could start loading them into shrapnel. Or some other
delivery device. The drones may not be necessary to spread the
infection.”

They see the look on my face, see that I’m holding
back.

“It’s already worse than that,” I admit with a long,
heavy exhalation. “Asmodeus has recently used a much simpler
implant that can manipulate a host’s emotions without other
symptoms. Vector unknown—we couldn’t find an obvious entry wound in
the victim. And he’s also working on upgrades, bringing them closer
to what we are, what I am.” I look at Jackson. “You want something
to be afraid of? He can selectively alter a host’s DNA, and
download a copy of his memories into the modules.”

“Making copies of himself,” Rios concludes, not
caring if he’s speaking out of turn.

“Of variable quality, but they’re all networked
together,” I make it even worse. “He’s already used them to decoy
us, and in suicide attacks.”

“At Katar,” Lisa specifies from what she already
knows. “On the second Stormcloud.”

“And the Pax Keep yesterday,” I add my latest defeat.
But then I give them what little good news I have: “They’re not
perfect, and not complete. Right now he’s making them to be
disposable. He probably has the know-how to do better, but even if
he could, knowing his ego, I doubt he’d make a copy as strong and
indestructible as his primary body.”

I shift the image to a map of the Western Vajra, the
Green Trident, and brief them:

“He just attacked the Pax Hold Keep, their
subterranean stronghold.” I indicate the mountain. “We had to
evacuate, but an unknown number of Pax fled into the thick forest
before they could be checked. If any were infected, they’ll turn,
into corpse drones or something else. The rest were moved clear of
the area. Asmodeus may be using the abandoned Keep to hide in, to
stage, at least temporarily, since he lost his base at Lucifer’s
Grave and his flying fortress. The location is ideal: the caves go
deep into the mountain, and it’s highly defensible. But this could
also be another distraction, to keep our attention and resources on
trying to clear the site while he hits elsewhere. So far, Katar is
clear, and so is Eureka. But I’ve heard stories of even more
people, survivor groups further east, that might make easy
prey.”

“Have you managed any kind of defense, a
countermeasure?” Richards asks. Jackson rolls his eye.

“So far the only countermeasure is
us
,” I give
him the uncomfortable truth. I look at Jackson. “And yes, I know
this fits right into your theory about us, Colonel. The only known
protection is conversion, modification, hybridization. But if that
was the plan, if we even had the ability to do that at will, why
haven’t we offered it to the at-risk locals?”

“Because they’re the bait, the sell,” he comes back
fast. “We see what happens to them, and we beg you to ‘save’ us,
line up for slaughter.”

“And Asmodeus will happily play into that fear. But
the fact is: I’m not contagious. None of those like me are. I have
no way to prove that, just like I have no way to make you trust
that I wouldn’t convert more people into what I am if I could. I’ve
seen
that world. I know what it does to us. And you
should
be terrified of it.”

“There has to be another way,” Lisa hopes.

“We’ve tried to use our tech to surgically hunt down
and neutralize all the seeds in a victim through direct contact,
but we haven’t been successful,” I risk admitting. I see Jackson
lick the inside of his lips, simultaneously squirming and
validated, but he already knows we can extend our tech into
whatever we can make physical contact with.

“EMR?” Richards guesses, keeping the briefing
productive.

“The body shields the seeds too well, and they’re too
hardy,” I shoot that down. “You’d have to use so much current that
you’d kill the host.”

“What about once they get to the brain stem?” Jackson
actually asks a constructive, thoughtful question. “You said they
gather there. Can they be extracted micro-surgically at that
point?” The last part still managed to sound accusatory.

“Maybe. But it’s invasive, risky. The host would be
damaged for life. At that point, they already are. And if you don’t
get all the seeds, they’ll replicate and start again.”

“What about the ETE?” Richards changes tacks.

“Also working on a solution.” Or I assume they are. I
haven’t heard back from Paul. I think that needs to be my next
stop. I can only hope they’ve decided to collectively take their
heads out and get back in the fight.

“You gave samples of this technology to the ETE?”
Jackson jumps on that like I’ve given them a weapon.

“Either they’re what they say they are, or they’re
the engineers of this,” I use Jackson’s own argument. “If they
are
the latter, then I only gave them what they made.”

But I get another smirk from his partial mouth.

“You may or may not be able to infect others with
your technology, but we know the ETE can, and
do
infect
their own children. So if my ‘baseless paranoia’ is right, I’m
betting they will conveniently come up with a ‘cure’.”

“And I know none of you will ever accept a cure that
entails nanotech implantation, not unless you can be absolutely
sure it’s safe,” I give. “That’s why I gave you the samples to
study. Hopefully you can come up with your own countermeasure.” I
look at Jackson. “And if you don’t believe I’ve given you the real
thing, I’m afraid you’ll have plenty of opportunities to get your
own soon enough.”

This gets followed by a tense silence as they digest
what they’re facing.

“UNMAC Earthside is probably going to insist that we
move to evacuate the vulnerable populations in the region,”
Richards voices one of my fears before Jackson can celebrate
it.

“The Katar and the Pax won’t budge,” I remind them of
the obvious. “The Pax are very good at hiding in the growth.”

“And the Katar now have a significant number of
captured Chang bots and drones,” Jackson goes right back into
strategic paranoia.

“Those bots have been permanently altered,” I update
them, not that it will soothe Jackson and his like. “They can no
longer be slaved to a remote command signal. They protect Katar by
the choice of their organic processing components.”

“’Organic processing components,’” Jackson repeats my
choice of wording. “Those would be the human brains Fohat butchered
out of their wounded soldiers. So they’re former enemy combatants,
suffering God knows what kind of psychological and neurological
trauma? And you consider them reliable assets?”

“We can monitor their function,” I keep it vague, not
specifying Dee’s role in that equation.

“Which means
you
control them,” Jackson
prosecutes. “So are they there to protect the Katar, or enslave
them?”

It’s my turn to smirk.

“We can keep playing this game of faith, Colonel: I
have no other way to prove my intentions than by my actions, and
you can interpret those actions any way you like. But isn’t that
the nature of alliance in war? We use each other out of necessity.
Maybe that leads to a lasting relationship of mutual benefit. Maybe
one side turns on the other. History certainly has enough examples
of either. What’s the saying? ‘Hope for the best…’”

“’…prepare for war,’” he mixes sentiments. “Would
you
trust you, if you were in my position?”

“No,” I readily admit. “But I
would
use an
asset. With precautions.”

“And you keep saying we have no precautions against
you. Unless you’re willing to show us how to destroy you?”

I don’t grace that trap with an answer, even when the
answer is that the last man who tried ended up a walking
silhouette, broken with grief. As far as I know, the only thing
that can destroy us is Yod.

I’m sure my silence on the matter is being
interpreted through Jackson’s paranoia.

“
Can
we kill Asmodeus?” Richards redirects our
‘negotiations’ back to the practical again, however dead-ended. But
since I almost trust him:

“You can damage his body, but if anything at all
survives, he can regenerate,” I give them the ultimate challenge.
“And at that point, he
will
be infectious. His nanites will
seek whatever or whoever is handy for resources to rebuild.”

“The only ones safe in that situation are others like
us,” Lisa finishes.

“So we have to ultimately trust
you
with the
disposition of the enemy,” Jackson joyfully criticizes.

“We need to get those people out of harm’s way,”
Richards again refocuses. “If they won’t relocate, they at least
need to accept protection, military assistance.”

“That puts your people at risk,” I warn, though I’m
certainly not refusing the help.

“And creates a potential vector back to our main
force,” Jackson extrapolates.

“Then we need an effective way to detect infection,”
Lisa gives Richards a fresh priority. I catch that she’s still
referring to herself as part of UNMAC. He gives her a nod of
agreement.

“What’s the status of Eureka Colony?” Jackson asks
like he would actually believe what I tell him, looking at the
map.

“It was a PK-held site, similar to Industry and the
others, but smaller. A recent battle with the Katar decimated the
local PK force and drove the survivors to fall-back positions,
leaving their civilian population behind.” I’m editing out Drake’s
part of that action. And that I introduced a virus written by Dee
that disabled all the PK smart weapons to keep them from preying on
their own civilians, since it’s a tactic I could—and might have
to—use on the UNMAC forces if things go that wrong.

“We could evacuate the civilians,” Jackson suggests
like he’s already decided. “They’re used to obeying a military
authority, so they’re likely to comply. Resistance should be
minimal.”

My slow measured exhale sounds like a growl. He
really doesn’t hear himself—it’s too much what he is. But it
confirms exactly the kind of people I’m dealing with.

Lisa shoots me a look that says don’t push it, that
there’s no point and it will only make it worse. But these bastards
are absolutely comfortable with taking away the freedom of others
“for their own good,” and doing it by force is only a small
annoyance to them.