Humanity 2.0, Year 055, Day 301

"I know. Doesn't mean they won't do damage if you override everything and command them directly to chop some fucker in half." Wren gave half a grin. "Don't know how many I can control directly, but-"

"Wait, directly?" Nina paused. "You mean direct neural interface? With that big a system? Wren, you aren't ready. Hell, I don't think even Rain is, and she's the best there is."

"Well, I'm going to have to be ready, aren't I?" Wren glared at Nina. "Neither of you can do it, and I'm the one that wrote the kernel these things use. That has to count for something. Just get me to the closest offline control tower. There's one four hundred meters from here, to the north." She nodded in a direction, indicating - through rubble and twisted, half-molten steel - a squat, boxy structure that would later have the massive antennas mounted on it for a drone control tower.

"She's right. There's no time." I shook my head at Nina, then looked at Wren. "No stupid heroic bullshit - that goes for all of us. Wren, control as many ACs as you can control, and no more. If you can't get the whole four thousand of them, remember, we only need to use them to cover us until we can hole up somewhere. I'm thinking nuke fuel storage. Even Miller will be reluctant to follow us into there.

"If you get there and you can't do it, you can't do it. Don't force yourself. You're too valuable to lose here." I turned to Nina. "Get her to the tower. I'm going to head to the reactor access and try to find Sasha. With luck, there'll be too much radiation for them to follow me." I gave a wry smile. "Time to test Bethany's theory about our DNA."

"Like you said, Ben... no heroic bullshit." Nina turned to me, leveling her gaze - somehow, even from a foot and a half below my face. "If it goes south, you just run. Miller's shown over and over again that he wants to capture us more than kill us - so you can come for us later."

"After he's done God knows what. Don't get captured." I turned, walking over to the emergency exit hatch - partly bent, but still usable if someone applied enough force. I braced both hands against the railings next to it, and pulled one foot up. "Ready? I'll go first, then you two out the bottom hatch five or ten seconds later."

Nina nodded, and took up Wren - carrying her down the ruined staircase toward the lower level. I waited another thirty seconds for them to get ready, and then leapt upward, bracing myself with both hands - and kicking the emergency hatch full-force with both feet.

It sailed outward, hinges shattering, and I flung myself out right behind - finding myself in a smoky, hot mess that smelled of burning... something. The smoke, as annoying as it was and how it made my eyes burn, was a good thing - it meant their infrared tracking would be useless, and optical sensors not much better. Ultrasound maybe, but those things were harder than hell to use - and with the chaos of all those nice big explosions they'd made, that would probably also be useless. I had to stay inside the smoke, pick off targets when I could, but otherwise keep moving toward reactor three access. Sasha had to be alive.

I was glad 15226 had cribbed the magnetic sense of direction from migratory birds and wolves and given it to us - it was something it took a while to figure out that we even had. The knowledge of which way was north was so natural that it seemed bizarre I'd ever not known it off the top of my head. I still had home-ground advantage too, having walked these same unfinished grounds countless times in the past decade; I knew even before I saw obstacles when to jump over or bypass them.

My first enemy was front and center. He made no attempt to use cover; he was walking right down the middle of what would later be a main corridor, his wicked rifle at the ready on his hip. Ghilmen had made firing from the shoulder obsolete, when Miller's guys figured out how to wire smart-weapon technology directly into the ghilman brain - they could kill a man half a mile away with a shot from the hip, or even over the shoulder.

As I leapt over the small stack of still-wrapped wall plating, a sleek ovoid helmet turned to face me. The ghilmen was painted in solid, matte black, covered with polymer armor plates that warped with his movements. As usual, he bore no insignia, or even serial numbers. They were uniformly nearly seven feet tall, built of raw power and death; their bodies were something like our own, but imperfect copies - their deficiencies supplemented with technology built directly into them.

The ghilmens' hominus-derived nervous systems allowed them to integrate fully with the machines they were half-built from, melding flesh and technology together into a seamless whole... yet also something totally inhuman. They were much like living weapons, the distinction between their bodies and their weapons they carried not entirely clear.

A thrown mass of concrete the size of a football forced him to dodge just long enough for me to reach close quarters, pushing his rifle aside and going for the knife I knew was either on his side or just underneath the shoulder. The carbon-steel knives they carried were able to pierce their own armor, that much I knew by accident - don't ask - but actually taking one off a live, resisting ghilman was another matter.

After over fifty years of fighting opponents much slower than me, I felt the thrill of fear as the ghilman responded in turn - just as quickly. He caught my forearm, palming it aside with his free hand, and immediately dropped his rifle to form a brutal, armored fist - poised to strike my head. I sensed the winding of powerful electrical currents building up in the augmented muscles of his arm, fixing to deliver a blow that could shatter my skull instantly.

Dodging would have meant giving him the range to bring out his sidearm. I had to put him off-balance. A knee to the solar plexus, one I didn't expect to even wind him with his armor and lack of a pain reflex, brought his head low enough for an immediate elbow strike on his ovoid helmet.

In the past, we'd found something barely recognizable as human underneath their helmets. Eyes with the eyelids surgically removed, permanently staring at the datafeeds before them; tubes feeding through the mouth and nose directly into the stomach and lungs for sustenance from external systems. Their scalps and spinal columns usually had pesky skin removed to fit more neural interfaces - and sometimes much of the braincase itself was removed in favor of replacement by a solid armor plate.

Disoriented for a moment, I went for the knife again, this time fishing it out of his holster and immediately spinning around, using both hands to drive it directly through his neck. Blood mixed with... something... spewed, and I tore the knife out to the left, keeping it in hand as I kept moving.

Too much conscious, tactical thought now would be an obstacle, slowing me down. Raw animal reflex was the fastest and strongest, and was best when only guided by tactical insight - not controlled. He hadn't even hit the ground yet and I was gone. Grabbing his rifle would have been useless, it was keyed to his nervous system.

The biggest mystery about the ghilmen was how Miller controlled them so well. Everyone else who tried to build cyborgs so advanced and deeply integrated invariably had them go berserk or catatonic - or just up and die. His, however, always moved in perfect coordination and fought as a unit. He'd a made a mountain of cash selling their services in the world's great variety of wars raging at the moment. We hadn't figured it out either, and both Wren and Sasha openly admitted they had no good ideas as to how it was done.

It would be naive to think that the one kill I'd already made had gone unreported. Ghilmen didn't just work as a unit, they thought as one; we didn't know the specifics, just that it was obvious that what one knew, the others near-instantly also knew. They knew they were being hunted, surely, and where their fallen companion had been. Had to keep moving. I slid under a low-hanging wall frame, curved around a heavy plumbing shaft leading to the upper levels, then past a heavy HVAC u-

I hadn't expected such a simple attack - who would have thought a ghilmen would have just clotheslined me with his rifle? - and was choking for air even as my fighter-mind attempted to recover. A weapon was nearly level with my chest, and a brief roll at the final instant dodged it - and caused shattered concrete to pelt the side of my face, forcing me to close one eye. I grabbed one leg and drove home my fist as hard as I could at the side of his knee joint.

I recalled thinking something was off right then; the leg I was holding seemed a bit light and thin for an assault-class ghilman. My hammer fist didn't quite make it to the exposed knee - I let out an involuntary howl as my shoulder erupted in blood, spattering my face and chest as the ghilman put a round straight past the joint, putting every muscle in my arm immediately into shock.

Looking up through red-ringed eyes, blinking away the blood, I saw something - something I'd never known was possible. It wasn't an ovoid-helmed, towering monster of technology and death that had brought me down. This ghilman was female. She wore no helmet, and her skin was pale, almost bluish - and her eyes jet black, possibly cybernetic, with only the dimmest hint of reddish glow for pupils. Her lips were nearly the same frigid color as her skin; she looked like she'd died of hypothermia, yet lived still.

Her hair was solid black and hung in a close-cropped mess around her head, and her face might have once been beautiful - had she cared to put in the effort. Now, though, she was eerie, something only formerly human; her expression had the same empty blankness we'd seen even on captured and dying ghilmen. They were like aliens in human shells, incomprehensible; I wondered if they had emotions at all.

The noises of a rampant aug suit weren't difficult to make out; we both turned toward it, despite being unable to see in the smoky, ruined foundation. I heard shouting, another female voice, then was being hauled bodily by a tremendous metallic claw - and behind me, I heard an enormous cacophony erupt as a dozen heavy construction machines threw themselves into combat with the ghilmen. They wouldn't last long - even their three-ton reinforced bodies couldn't fight ghilmen - but they would buy time.

"Ben? Ben?" I could hear Sasha's voice, asking me something, and I blinked.

"We need to get back to the others and evac." I blinked. "The whole situation is wrong here. They brought something new. Even Miller doesn't have balls like this." I turned toward Sasha, seeing her through the face plate of the massive aug suit - mostly focused on the controls, but still occasionally sparing me a glance as I rode like a bride in her groom's arms. I tried to bear with the image as I thought for another few moments.

"What?" Sasha frowned, still focusing on bolting through Elysium's foundation at blinding speed. "Save it. We're almost to Nina and Wren."

What we saw as soon as we emerged from the smoke brought us to an immediate halt. My arm hanging limply at my side, I still nonetheless dismounted from the aug suit's enormous hands and stood up, presenting myself to Miller and his cadre.

I suppose the odd, enormous rumbling as we approached Wren's tower should have been our cue. That enormous thing on the radar was still, until that moment, unaccounted for. I'd been hoping it was a ruse, or some kind of bug or spoof they'd introduced into our radar system - meant to distract us.

Things that big and solid didn't fly, they had to be built like airliners or orbital transfer scrams. Not... simple, almost hemispherical masses of steel and firepower. It was the size of a three-story building, blocking out the sunlight and looming over us like some monstrous alien spacecraft in one of those old movies.

It looked like no aircraft I'd seen before. It was clearly based on a hyperfan; it had the same characteristic ducted fans jetting blue-white exhaust, keeping it aloft - though with an eerie smoothness that was impossible for a human pilot. Its sinister black exterior, like the foot soldiers below, was almost featureless save for an array of half-hidden pipes and stacked plating, all surrouding one central object, mounted front and center - a small collection of sensors, glowing red. I could see the sensors shifting, moving... focusing. On me. There was more than simply a machine algorithm behind that. It was looking back at me.

At least a dozen weapons were mounted all over its underside; it was meant to serve as a gunship, obviously, though I suspected with such an enormous airframe it had to fill some other purpose. Still, it had enough firepower to bring the entire structure down around our heads. The battle was over... but not the war. They still wanted us alive, and the rest of my kin were doubtlessly already pooling every resource they had to hit Miller with the fist of an angry god.

"Ben!" Miller's voice, as unwelcome as ever. "Glad you made it. I was just checking in on... was this one Sasha or Wren?" He glanced at Wren, seeming a bit confused for a moment.

"Wren." I growled. I resisted the temptation to bolt toward her; the blood around her nose was one thing, but the fact that her eyes were shut yet swollen and her hands showed black and red burn marks meant that she'd overstressed her electrophoridae very badly - despite my instructions. It must have taken everything she had to hold off that squad behind us, long enough for Sasha to get me away.

"So that one's Sasha then." He glanced toward Sasha. "You know, in the intel briefings, I always got them confused. Not super important though. Let's make sure both are out of the equation." He glanced toward one of the ghilmen next to her, nodding.

In total silence, one of the ghilmen jammed - something long and sharp, like a metallic stake - inside the heavy back shell of the aug suit Sasha had on, where its battery was. It suddenly went limp, falling face-flat, and I heard muffled noises, likely cursing at the top of her lungs in Slovak, as she fought to free herself from her new prison.

I fought down the urge again to check on Wren; she had to be all right. She had to. I could tell that Sasha, at least, was safe for the time being - but Wren was another issue. Wren, for a small woman not much good in an out and out fight, was one of the toughest, most resilient women I'd ever known. She'd recovered from the horrific pain of her phosphorus burns decades ago - this would be a cakewalk after that... right?

Two ghilmen were already flanking me. Five were surrounding Sasha as well. They were the same huge male models as the first today; the female who'd had me dead to rights was unaccounted for. I knew not to make any sudden moves or any troovie bullshit. These ghilmen were focused entirely on me, and armed to the teeth - those close to me were backed up by twice as many at range, their weapons at the ready, and then who knew how many snipers already undoubtedly in position.

The two ghilmen from either side grabbed me, jarring me out of some snide comment I'd been about to voice - and carried me up the staircase, quickly. We went faster than I knew a human team could have possibly carried me, and I didn't bother trying to fight them just then - instead following along. As I reached the top, I was surprised - and oddly, it seemed Miller was a bit too - when they released Nina, pushing her toward me. Nina immediately grasped Wren from the other ghilman, who released her as well, then pulled her back toward me.

I knelt next to Nina, cradling Wren in my arms and keeping her head up as Nina examined her. I had to keep Miller talking, for Wren's sake if nothing else. The more time they wanted to spend talking and parlaying, the more time we had. I glanced over at the cluster of approaching ghilmen - and sure enough, Miller was approaching, cane in hand.

My adversary looked even older now. His salt and pepper hair was thinning, and he had pock marks and spots all over his aging skin. There was a cool and casual grace in his stride, but even I could tell he wasn't walking so slowly because he thought it made him look more suave. He was almost seventy now, and didn't have a perfectly steady gait. Still, one thing hadn't gotten weaker - when our eyes met, I sensed he was just as much the calculating opponent who had once had me completely at his mercy.

"Hi, Ben." He walked up, stopping about ten feet away from us. "You met Zee, I guess." He gestured idly toward - there she was, emerging from the smoke. It was the woman ghilman from earlier, and she was holding something - a bloody mass, supported by a thin framework of metal or plastic, drilling into... I suppressed the retching reflex when I realized what it was.

She was carrying someone's brain.

I scowled at her, but she returned only an empty gaze - and Miller gestured upward, to the hulking mass above us all.

"I don't think you met my newest friend, though. Ben, I want you to meet the Naglfar." He chuckled. "Lab toadies dreamed up the name. I'm told it's from some kind of mythology. Greek, I think? A boat made out of dead people, I believe. It fits."

The machine hovered in place, numerous weapons mounted on trained on us - mostly the smaller, anti-personnel stuff. I could see, along its figurative keel, the massive railgun that they'd likely used to wipe out our defenses - retracted into the hull now. How they'd crammed that kind of energy into a flying hull I had no idea - Wren later said it would take a capacitor the size of a small house to power a single shot from that gauge of mass driver - but I guess Miller was just full of surprises today.

"It was made from the fingernails of the dead." I corrected him. "And it was Norse mythology, not Greek."

"Well, mythology wasn't my big thing, so I'll defer to you on that." He gave a long sigh, then looked at me. "Zee here's cute, isn't she? She even talks sometimes. Say hi to Ben, Zee." Miller gestured from her to me.

Zee gave Miller the same empty, soulless gaze she'd given me before. Something was off here. I was thinking we were getting a glimpse of how exactly it was that Miller had such advanced ghilmen at his command - but also that there was something even he didn't understand at work.

"Well, she's not real social. Him either." Miller shrugged, gesturing upward to the hovering mass above. "You know, even you wouldn't believe what we found once we really started to crack open your DNA. Females were the key; Naglfar here's core block is cobbled out of the brains of the first mixed-gender ghilman unit."

Miller continued on, but I was more focused on Zee. She was still holding the brain, which as she came closer I realized had several metallic-looking components wired into it; was it the brain of the ghilman I'd killed? There was no telling. She held it aloft, and a small, snake-like metallic arm shot down out of underneath the hovering mass - and grasped it by the framework, immediately snatching the brain and bringing it within the greater body.

"That unit was real good in the field, even if half of them went down in a heavy firefight in Hungary... but that's when it only really began for them. The lab guys didn't want to lose out on some of the intel they'd gathered - so they stick a few of their brains on life support then wire them up into a network hub to try and recover it. One thing leads to another, and... bam." He looked up at the hovering monstrosity, then back at me.

"You've given me the power I need, Ben... the power to stop any army dead in its tracks, and force any government's hand. A few thousand ghilmen, controlled through Naglfar, are next to invincible - and even if you kill them, they recover the brain, add it to their bio-net, and the next generation is that much smarter. They're unbeatable in the long run. I can finally get started on imposing something like order on this fucked-up planet."