Chapter 3

Cautiously, I examine contusion on the back of the girl's head. As I had planned, the flat part of the rock deflected off of the contour of her skull, simply knocking her out. An intense thermal scan shows no serious hemorrhaging. At least my aim isn't failing me yet. How do normal humans keep from screwing up constantly?

Looking at her face, I see that she is quite pretty, despite the fact that she has obviously lived a hard life. Searching her clothes and knapsack, I find a nine-millimeter automatic, with two spare magazines, a supply of rations, and a sealed envelope. I also notice that she is slim and strong under those clothes. Focus. I confiscate the pistol, ammunition and envelope, but leave her the food. She's already regaining consciousness.

For several minutes, her eyes roll back and forth, her groaning gaining volume. Once her eyes open, she begins taking stock of herself and her situation. Her gaze falls upon me for a full second before she tries to jump to her feet, though the sudden movement obviously aggravates her head injury, causing her to fall back down. I remain crouching, unmoving, so as not to spook her further.

"It's alright. Calm down and no harm will come to you." I keep my voice even.

"You're that commando that joined Clearwater a few days ago, aren't you?" She's panicking, trying to scramble away from me.

"Yes, I am. I don't want to hurt you. I just wanted to keep this from reaching the wrong hands." I produce the envelope from my jacket. Once again, she panics, this time patting down her pockets to ensure that I had, in fact, taken it from her.

"So... now what? If that's all you want, what'll you do to me?" Her entire body betrays the fear she is feeling: the acrid scent of cold sweat, the sound of her ceaseless hyperventilation, even the way her dilated, watering eyes have been locked onto mine the whole time. I must calm her down.

"I don't want to hurt you, or anybody else for that matter. But I must stop your General Hack at all costs." Her eye flick upward and to the side. She is thinking this over.

"So. If I help you, what do I get out of it?" Well, that was easy. It's quite obvious that Hack is, by no stretch of any imagination, a benevolent dictator.

"What do you want?" I don't seem to sense any deception from her, though I should be careful. This is no time to leave things to chance.

"I want to move into Clearwater. I'm tired of the army life. Especially now." Her gaze hardens and her lower lip quivers slightly. The smell of her disgust is plainly evident.

"Why now?" What could General Hack be doing to make her life any worse.

"Oh? You don't know? I thought... because you knew his name..." She is obviously confused over this misunderstanding.

"Enlighten me."

"Well, first off: he's huge. I mean massive. His skin is purple and he's totally hairless..." She trails off somewhat, it would appear whatever else she has to tell me is even worse than a borderline-psychotic behemoth.

"Yes... and?" This can not be good.

"Well, he's decided he wants to... breed. You know, make more like him." Not good at all.

"Breed?"

"Yeah. Once he's taken Clearwater, he figures he'll have enough territory to settle down a bit. That way he can impregnate every woman in his camp... plus captures from Clearwater, I guess..." She trails off again, but this time I don't really care. I feel myself being taken over by a sensation I have never experienced before. My heart quickens and I can taste bile on the back of my tongue. He wont touch Sophie.

"Tell. Me. Everything." She recoils somewhat from the tone of my voice. I take a moment to get myself under control before repeating myself.

"Okay. I don't know everything because I was just recruited about a year ago but, here goes. You know how he's purple, and crazy, and super-strong. Well, he's also always talking about some new order he's going to create. He's doing a good enough job with his little tattle-tales, the people in his inner circle, they get fed and treated well enough to do whatever he says and keep the rest of us in line. But he wants to make more freaks, like him, to be the new ruling class. That's why I signed up for this job, I wanted the hell out of there. Once I was far enough from Falkin and the guys, I was just going to make a run for it."

I listen and absorb everything she says, although, I must admit that the 'freak' comment sits somewhat strangely with me. Hack and I may be more alike that anybody thinks, and that makes me very uneasy. For a moment, my mind slips inward, deciding what next to do. Opening the envelope, I scan it's contents. Several hand-written pages outline Clearwater's defenses and responses to attack. Hack will never get these. Drawing an electric lighter from my utility belt, I burn the document into a handful of ashes.

"Alright. I have decided. You will go back down this road, to Clearwater. Ask for Garret and tell him that Jonathon asks for you to be put in protective custody until this is over. We will figure out everything else when I return."

"Return? From where?"

"Hack's camp. I need to kill him, and destroy the hover tank." Her eyes widen, whether it is about assassinating Hack or knowing about the Jager, I don't know.

"What? That's suicide!" For the first time since our meeting, she stands. She seems almost concerned for me.

"I'll be fine. Trust me." I stand too, keeping my voice even. "But it would really help if you could give my a layout of the camp and the surrounding terrain.

"Well... Jonathon, is it?... I still think you're crazy, but alright. My name is Mary, by the way." She smiles at me strangely and offers her hand. I shake her hand and release, but her grip lingers somewhat. She actually smells kind of nice. Focus, Jonathon!

For the next few minutes, Mary provides me with a series of drawing in the dust, outlining the camp and it's surroundings. Built in the remains of an agricultural community called Northridge, the camp is somewhat circular, with the soldiers' tents and messes forming a crescent around the middle. This middle part being the command center and motor pool. The perimeter is made up of razor-wired barricades and trenches, lined with punji-sticks. Decent tactics, though some details concern me.

"... you've really got to watch out in the woods over here," She indicates a large percentage of the surrounding area. "Hack had it mined, just beyond where the patrols stop. Probably to keep us in, as much to keep you out - they're pretty volatile too, you can hear them going off every now and then. The last time someone tried to desert from within the camp, they tripped off a mind and it blew off both of his legs." She represses a shiver, swallows hard and carries on. "Hack just let him lay there, screaming, and bleed to death. It took a long time."

She remains silent for a long time. Wetness glimmers around the rims of her eyes and she fights the heaves and sobs that threaten to wrack her body. I give her the time she needs and, in time, her life signs stabilize somewhat. "You're going to kill that bastard, right?" I nod. "Good luck. Make him suffer." I can almost smell the bile at the back of her throat at that comment.

"I will. I promise." The words come out before I can even consider them, as I reach over and pull her close. She clutches onto me tightly and lets go of herself completely, shaking and sobbing openly now. I continue to hold her as I think about my promise: making Hack suffer is in no way strategically sound, he is far to dangerous now to kill quickly. Although he is a monster and would deserve the most gruesome death I could bring to him. I'm sure any death will involve some suffering, that will have to do - a promise made to make her feel better simply isn't worth failure of the mission.

When Mary finally regains her composure and pulls away, there seems to be a new hope in her eyes. I reach into my jacket and produce her pistol and spare magazines. "I need to get moving. You might need these for the trip back. Wish me luck."

Mary hugs me tightly around the neck. "Good luck, Jonathon. I'll be waiting for you when you get back." What does that mean? There was a slight grin pulling at the corner of her mouth when she said it. Before I can ask, she is already jogging away.

I shake my head and sigh. Do humans even understand humans?

Better get moving. My helmet locked back into place, I start off at an easy stride. Soon, I get up to an easy cruising speed. At last, a cruising speed easy for my metabolism. The climate-control of my suit helps a great deal, leeching away excess heat and circulating cool, fresh air across my face. As before, my conscious mind sinks away, leaving my body on auto-pilot.

I consider the security layout of the camp. Hack truly is insane. Based on the geography, mining the forest has much less tactical value than one would expect, as it would be a far to obvious venue of attack and very easy to defend against. It is however, an excellent way to keep the troops in line.

As I consider this, another satellite comes into range. As luck would have it, the old NORAD satellite happens to be in communication with several other neighbors. Giving me an excellent view of the camp.

"Computer, record all available data on the designated sector. Construct a full layout and superimpose any magnetic anomalies to those locations. Track the thermal signatures and extrapolate likely patrol patterns."

A flicker of text in the periphery of my vision expresses the computer's compliance and a small progress bar appears to the upper-right. Considering the capabilities of this satellite network, another idea occurs to me.

"Computer, new identification criteria. I want anything with purple skin that would otherwise be tagged as 'human' to be given the designation 'General Hack'. Track him separately, with maximum priority."

At the same time the computer begins to work on this, another message flashes up on my visor. The bio-monitors sewn into my suit report that my blood-sugar is dropping. This would probably be a good time to get some sleep. Slowing to a walk, I start looking for a safe place to tuck myself away for a few hours. Shortly, I find a tree several meters into the forest with a sufficiently high bough. With one arm I easily pull myself up onto the ten-foot high branch. Getting comfortable, I guzzle down a whole liter of water and two packages of nutri-paste. Soon, sleep comes and again, I dream of Sophie.

Three hours later, I awaken. I hit the ground running, quickly slipping into autopilot again. If I can keep up this pace, I should be there by nightfall.

The highway flies beneath me for hours until a flicker of icons shows that the computer modeling is complete. A three-dimensional representation of the camp and surrounding area unfolds into my view.

Sixty kilometers from my position, the minefield begins. About that same distance, the barricades and patrols along the highway begin as well. Fortunately, it would appear that all of the land mines used by Hack's army have metallic casings, as their positions were clearly marked by the satellites' magnetic anomaly detectors. Even better, patrols between the forest and the camp are noticeably lighter - it would appear that the mine field is giving them a false sense of security. Excellent.