Angel Of Doom. James Axler

as with Lakesh.

      Given such an environment that nurtured goodness, growth and intelligence, Edwards found himself only mockingly grumbling about “babysitting trips with nerds to ruins” and actually showing excitement about learning about the history of the strange planet they lived upon.

      “Hey, you two!”

      It was Sela Sinclair, who herself had not become involved in the ever-escalating sparring matches of Domi and Edwards. Sinclair’s preference for combat was not the close-quarters of knives and fists but rather the application of leverage and focused energy, usually in the form of the collapsible baton she had become intimate with in her pre-skydark life as an Air Force officer. It didn’t mean she didn’t lack for bare-handed skill, but when things came to a hands-on approach her preference was for the strength-amplifying qualities of an ASP telescoping fighting stick, the same way that Domi preferred a sharp knife. And even then, the ASP was only for situations where she didn’t necessarily require the killing of an opponent.

      Sinclair folded her arms, leaning on one leg, hip tilted jauntily.

      “Something come up?” Domi asked.

      “The CAT teams are being called in for a briefing,” Sinclair said. “Something about a call from New Olympus.”

      Domi perked up at the sound of that. Edwards and Sinclair had joined her in that prior mission, arriving later with armor kits meant for Sandcats and Humvees that would be adapted to the Olympian Spartans. They had also been present when Hera Olympiad had gone berserk with power, standing their ground against her madness and the ever-growing energies and mass of her corrupted command node.

      Hera, a Cobaltville scientist who had been sent to retrieve Annunaki artifacts from Greece while the Overlord Marduk was still Baron Cobalt, had acquired a smart-metal control nodule when one of Marduk’s Nephilim drone troopers was captured. Using the knowledge she had gained from her exploration of the Crack, she’d manipulated the smart-metal pod to provide herself a new form of clothing. Because the pod was now reacting with an intelligent mind, it followed her commands rather than simply existed as a suit of body-conforming armor.

      Of course, Marduk had known of her interference with the Annunaki electronics. He’d tried to take control of her and, barring that, his psychic assault had driven her insane.

      Hera had bonded that module with another piece of Annunaki technology, a Threshold, and an electrical drone weapon on top of that. CAT Beta—Domi, Sinclair and Edwards—had been at the forefront of the battle against the out-of-control Hera as she’d continued to add mass and energy to her suit’s frame, assisted by Brigid Baptiste.

      Despite the defeat of the superhuman Hera, the damage to New Olympus had been significant. There were sorties from Cerberus to the Grecian nation, teams mostly there to excavate and open up collapsed and damaged tunnels in the deep underground military base that had been the Olympian redoubt. The digging and rebuilding were necessary, as Hera’s destruction had cut off access to redoubt supplies of ammunition, food and medicine stored for the hundreds of years since before skydark.

      Rebuilding had been going well, but for New Olympus to actually send out a call for help meant something big had popped up.

      “Shower and change. You’ve got fifteen minutes,” Sinclair told them.

      The two Beta Team members headed to the gymnasium locker room where Domi helped Edwards out of his bulky Magistrate armor, cutting the usual de-prep time by half, allowing Edwards to do more than just let the showerhead spit on him for a second. That both teammates were naked was not a distraction to either.

      Domi had her devotion to Lakesh, and Edwards was uninterested in settling down and of no mind to steal the scientist’s woman. Indeed, Edwards was a man of personal discipline, and while he believed that men and women could be lovers and work together, he personally did not want to complicate his relationship with the tiny Domi. Edwards also had a preference for taller, fuller-figured women, and to the massive former Magistrate, Domi’s appearance was more of a prepubescent boy’s than an object of sexual desire. Hell, knowing her for this long, becoming nearly a brother to her on the CAT team, she was not an object. She was Domi. Friend. Living being. Person. Not an object of lust.

      From what Edwards had read or seen in vids from before the destruction of mankind, he could appreciate that at least one thing had advanced forward since the age of “civilization.” Humanity needed to grow up, to not just focus on their baser instincts and rut like animals. Reproduction was important, but there were other much more vital matters that needed attendance.

      By the time Edwards finished his shower and dressed, he and Domi arrived at the briefing with minutes to spare.

      In fact, they had both entered sooner than Kane and Grant, and were there to see Brigid Baptiste, the third member of the group that had been entitled CAT Alpha. Brigid was not happy to see Kane and Grant ambling in so slowly after their counterparts had showed such promptness, and she let her distaste for the situation show in her scowl.

      “I told you we shouldn’t have stopped for coffee,” Grant said, catching the disgust in Brigid’s glare. He slid into his chair at the meeting table, setting the travel mug down in front of him. Kane shrugged at his friend’s statement of being “busted.”

      “It’s not like we’re the B-team,” Kane noted, giving a wink to Domi, who wrinkled her nose at the mock insult. If there was a rivalry between the CAT teams, no one on either of the two squads had been made aware of it. They were comrades and allies. The only rank came from the fact that Sinclair was awakened after Kane, Brigid and Grant became a team, and Edwards had only recently found himself a free agent in the wake of the collapse of the baronies. Kane’s joke was taken in stride, not in malice, and Brigid rolled her eyes.

      “As you know, ever since our first contact with New Olympus, we’ve been sending over manpower and assistance to help them with their rebuilding,” Brigid began. “They’ve reciprocated by helping to design Kane’s exoskeleton during…recent troubles.”

      “I didn’t get to blow-dry and curl my hair for this recap?” Edwards asked, rubbing his closely shaved pate.

      Brigid chuckled. “Sorry, but you know I try to be as completest as possible.”

      Edwards shrugged. “Not a problem. I just needed something to…distract me.”

      Domi nodded in recognition. Edwards was referring to Ullikummis’s attack and conquest of the Cerberus Redoubt. Not only was Edwards present for that, but also he’d been infected with one of the stony Annunaki’s seeds, making him a puppet, a pawn of the exiled godling. Memories of that time, the loss of life and the madness of their enslavement, were still recent and raw.

      “Right now, they’re starting to expand their area of influence over there, peacefully.” Brigid quickly added the peacefully. “They’d sent out an excursion into what used to be the Etruscan countryside.”

      “Italy?” Sela Sinclair asked.

      Brigid nodded.

      Sinclair smirked. “I always wanted to take a vacation in the countryside with the vineyards.”

      Brigid gave the Air Force veteran a one percent salute, akin to the gesture that Kane and Grant gave each other. She continued speaking. “Out of twenty soldiers and three Spartans sent into the Italian countryside, there was only one person who returned. The commander of the ground platoon. She was in shock to the point that her hair turned white. She claimed they had encountered an amorphous, seemingly sentient darkness that was immune to gunfire and had swallowed people. Even their robotic support team was unable to break the bonds.”

      “Bulletproof fog that eats soldiers,” Grant murmured. “Do you have any historical correlation and background for that, Brigid?”

      “Nothing so far,” she replied. “The only possible link to an inky, all-enveloping blackness is the relation of one of the old gods of Italy—Charun.”

      “That sounds like the ‘mythological guy who has a boat on the river of the dead’ Charon?”