Enzo looked out the window of the Mi-171 transport as it buzzed over the canopy line of the thick Tibetan forest. Having grown up in the mountains of Costa Rica, he was reminded of his Central American home by this land. Sure, the trees looked different and the sharp biting edge of the Tibetan mountain air was a sharp contrast to the humidity of the jungle, but both were a far cry from the oppressive steel, concrete, and smog of Qingdao.
You miss your sheltered life at the Hatchery?
“Incubation had its pleasures, but Hatchery life was no life at all. I am now truly alive, fulfilling my destiny.”
We shall see. Your actions have been bold and successful to an extent. However, you assume too much risk.
“My apologies, Zoras. I shall work harder to earn your favor.”
A few minutes later, the dense forest opened into a clearing, and the tops of the internment camp buildings appeared. As the transport hovered in the air, Enzo took the time to study the camp below. The entire place was a mess.
He had assumed the internment camp was run like most Genjix facilities: controlled, uniform, and clean. However, the scene had no semblance of order. The buildings were a sad-looking bunch, made from wood and plaster. Several showed the blackened burns of battle while others seemed decrepit from lack of maintenance.
The center building was in much better shape than the smaller outlying facilities. It was a two-story structure reinforced with steel beams and riot control windows. Enzo watched as groups of men congregated at the western fence. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that some of the buildings on that side still smoldered. Approximately twenty meters of the fence had been torn apart as well.
We seem to have come at the right time.
With the helicopter still five meters from the ground, Enzo jumped out and landed gracefully on his feet. “You,” he called to the nearest officer directing a squad of men clearing wreckage. “Report.”
Looking irritated, the officer turned and stopped, his mouth dropped open. A man young enough to be his son was barking orders as if a general, and carrying himself as if a god. And in this case, he was right on all accounts. The officer looked him up and down and then noticed the helicopter still hovering in the air.
He did the rational thing and saluted. “Father.”
Enzo noted the tiredness around his eyes and the trembling in his hands. His left hand was wrapped hastily and blood seeped through the bandages. This man, a career soldier by his bearing, probably had not slept in over thirty-six hours.
Enzo saluted back. “What happened here?”
“Latest attack fifteen minutes ago, an explosion on the western perimeter. Six confirmed enemy dead, thirty friendlies. Seventy prisoners escaped.”
“Seventy!”
Newgard has lost control of the situation. That or it is much worse than we anticipated. You were right to come.
“How many of the escaped were vessels?” Enzo snarled.
The officer averted his eyes only for a split second. “Fifteen. The Prophus knew exactly where to hit us.”
Then Enzo frowned and scanned the field. Many of the buildings were damaged, and the ground was scarred from battle, but this couldn’t have been all from one attack. The Prophus had to be precise in their assaults to avoid injuring their own.
He assumed a softer tone to the officer. “How many attacks have there been?”
To the officer’s credit, he didn’t bat an eye when he spoke. “Sixteen in the past forty-eight hours, Father.”
Relieve that fool Newgard at once!
Enzo reached out and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Your performance is commendable. Get that hand seen to and stand down. Relieve the men in similar states. The remainder will be relieved in a few hours when my men reach the base.” He patted the officer one more time and watched as a wave of relief passed over him.
“Thank you, Father,” the man breathed before jogging to the fence and calling half a dozen men to follow him to the central building.
Your die has been tossed. Now take ownership. There is no backing out now. Expect blowback from Vinnick.
“Palos,” Enzo barked sharply. The head of his bodyguards approached and bowed. “Assume command of this rabble and clean this mess up. Send the men who are injured for medical care and have your team take their place. Seal this section by nightfall, and station guards at twenty meters. Pull all able-bodied men to establish a defensive perimeter until the rest of my forces arrive. Reallocate non-military personnel to double duty that the guards would normally have. I want fighting men to do nothing but fight, guard, and sleep. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Father,” Palos bowed again and signaled to one of his men.
Enzo stormed into the main building, followed closely by his entourage. The startled guards at the front door stood frozen with terror. The building was just as chaotic inside as outside. Personnel scampered around as if they were still under siege. A quick image flashed in Enzo’s head of Chateau Gaillard. Zoras’ host at the time was one of twenty knights who had held the castle for eight months before it finally fell.
The right wing of this building was a makeshift infirmary. There must have been fifty men lying on the floor, bloodied and battered. Enzo clicked his tongue in disapproval. This entire triage was a mess. Near the front, officers barked orders to soldiers and engineering crews in a large room serving as a makeshift command post.
An uncomfortable-looking aide approached him and bowed. “Father Enzo, we heard you were coming at the very last minute. Unfortunately, there have been several unforeseen-”
“Newgard,” Enzo said in a low, soft voice. “Where is he?”
The aide stepped aside and gestured down the left hallway. “In the war room, Father. Allow me to-”
Enzo strode past him down the hallway and barged into the war room, startling the fool commander of this sad camp. Newgard and the three men with him froze hunched over a map.
Enzo looked each in the eye and spoke one word. “Out.”
The herd nearly stampeded out the door. Enzo kept his face neutral, but a small piece of him was enjoying the intimidation and terror he inspired as a vessel of the Council. Only Newgard stood erect before him, simultaneously defiant and cowed.
His eyes met Enzo’s and did not flinch, but the nervous quiver in his voice betrayed him. “Father, this is a pleasant surprise. I thank you for your support. However, everything is well in hand.”
“Well in hand?” Enzo kept his voice so soft that Newgard had to strain to hear. “How many prisoners have been lost?”
“Six hundred and thirty-”
“I don’t care about the humans,” Enzo snapped. “How many vessels?”
Newgard averted his eyes. “Eighty-four.”
“And yet you believe matters are well in hand? Even after losing three convoys?
“Yes, Father,” Newgard stammered. “The Prophus have been raiding us continuously with the aid of the Tibetan Underground. Then a few days ago, they began making incursions into the facility. I have contacted Father Vinnick for additional support, which should be here in a few days.”
“At the rate you’re going, in a few days, you won’t have any prisoners left,” Enzo replied. “Newgard, I am relieving you of duty. You will report to Commander Palos.”
Newgard’s eyes flashed, and for the first time, Enzo saw real defiance in them. “Apologies, Father, but I will not abdicate my command. I report to Father Vinnick of the Genjix Council and am out of your jurisdiction.”
Careful how you tread. Push too softly and you will undermine your position in the Council. Push too hard and you risk conflict with the Council. If you take command of the facility and fail, Vinnick will have every right to remove you from your position and assume your holdings.
How dare this man question his order! Enzo took a step forward. “I’m on the Council, Newgard, and you will hand over your command.” He turned to Palos. “Send the rest of your men out.”