Revolution Rising: Rebirth (Revolution Rising Series Book 1)

by Sarah Snyder

  “This place may be abandoned, but that doesn’t make it safe,” Sawyer denied. “It’s a large target, even larger than command.”

  “It’s overgrown and imbedded in the hillside,” Wil reminded. “In the dark, with the vines and trees around it, I doubt they can see it.”

  “And when the sun comes up?” Sawyer raised a brow.

  “It buys us some time,” the hollow acceptance in Wil’s tone was reflected in his eyes, but it quickly faded as he jumped up and moved toward the opened door of the hangar. “But, that may be all we need!”

  “What are you talking about?” Sawyer shook his head and blinked at Wil’s surge of optimism, noting Maverick and Carl seemed to share his confusion.

  “I have an idea,” Wil grinned.

  “Is it a good idea?” Sawyer squinted at the man, knowing his infamy of bad decisions.

  “I have an idea,” His smile dimmed slightly as he ignored the question in favor of repeating the positive. Wil pointed to the top of the ship where her primary cannon was mounted. “See that cannon? We still have charges for that.”

  “It’s ancient,” Sawyer shook his head. “It hasn’t fired in decades. What makes you think it would work even with charges?”

  “I can make it fire. I just need a few parts,” Wil looked up at the cannon, his hands moving to his hips before he looked back to Sawyer. “If we get that cannon working, we have a method of attack no faction on the planet can defend. Think about it; no hand-to-hand combat, no small arms fire, no civil war, no massacre.”

  Sawyer looked at the men around him, each staring at him with anxious, excited eyes as they waited for his answer. “We take the information to Lieutenant Pierce.”

  “Agreed,” Wil nodded once and turned toward the door. “Right after I fix it.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “The armory in the training facility,” Wil answered, peeking out the door toward the still smoldering domiciles. “I need those charges and tools.”

  “Whoa! Five minutes ago, you didn’t want to leave this building and now you want to cross to the other side of the compound?” Maverick’s disbelief was clear. “What’s changed?”

  “Purpose,” Carl answered in Wil’s place, his head nodding in approval of the younger man’s plan.

  “You want to steal from the training facility.” Sawyer stated Wil’s intent, but his friend regarded it as a question.

  “Well, yeah. They aren’t just going to give us what we need without an explanation.” Wil’s expression questioned Sawyer’s intelligence. “We don’t have time for that.”

  “And what makes you think they’re just going to let us walk in and take what we want?” Sawyer asked incredulously.

  “Everything is chaos because of the firebomb; they aren’t going to notice two people out of place.” Wil waved off Sawyer’s concern. “They aren’t using them for anything. Besides, once we get her up and running they won’t care how we did it.”

  “We’re not stealing anything.” Sawyer insisted. “I think this family has stolen enough for one day. We should go to Lieutenant Pierce.”

  “Two more fuel cells,” Carl added to Wil’s list as he rifled through the papers on his table.

  “Got it,” Wil nodded absently at the older man’s request as he cracked open the door to look outside.

  Sawyer growled in frustration; “Didn’t you just hear me? We take this to the Lieutenant.”

  Wil look back at Sawyer. “I heard you; I get it. You want to go to Lieutenant Pierce – fine – but there is someone with firebombs out there aiming at large buildings in our Sect. I’m not willing to risk our best shot at defending ourselves because of bureaucratic red tape.” Sawyer opened his mouth to add argument, but Wil didn’t allow him the chance. “Sawyer, think about this. You saw those photos; you know what Beta Sect is planning. As much as I hate admitting the turd ever gets anything right…”

  “Hey!” Maverick protested.

  “This time, he’s right.” Wil waved off Maverick’s indignant crossing of his arms. “Without that cannon, it doesn’t matter how many men Alpha throws at this war or how prepared the Lieutenant is; a lot of people are going to die.”

  “We go to Lieutenant Pierce as soon as it’s working,” Sawyer ceded to Wil’s logic as he recognized the look of determination on his friend’s face – once Wil had an idea in his head, there was no stopping him.

  “No! You can’t go out there!” Maverick shouted as Sawyer moved toward the door. His brother’s hand was cold and shaking where it gripped desperately at his forearm.

  Sawyer turned and addressed his brother. The fear in the young man’s eyes like nothing he’d ever seen in Maverick before. “What is it?”

  “What is it? Have you looked outside?” Maverick’s voice shook.

  “Yes, I have.” Sawyer kept his tone just above a whisper.

  “People are dying out there!” a tear slipped his control and was quickly wiped away. “Wait for Carl to get the ship rolling, then we can all go in the Anastasis.”

  “That could take hours. People are hurt and scared. We can’t wait hours to do something. If we’re about to be at war, we need to defend ourselves.” Maverick’s face broke, tears slipping unchecked from his eyes. Sawyer placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders and faced him square. “Mav, I can’t let him go alone and we won’t be near the larger buildings; the training facility is on the other side of the agriculture areas. Whoever is firing at us would be stupid to destroy our crops. Right now, this is our best option.”

  “Our best option is one of Wil’s ideas,” Maverick’s ugly laugh hiccupped and reverberated off the aluminum walls.

  “Hey!” Wil balked at the insult, but his voice lacked malice.

  “There has to be another way that doesn’t involve you going out there!”

  “I’m open to suggestions,” Sawyer’s calm offer was met with silence as he knew it would be. “We will contact Lieutenant Pierce, get the supplies we need, and help those we can before the flats get worse.”

  “And the longer we wait, the worse it’s going to be. Let’s go,” Wil shifted anxiously at the door.

  “I’ll come back, Mav.”

  “Promise.” Maverick’s demand was simple, but Sawyer’s voice refused to offer the words.

  Carl pulled Maverick away, replacing Sawyer’s hands on the boy’s shoulders with his own. “With passion, there is purpose; with purpose, there is progress; with progress, there is promise. They will return.”

  Sawyer held those words to him as he knew Maverick did; as the promise he couldn’t offer.

  Chapter 4. progress

  The pungent tang of smoke lay heavy in the air, making every breath one of inhaled, rancid water rather than oxygen. Wil’s heaving at his side told Sawyer he was not alone in his struggle to maintain speed through the marsh. Their movements slowed in tandem as they reached the threshold of dark and light. Moving with a hushed, hurried harmony, their footsteps mixed with the pat and hiss of the rain as it cooled the burning buildings ahead of them. Each step irrigated the seed of trepidation in Sawyer’s gut, twisting vines of unease around his extremities and drawing him to an eventual halt behind the last row of dwellings. Sawyer hesitated to step into the exposed courtyard beyond; “Something’s wrong.”

  “What? Did you see something?” Sawyer raised a hand to silence him.

  It was not the sights – the fading flames, plumes of black smoke forming overhead, and flickering lights – nor the unpleasant mingling of acrid smoke with the standard night aromas of oxidation and decay which disturbed him. It was the sounds – or lack thereof – which drew his concern. Silent, still, standing in the rain, Sawyer wondered: “Where is everyone?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Beneath the crackling and popping of failing embers, the grounds were quiet and still. No sirens of warning; no shuttles spooled to carry innocents to safety; no rush of people to offer aid to the wounded – no wounded. The hum and pop of the gener
ators in the electrical shed seemed jagged in the night; the lights set around the main buildings flared and dimmed. There were no footprints in the mud mounded between puddles, nor were there any sounds of human habitation drifting on the breeze. Sawyer wondered how such an attack could go without reaction. There should be terrified colonists seeking aid or shelter from the attack, other squads geared up and ready to fight back, or at least a random Admin barking orders into a communication device; there was only silence.

  “There should be sirens, squads entering formation, people running around,” Sawyer looked around them. “They couldn’t have evacuated everyone this fast. Where is everyone?”

  “Let’s keep moving.” Wil’s whisper seemed abnormally loud.

  They stepped around the final row of dwellings, their feet sinking into the soft dirt of the courtyard as they both stuttered at the sight before them. The ground was littered with cold, still bodies: men, women, children, elderly and young, dressed in night clothes, day clothes, and the uniforms of service. There were no bullet holes, no blood; no smell of copper or decaying flesh. Sawyer recognized the faces of those he spoke to regularly: the elderly couple from the dwelling three down from his lay face down in the dirt, their hands clasped still as they’d aided each other to escape; the young parents with the one-year-old baby girl – Celina – were laying in each other’s arms with their daughter on her mother’s chest as if they’d just laid down and went to sleep in the mud; a member of his squad always late for rotation, his uniform in a state of disarray as he’d clearly thrown it on without taking care to fix it, lay with his eyes still opened to the sky above them.

  “Sawyer, there’s no blood; no bullets,” Wil’s whisper shook. Sawyer was about to say he didn’t know what was happening either, but couldn’t find his voice. “Hellfire, it’s something in the air.”

  “No, if it was we’d be dead too.” Sawyer heard his own voice at a distance; the logic of his thoughts separated from the shock of what lay before him. “We still have to find Lieutenant Pierce and get the supplies. There’s nothing we can do for these people now; we have to focus on those we can save.” Sawyer turned away from the horror, giving it a wide berth as he led their crossing of the courtyard.

  Crossing the higher grounds of the settlement wasn’t physically strenuous, but Sawyer’s feet slipped on patches of liquified dirt, his mind heavy with images from what lay behind them. An odd euphoria filled Sawyer’s chest as the outline of the training facility glimmered in the silver light of moons. Sawyer heard a loud pop seconds before he was thrust forward into the mud. Dirt filled his nostrils and mouth, scraping his chin and chest where they slid across the ground. A disorienting scream pierced his eardrums, keeping him prone on the ground as pressure built over his body.

  “Stay down!” Wil’s shout was distant despite his proximity.

  An ache settled in the back of his skull; the intensifying pressure – as if a shuttle was crushing him with its weight – testing the limits of his consciousness. Sawyer cried out as the wave ebbed, drawing in deep gulps of smoky air as he struggled to sit upright. Dizziness nearly overwhelmed him as he turned his head. A gaping, smoldering hole pierced the middle of the command building, splitting the three-story structure in half. The heat of the internal inferno blew out the windows, glass mixing with raindrops in glistening slivers of reflected flames. Sawyer struggled to orient himself as if waking from a deep sleep, watching Wil’s lips move but unable to make out the words he spoke. Wil’s movements seemed unusually slow as he stood and gripped Sawyer’s arm, pulling him to stand beside him.

  The remaining distance to the training facility seemed endless, the vision of it never growing larger until they were upon its step. Wil released his grip on Sawyer’s arm to navigate the locking mechanism on the door panel, easily bypassing the system with the senior Hale’s key code stolen long before. Sawyer stumbled inside, collapsing onto his knees as the door slammed behind them. His head spun and his back arched as nausea rolled through his torso in a giant, unproductive heave.

  “Are you okay?” Sawyer touched his ringing ears at Wil’s abnormally loud question, bringing his fingers away bloody.

  “Hellfire, that was close!” Wil breathed as he checked the door was secure.

  Sawyer only paid him half attention, the kind of consideration one gives to keep tabs when their mind is filled with other purpose. With the first decent dredge of artificial air he drew, Sawyer sensed something odd in its odor. The crisp smells of disinfectant normally present in the facility were replaced by an unpleasant, metallic aroma. The smell held an aged undertone, the beginnings of discomposure already present. He stood carefully, gathering balance before moving to the far wall of the lobby they entered.

  The short hallway was dark, the aroma growing stronger as he stumbled its length and entered the training room beyond. The lights disoriented him, causing a delayed comprehension of the room’s contents.

  “What is it?” Wil asked, his consequent gasp an audible version of Sawyer’s mental reaction.

  Blood pooled around the fallen bodies of their comrades. Sawyer recognized Ensigns Pope and Bishop, two of the men from his squad laying prone a few feet from where he stood. Their weapons were sheathed and their uniforms pristine. The only blood dripped from their breathless lips, thick and clotted to the floor.

  “What in hellfire happened?” Wil breathed the question as he stepped forward, performing a circle as he took in the carnage.

  “Ambush?” Sawyer suggested, but this didn’t feel like an ambush; it felt wrong – out of place – hovering beyond his understanding. “There aren’t any bullets; no bullet holes or casings. They didn’t even draw their weapons.”

  Coughing from the other end of the building startled both men into action. Sawyer ignored Wil’s shout and curse as he bolted toward the sound, focusing only on finding survivors. Wil caught up to him before he could round the last barrier, shoving him against a wall with a desperate fear in his eyes.

  “Are you crazy? What is wrong with you? What if it’s whoever did this? Where’s your gun?” Wil’s voice was barely a whisper as he held up his pistol.

  “I didn’t think,” Sawyer stuttered on his explanation, shocked at Wil’s lecture. He hadn’t thought about endangering himself; he only thought of helping those he could save. The memory of the attack on their homestead so many years ago flashed in his mind: Maverick’s ignorance to their father’s demand to run, the desperation in his small body as he bolted haphazardly toward their home where their mother and sister remained, and his continued assurances of no regrets for his actions. Sawyer never understood Maverick’s need to go back until then. The only difference between their actions was Sawyer’s movements placed Wil in danger, while Maverick never brought harm to anyone.

  “That’s just it, you didn’t think. You can’t do that; you can’t just act without thinking. What if something happened to you?” Wil released his grip and backed away, the shaking of his hand as he thrust it through his blond hair speaking of his terror at Sawyer’s actions. “You can’t leave me alone with the turd and Crazy Carl.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Just stay back and let me check.,” Wil held out a hand to keep Sawyer back and pointed his pistol toward the continued coughing. A string of curses followed a renewed round of coughing and Sawyer saw Wil’s shoulders relax at the familiar voice. “Lieutenant?”

  “Lieutenant Pierce,” Sawyer rushed to the man’s side, kneeling beside him and checking him visually for bleeding like the dozen dead men through the building. “Sir, what happened here? Are you alright?”

  “Hale, what are you doing here?” the Lieutenant’s words were slurred and thick, the sickly-sweet smell of old Bourbon on his breath.

  “The asshole’s drunk!” Wil exclaimed in disgusted shock. “Your men are laying dead around you and you’re drunk?”

  “They’re the lucky ones,” the Lieutenant pulled a bottle up from the opposite side of where he sat on the floor and
placed it to his lips. He finished speaking before taking a long, hard gulp. “It was quick.”

  “What are you talking about, Sir?” Sawyer leaned away from the man’s sickly-sweet smell; the combination of physical exhaustion, emotional drain, and mental confusion making his stomach sensitive to its pungent odor.

  “Took them out quick and clean.”

  Sawyer looked in the direction Lieutenant Pierce indicated with his short, shaking nod, noting the odd gun resting a few feet away from the drunken man. “What is that?”

  “Ah, I’m glad you asked, my boy!” Lieutenant Pierce smiled widely at the chance to show off. “That is our newest design; the most powerful gun ever created. It doesn’t take bullets, bags, or beads. It is entirely self-sustaining.”

  “It’s a pulse weapon,” Wil spat the words, his lip curled in a sneer.

  “Yes, boy, it is!”

  “How? How did you get the materials to make it? There’s nothing on Flamouria that could create that type of tech.” Sawyer’s confusion furrowed his brow.

  “Well, that’s what the TSS is for. I mean, think about it. How else do you wipe out a violent world? Cut supplies, give them weapons, and let human nature take its course.” Lieutenant Pierce chuckled for a moment before he went silent and his face grew serious. “Too bad we won’t have another chance to use it.”

  “Another chance?” Sawyer’s blood chilled as he realized what happened in the storage room. “Lieutenant Pierce, what happened here? The civilians from the dwellings, they’re all…”

  “Dead, yeah, I know. As soon as they started firebombing us, I knew there weren’t going to be any more transports coming. I couldn’t let the poor saps go out like that.” Lieutenant Pierce’s sigh came with a sob and a tear. “What did they expect? Give a bunch of Sects the materials they need to build weapons of mass destruction; it was only a matter of time until we started blowing each other up. They just didn’t expect us to be so good at it, I guess. Those assholes in Beta Sect went and ruined everything.”