Hostile Genus: An Epic Military Sci-Fi Series (Invasive Species Book 2)

sell us out to the Harvesters! Inconceivable!
In those first few hot and frantic days, Martin hadn’t known who to trust. Men he had called his friends fell one by one to the so-called goddess and her rebel ideology. Obviously faked and doctored video clips were being shown on the Zigg’s holo-vids, detailing the transformation and capture of Home’s old and new populations. That the events took place, Martin had no doubt, only he knew in his heart that it was the esoterrorists’ doing, not Warbak’s.
Waiting for someone else to assemble any sort of organized front to resist the governmental takeover proved to be as impossible as it was essential. Martin had come closer then to despairing than he ever had before. For a brief moment there, it had seemed his only options were submission to the enemy or suicide.
Then it occurred to him that he should be the one who led the loyalists.
In that moment, on the fifth day after the Incident, Martin had presented himself at one of the impromptu “Town Hall” meetings set up by the traitorous Miller and his slut, Lily Sapphire. Equal parts euphoric from impassioned drive and terrified that the esoterrorists would gun him down on the spot, Martin had stood up and addressed the gathered peoples of Home.
Sure, many in the crowd, Shanty folk mostly, had booed him and called him names like fascist and brainwashed; however, a not insignificant portion of former military men had nodded their heads in grave agreement with his concerns.
After his speech, he had been approached by several groups of men, each one like unto a solar system—usually a ranking officer acting as a sun, surrounded by a small cadre of men who orbited him. One by one, Martin had met them, and a plan began to form in his mind to unite these isolated clusters of men into a galaxy.
Everyone he had spoken to shared the same reservations he had regarding the preservation of the Republic, and of the human race. At first, the strong majority of the malcontents did not receive Martin’s plan as well as he’d hoped. Many wanted to take action right then, to strike while the enemy was still disorganized. But Martin knew this was folly. Visions of the resulting bloodbath and epic destruction to the Zigg, to Republic property and equipment, had flashed into his mind at each suggestion of acting hastily. Martin understood their urgency, their worry, but he also knew that a chaotic shootout in the Zigg would be a catastrophe. The presence of the sorceress and her inner circle made such an idea even worse than it otherwise would have been. No, they would have to regroup somewhere else, somewhere far away, and wait for a better chance to strike. Either an opportunity would present itself, or he would make one. An opportunity that would allow them to remove the esoterrorist bitch from the equation and even the playing field. An opportunity to retake Home without destroying it, or his men.
Eventually, the disgruntled officers and their men had fallen in line and joined with him. The Old Guard was formed.
And so they confronted Lily Sapphire and the turncoats Jon 310-257 and Master Sergeant Miller, a formally decorated war veteran, more recently serving as a cookie. They performed their bit of theater brilliantly, making their mass exodus from the Zigg, and taking with them a sizeable amount of weaponry and equipment.
They had set up shop in Lincoln, a Republic enclave on the far edges of Home’s eastern farmlands, and waited for their chance.
That chance had come much sooner than expected, in the form of contact with a mysterious agent, referring to himself only as “The Provocateur.”
The man of mystery had yet to reveal himself—or, as Private Nguyen had so astutely pointed out, prove himself trustworthy. Yet, with his options limited, Martin had taken up the counter-insurgent’s offer to meet. So far, so good. Now we will see if I have made a grave error, or if we are on the path back to rightness.
The Provocateur—for he refused to give his real name—had contacted Martin on his personal N-tab, no small feat in itself, and informed him that he had a plan for ensuring victory for the Old Guard, and the Republic.
In the days leading up to his journey to the forested rendezvous point, Martin had pondered deeply the identity of this agent. A remnant of the Ministry, perhaps?
What a blessing that would prove to be! A Minister on their side would be their best chance at restoring order. But as far as he could tell, every Minister and every Handler—the human half of the Ministry of Social Purity’s infamous Scrubber units—had either been killed or rendered powerless in the coup, unable to control their Sniffer counterparts. More fallout from the Incident and whatever Strange blow the so-called goddess had dealt.
Despite his reservations and his concerns regarding the Provocateur’s true identity—it could easily be a trap laid by Lily Sapphire and her sycophants—Martin followed the instructions he’d been given.
As Martin and Nguyen trekked farther, the forest around them thickened enough that they had to skirt several clusters of trees, slowing their progress. As well as becoming more numerous, the trees became thicker as they continued. This forest was obviously considerably older, perhaps even pre-Storm in origins. What little light they’d had now grew even dimmer, and the day began to take on the feel of an early night.
“Get out the lantern,” Martin ordered. “I nearly tripped just now.”
Private Nguyen did as he was ordered without complaint, stopping briefly to take off his ruck and retrieve the battery-powered lantern attached to it.
Now, under the warm orange glow of their electric light, the duo moved into the thickest, darkest part of the ancient forest, closing in on the coordinates they had been given.
“Just up ahead,” Nguyen announced.
Martin, in the lead and aware of their position, rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time at the young soldier’s greenness. Just what did they teach these kids