Benson realized the futility of his situation, but he had one last-ditch effort left in his banks. His blazer sat rolled beside the door, and he bent to pick it up. With a flourish, he unrolled it, shaking it free of dust and debris. If he was going down, he’d at least go down with a semblance of his former self, the man who’d contrived a way to be the first human on a hostile alien world. To most, it might seem stupid, but Benson was proud of all he’d done, even as he slipped the dirty navy blazer over his tattered and stinking clothing.
When it was on, his posture straightened slightly, and his brain was more active, like a fog lifting from a marina with the rising of the sun. It was time to change tactics. If they didn’t believe him this whole time, he’d tell Her about the virus. Benson had been inside the cell a long time, and there were nights he woke in a panic, thinking the virus must have hit, and he’d be locked away forever with no one there to let him out.
But it hadn’t happened. Perhaps Wren and the others had attempted to unleash the virus and had failed. If that was the case, what he was about to explain would have no merit, and he’d probably be killed on sight. It was a risk he was willing to take. He always had the programming backup in the android, but sitting there trapped and dying, Benson wondered if he’d made a grave error.
As he walked in front of the Watcher down the ratty tunnel, he tried to remember his grandiose plans from years ago. He’d dreamed of negotiating with the Watchers: of arriving and speaking their tongue like a native, of impressing them with his knowledge and culture, then convincing the Watchers to let him head back through the Rift when it opened, a liaison between humanity and their overlords. They could herald in a new existence together, one with mutually beneficial relationships.
Perhaps humans had access to metals or healthcare that could help the Watchers, and maybe the Watchers were advanced in other fields. Benson would be the man to arrive at the precipice of war between two races and wave the flag of peace. He’d be memorialized, forever a hero. No one would even recall Jarden Fairbanks’ name in a hundred years, but all would remember Benson’s for eternity.
The tunnels widened, and Benson had no idea where he really was. He figured he was far below the surface in a prison, but he’d never seen another prisoner, not once. Thick live wires jutted out from the hard-packed dirt walls, and he shied away from them, assuming they were deadly. The Watchers appeared technologically advanced from a weapons and vessel perspective, but what he’d seen of them down here was anything but. They were barbarians through and through.
The hall ended, but instead of heading right like they always did, the guard pushed him in the other direction with the barrel of his weapon. The dirt gave way to a shiny finished metal, and Benson felt a surge of hope. This was different. They were taking him somewhere different.
Six months. He guessed it had been nearly half a year, and now he was being brought somewhere different. As his weak legs carried his weight down the hall and through a door, he considered telling them everything. About the android he’d programmed to free the biologist, and about the virus that was coming for them. One thing he hadn’t counted on when making these plans all those years ago was the time dilation on this side of the Rift.
He’d expected a year to have passed on the other side. His plan could still work. It had to. Benson was their only hope. He had to prevent the virus from going off, or humanity would spend the rest of their pitiful existence in cells like his own.
He was led up a flight of steps, each stair wider to accommodate the large stature of the Watchers. When they reached the top, he was pushed into a large, polished room. The same female Watcher as before was there, but she looked different. He realized she’d come to the slums of the prison wearing cloaks, likely incognito. Now she wore armor and stood at least nine feet tall. Her black eyes were menacing as she eyed him. She reminded him of a snake stalking a squirming mouse before the inevitable took place.
“Your Faithfulness, I humbly beg forgiveness for hiding some facts from you,” Benson said in the Watchers’ native tongue.
“Small alien. Speak your truths. Ober came to me today.” Her voice was that of a feral animal, with hints of class behind it. Her words set goosebumps down Benson’s back.
He swallowed hard, desperately wishing for a glass of water. “And what did Ober say?” A visit from their god wasn’t a good sign. Benson stood straight, feeling more in control with his blazer on, a shade of his former self again.
“Ober said to listen. So listen I will.” The Watchers’ queen sat down on a large metal chair and indicated a seat opposite her. A long table stood between them, and Benson obliged, climbing onto the gigantic piece of furniture.
He took a deep breath and told her everything. He had to. There was no choice.
26
Charles
The Shift took them far across the system, arriving just shy of the enemy’s range. Charles was ready for his mission. He was inside the alien fighter vessel with Flint, and Charles felt a sense of finality in what they were about to do. They still had five Watcher fighters if this failed. Four, if Ace’s mission failed too. Four was what they needed to get to the surface of the planet to fulfill their final task: unleashing the virus over the Watchers’ entire planet.
Charles was nervous. He knew the theory behind the feeling, and his emotions matched the readings. The more time he spent with these people, the more like them he became. Charles was still unaware if it was just adaptive programming or if he was truly different on some deeper level, but he didn’t like to dwell on it. Either way, his wiring felt like it was tied in knots as he approached the cockpit of the vessel.
“Charles, let me help you with that,” Flint said. The surface of the moon they were bearing down on was too cold for Charles to move on without assistance, so he found himself in a Marine EVA, the boots weighted for the lower gravity. Inside his pack were three canisters of compressed air mixed with the deadly virus. Three, to be safe. He was told he only needed one. Charles was strapped inside his suit, the pack hung around the front of his torso, allowing easier access than on his back.
“Charles, this isn’t going to be easy. Set your beacon on as soon as the job is done. Got it?” Flint was staring him in the eyes, and Charles nodded. He’d do as ordered.
“Good. It’s time.” Flint left him standing alone and got behind the controls. They’d already said their goodbyes, and Ace had left with Bull a few minutes prior. They’d be taking a different trajectory to the far side of the moon.
Charles stood, saying nothing as they entered space.
Flint
Flint charged the fighter’s Shift drive as planned. Charles was acting strange, even for an android, and Flint hoped his mission partner wasn’t losing his edge. Once this assignment was over, they could finish the mission. Twenty million Watchers awaited their destiny on the moon outpost. That was a huge chunk of a potential fleet they couldn’t leave alone. Revenge would be swift if they did.
Flint had originally argued they should head for the planet first, kill as many of them as possible, then go back for the moon outpost, but there was no way to block transmissions being sent outward from the planet. It was far too large-scale a plan, and they didn’t have the time, people, or resources to make it happen, so here they were. One outpost at a time, then the planet.
The first mission had gone off as well as they could have hoped, but the losses still stung Flint. He tried not to picture the faces of the dead as he remained still in the pilot’s seat of the foreign vessel. The lettering inside was alien to him, but he knew what each switch and button did after training in the simulators for the last few months. He could fly it with his eyes closed. He shut his eyelids but thought it might be better to look.
He opened them to see the drive countdown was completed. One minute and eleven seconds, and they were ready to Shift close to the outpost. “Charles, thank you for all you’ve done. We couldn’t have been where we are without you. Remember that.” Flint gla
nced back at the metal man, and Charles’ eyes glowed bright orange.
“I will not forget, Flint. Be careful yourself, okay? I know Wren has grown fond of you, and she will never forgive me if anything happens to you,” Charles said, making Flint smile.
Flint assumed everyone on this mission had the same feeling. This might be their last few hours alive. Flint wanted nothing more than to live, but a small part of him was at peace with whatever the outcome. As long as they won the day, he’d rest easy knowing he did his part.
“It’s a deal, buddy. I’m making the Shift.” Flint tapped the coordinates into the system, hit engage, and soon they arrived in a different location. The moon was large, the Watcher planet a distant speck, but visible for the first time with his naked eye. Flint felt his trigger finger twitch upon seeing their planet.
Charles took over at the controls for the communication part of their plan. “Requesting entry. By Ober’s bidding, an asteroid field too small for detection hit my vessel upon completion of a jump.” Charles used their phrasing as best he could, and Flint held his breath as the typed commands were spoken out loud using the translation program.
“Faithful, proceed to one-seven-four.” The location was the very same hangar they’d planned on arriving at, based on their Shift coordinates.
Flint slapped a hand to the seat’s arm in excitement. “Almost there, Charles. Almost there.”
Flint raced the ship toward the moon base, trying to keep his speed steady so he didn’t appear overly eager. He veered away from the target, taking the long way, hoping they didn’t notice as Charles plummeted toward the surface at the far side of the outpost.
Charles
Charles jumped from the moving vessel, pulled his chute, and internally set himself to off, with a timer to awake in five minutes. His world went black and blank the second he left the ship and began dropping to the dark hard surface of the Watchers’ moon.
He came to a few minutes later, as planned. If anyone had seen him and scanned the area, they would have found nothing of interest. He was sprawled out on the dusty ground, covered by the folds of the chute that helped him lower to the surface. Charles pulled them aside, getting a view of the rocky moon around him. It was slate gray, the sun on the far side of the moon, giving him low visibility other than his built-in night vision.
He didn’t have long. If they sensed a strange energy source outside their colony walls, the Watchers would end him quickly, and with him, the humans’ chance at success. Charles got to his feet and considered the large wall half a kilometer from his position. It stood high into the dark sky, protection for the Watchers from inside their home. Instead of a dome like humans had used, they’d walled themselves off, not caring if they saw beyond their city’s boundaries.
Charles gathered that would have been the cheaper alternative, but humans needed the transparency, always looking for whatever views and sunlight they could muster. Some of the early colonies had been enclosed, and more humans went mad after a time than not. Charles wondered if the Watchers were mad, and wouldn’t be surprised if they were.
As he approached, his footsteps fell heavier. His boots were weighted to accommodate the change of gravity, but it wasn’t just that. There was something else, something internal trying to prevent him from following through with his task.
Charles felt the draw of his programming, and he couldn’t help but speak a series of old guard sayings out loud: the sound of his own mechanical voice reverberated through his helmet. “Stand down, prisoner. Break is over, prisoner. You’re wanted in the smelting room for extra hours today.” Charles tripped on a rock as he attempted to stop himself from talking. What was wrong with him?
He stumbled forward but was lucky his boots clung to the surface, preventing him from tipping over. He was close to the wall now and searched internally for the ducting chutes that would be along this exterior wall. It was a rough surface, as if welded together using old ships and damaged satellites. It was nothing quite as smooth and well-created as the Watchers’ vessels, and he couldn’t help but wonder if another race had built this outpost.
Maybe the Watchers weren’t the original dwellers. This sent a new series of concerns through Charles’ wiring. He pushed the worry down and found his target. Here was the exhaust from their air-handling units for the section. Inside, he’d find the ducts that provided millions of Watchers their fresh air. That was where he headed.
Only his feet wouldn’t move. He urged them to move, but the legs continued to fail him.
Charles stood there, on the precipice of making history, and he couldn’t get his legs to obey his commands. Someone had hijacked his programming.
Ace
Ace sweated profusely inside his suit. Every mission leading to this one had been important, including the countless training exercises, but this one took the prize for most terrifying. Bull stood behind Ace like a giant in a tiny room, pacing as they lowered toward the communication towers. So far, no one had greeted them.
“I get the feeling they don’t get much company,” Ace said as they moved toward the surface. It was bright over here, the star illuminating the distant moon.
“This thing might have some guards, but I suspect it’s mostly automated. Things go well for you for a few centuries, and you grow complacent. That’s what we’re banking on, Ace.” Bull patted the back of Ace’s seat, and they touched down near a corner of the tower. It was really a series of dozens of buildings, each acting as a tower booster, according to Tomas.
Ace didn’t care how it worked, he just wanted in and out. He let Bull take the lead as they headed to the small airlock.
“You take this corner, and the other one, straight that way.” Bull pointed, and Ace followed the finger, even though they were still inside the ship. He nodded in agreement, knowing his part in the plan already.
“I get the other two,” Bull said, and passed a pack to Ace, who accepted it with a grunt. The devices weren’t light, and Ace struggled as they exited the ship. He breathed recycled air with quick inhalations as he stepped onto the moon. His steps were light, the weight of his EVA boots helping him not go bounding around the surface.
Ace’s feet were planted, and he seized the first device from the sack. His target was nearby, and he ran to the corner of the tower block, measuring out his meter from the edge. He took the tablet-shaped device and tapped the red button on top as he shoved the unit onto the rocky ground. It shot up as the spike entered the rock below, sticking it into place. He then pressed the green button, activating it.
Ace took a second to examine the surface. There really wasn’t anything to see out here. Dust and rocks. He imagined most moons looked the same, when it came down to it. Cold. Lifeless. Lonely.
Only one more to go. “Bull, you okay?” he asked through his mic.
The man was breathing heavily. “First one… done.”
Ace was behind. He ran for the next corner, each step feeling like he had a thousand more to go. Eventually, he found the outer edge and glanced to his right to see a small figure crouching. It was Bull, setting the second unit into the ground. Ace grabbed his last one and repeated the steps. Not long after, all four of the communication-killing devices were planted, and Ace activated the one by his feet.
“They’re all active,” Ace said.
Bull waved at him from the distance and spoke. “I’m turning them on now.” Ace watched the device as the small lights on the face of it began to flash blue. It hummed, and a beam shot out from each side, hitting the paired devices around the tower.
“Good work. Let’s go!” Ace started to run when he saw the lights. A ship was lowering toward Bull. “Bull! Behind you!”
All he heard were the guttural cries of the large Marine as a Watcher vessel blasted a pulse beam into him. The ground shook with their weapon’s impact, sending Ace sprawling. He scrambled to his feet, wanting to run toward Bull to see if he could help the man. His brain told him that was futile, and pure instinct had Ace racing t
oward the ship they’d landed in. It was his only chance.
The communication tower was deactivated, and Ace needed to take down this fighter in order to give Flint and Charles a chance back at the outpost. His legs pumped harder than normal because of the gravity, and he leapt into the fighter, gasping for breath.
Before he lifted off the ground, the enemy was on him, firing at his shields. Ace lifted, not used to fighting in any sort of gravity. They’d run the simulators on surfaces, but never on the exact gravity of this moon, and it took some getting used to as he flew away from the onslaught. He began the Shift drive charge just in case and let his body take over the fight.
Ace told himself this was just another simulation as the enemy fired at him from behind. His ship trembled with the blast, his shields were down to forty percent, and he hadn’t even made a single shot. Ace banked sharply to the right, feeling the strapping dig into his side as he did so. He cut the thruster momentarily and jammed it full after one breath, pulling up right under the enemy fighter. He eased up and shot a volley of pulses at the enemy, who didn’t appear to expect the move.
Ace watched as he penetrated the shields, and the last shot took out the drive with a puff of smoke before the pilot arced away from Ace. The ship dropped altitude quickly and crashed into the surface with a bang.
To be on the safe side, Ace flew to the wreckage and shot the dead ship a few more times for good measure. His heart was thrumming so hard in his chest, he thought he might be done for. When he scanned the sensors, he saw no more enemy ships coming. That one had likely been the patrol ship.
That meant they still had time to finish the job.
27
The Resistance- The Complete Series Page 45
