The final straw came that morning after Theresa had issued an order for every commune member to work a shift to help rebuild the wall the Reavers had torn down. An hour or two a day added up when you had an efficient system day and night. It was already half its former height and helped keep Rages at bay.
Theresa had her usual cup of morning joe when she did something she hadn’t done in days. She looked up.
The breath she used to cool the beverage weakened and stopped. The cup lowered from her lips. And she stared. She was certain it hadn’t been there before but she might have been wrong. She’d spent so long looking down, focusing on the commune, that she hadn’t had a single moment to appreciate the sky. She appreciated it now and she wished she hadn’t bothered.
A huge object, unclear with distance, stood suspended in Earth’s orbit. It was flanked on either side by smaller, but equally impressive, square ships.
A shiver shook her spine and turned her arms to chicken flesh. She had never seen anything like it before. Her eyes so held, other commune members turned to see what had so grabbed her attention. Fingers pointed. Eyes bulged. Hands clasped over mouths in shock.
The Reavers, having seen just about enough of this evil omen, hopped on their bikes and took off out the main gate, kicking up white billowing clouds of dust. They made a circle, orientating themselves, before taking off in the opposite direction to the giant objects. As if they could outrun them.
It was laughable. There was no escaping those objects, no hiding from them. They sat there with a sinister pensiveness Theresa could hardly fathom. Those things could not have come from the Earth but from another place, a distant world. What in God’s name were they doing here?
Their motorcycle-bound enemy had left them but no one cheered. They were too concerned with what was rising up on the horizon, their next challenge. It was one Theresa strongly doubted they would survive.
89.
“THEY’RE HUGE,” Donald said, staring at the monitors.
He was staring at the objects on multiple images from various satellites.
“We can’t defeat them,” Dr. Beck said. “We thought we knew what we were up against but there’s no way we can beat these things.”
What kind of resources would it take to build something like that? Dr. Beck wondered. What kind of manpower? What kind of technology? The answer came to him like a blow to the gut. It would take dozens of planets’ resources, all funneled into building ships like that.
“The Cities are ready,” Donald said. “These things are going to destroy us anyway. Better it’s on our own terms.”
“Yes,” Dr. Beck said, distracted—or perhaps a better word was disheartened. “Yes, you’re right.”
He was afraid, terrified in fact. Irritate these creatures and the terrible anger they could wreak upon them couldn’t even be imagined. The question was, how afraid were the Bugs of this Covenant they were a part of? Could any other alien civilization seriously make these Bugs cower?
“Do you think we can destroy them if we strike them in the right place?” Donald said.
Ever the optimist. But perhaps he was right. If they fired a bolt of plasma that could slice through their shields and strike an engine core, could they bring down that giant beast?
“I’m going to have to make an educated guess, based on the layout of the exterminator ship we destroyed,” Dr. Beck said. “Assuming the layout is similar, we might have a chance.”
“Won’t they just move out of the way?” Donald said. “That’s what the other ship tried to do.”
“Yes, possibly,” Dr. Beck said.
The plasma was, unfortunately, incredibly slow moving.
“Let’s do it,” Donald said. “It’ll feel good to release a little anger on these guys.”
“I’ll send a message to the other Cities,” Dr. Beck said. “Get them to attack with everything they’ve got. It might help distract the Bugs.”
“Do it,” Donald said.
Dr. Beck keyed in the message and analyzed the engine’s potential location. He made a guess where the ship’s core might be. It was a long shot but it was all they had.
90.
THE GIANT Bug cruise ships hadn’t taken any notice of the detritus floating around them. There would be a lot of material left over from the original attack and their detectors likely wouldn’t recognize the difference between the fragments and the human race’s advanced weaponry. It was all trash to them.
The Cities would be edging their weapons closer to the giant frigate. Even if they by some miracle managed to destroy the giant ship they still had the other two to contend with. What did they expect to do about them? The answer was nothing.
There was no other plan. They were not expecting they could defeat these things. They were hoping to force the Bug to make a mistake and act on impulse, to fire whatever weapons they had and inadvertently get the Covenant’s attention. They might well wipe out the entire human race and every other living thing but their beloved Covenant would descend with whatever hardware they packed. At least, that was the hope.
The Cities across the world, perhaps a little goaded, but nonetheless courageously standing firm, waited for Dr. Beck’s signal.
There was one more thing Dr. Beck needed to do before he opened fire.
91.
“COULD YOU go check on the power cells, please?” he said to Donald. “I want to make sure they’re properly attached.”
“Sure,” Donald said.
“Thank you,” Dr. Beck said. “For everything.”
“No sweat,” Donald said.
It wasn’t until he stepped outside the control room that Donald stopped, turned and wondered at the sad expression on the doctor’s face. Dr. Beck pressed a button and locked the door.
“Dr. Beck?” Donald said. “What are you doing?”
He was doing it again. The greater good. And as there was no one else left for him to betray, Donald supposed it would have to be him who got the shit end of the stick.
Dr. Beck walked to the console and pressed the intercom button. His voice came over the speaker system the same way Lucy’s did.
“I’m not proud of a lot of things I’ve done,” Dr. Beck said. “If we manage to survive, I often wonder how history books will treat my memory. Will I be remembered as an integral part of the mission to save the human race? Or a detractor of it? I don’t know. But I hope your statement will be in my favour.”
“What are you doing?” Donald said, beating on the small window with his fist. “Dr. Beck?”
He picked up a chair and banged it against the window. Despite the harsh blows he barely made a mark on the reinforced glass.
“Listen,” Dr. Beck said. “There’s something you need to know. The greatest weapon left available to the human race now that the Mothership is gone isn’t the Rages or the rockets or the missiles or even the giant cannon. It’s you, Donald. Your blood.
“You carry a mutated version of the virus, one that may be transferable to the Bugs. A single drop could be all that’s necessary to infect their species the way it affected ours. But we’re never going to administer it if the Bugs never come within fighting distance. That’s something I can do.
“I wish you the best of luck, my friend. I apologize again for everything that has befallen you and your family due to my own selfish actions. I hope this simple act might aid in recovering some of your trust in me.”
He turned to the console. Paused, and turned back.
“I strongly suggest you run now,” he said. “The Bugs will not be tentative in their response.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Donald said. “Let me in.”
Dr. Beck couldn’t hear him. He’d already turned his back on him and sat at the control terminal. He was going to fire the cannon at the Bug vessels. In response, they would fire back, no doubt destroying the facility and Dr. Beck along with it. Donald didn’t want to be anywhere near the blast zone—not if he wanted to stay alive afterwards.
The weapon began to charge. Donald didn’t have much time. He turned and beat a hasty retreat down the corridor, heavy boots thumping. He scooped up his axe, bow, and bulging quiver. He wished he had more time to pack. He didn’t know how long he was going to be outside in the coming days, weeks, and months.
If he didn’t get a move on, he wouldn’t be outside very long at all.
92.
DR. BECK took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He keyed in a single word: FIRE and hit send. Then he increased the giant cannon’s charge to full power.
There was a tiny blip on the monitor—a single pixel of bright light—that exploded on the huge ship’s shield. The ships were probably a little curious, or else figured it was merely a wayward piece of garbage left over from the earlier battle.
Then the Earth’s entire arsenal of nuclear and cruise missiles exploded as one on the ships’ shields. Some weren’t anywhere near the shields, exploding ineffectively in space, set off by the other explosions. It was all the same to Dr. Beck. They hadn’t been fired to deliver a devastating attack. They had been launched merely as a disguise. If they could get off one good shot—in tandem with a great deal of luck—it might be the best and only chance they had of bringing down that great snarling beast.
The cannon groaned with energy. It was ready. Dr. Beck hit the big shiny red button—why were they always big, shiny and red?—and fired the giant cannon.
93.
FWA-AP!
The blast of the giant cannon knocked Donald off his feet. The high pitched electronic followup as the plasma ejected, creating a bright beam of light that made him cup his hands over his eyes. He thought for a moment that if he hadn’t managed to shut his eyes he might very well have gone blind.
Black spots dancing in his vision, Donald got to his feet and pegged it down the corridor as the sound and light dissipated.
94.
DR. BECK relaxed in his chair and hit the recharge button for the next shot. He didn’t for a moment expect he would actually get to fire it.
The plasma sliced through the atmosphere toward the Bug ships. He peered closely at the monitor, watching to see if it successfully struck the Bug vessel.
He was surprised it did.
The plasma was incredibly slow and the ship—despite its vast size—could have perhaps moved out of the way. But it didn’t. That didn’t exactly fill Dr. Beck with confidence.
The bolt of molten plasma struck the shield, sliced through it, and struck the giant ship’s frame. Dr. Beck leaned forward in his seat, eyes no more than an inch from the monitor.
“Come on, baby,” he said. “Blow up. Come on.”
The plasma had torn a hole in the ship’s hull and then, after a moment of rending through the crew, burst out the other side.
A terrific shot, a wonderful shot!
Dr. Beck roared with laughter. He was glad he got to live to see the human race put two fingers up to the Bugs. You might defeat us but at least we didn’t roll over.
The core hadn’t exploded. In all likelihood, the shot probably hadn’t come anywhere near it.
How could the Bugs have just sat there and let it happen? Was it to send a message? That no matter how they tried, the human race could not defend itself effectively against them? That their efforts would forever be useless? Or perhaps they suffered from arrogance, never believing something so lowly as the human race could be a threat to them?
It would depend on how they responded, Dr. Beck reasoned. If they sat back and let the plasma cannon continue to fire at them, they were nothing more than an annoying fly. But if they were to strike back—and strike back hard—it would mean the creatures were surprised, and likely offended by the insult.
The giant cannon was almost ready for another blast.
Then he noticed it.
A similar, but larger and more powerful, weapon was charging up on the Bug ship’s underside. They fired first.
95.
DONALD PUMPED his legs like an old locomotive train. One stride at a time, he told himself. Just one more stride. He got to the entrance door and threw it open.
Shit.
First the rocket launch, now the explosion of sound and light from the giant cannon. Both had been beacons to a growing army of ever more Rages. The area crawled with them.
They shoved Donald aside and began flooding into the facility. They looked him over, sniffed him, but he apparently didn’t smell of fresh meat.
He edged forward and pushed against the creatures, forcing himself against the tide. He edged along the outside wall, working some space between himself and the Rages. His clothes were covered in all kinds of disgusting body fluids that he didn’t even want to begin thinking about.
He climbed atop a boulder, getting befuddled looks from the Rages that he would even consider heading away from a potential meal, and fell into a narrow passageway that wound outward like a spider’s web, toward the green forest canopy.
He was exhausted. But he couldn’t stop, not until he reached the thick welcoming blanket of nature. Behind it lay safety. Behind him lay only—
THA-DOOM!
Donald was thrown aside like an imitation ragdoll. He tried to move, to get to his feet, or failing that to crawl, but he was pinned in place by a powerful invisible force. Boulders the size of houses rose into the sky like autumn leaves caught in a strong wind, silent. Only a blinding white light existed where the mountain of the City of Denver had once stood.
Lying on his back, Donald was ideally placed to witness the great beam of light that descended from heaven. He shut his eyes and wondered if this really was the end of his world.
96.
DONALD WAS floating on a cloud high above the ground on a thin mist of dust. Nothing but clear, bright skies above him and fluffy nimbus veils beneath. He was dead, he thought. It didn’t overly vex him. He’d had many close scrapes over the years and knew he’d eventually bite the bullet one day.
It’d been a giant Bug laser that finally slapped him down and wiped him off the face of the planet. Huh. He never would have seen that coming. There were so many dangers in the world, so many other ways he might have died that death by remote Bugs never seemed much of a threat.
The clouds shift beneath his feet and he began to slide through it. He reached out, grasping with his hands to hold on but the mist only slipped through his fingers.
Then he woke up. He almost wished he hadn’t.
Pain. That was the first sensation. A fierce, intense ache that ripped through his limbs and worked up his legs to the back of his skull. A shuddering headache prevented him from getting to his feet. This was the second time he’d suffered such pain in as many weeks. How much could the body take before it threw in the towel?
Apparently quite a lot.
In his hand, still clutched firmly, was his trusty axe. Or not so trusty. He hadn’t used it once in the time he’d smashed its glass case and claimed it as his own. And plenty of bad things had happened to him since then. Maybe it wasn’t really an axe at all but an unlucky omen in axe form. He used it to right himself onto his feet. Like Dr. Beck did with his walking stick.
Dr. Beck. There was little chance he managed to escape the bolt from on high before it vaporized him. Still, he’d made the decision. He knew what he was doing.
The dust was already beginning to settle. There was no evidence of the giant boulders or mountain that used to live there. The Bugs had blasted it so completely a giant crater had been left, a scar on the Earth’s surface to remind humanity what happens when you cross the Bugs.
The Rages were gone too, zapped by the intense energy of the plasma beam. They were lucky it hadn’t completely destroyed the planet. They could have, and for that reason, he realized this had been a restrained attack. No doubt they were flirting with the first rule of their precious Covenant by doing even this much. Humanity had irritated them, clearly.
Didn’t humans know who they were dealing with? Humans were no match for the Bugs. They were lowe
r organisms, ants that didn’t deserve to lick their boots. And yet they still resisted.
Donald felt a keen sense of pride in his species. They would never back down, never surrender. It had always been a defining human trait, one he was pleased they hadn’t lost despite their years beneath the invisible Bug bootheel.
Dr. Beck had given his life to the cause, as had many who slaved in the Cities. Now the Bugs had made another mistake. They had shown themselves to the human race the world over. People now understood the reason for the Rages, right there on their galactic doorstep. The Bugs had presented themselves as their overseers and rulers. If there was one thing that could be garnered from history it was that the oppressed always, eventually, reacted.
Donald limped toward the edge of the clearing, where the thick poplar bushes maintained dominion on the forest’s fringes. Dr. Beck had a plan. There were no rockets in the area, no way for Donald to get his ass into space. To be fair, he wouldn’t have wanted to go there even if he could. This was where he belonged—on terra firma—where his strength and evolution would give him an advantage.
Dr. Beck had wanted to create a situation that would demand the Bugs come down to Earth, to come right here, to investigate the giant cannon. Donald didn’t know if he was right in his supposition or not but with little else to do, he waited.
97.
LOCATED WITHIN an arm’s distance was a thick bush of blackberries. Donald had always loved them, especially as a kid. They didn’t grow in the desert. He didn’t know why. The thorns were certainly prickly enough. It seemed that if a plant or animal had a strong enough defense system—be it poison or outward-facing devilish thorns that not only pierced but hooked and held—it grew in the vicinity of their commune.
After the Fall- The Complete series Box Set Page 58
