Kade watched as the ground crews loaded fuel into the Indian stealth bombers, on this little spit of land leased from Vietnam. India’s base to protect its oil and natural gas interests in the South China Sea.

The bombers were wide flying wings, a riff on the old American B-2 body plan, matte black, equipped with state-of-the-art chameleonware and radar avoidance, engines mounted atop the wing body to mask their surfaces and exhaust from any sensors below.

Why were there two of them?

“We’re running out of time,” Kamal Garud said. He was the commander of the Division Six commandos. A captain in the India’s airborne special forces, transferred to the Division during its reconstruction. Tall, broad shoulders, rippling muscles, the aura of command.

The man’s mind was cool and hard. He was running Nexus, like all the commandos. But he had it locked down, giving nothing away.

“It’s 1am in Shanghai now,” Captain Garud went on. “By the time we deploy, it will be nearly 5am. The sky will be getting light. The risk goes up.”

Kade turned to face the man. “We go now,” Kade said. “As soon as they’re fueled up.”

“Listen, chameleonware isn’t magic,” Garud replied. “In the dark, or if you’re moving slowly, wonderful. But inserting at high speed, with light coming up, there’s a high risk of observers noticing something. If we wait until tomorrow night…”

“It’s scrambling right now,” Kade interrupted, staring at the man. “The program that wants to take over the world. It’s using every hour, every minute, every second to get closer to its goal. We have every reason to believe we have less than a day before its plan comes to fruition. And if we’re not there, it’s going to succeed.”

Kade stopped and let that sink in. “Now, I hear you on the risk of being seen. So you tell me. Does that risk outweigh the risk I’ve just outlined for you?”

Garud stared at him, his thoughts revealing nothing.

“Does it, Captain?” Kade said.

“No, sir,” Garud said.

Then the man saluted, and walked off, giving orders to his men.

And left Kade standing there, staring at the Indian bombers.

At the two bombers, when there should have been one.

Kade stood in the weapons bay of the bomber as Aarthi walked him through a system’s check one more time.

He was suited up.

More than suited up.

He was winged.

His body was in a head-to-toe chameleonware suit, with a pressurized helmet. A hose connected to a small tank that provided breathable air. Over his shoulders came thick straps with metal releases. Another webbing strap connected them across his chest. More straps bound themselves around his waist, and yet more around each thigh.