“You expect the priest to welcome us with open arms?” Denver said.
“The priests are duty bound to provide shelter.”
A metal clank came from inside the temple, followed by a whirring like an electric drill. Vingo slowly advanced. Denver moved to his left, Layla covered his right, and Charlie swept the undergrowth, ensuring a clusp couldn’t spring a surprise attack.
“That doesn’t exactly sound like the regular activities of a priest,” Denver said.
“Wait,” Vingo said. “Let me look. It sounds like a…” He eased the metal door open with his rifle’s muzzle.
A black prism hovered over a table in the center of the gloomy temple, surrounded by circular benches on the outer area. It rotated in the air, firing white and red lasers down at an electronic device that appeared to be building in size.
Layla froze, concerned that even the slightest movement might attract the prism’s attention away from whatever it was currently doing.
“Everything all right in there?” Charlie said.
“What the hell—” Denver said.
Vingo fired a burst. Tredeyan rounds sparked off the sloped edges of the prism and ricocheted around the temple. Layla pulled her trigger. The rifle kicked against her shoulder and she felt its judder through her gauntlets.
Sky blue lights flashed around the midsection of the prism. The lasers stopped and it shot to the side of the room.
Denver hunched around Vingo and fired. Dust puffed off the wall around the scion machine as the rounds hit a decorative painting of a large tredeyan in a golden robe.
“What’s it doing?” Layla said as the prism circled around the far end of the temple and headed back toward them.
“It’s calculating what it should do next, based on our appearance. Prepare yourself,” Vingo said.
“How do we beat something like this?” Denver said.
“Cause enough damage, if we can.”
A small blue bolt shot from its base, passing straight between Layla and Denver in the blink of an eye and zipping into the forest over Charlie’s shoulder.
Layla and Denver fired again, but their rounds had no visible effect. Vingo jumped between them, knocking them out of the way as he rushed away from the entrance.
The prism’s rotations increased. A halo of white light appeared above it, brightening the rings of wooden benches crammed into the temple.
A piercing whistle blasted through the intercom, sending pain shooting through Layla’s ears. She grabbed either side of her helmet. Her focused blurred and she felt her grip weakening around her rifle.
Chapter 7
DREAMS WERE NOT the seeds of one’s own imagination but the confused signals of the gods. At least this was what Augustus believed.
He yawned and rolled off his bunk, standing up with a stretch of his arms over his head. His back cricked satisfyingly. He turned to the small bedside table and removed a root pill from the drawer, downing it without water.
While he waited for the active ingredient to hit his bloodstream, he thought back to his earlier daydream.
Shortly after seeing to Zoe, he fell into a slumber. At first his dreams were the usual replaying of the day’s events: his conversation with his scion handler, Zoe on her hands and knees, but more importantly the remembering of a thought that had crossed his mind earlier in the day before; it disappeared as soon as it arrived.
This thought was about the scion and their purpose.
Since Augustus had taken over from the insider croatoan agent—this was when he was back on the mother ship with Hagellan and the council—he had always wondered what the scion’s true mission was.
He didn’t believe they wanted him to take over Unity, and essentially Earth, just for the entertainment factor of it. Although he had to admit that since gathering his forces and connecting with the other farms, he was certainly finding a lot to be entertained by.
Not least was Zoe. She really was quite a remarkable woman. Her pain, and pleasure, tolerance was admirably high. She reminded him of a previous concubine from back in his Roman days.
Back then, though, the women would break all too easily, but Zoe was bred from hardier stock. Perhaps she was more like him than he first realized.
She had certainly seemed to ingratiate herself into his thoughts.
Augustus smiled and sat back down on the bunk; the sheets smelled of her sweat and musk, conjuring the image of her naked body in his mind.
But now wasn’t the time to give in to animal urges.
He turned his thoughts back to the scion: what was it they were truly after? He knew they had been battling with the Croatoan Empire for millennia all throughout the galaxy. The previous agent had told him just a few details: that they were searching for their creator and it had something to do with humans, hence why the croatoan agent was turned against his race, and now Augustus had taken up the mantle.
But why humans? he thought.
What was it about his species that was of such interest to them? The scion had been around for longer than humanity—at least those on Earth—and had grown to such a formidable size they now truly threatened the largest empire the galaxy had ever seen: the croatoans.
When two huge entities like that clash, the ripples change the future—and Augustus didn’t want to get caught in the riptide. He wanted to be in a position to ride the wave, conquer it.
As far as he was concerned, once Unity was taken and the scion gave him his promise, he would be the custodian for the humans, and then he could negotiate with the scion for more information.
He had learned even as a small child that you keep your enemies closer than your friends, and you get to know them better than you know yourself.
When it came to the scion, though, there was no real understanding of them in his current situation. Information was permitted to him only when they saw fit.
That would need to change.
His thoughts were disturbed by the sounds of two shuttles landing in the square outside of his personal building. He turned to glance out of the window and watched as two large farm shuttles settled on the landing strip.
Once grounded, their passenger ramps lowered and a group of two men and three women stepped out and approached Zoe. In the darkness of the shuttles, hundreds of humans and croatoans sat, waiting.
Troops… reinforcements.
My army, Augustus thought, the sight bringing a smile to his face.
Zoe walked across the square with purpose, tying her hair into a tight bun. When she approached the others, they shared handshakes and motioned to the shuttles. Zoe nodded her approval and turned her back.
Augustus fitted his mask and left his room. A short corridor led out into the square. Still dressed in his fatigues, he strode across the ground toward the group with all the posture his position deserved.
This particular farm’s croatoan and human troops saw him and quickly stepped into rigid formation, their previous chatter silencing instantly. It seemed they were learning quickly. He enjoyed the effect he had on others; no doubt his new mask and choice of uniform only added to that impression.
“Augustus,” Zoe said, saluting with the respect of someone who hadn’t just learned his most intimate desires, “the reinforcements have arrived.”
Anyone else would receive a derogatory comment about observing the obvious, but for her he just nodded and turned his attention to the new entourage. An older woman with a rich complexion and huge eyes stepped forward, her lithe hand held out toward him.
“Good evening, Augustus; it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, let me introduce myself and my allies.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m Umbuwe, the coordinator for Farm 153. We were the first to heed your call and organize ourselves. I must say, it was like a call from heaven. Things were getting difficult for a time… but then you called, galvanized us, and gave us a common mission.”