Volume 2, Chapter 7 – The Silent Silence. The Attack.
Sunset.
In this world, there are two small moons, and only now could I see and admire them, in full gear — heavy body armor, helmet with headset and thermal imager, pants and boots — standing behind the HESCO, surrounded by Bradleys, Strykers, and tanks, with two Patriot SAM systems and a platoon of M-SHORAD on Stryker chassis inside.
I felt very unusual. First, the shivering from the cold — the temperature dropped deep into the negative due to the vast desert of four million square kilometers. Even the fleece couldn't stop me from trembling.
And the entire base had cranked the brightness to full, not even knowing if it would help. But the entire perimeter and interior were lit up like... a football stadium at night.
Paladin walked up to me, and instantly forty-nine Abrams tanks appeared around the fort with their engines running, while inside the fort — Paladin SPGs, twenty M777 howitzers (like port wine), ten HIMARS, and heavy mortars on Stryker chassis.
And in the sky, two fighter squadrons flew by with loud booms, landing smoothly at the fort, where a massive runway had been made from melted gravel (we can't make concrete or asphalt). Now they sat refueling, waiting for any activity that would send them back into the air.
Everyone was ready. The only thing missing in this desert was a puddle for an aircraft carrier. But in this silence, sounds of everything could already be heard — and the smells too, which I was starting to get used to. From diesel and oil to kerosene. I no longer needed to think about what each smell was associated with — I just knew. Maybe growth, maybe just sensory overload.
But. In any case, it was night. All equipment at the ready, but not a single monster in sight — though according to Pex (that's what I called the Infantry Battalion Officer), there were about a hundred thousand creatures swarming within a ten-kilometer radius, status "hostile."
But I couldn't see anyone in my field of view — even through thermal and night vision, up to the 8X scope on the XM-7.
[Pex]: Base. Perimeter clear. Requesting permission to advance.
[Base]: Pex. Copy. Move strictly south. Fire on target. Evacuation — Chinook.
[Base]: Lelik. Escort and light attack. Count — two Apaches.
[Base]: Aviana. Requesting Tomcatters squadron. Escort and follow Pex's orders.
And I moved out with Pex and Alpha Group. Bravo and Delta Groups stayed behind to defend the fort. We walked across the dry ground — I stumbled over cracks but kept the rifle up, trying to watch all sides. I didn't want to relax just because Pex already knew everything. I really wanted to spot something dangerous first and warn everyone, be the first to say something to "Base." But right now — only unbearable cold. Over a hundred soldiers, one hundred twenty soldiers divided into ten ODAs. Slightly crouched, always keeping the sight at eye level.
And then I understood. I waved my hand. Everyone stopped. I realized — I was looking at my Soldier-functions through thermal and saw nothing, but when I aimed at my own feet, a yellow hot glow appeared. If enemies were spotted here, they weren't underground — otherwise Pex would've detected them. They...
I looked up. And there they were — those big flies with horns, flying absolutely silently, very far away. I had to take off the thermal to see them.
"Sk—"
Pex covered my mouth and started gesturing something, but I didn't understand — I just pointed up, and half of Alpha aimed upward.
Pex looked around, pushed me behind him, and started shouting loudly, trying to test the theory that they had no hearing.
The flies didn't react at all. They just hung there in the air, as if waiting for something — a hundred thousand of them, frozen. Maybe they'd come out to hunt for magic?
(But I have the "Democracy" ability — isn't that magic?) — and as soon as I finished that thought, all one hundred thousand rushed toward me, lighting up bright red in thermal, creating an enormous high-temperature blot before my eyes that covered the cold sky.
And loud explosions rang out in the sky, tearing apart hundreds of flies. That was the M-SHORAD platoon on Stryker chassis opening fire. Now that they were visible as heat targets.
I froze in terror, watching a massive avalanche of fire fly toward me to the sound of non-stop rifle fire.
Then thunder broke over the sky, and machine-gun bursts, rockets, and flares flew from the Apaches — and the fighters didn't even waste missiles; they just flew over the flies, and the creatures were torn to shreds by the mere shockwave of air.
I stared at the sky and threw off the thermal in horror. While everyone was fighting, I was scared. (They're flying to kill us... Or me? Because as soon as I thought my ability was magic, they decided to attack. Maybe I flipped the "magic" switch?)
I jerked my head, breathing in the smell of gunpowder and harsh chemicals, and aimed the rifle up, holding down the trigger — the recoil dislocated my shoulder, and I collapsed to the ground.
Even lying down, I kept shooting until the magazine ran dry. The sky was ablaze. Helicopters, fighters, air defense: Patriots and Stryker-based systems — all working non-stop, firing bursts and missiles into the swarm of flies. But the flies, though dying by the hundreds, had already settled around me, closing in — completely ignoring the officers and equipment. It seemed I was the only thing they saw. Pex was beating them off me, calling all of Alpha Group to concentrate around me.
[Pex]: Base! Support. Ground. Code: Seraphim.
[Base]: Pex. Copy. Twenty seconds.
[Pex] (beating flies off me): Base! Too long!
[Base]: Pex. Everyone is moving to you. All air units are airborne.
I tried to crawl away, but those terrifying three-eyed flies, whose heads could turn in completely different directions, were already on me from all sides — and even Alpha couldn't shoot them all fast enough. The fact that they were dragging me toward the Bradley didn't stop the flies from constantly landing and biting every part of my body.
I was crying... It hurt. No ammo left — I tried just beating them with the rifle while Alpha couldn't kill them fast enough. Without stopping, in a dense stream, they landed on me, trying to take a bite out of this tasty morsel in the thick blackness.
And then, millimeters from me, one by one, twenty-four fighters began to streak past, knocking away all the flies approaching me — and I passed out from it all.