Kriz debated with herself whether to raise the alert level, putting ready reaction forces on standby, or to wait for more information. Raising the alert level would get several high-ranking officers out of bed, and the first thing they would ask her was why.
And to tell the truth, she didn’t know why. An accident on a ship. A power outage at the SONRAD station. A loss of communication with the ship. All had perfectly reasonable explanations, but added together they started to create a disturbing picture.
She decided to question Chizel, the operator at the SONRAD station, a little more thoroughly. That might set her mind at rest. Kriz punched the buttons on her video screen to place the call.
The Bzadian city slept, but it was not dead, and, as with human cities, there seemed to be a wide range of Bzadians who needed to be out and about in the middle of the night. Delivery trucks passed, splashing them with light, the drivers completely unaware of the six human teenagers in Bzadian army uniforms who prowled through the heart of the city.
“Demon One, this is Angel One. How copy?” Chisnall said.
The comm channel crackled into life. “Hey, Varmint, there’s noises on the baby monitor,” a voice said.
“Status check, Demon One,” Chisnall said with a sigh.
“All clear over here,” Varmint said. “Nine Pukes down, and counting. What’s your score?”
Chisnall shut his eyes and drew a deep breath. This was the first time they had undertaken a combined mission with the Demons, and he was finding he didn’t really like their way of doing things.
“It’s not a contest, Varmint, and if you leave a trail of bodies behind you, somebody might stumble over one. Only take them out if there’s no other way. You know the rules of engagement.”
“So y’all are way behind.” Varmint laughed. “Don’t worry, you still got time.”
The Tsar broke in, imitating and exaggerating Varmint’s Southern accent. “By golly, Varmint, I guess y’all must be better than us at this kind of thing. We’ll jes’ watch what y’all are doing and try to learn something.”
“Get back to your mission, all of you,” Chisnall said.
“Someone’s getting cranky,” Varmint said.
Chisnall flicked off the channel, gritting his teeth in frustration. Possibly the most important mission of the war and the Demons seemed to think it was some kind of joke.
“We’re never going to win this war with morons like that on our side,” the Tsar said.
“Don’t worry about them,” Chisnall said. “Concentrate onour part of the mission. We’re in the heart of enemy territory. From now on we walk like Pukes, we talk like Pukes, we think like Pukes.”
“We eat like Pukes,” Wilton added.
“We fart like Pukes.” Monster grinned.
“That too,” Chisnall said.
“If we could think like Pukes, this war would already be over,” Barnard said, almost to herself.
Kriz hung up the phone and clasped her hands to stop herself from rubbing at the skin on her arm, which was turning red and rough.
There had been no reply at the SONRAD station.
Could it be somehow due to the blackout? A failure at an electricity substation had caused a ripple effect that had taken down the entire power grid? But SONRAD had backup power. Unless it had failed again.
And while she was trying to contact SONRAD, a call had come in from a restaurant owner. Nanzi, one of her staff, had put it through.
It had been alarming, to say the least. The restaurateur had been heading home when he had noticed something odd in the river. Whatever it was, it had worried him enough to call the Coastal Defense Command.
Her office was only a five-minute walk from one of the bridges that spanned the river, and Kriz had arranged to meet him there. There were too many strange things going on. Shewas sure that something was seriously wrong, if only she could put her finger on what it was.
Asking Nanzi to cover for her for a few minutes, she checked that her phone was
And to tell the truth, she didn’t know why. An accident on a ship. A power outage at the SONRAD station. A loss of communication with the ship. All had perfectly reasonable explanations, but added together they started to create a disturbing picture.
She decided to question Chizel, the operator at the SONRAD station, a little more thoroughly. That might set her mind at rest. Kriz punched the buttons on her video screen to place the call.
The Bzadian city slept, but it was not dead, and, as with human cities, there seemed to be a wide range of Bzadians who needed to be out and about in the middle of the night. Delivery trucks passed, splashing them with light, the drivers completely unaware of the six human teenagers in Bzadian army uniforms who prowled through the heart of the city.
“Demon One, this is Angel One. How copy?” Chisnall said.
The comm channel crackled into life. “Hey, Varmint, there’s noises on the baby monitor,” a voice said.
“Status check, Demon One,” Chisnall said with a sigh.
“All clear over here,” Varmint said. “Nine Pukes down, and counting. What’s your score?”
Chisnall shut his eyes and drew a deep breath. This was the first time they had undertaken a combined mission with the Demons, and he was finding he didn’t really like their way of doing things.
“It’s not a contest, Varmint, and if you leave a trail of bodies behind you, somebody might stumble over one. Only take them out if there’s no other way. You know the rules of engagement.”
“So y’all are way behind.” Varmint laughed. “Don’t worry, you still got time.”
The Tsar broke in, imitating and exaggerating Varmint’s Southern accent. “By golly, Varmint, I guess y’all must be better than us at this kind of thing. We’ll jes’ watch what y’all are doing and try to learn something.”
“Get back to your mission, all of you,” Chisnall said.
“Someone’s getting cranky,” Varmint said.
Chisnall flicked off the channel, gritting his teeth in frustration. Possibly the most important mission of the war and the Demons seemed to think it was some kind of joke.
“We’re never going to win this war with morons like that on our side,” the Tsar said.
“Don’t worry about them,” Chisnall said. “Concentrate onour part of the mission. We’re in the heart of enemy territory. From now on we walk like Pukes, we talk like Pukes, we think like Pukes.”
“We eat like Pukes,” Wilton added.
“We fart like Pukes.” Monster grinned.
“That too,” Chisnall said.
“If we could think like Pukes, this war would already be over,” Barnard said, almost to herself.
Kriz hung up the phone and clasped her hands to stop herself from rubbing at the skin on her arm, which was turning red and rough.
There had been no reply at the SONRAD station.
Could it be somehow due to the blackout? A failure at an electricity substation had caused a ripple effect that had taken down the entire power grid? But SONRAD had backup power. Unless it had failed again.
And while she was trying to contact SONRAD, a call had come in from a restaurant owner. Nanzi, one of her staff, had put it through.
It had been alarming, to say the least. The restaurateur had been heading home when he had noticed something odd in the river. Whatever it was, it had worried him enough to call the Coastal Defense Command.
Her office was only a five-minute walk from one of the bridges that spanned the river, and Kriz had arranged to meet him there. There were too many strange things going on. Shewas sure that something was seriously wrong, if only she could put her finger on what it was.
Asking Nanzi to cover for her for a few minutes, she checked that her phone was
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