Thinking to make the suggestion, he signaled her. For a moment, there was no response. He tried again. Finally, the LED that indicated the presence of her signal lit green.

“Gina, you need some kind of silent recce. Those jets give themselves away.”

“I just want hybrid bodies right now. And your men.”

“Got it.” But why she expected to find hybrid bodies he didn’t know. They’d damn well won, and he and his men sure hadn’t shot any of them.

He moved out into woods. The odor here was truly awful, almost overpowering, the stench of napalm from the nearby forest, and the odor of the dead.

The jet was joined by a second plane, this one coming in from the north-northeast. He could discern details of the engine notes now. Both jets were converging, moving fast.

“Gina?”

She did not reply.

The planes went to afterburner. He understood immediately that this was the target zone.

“What the hell, Gina, I’m here! I’m right here!”

There was no time to wait for her response, though. The planes were already on their runs. As fast as he could, he dashed into the cover of the forest—and right toward the hybrids, of that he was certain.

So what was it going to be, get gutted by the hybrids, or get burned alive?

“Gina, goddamnit!”

No response. Therefore, this was intentional.

“Why, Gina? For God’s sake!”

Nothing. She had decided to kill him. Since this was a mistake, it was his obligation to stay alive until it could be rectified.

It was going to be hard to beat her attack, though, because supernapalm generated one hell of a lot of suffocating carbon dioxide, not to mention fire. Even if he didn’t burn, he would likely smother.

“Gina, Jesus!”

She probably heard him, but stayed off air.

“I’m the best chance we’ve got!”

To love someone as he did Gina and see the person able to do this to you was hard. How cold she must be. How deeply indifferent.

He had imagined that maybe he was wrong, and he mattered a little bit to her, but this made it clear: That was not even slightly true. He was just a tool, something that took orders and had gone wrong—or so she thought.

The jets began simultaneous attack runs. They were fast, that’s how this sort of thing worked, and the first thunderous blast hit him so hard that he lost orientation and hearing for a few seconds. Then the ground connected with him and he rolled, turning quickly onto his back just in time to see a rocket coming straight for his position. No napalm, they were going after him with antipersonnel missiles. Exquisitely careful targeting was possible when your victim had a transponder embedded in his chest and you could lock onto his telemetry.