o 012cb099c1ab6050 by POTATO (freda ebook reader TXT) 📕

and color. Oh, and a little-known fact,"

Berry beamed. "They mourned."

"Mourned," Caston said dully, glancing between the zerg threat and the clearly insane

private.

"Oh yes," Berry said happily. "They reportedly could live for centuries, but when one of

them died,they all turned a 'sky-blue' color. Given a sky with the

right amount of oxygen and

nitrogen, of course. Anyway! Now that this one's free of the

Swarm, it's feral, but harmless."

Caston glanced at the sergeant. There was an order implicit on

Bayton's face, and it was

"Shut up, Private Gage."

He turned to watch the overlord continue its circuit of the outer

academy grounds, and

blinked. It was coming towards them, rising over the shards of a

hotel tower like a purple

moon. The marines chuckled, and a few raised their C-14s for

some target practice. The mood

gratefully returned to the cycle of gentle mockery that was the

status quo within Meatbag

Squadron.

Something flashed through the room, something invisible,

intangible, and focused. Caston

staggered. So did Berry and Vallen, though they recovered

separately, shaking their heads. No

one else had noticed a thing.

It hadn't been the word now. It had been the essence of now,

hurled with all the strength of

an order. And it had come from the direction of the overlord.

It raised its head, fixing him with those lambent green eyes. It

knew him.

Caston hissed through his teeth. Imagined that he was right. That

Green Eyes had dropped a

drone somewhere, and that the drone had created a hive. What if

the overlord knew that

everyone would come up and watch him... it circle around the

academy?

And why would it approach now unless it was trying to draw

attention to itself...?

Caston spun around just before a screeching cluster of mutalisks

swooped down, their

insectile bodies bobbing eagerly beneath their leathery wings.

Whipping their tails forward,

they disgorged a wave of ravenous parasites at precisely the

same time.

Shards of neosteel and bundles of glaive wurms ricocheted

across the observation deck.

Caston screamed. Razor-sharp fragments of metal sparked off his

breastplate, and a chunk

of the armor on his shoulder was simply gone. Gasping for air, he

staggered back, taking in the

carnage around him. Marc had fallen to his knees, clawing at his

helmet with metal fingers as

red steam poured from the place where his face had been. Berry

didn't even have a head

anymore. None of them had even put down their—

"Put down your! Goddamn! Faceplate! And shoot! Private!"

Sergeant Bayton roared,

shaking him by his suit's collar.

Caston seized hold of the orders gratefully. He shut his faceplate

and glanced over his

shoulder for the overlord. It was gone.

* * *

I no longer hold the winged ones with my will. 13

Irise into the clouds. I am heavy with the weight of the dead

volatile ones.

The curve of the world is below. The cold place is above. I want to float up.

I do not want to do this.

I want to do this.

I am only One. The not-We must know fear. Must know madness.

Hemust know fear and

madness.

There must be punishment.

* * *

The deafening chatter of C-14 fire shook the floor of the

observation deck and bounced off

the surrounding skyscrapers. A gaping wound exploded in a

mutalisk's chest, and it dropped

from sight. Another dipped into Caston's stream of fire and

pinwheeled away toward the

distant ground.

The remaining two shuddered suddenly, and turned their acidic

projectiles on each other,

hissing and screaming. The remainder of Meatbag Squad focused

their fire on the feral

mutalisks. The creatures fell apart in a shower of wet flesh.

Caston's rifle clicked empty. The zero on his HUD flashed at him

for several seconds before

he realized what it meant, and reloaded.

The neosteel floor was a melted ruin of acid scars and dying

wurms. Marc had fallen

forward, and lay with his head twisted to the side. Nothing was left inside except for red and

bone, but in his mind, Caston stil felt the weight of that calm, sad gaze.

He holstered his C-14 and went for Kell, fist cocking back.

Without breaking stride, Sergeant Bayton slammed into him,

pushing him back against the

wall.

"This is not happening, Private!"

"I tried to warn them, and he made jokes. And they're goddamn

dead!"

"Yeah, they are," Bayton said, his visor flicking open. Muscles leapt in his neck and jaw. "So

look at him. How do you think he feels about that now?"

Caston looked at Kell, standing silently over the bodies of Marc

and Berry. He looked away.

"Right, marines. This is what is going to happen. We are going to make our way to Corporal

Sawn's dropship. We are going to leave. And we are going to do

both with all speed."

"Screw that, Sarge," Hanna said, raising her visor and spitting.

"We're going to hunt down

that overlord."

"Absolutely," Vallen said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Sergeant Bayton. "You must be new. That last thing I said was what we

refer to in the Marine Corps as a goddamn order.Now—"

A hundred feet west of the academy, a green blur streaked

through the hollow interior of a

skeletal skyscraper and exploded. Its foundation obliterated, the

skyscraper struck the concrete

with a hollow, teeth-rattling boom and fell over, turning a quarter mile of abandoned buildings

into a churning furrow of thick gray smoke and jagged debris.

With dry mouths, the marines turned away from the devastation

and looked up at the

hidden sky.14

The second baneling the overlord dropped hit the landing pad.

The dropship and the

unfortunate pirates' cruiser erupted in a tower of green-tinged fire.

"Pile into the lift right now!" Bayton shouted, and slammed a fist against the panel. With a

gentle ping, the doors of the academy's only working lift opened.

Sawn went first, almost

instinctually. Caston followed, beginning to understand how this

unarmored medic had lived

long enough to get that thousand-yard stare.

Vallen, Hanna, and Dax followed. Kell still hadn't moved. With a

growl, Bayton grabbed hold

of the stunned marine, shoved him into the too-crowded lift, and

pressed a button on the

inside.

"Dax."

"Sarge?"

"I need you to cut the shit and get everyone down to the lowest level. You copy?"

"Yes, Sarge. How did you know?"

"Please. I've seen a thousand Daxes. I'm a sergeant, Private."

"Are... are you getting in the lift, Sarge?" Hanna said.

Bayton smiled. "Use your eyes, Private Saul. No space."

The door slid shut, and they descended.

By the shuddering of the lift, the next baneling corpse struck the

observation deck dead

center.

* * *

I descend. Fire and smoke rise to meet me.

I hear the silence of the dead. I hear the thoughts of the living.

His punishment is