The sneaky little scarlet imp had lied to Bate.

She’d told him she could take him to where treasure was hidden. And so PVT Stewart Peter Bate had followed her up to a cave in the hills.

He should have run the little bitch through with Granpa’s trusty ole bayonet. He was going to. You couldn’t take any chances with these tricksy hindigs, even the ones that looked like bratty little girls. But then she’d mentioned treasure and Bate’s ears had pricked up.

This could be his Great Uncle Fergus Stash.

The Great Uncle Fergus Stash was a legend among the Sullivan clan. Great Uncle Fergus had been fighting the Second World War out in Europe when his squad had come across a bunch of Nazis trying to smuggle gold bullion across the border. After shooting the Nazis dead there had been the matter of what to do with the gold. Their squad leader, a fresh-faced stick-up-the-ass cherry-boy by the name of Raymond McAllister, had insisted they report it to their CO so the gold could be returned to its rightful owners. Fortunately for Great Uncle Fergus, and the other men of the squad, McAllister was mysteriously shot dead in the middle of the night by a very well-hidden German sniper. The next morning, after mourning the tragic death of their heroic squad leader, the men got down to the business of finding a hiding place for the gold, where it could be kept safe until they could come back to collect it after the end of the war. That had been another story in itself, his Granpa had told an enrapt Bate and his siblings, one that could rival even the best of the Hollywood capers.

Granpa and the rest of the family hadn’t heard from Great Uncle Fergus after that. Story was he’d used the money to start up a casino business in Vegas and had spent the rest of his days fat and balls-deep in hookers. No one held any bitterness over it. It was how things were done in the Sullivan clan.

So, when the scarlet imp had told Bate about treasure, his first thought was that it was his turn, his fortune, his Great Uncle Fergus Stash.

He’d caught her snooping around while he’d been on regular patrol. Ever since Bate had stepped through the gate and entered this alien dimension, everyone around him--the fancy officers, the big brains in lab coats, even the other grunts--had bigged up the threat of the local inhabitants, the hindigs. They were the devils of myth. They were evil suckyoubuses that hypnotized men and sucked out their souls.

Maybe it was because guns and all the other fancy doodads didn’t work properly out here. It made Bate glad he’d brought Grandpa’s Ole Reliable along with him. She might be an antique, but whatever hoodoo that shorted out electronic circuits and prevented the more modern guns from firing seemed to have less of a hold on the old Springfield. And even if it failed, there was always the bayonet, ten inches of Fork & Hoe steel, on the tip.

The scarlet imp didn’t look all that intimidating. She looked like a twelve-year-old girl in red paint and a Halloween devil costume. Sure, there was experience and wisdom in her black eyes no twelve-year-old ever had, but she still had the body of a typical prepubescent teenage girl. She could have been Bate’s bratty half-sister.

Not exactly threatening.

This one had broken down and started begging for her life the moment Bate had waved Granpa’s Ole Reliable in her face.

“Please don’t kill me,” she sobbed. “I’ll do anything for you. Anything.”

Bate knew what she was hinting at with anything. She might look like a twelve-year-old girl, but she was clearly older and more experienced. Experienced enough to know what bits to shake to get a man’s attention.

Bate wasn’t interested. She still looked like a twelve-year-old girl and Stewart Peter Bate was no paedo. Not like his cousin, Trick, who liked them young and tight, as he put it. Bate didn’t judge. What a man stuck his johnson in was his own business. When it came to his own johnson, Bate liked them with more padding on their chest and hips, not like this bratty little half-pint.

Bate pondered what to do with her. He could bring her back alive, but that was a hassle. Maybe she’d try to run away. Maybe she’d pull one of those hindig tricks he’d heard spoken of in fearful whispers.

Maybe he’d be better off sticking her like a pig. He could always claim it was self-defense. The big brains in the lab coats would be just as excited to get a fresh body to cut up.

Well, maybe not Dr. Letterman, the squad’s embedded big brain. He was about as wet and unsuited for the front line as they came. The sort that fainted clean away at the first sight of blood.

Bate mulled it over. A body was a lot easier to handle than a living breathing prisoner.

The little imp must have guessed what he was thinking as she abandoned her clumsy attempts at seduction. “Wait! Wait!” she said. “Treasure! I know where there’s treasure. I can take you to it.”

That caught Bate’s attention. All of the Sullivan clan knew the stories of The Great Uncle Fergus Stash.

Still with his bayonet levelled at her, he asked, “Where?”

“Not far from here. There’s an old hidden temple. I can take you to it.”

Bate mulled it over.

“If you know where it is, why haven’t you already taken it?”

The scarlet imp shrugged. “If you can’t eat or play with it, what use is it? We know you humans care about it. We’ve seen how excited you get when you find it.”

Bate mulled it over.

“How far?”

“Not far. Up there and around behind those rocks.” The scarlet imp turned and pointed to a rocky hill maybe one or two clicks from their current position.

Bate mulled it over.

He’d be late coming back from his patrol. He’d need an explanation.

That was easy enough. These boulder-strewn steppes were mazy. Easy enough for a man to lose his footing and get turned around. Easy to get lost when compasses didn’t work.

Squad Echo Whiskey Two had already lost one man, Fletcher, a couple of days back, although most of the men reckoned he’d upped and deserted. Maybe found himself a big-titted hindig and was off making little baby hindigs somewhere. Explo Squad Echo Whiskey Two wasn’t exactly what you could term red-hot on discipline, being mainly composed of the dregs that had barely dodged court martials or washing out.

Bate would still get shit from the CO when he eventually returned. Not that he cared that much. Their CO, CPL Butz, was too dumb to realize he’d been saddled with a bunch of malcontents because the top brass knew they wouldn’t lose too much if the whole expedition got eaten by an alien monster. And their embedded big brain in a lab coat, Dr. Letterman, was wetter than a lettuce leaf soaked in piss.

Bate could handle it. He’d just tell them he’d got turned around and lost his bearings. It would be fine.

“Lead the way,” he said.

Now that she was no longer in immediate danger of being run through by Bate’s trusty bayonet, the scarlet imp reverted back to her original slutty-bratty nature.

“You won’t regret it,” she said. “It’s a lot of treasure. More than your wildest dreams.”

Bate liked the sound of more than your wildest dreams. This could be his Great Uncle Fergus Stash for sure. He still gave the scarlet imp a little jab with the pointed tip of his bayonet.

“Hey, quit it, jerk!” the scarlet imp complained. “I’m going to make you rich.”

“You’d better,” Bate said. “Lead the way. And if you try anything, I’ll skewer both your kidneys.”

He gave her another jab in the buttocks. Not that there was much there.

The scarlet imp took him up to a stone entrance tucked away around the back of the hill. It was clearly man-made. Or should that be alien-made. An archway had been carved into the rock face. It depicted two women with the lower bodies of snakes leaning over and kissing.

“What is this place?” Bate asked.

“An old temple to Teeotonatikoatlia, a sun goddess.”

Bate glanced up at the sky.

“Sun goddess?”

The sky was an ugly bruise of roiling clouds, same as it always was. Bate hadn’t seen anything resembling a sun since setting foot in this alien dimension.

The scarlet imp shrugged. “It’s how it translates to your language.”

She walked through the archway and Bate followed. His eyes accustomed to the gloom and he saw a cracked stone staircase leading down.

“Any traps?” he asked.

The scarlet imp looked back with a puzzled expression. “Why would a goddess want to prevent people from visiting her temple?”

Maybe, but Bate knew it would be awfully convenient for the imp if he happened to fall down a big pit, or stepped on the wrong stone and got himself riddled with arrows. He watched where she put her feet and made sure to step in the same spots.

At the bottom of the staircase was a long straight hallway. The passageway was lit up at regular intervals by globes filled with soft yellow light. The walls were decorated with friezes of more snake women, their bodies tangled together in sensual couplings. Looking at them started up an itch in Bate’s crotch.

The corridor looked like it hadn’t seen use in some time. The floor was dusty, large cracks ran through the walls and some of the hanging light globes had lost their glow.

They entered a small antechamber, also dusty and abandoned. Twin statues of snake girls stood either side of double doors. Each statue depicted a pair of snake girls wound around each other. Their breasts were uncovered and mouths open in ecstasy. The itch in Bate’s loins grew.

“Teeotonatikoatlia and Metstlisentlinayo, goddess of the moon,” the scarlet imp said.

Bate started as he realized he’d let himself get distracted by stone tits and taken his eyes off the imp. Fortunately, she hadn’t taken advantage of it and was standing and staring at the other statue.

“Their love was as fiery and passionate as the sun, and as deep and unfathomable as a moonlit lake. And doomed as all love is. The moon can only reflect light. It creates none of its own. Only lust is pure.”

Bate didn’t really care about that. He was just here for the treasure.

“So this cult, was it powerful?”

The scarlet imp shrugged. “So so.”

She pushed the double doors open and Bate’s mouth fell open at what he saw on the other side.

It was a big cavern and a temple had been built in the middle of it, or carved out of it. A stone stair ran up between more statues of entwined snake women and led to a larger, more impressive set of double doors. Beams of light shone down from the cavern ceiling. They looked like shafts of sunlight even though Bate was sure they were still underground. And besides, the sky outside was overcast and hidden by clouds anyway.

He whistled. “The snake people sure worked hard to make this.”

“Snake people?” the imp queried. “This was built by humans.”

“Humans?”

“Humans worship. We obey,” the imp said.

Humans? How could that be possible. The big brains in lab coats said they were the first to ever set foot in H-space. This temple looked like it had been here for centuries.

“Humans. How did they get here?” Bate asked as they started to climb the chiseled stone steps.

“They prayed to Teeotonatikoatlia to bring them to paradise. The goddess granted their prayers. The Dominion absorbed them into her fold.”

Whoever they were, they must have been rich to build all this. Bate felt his excitement mount as he climbed the stairs.

This was going to be his Great Uncle Fergus Stash. Hell, given where they were--an undiscovered alien planet--it might be bigger and more valuable than even the legendary Great Uncle Fergus Stash.

Maybe so big he might need help to carry it all.

The scarlet imp wouldn’t be any use, and Bate was planning on killing her the moment she revealed where the gold was anyway.

Who could he call on? It couldn’t be the whole squad. CPL Butz, as stupid as he was, was still too much of a boy scout. The doc too. Haynes had the same morals as Bate, and that was the problem. He was too much alike Bate. Bate didn’t want to spend his whole time checking his back in case Haynes decided all was better than half.

Adams was a drunk and his tongue flapped too much when he fell in a bottle. Too much of a liability. That left Hirsch. Maybe.

Bate mulled it over.

Hirsch could work. The big galoot was dumber than a box of rocks and brawny like an ox. He was another boy scout, but Bate reckoned he could turn him around. He’d heard Hirsch talk about his sick mother. A stash of treasure would pay all those medical bills just fine.

Yeah, Hirsch would be perfect. And if Bate decided all was better than half, Hirsch was dumb enough that it shouldn’t be too hard to arrange.

Bate’s excitement grew even more when they went through the doors at the top of the steps and entered the temple. The rooms beyond were so opulent and luxurious they more resembled a movie star’s crib than a place of worship. Plush furniture, fine silk hangings, more fancy sculptures ... the high priests certainly enjoyed the good life. Then wasn’t that purpose of religion--to hoodwink the gullible into handing over their cash.

In contrast to the entrance, the inner rooms seemed remarkably well preserved. There was no dust, or cobwebs, or cracks in the walls. The quarters looked like they were regularly maintained by someone or something.

“Where are the worshippers?” Bate asked.

“Gone,” the imp replied.

He ran his finger over the lush seat of a fancy couch. No dust. It could have been cleaned yesterday.

“Gone? What happened to them?”

“Ran out.” The imp shrugged.

Maybe the imp was squatting here. Or it was some sort of hoodoo that left it preserved like a museum piece. It didn’t feel like there was anyone here, even if the furnishings looked as fresh as the day they’d been made.

“And they left their treasures behind?”

“They had no more need of them.”

So they got what they wanted, and then ran out. Stupid fucks. Oh well. Their loss, his gain, Bate thought.

Bate looked around the room, mentally totting up the wall hangings, the lavish furniture, the fancy sculptures. It was a fortune. Had to be.

He’d need more than Hirsch. He’d need all of Echo Whiskey Two. Well, all of Echo Whiskey Two minus Butz and Dr. Letterman. Those two boy scouts had a tragic fall off a high cliff in their futures. He could bring in one of the other squads to help as well. Probably Echo Whiskey Five. They were like Echo Whiskey Two--troublemakers with long rap sheets who could be relied upon to put money before morals.

Bate didn’t mind splitting at this point. There was more than enough here to make several men extremely wealthy once they got back to Earth. He’d take the largest cut of course. Finder’s fee.

“The treasure is this way,” the scarlet imp said, “in the goddess’s inner chamber.”

More treasure? Bate was giddy with excitement. Even more treasure. This was the jackpot, the Great Uncle Fergus Stash to end all Great Uncle Fergus Stashes. He was going to be so fucking rich.