“How?”
He looks at me, more than a glance this time, then taps a few buttons on the very futuristic-looking console and lets go of the controls. He slides off the seat and steps into the back, where Collins and Obsidian sit in silence. He sets himself down beside Obsidian and waits for me to join Collins. Then he reaches up and pushes a button on the slanted wall above him. A panel in the floor opens, revealing three black devices that look like futuristic land mines.
“And these are?” I ask.
“Bacteria bombs.”
“Bacteria...bombs?” Collins says. “Are we going to make them sick?”
“Bacteria do much more than make people sick,” Silhouette says. “It also eats just about everything, including metal, arsenic, nuclear waste and any and every kind of flesh. Even Kaiju flesh. Once this stuff works its way into the target, it will eat its way from one side to the other, and then it’ll spread out through the whole system. It replicates fast. If placed near the brain, death could take just minutes. Maybe less.”
“Sounds like something that could kill a lot of people,” Collins says. “How do you contain it?”
“Salt water,” he says. “Or incineration.”
“Sounds too simple,” she says.
“Brice designed it that way. Simple solutions are the best. There are a fleet of C-130 airplanes fitted with Modular Airborne Firefighting Systems, loaded up with salt water, waiting for a green light. We just need to keep the Tsuchi out of the ocean after the device has been planted, and that shouldn’t be a problem for them, since they can’t swim.”
“You think,” I say. “They’re not just Tsuchi now. They’re Nemesis-Tsuchi, and in case you didn’t notice, Nemesis is as at home in the water as she is on land. Also, just a quick nitpick. You used the words ‘placed’ and ‘planted’ when talking about the bombs. Since these things don’t look like they can be launched, I’m assuming someone needs to get close enough to physically attach them.”
“Close enough to toss it,” he says. “Yeah. The launched system was less reliable, missing the target or dispersing the bacteria over too wide an area to be quickly effective. Once contact is made, the system will take over, drilling the device into place and exposing the surface to the bacteria.”
I already suspect the answer, but I need to ask, just to be sure. “And who is going to do that?”
He offers that winning smile of his. “The only two people on Earth with that kind of hands-on Kaiju experience.”
“Me...” I say, trying to think of who the second person would be, and already preparing to argue with Collins about it. But she doesn’t make sense. None of my people do. While she’s had some close calls, she’s never been that close to—oh no. “Seriously? Endo?”
“It’s why we recruited him. We were aware of his involvement with your efforts to combat Nemesis and her five siblings. What we didn’t know is that he worked for, and has continued to work for, Zoomb.”
“So you’re sending us both off to die, is that it? Take care of the threat and your competition at the same time.”
“Whether you die or not will be in your hands, Hudson. Always has been. But as much as we might like to see Endo suffer, Cole has ordered us to support your efforts. And we will.”
Until we’re done, I think. Then the gloves will come off. Cole promised to return Woodstock and Alessi, and to leave the FC-P alone. But even if Cole was being sincere, which I don’t believe, I’m pretty sure the BlackGuard are going to hold a grudge for the men they’ve lost.
But for now, the enemy of my city-destroying Kaiju is my frenemy. Or something.
Silhouette looks into the cockpit. “Three minutes until we decelerate, which is going to be as fun as the acceleration. So let’s wrap this up. What was your second question?”
I look down at myself and then at Collins, thinking it must be obvious. “Are we expected to fight the Tsuchi and Nemesis dressed like Grumio and Metella?”
Silhouette shows no reaction, but Obsidian chuckles.
“Grumio est coquus,” the big baritone says, correctly identifying Grumio’s profession.
“Really?” I say. “Someone finally gets the reference, and it’s the oaf?”
“The oaf took Latin for four years,” Obsidian says. “At Harvard.”