Vash studied the latest image of their target. Cliffs divided land from sea, men and materiel clustered on the beach below. The crawler lay at the cliff edge, the symbol painted on its top deck still clearly visible, its meaning apparent only to him.

‘When was this taken?’ he asked, glancing up.

‘Not two minutes ago,’ replied the Enforcer nearest to him; the head of the pack, as far as Vash could discern. Dias, according to the name on the shoulder of his fatigues. ‘From orbit?’ Vash asked, momentarily perplexed. Dias shook his head.

‘High altitude drone, solar powered. They shouldn’t be able to see it. I thought you knew, sir – Corbin had it requisitioned for us. Better to not have to rely on the Dyn for recon.’

Beneath them equatorial jungle the colour of a bruise stretched away to the horizon, with Dynic flora already recolonising the swathe of destruction cut by the crawler. Within a couple of days there would be no indication it had passed this way.

‘When do we get there?’

‘Not long now, only another ten minutes of flight time, though we’ll be landing further out. Flying low I reckon we can get within three kilometres of the coast before the risk of one of their scouts spotting us – ‘

‘We’ll have to take that chance. Get us within two.’

‘Sir, we’d risk losing the element of surprise. They’re not going anywhere. They’ve lowered all their equipment down onto that beach and they’re digging in,’ Dias said slowly, stopping just short of disrespect.

Vash could imagine how he felt, to have responsibility for some clueless civilian foisted on him, worse still, ostensibly the most powerful man on the planet. To their credit, the Enforcers had taken his intrusion in their stride, but these men were used to operating with considerable autonomy. They were experienced enough to not ask further questions; with Corbin as temporary acting ambassador, Vash now had free reign.

‘That’s what I’m concerned about,’ said Vash. ‘Tell me, if you were going to make a last stand, would you choose an exposed beach hemmed in by cliffs on one side and the sea on the other?’

‘They’re not going to think like us, we’re professionals. Way I see it these rebs stole a crawler, took a Dyn hostage then panicked when they realised they were in way over their heads. They’ve been running ever since,’ Dias offered.

‘Strange to run straight for the sea though, don’t you think? What does that look like to you?’ Vash asked, pointing to an object down near the shoreline, half obscured by tarpaulin. Dias shrugged.

‘Some kind of vehicle?’

‘It looks like a submarine to me. Someone’s not intending to stay on that beach.’ The Enforcer looked closer, then spoke into his radio.

‘Rocha, take us down, close as you can.’

‘Copy that,’ came the pilot’s response.

Moments later they angled away from the path cut by the crawler. The hills rose up around them as they shed altitude. The Enforcers began their final checks, securing helmets and body armour, unloading and reloading weapons. Vash massaged his temples and tried to focus.

They had departed the ruins of the linear arcology in the early morning, after only a few broken hours of sleep. Whilst the Enforcers had quickly lapsed back into unconsciousness once they were underway, with an ease that spoke of years of experience, Vash had been unable to do so. Of course, it helped that they were ignorant of what was truly at stake.

The world balanced on a knife-edge, the consequences of a single misstep more dire, more readily apparent than Vash could ever remember. The least risky course of action would be to follow Liar to Animal’s diktat, to save her heir, pin the rebels on the beach and let the column of Enforcers still in pursuit mop them up before they could melt back into the jungle.

Vash had quickly learnt it was better not to take risks – a coward’s rationalisation, as some would put it – but one didn’t casually gamble with the lives of billions of people. Yet if he took the safest course of action, the obvious course of action, he might be denying the people of Earth their best hope of ending the Dynic occupation. That symbol, the jagged tooth, so familiar now that he could sketch it from memory, called to him across the centuries.

Roughly two hundred million people had died last year. It seemed an incongruous, almost trivial fact. Yet it hadn’t always been so. Vash remembered a world without death, yet now it took everything they had to merely forestall that toll’s inexorable rise. It was even worse in the years when the pandemics were bad. There were only so many people you could support on a single planet at a given level of development, and Arco was beginning to run up against hard limits.

If Vash again placated the Dyn, within less than a century he would condemn more people to short, miserable lives than he would save. Faced with the chance to end the occupation, he had for the first time in decades considered this world as an outsider and found it unacceptable. They were in the grip of a slow-burning disaster, a grinding Malthusian attrition of living standards; that it had continued for nearly two centuries didn’t change anything. Preserving things the way they were was not a free action. Vash knew he was talking himself into the decision, yet that didn’t matter. The time had come to take a risk.

Rocha brought them down in the centre of a deserted wastelander settlement, the forms of the surrounding buildings still discernible beneath the false life. The second helicopter landed further out.

‘We’ll be in constant radio contact,’ said Dias as he stepped out. ‘Shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours but Rocha here will keep you company. You can do… whatever it is that you do once we’ve got the area clear of hostiles.’

‘I’ll be coming with you,’ said Vash firmly.

‘With all due respect sir, that won’t be necessary. We have our orders, we know what we’re doing. We’ll bring you in when we have the Dyn secured.’

‘I don’t doubt it. But that wasn’t a request.’ Vash perfunctorily selected a handgun from the rack and followed after Dias. ‘I have my own orders to follow, after all.’

Dias forced a smile and protested no further, but Vash knew what he was thinking: you don’t bring your commander-in-chief on a reconnaissance mission.

The Enforcers fanned out, scanning the buildings surrounding them with instinctive, fluid movements. There was no sign of any rebel scouts, at least none that would be revealed by such a cursory search. Vash followed a few meters behind.

He’d only seen the false jungle from the outside before, in satellite imagery or through the windows of a vehicle. It was different when you were immersed in it. Fetid and heady scents hung in the humid air and plants like cancerous growths crowded him. Some pulsed softly with the beat of muscular nutrient pumps, like rudimentary hearts; a queasy blurring of boundaries between plant and animal. False life could not be so easily categorised. But what Vash noticed most of all was the sense of quiet watchfulness, of things moving just beneath the threshold of casual perception. It would have been easy to convince himself that this was an alien world, if it wasn’t for the details.

Scattered amongst the knotted tendrils and filaments of false life lay the debris of humanity, abandoned or forgotten the day the settlement had been cleared – relatively recently, by the looks of things. A broken pair of glasses, a lighter, the rusted frame of a bike, a stuffed toy; Vash could picture the people they had once belonged to, driven from their homes. The collateral damage of another claim made by those above. Enforcers had come this way before, riot shields locked together, corralling terrified wastelanders ahead of them. Then on to buses; families arbitrarily divided between conurbations. Those that resisted would be sent to internment camps, or worse, to the Sed holding facilities. Others simply ended up as corpses, and still lay there, mercifully obscured by the dense groundcover. For better or worse, what happened today could end it all.

A body lay across the path, its outline softened by the encroaching plants, empty eye sockets staring blankly at the sky. One by one the Enforcers stepped over it. Without conscious thought Vash found himself kneeling beside the body.

‘Sir?’ The Enforcers up ahead had realised he’d stopped.

The corpse was small, although beyond that it had decomposed far enough that he could discern nothing else. All he knew was that he should cover it.

‘Vash!’

Vash tore a curtain from one of the nearby doors. A pair of wide, green eyes stared back at him. One of the rebels. He couldn’t be more than sixteen. A gun shook in his white-knuckled grip.

‘Is everything okay, sir?’ The Enforcers were turning back.

Run, Vash pleaded. Just go.

‘Everything’s fine, I just wanted to cover the body,’ he called, turning to the approaching Enforcers.

Get as far away from here as you can.

‘We need to keep moving. We can’t hang back for you.’

Vash laid the sheet over the corpse. The Enforcers took a few more steps then stopped as he stood and made to follow them. When he glanced back to the doorway, the boy had disappeared.

Rejoining the other Enforcers, they continued to make their way slowly towards the coast, the foliage around them growing increasingly stunted and anemic. After another fifteen minutes of cautious progress, Dias raised his fist, signalling for the others to stop.

‘The forward squad has eyes on the crawler and they’ve confirmed the hostage is down on the beach’ said Dias from Vash’s side. ‘We’re gonna call in an airstrike on the vehicle before advancing further -’

‘I want you to hold position here. Take no further action until I give the order.’

‘Sir, the longer we wait, the more chance they have to discover us,’ Dias replied, as though explaining to a child.

‘I understand, but I have orders from the Dyn to attempt negotiation first,’ Vash lied. ‘If I don’t report back in an hour, then execute whatever plans you’ve prepared. Hand me a radio.’ Dias’ expression hardened and Vash realised immediately he’d overplayed his hand.

‘I can’t let you do that sir,’ the Enforcer said coldly.

‘Really? On whose orders?’

‘The success of the mission takes priority,’ Dias said, ignoring the question. It didn’t matter – Vash already knew the answer. Could he just keep walking towards the coast? Could he use his gun to alert the revolutionaries if the Enforcers stopped him?

Then, without warning, the Enforcer nearest to them collapsed, a dotbow bolt protruding from his neck, and Vash’s immediate concerns evaporated. Before he had even registered what was happening, another Enforcer went down and the others dived for cover, Dias pulling Vash down with him.

The Enforcers returned fire in the direction of their unseen assailants and within seconds the entire jungle erupted with the staccato cacophony of gunfire and barked orders. Stray shots and fragments of shattered trunks thwacked into the undergrowth around Vash. At length he realised Dias was shouting something, barely discernible over the ringing in his ears, and fumbling a roll of bandages into his hands.

‘Put pressure on the wound!’ he yelled, pointing to a fallen Enforcer. ‘Stay there! Keep down!’

Vash did as instructed, doing his best to staunch the bleeding. His hands shook as he opened the package, then became steady – there was no more room for sloppiness. Even as he applied the bandage to the man’s chest, he knew it was already too late. The Enforcer gasped desperately at the air, choking, legs kicking, hands clutching at his own. He saw the life ebb from the man’s face, and after a long moment he fell still.

Vash fought down the rising nausea and scanned his surroundings. Dias had his back to him and was some way off, focussed on the assailants that had flanked them. This could be his only chance. Vash took a deep breath, then started running. Dias turned and shouted something, but within moments the Enforcer was once again pinned down and forced to take cover. Vash heard Dias calling, but nobody emerged from the firefight to accost him.

A stray shot grazed Vash in the shoulder, sending him sprawling. He gasped at the pain but it seemed somehow irrelevant – he picked himself up and kept running, the treacherous ground-cover threatening to trip him again at every step. Up ahead, the hulking mass of the crawler was visible through the thinning jungle. Then Vash was out in the open under the steel-grey sky, gulping at the clear, salty air. He reached inside his coat and drew the handgun, removing the magazine and discarding both with a careless throw. The muffled gunfire was growing more sporadic, petering out. If Vash was wrong, he might have just jeopardised the tenuous balance he’d spent the last century trying to maintain.

Sentries from the crawler were already waiting for him, anxiously scanning the jungle at his back. A couple came running towards him, guns drawn.

‘Stay where you are! Hands on your head!’ one shouted, in heavily accented Americano. He started as he drew close enough to recognise Vash’s face.

He did as instructed, grimacing as he raised his left arm and felt the pain in his shoulder anew, now that the adrenaline rush had subsided.

‘I need to talk to your leader.’

If they heard they seemed to pay him no heed. The rebels searched him then, silently, they walked him at gunpoint to the cliff edge where a makeshift crane awaited and lowered him down.

Not far from the foot of the cliff a crowd had gathered. They seemed focussed on a man with a shock of dark hair, a shotgun holstered on his left hip, but as Vash descended one by one their heads turned to him. When they saw who he was, one yelled in shock. The others simply gaped.

For all Vash knew they’d lynch him the moment he touched the ground. Yet as the platform settled on the shingle a sense of unreal calm washed over him and the rushing in his ears subsided. There was none of the doubt or uncertainty he’d felt on the flight over. He stepped off the platform and walked slowly towards them.

‘I surrender,’ he said.

He kept walking towards the one that had held the mob’s focus until moments ago, assuming he must be the leader. The man, dark-skinned, dark-haired and garbed in a uniform and bandolier, had that look about him. The rebels parted around Vash, letting him pass.

‘My my, Vash, the emperor of the world,’ mused the revolutionary with a twinkle in his eye. He exchanged a brief, amused look with the woman stood behind him. ‘If I’d known we were going to have such esteemed company I might have smartened myself up a bit. But it’s been a busy day. I’m sure you know how it is.’ There wasn’t even a hint of malice in his voice.

‘You can put your hands down now, friend. We can get that fixed up for you too,’ the man continued, nodding at his shoulder. Vash looked down. Blood had seeped through the thin fabric of his overcoat, which now glistened darkly.

‘You’re in charge here?’ Vash asked.

‘Where are my manners? We know your name, you should know ours. I’m Christo,’ he smiled, then indicated the woman. ‘This is Aurelie, my second in command, I guess, but I prefer to think of it as more of a collaborative effort.’ Aurelie stepped forwards.

‘What’s he doing here?’ The challenge came from a tall, wiry man near the front of the crowd. His hands were bound behind his back and two other revolutionaries flanked him.

‘Quiet,’ snapped Aurelie, her voice cold. ‘Get him out of here.’

‘We’ll talk later Jan, okay?’ said Christo, adopting a more conciliatory tone. ‘The same goes for the rest of you.’

‘But he’s -’ someone in the crowd started.

‘I know who he is,’ Christo laughed. ‘Consider this; who could claim a greater reason to hate the Dyn than a man turned against his own species, forced to serve as a human face for our callous overlords? Vash is no collaborator. He’s here because he shares in our dream.’ He raised his shotgun theatrically to sporadic applause. Christo’s control over the crowd was admirable; something Vash could only aspire to.

‘Now come, we still have work to do. Back to your posts,’ the rebel leader said, in a voice that didn’t offer any alternative. Reluctantly, the revolutionaries dispersed. Some exchanged baffled glances, but none looked back.

‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,’ Aurelie said, turning back to Vash. Her cold expression seemed to flicker, then she smiled warmly. A wave of vindication surged through him.

‘You really did summon me here,’ he said.

‘Yes, we really did,’ Christo said. He held out a hand and Vash found himself shaking it. The rebel leader had a vice-like grip.

‘You couldn’t have picked a less ambiguous sign?’ Vash actually found himself laughing.

‘You’re not the easiest person to make covert contact with,’ said Aurelie ruefully. ‘It was as clear as we could risk. We need your help.’

‘But why risk it at all; what do you need me for?’

‘Tell me Vash, what does dragon’s teeth mean to you?’ asked Christo.

‘Is this a test; I assumed you knew?’

‘Tell us – for Christo’s edification,’ Aurelie said with a shrug. Christo regarded him with rapt focus.

‘Well there’s the ancient myth. It’s a metaphor, you see. A kind of hidden message that became a symbol for a dangerous technology. You don’t have a word for it anymore, language has changed so much. In English, we called it a warseed.’

‘Warseed? Aurelie’s told me so little,’ interrupted Christo, betraying a childlike fascination. Vash searched for the words that would explain, to a world that had long forgotten the context.

‘Before the Dynic invasion, machines were advanced enough to self-replicate, to create copies of themselves out of nothing but the materials that existed in the environment. Neummanetics, like the printers that Arco distributes, but fully general.’ Christo signalled that he followed.

‘General replicators could create any machine, given the right materials and sufficient time. Pump enough energy into them, give them a way to dissipate enough heat and they could replicate faster than you’d believe was possible. Imagine something that bears the same relation to our own cell’s division as steel does to flesh and bone.’

Christo nodded, while Aurelie remained expressionless. Vash wondered how much of this she knew already.

‘The world was peaceful, but simultaneously weapons were powerful beyond imagination. At the time, they thought the greater risk was to keep huge stockpiles of legacy weapons sitting around, so actual war machines were increasingly replaced by stockpiles of warseeds. The world retained the capacity to fight, but at one further remove from actual use. It brought lasting peace.’

‘And yet still the Dyn invaded,’ said Christo, a trace of bitterness creeping into his voice.

‘All factions in-system followed the same logic, so it was assumed that any potential invasion would have to cross interstellar space, giving them years of warning. The possibility that an enemy fleet might just appear in Earth orbit, using means we don’t understand even after the fact, seemed so absurdly remote that it didn’t even merit consideration. The appearance of the Other Moon and the Dyn fleet was a black swan; an unknown unknown. Conventional forces were quickly overwhelmed by brute force and within minutes Earth was held hostage.’

‘You say they,’ Christo interjected, taking a step back from Vash. ‘But you’re speaking from memory, aren’t you?’

Vash nodded sadly; there was no point withholding that fact.

‘Things unravelled so fast that they… that we didn’t have a chance to respond in real time. But what I don’t understand,’ said Vash turning back to Aurelie, ‘is exactly how this is relevant. Do you have a warseed in that sub?’

‘Better than that,’ Christo grinned.

‘The Utilitaria had a contingency plan,’ said Aurelie. ‘And now that you’re here, the final piece is in place.’

Dias found the kid not far from where the other rebels had abandoned him, pulling himself forward. His legs trailed uselessly behind, shattered from where a frag had caught him.

‘Is Vash working with you?’ Dias asked.

The kid ignored him and just kept putting one hand in front of the other with the single-minded determination of someone who recognised they were already doomed.

‘Hey kid, I asked you a question,’ said Dias. He rolled the kid over and pinned him down with one boot resting gently on his chest. The rebel looked back up at him, holding his gaze with bright, green eyes.

‘Finish it or lemme be on my way,’ the rebel managed through gritted teeth. ‘Either way I ain’t tellin’ you shit.’ He tried to spit, but the bloody spittle made it no further than his chin.

‘I’m not asking twice,’ Dias cautioned. Weak hands pushed ineffectually at his foot. After a while the rebel gave in, exhausted, his body going limp.

‘We’re gonna free you,’ the kid said, his voice barely more than a strained whisper now. ‘We’re gonna free you all.’

‘Maybe you will,’ Dias sighed. He drew his sidearm and leveled it at the point between the boy’s closed eyes. No sense in wasting good morphine; he only had minutes to live. Dias looked away and pulled the trigger.

Afterwards he called Corbin.

‘Vash has gone. He demanded to accompany us, then went off-mission. They knew we were here – a recon team ambushed us.’ There was no immediate reply. ‘Your orders?’ Dias asked.

‘Where is Vash now?’ came the response.

‘We’re not sure, we assume he’s with them. He left in the midst of the fighting.’

There was another extended pause; Dias thought he heard an exasperated sigh.

‘Wait for the reinforcements. Get Vash and the hostage back unharmed. Otherwise, proceed as planned.’