Sixth Cycle

by Darren Wearmouth

  * * *

  Skye patrolled the fields between the two walls for the next hour. Jake sent scouts outside to check the surrounding forest. She heard reports over the radio that only wastelander casualties were still in the area. She climbed the rampart and stared at the scene below. Hundreds of dead bodies were spread around, but she couldn’t see Finch.

  Wastelander bodies were dragged outside the walls. The stronghold victims were neatly piled inside. They would be buried tomorrow.

  Dusk turned to darkness, and she led her team back to the safety of the inner wall.

  Her radio, still on the command channel, crackled. “Skye, can you make it to the mansion in fifteen minutes?”

  “Sure, Jake. Anything I need to know?”

  “Harrison wants a governors’ meeting. I think you should be there.”

  “Okay. Skye out.”

  She felt confident to stand alongside Jake and give her view. Omega had no official leader, but he organized the joint defense. Harrison’s force beat away a small attack of wastelanders from the western edge of the inner wall, but she didn’t see him do much else. Herbie went with the plan and lost a lot of men and women. He could hold his head high and justifiably claim that Kappa played their part.

  After setting up a shift system between her team to guard a small section of the wall, she walked up the gravel drive to Finch’s mansion and slumped on the steps. The ruins of the front gates smoldered in the distance. Citizens met in the street and embraced. Some talked in small groups, no doubt relieved they’d see another sunrise. Skye felt shattered. She couldn’t remember her last decent night’s sleep.

  Finch nearly ruined her life twice. He failed the second time but managed to destroy a lot of others. If she couldn’t find him tomorrow, she wouldn’t stop searching for him until she returned the compliment.

  The two governors approached. Harrison strutted over the gravel with his hands behind his back. Herbie covered his mouth and yawned. His usually smart brown jacket hung open, revealing a stained string vest.

  “Is Jake already inside?” Herbie said.

  “I think I’m the first here,” Skye said.

  Harrison looked down his nose at her. “I don’t remember inviting you. This is a governors’ matter.”

  Skye shrugged. “Jake asked me along.”

  “We need someone from Omega,” Herbie said. “Let’s wait in Finch’s study and see if he’s left any of that vintage whiskey.”

  Harrison grunted and walked inside. He now represented the old failed system in Skye’s eyes. The last two days had brought about a complete transformation in her beliefs. The population clock hung above her head, but it counted for nothing. If anything, it should be replaced with the number of casualties they took today, serving as a constant reminder to their honor and bravery.

  Jake, Trader and Ryder pushed open the wrought-iron gates. All three were in deep conversation. Skye stood and brushed herself down.

  “They’re already here, in Finch’s study,” she said.

  “Fine, lead the way,” Jake said.

  Skye led them through the mansion and entered the study. Mary must’ve cleaned the place up. It was probably all she knew, serving as Finch’s housekeeper for the last twenty years. Harrison and Herbie sat on the leather chairs on either side of the shattered glass coffee table.

  Harrison stood and pointed at Ryder. “What’s he doing here?”

  “He’s part of us now,” Jake said. “You need to accept that.”

  “That’s part of the reason I called this meeting. We need to get things straight before I leave tomorrow.”

  Trader took a book from the shelf and opened it to the first page. Skye guessed he wanted to listen to how things developed and judge how it would best benefit him.

  “So get things straight,” Jake said.

  “I want you to appoint yourself as the governor here. We carry on under the stronghold treaty, under Trader’s arbitration. We’ve taken a blow, but our system works. He can set new clock values after accounting for casualties.”

  “Your system doesn’t work,” Ryder said. “You make your own laws, cast people out, strangle desire, and don’t mind killing anyone who doesn’t buy into your damned corrupt society.”

  Harrison scowled and reached for his holster.

  Herbie reached over and grabbed his arm. “Go easy. He’s entitled to his opinion after today.”

  “The system in Omega vanished with Finch,” Skye said. “We’ve got a chance to build something better. Why would people go back to working your fields after fighting for freedom?”

  Harrison gave her a sarcastic smile. “Because people like being controlled. Isn’t that right, Trader?”

  “Leave me out of it until you decide on a way forward.”

  “Here’s my proposal,” Jake said. “Omega and Epsilon will be run democratically, without any clock. I’ll set up a council here, which Ryder and Skye will sit on. The strongholds will still trade, but will not be governed by your treaty rules.”

  “You can’t speak for Beth and Barry,” Harrison said.

  “I can and I will,” Jake said. “You didn’t complain at the tower when we went through the battle plan.”

  “They’re a pair of old crows. What use would they be?”

  “They’re old crows who agree with us,” Ryder said. “Omega and Epsilon are both leaving the treaty.”

  “You’re speaking for them too?” Harrison said. He slumped back in his chair and shook his head. “Unbelievable. You know what the punishment is for breaking the treaty?”

  “You can’t seriously contemplate attacking us?” Skye said.

  “Herbie,” Harrison said. “Tell them the consequences. You know the other four strongholds won’t stand for it.”

  Herbie rubbed his chin and eyed the group by the door. “I think they’re entitled to do what they want. If they carry on trading, it’s no skin off my nose. Cut them some slack. If it goes wrong, you can tell them you told them so.”

  Harrison mumbled something, unscrewed a whiskey bottle and drank from it. A feeling of liberation rose in Skye, like a weight lifted off her shoulders. Their fight would mean something. A better life for the people of Omega and Epsilon.

  “So you’re okay?” Jake said to Herbie.

  “You’ve proved yourselves today. Compared to Finch, I’d say we’ve got a pretty good deal out of it.”

  “They’re taking in outlaws,” Harrison said. “Trader, how can you control the system if we don’t know the numbers we need to produce?”

  Trader cleared his throat. “You have a point, but I’ve already spoken to them. They won’t back down. We’ll have to run it for a trial period to see if it works.”

  “And if I refuse to trade?”

  “Why would you do that?” Skye said. “What happens if your people want to come and live here instead of working your damned hemp fields?”

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Harrison said and bolted from his chair. “You can have your wish on one condition.”

  “Which is?” Jake said.

  “I get to offer everyone outside a chance to come and live in Zeta. We’ll see what the people really want.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ve spoken to plenty of citizens, and they’re all for our plan.”

  Harrison grabbed the whiskey bottle and stormed out of the room.

  Herbie raised his eyebrows. “I think you’re on the right track, but it’s gonna be a shock to the other places, especially if their people start flooding here. I’ll have to make some changes in Kappa.”

  “We’ll help and support you,” Ryder said. “Throwing out the failed system doesn’t mean ending relationships.”

  “You’re a bit too militant for my liking, young man,” Herbie said. “But I’m prepared to give you all the benefit of the doubt.”

  “You won’t regret it,” Skye said. “People don’t fight for the right to be slaves. We’ll prove Harrison wrong.”

  She couldn’t
believe those words just came out of her mouth. Her post-battle low was replaced with a flood of optimism. Skye wasn’t sure a place on a new council would suit her, but she would do her best to make it work if that’s what Jake and Ryder wanted.

  Herbie moved along the line and shook everyone’s hand. “I’ll be leaving at first light with my people. I don’t expect you to convince any to stay.”

  “Agreed,” Jake said.

  He left the room. Trader shook his head. “You’ve landed yourselves in a world of trouble. I told you not to go through with it.”

  “Relax,” Jake said. “You need to start worrying about how you break the news to the other strongholds, and how they can support our growth.”

  “I agree with you, but people will be surprised by the pace of events. The other strongholds didn’t see what happened outside.”

  “You can bring them here and we’ll show them the graves,” Skye said. She had an idea and turned to Jake and Ryder. “Can you help me do something?”

  “Sure,” Ryder said.

  “What do you need?” Jake said.

  “Follow me.”

  Skye walked along the corridor and out of the front entrance. Jake helped her carry a ladder from the side of the mansion, and they propped it against the front wall. He held it steady, and she climbed the first few rungs.

  She turned back and detected a hint of a smile on Trader’s face. He lit a cigarette, coughed and thumped his chest. Ryder’s smile didn’t need concealing. He beamed up at her. Skye continued up and wondered if her parents would be proud. From what Ryder said in the caves, they would approve of the new changes, and she was part of the implementation.

  The clock balanced on a small wooden ledge. She used to change these numbers for Finch as a young girl. It never really meant anything to her back then. Pulling it down today would have symbolic value. People in Omega were no longer numbers. Their tags meaningless.

  She grabbed the metal frame, shook it loose, and threw it to her side. It crashed against the gravel by Ryder’s feet.

  Cheers came from behind her. She turned on the ladder and saw a small crowd gathered by the wrought-iron gates. Omega was free.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jake spent the night on the inner wall with Trader’s team. Leading them through battle didn’t mean he could shirk his shift. He decided that Finch’s front garden would be a fitting place to bury the dead. Nobody in Omega deserved to live in a mansion overlooking the rows of scruffy bungalows. It would be a place of remembrance.

  Two thousand guards and citizens from Omega survived. Out of everyone he encountered that night, only two middle-aged men didn’t have a healthy appetite for the new way forward. Both were packing their things and heading for Kappa. He felt sure a few more would leave. A small minority who benefited from the old system and were sold a promise by Harrison. They were welcome to walk through the battered gates.

  Plenty of the Zeta and Kappa population asked to stay. Without wanting to poke a hornets’ nest, Jake and Ryder both refused the requests, but told them if they were ever made outlaws, they had a place in Omega. He understood that too much rapid change at the other strongholds’ expense would likely cause trouble. Although he expected people would flock to Omega once they knew they could live in a free society without tin-pot dictators and population clocks.

  The sun rose in the early morning sky, casting long dark shadows of the outer wall across the dew-glistening fields. Barry and Beth left at five in the morning with the people of Epsilon. They were getting straight to work in their foundry to create a new pair of front gates. For a stronghold that went through hell in the last twenty-four hours, a lot had smiles on their faces, especially when Barry ordered them to remove their tags. He planned to melt them down into a statue to commemorate the battle.

  Harrison lined up the Zeta SUVs in a convoy formation. Around three thousand of his citizens left the inner wall and surrounded the vehicles. Jake scanned their glum expressions and realized he still had work to do. But not yet.

  Trader stood by his shoulder as he watched Harrison shouting orders. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, Jake.”

  “I suppose you’re happy to keep some of the old system in place?”

  “I carried on the work of Trader four. I know it isn’t perfect, but it worked. You have to admit that.”

  “I’ll admit it helped keep pockets of unhappy people alive if you admit there’s a better way of doing things.”

  He laughed and smoothed back his greasy gray hair. Harrison headed over, flanked by two guards.

  “We’re moving out. You’ll be pleased to know that none of my citizens want to stay. Ten of yours are coming with me.”

  “Fine by me,” Jake said, he wouldn’t reveal that plenty asked. “We’ll bury our dead this morning. Any citizen of Zeta is welcome to come and pay their respects.”

  Harrison gave him a lingering glare and turned to Trader. “It remains vegetables for clothing and material. I want to know if they start producing something else.”

  “Business as usual,” Trader said. “You’ll be the first to know.”

  “When this little enterprise fails, don’t expect me to pick up the slack.”

  “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Jake said.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  While returning to the head of his convoy, Harrison glanced toward the barracks, at the pile of over a thousand stronghold casualties, and shook his head. Jake thought even the coldest heart would be moved by the sight. Every one of them had given him and thousands of others their freedom.

  “Come to the back of my SUV,” Trader said. “I’m cooking up breakfast, and we need to talk.”

  Jake followed him back through the inner wall. Half of the Omega Force guarded the fire step. Even the most cynical members saw the practicality of letting the outlaws join their ranks, especially when Ryder organized them with an air of efficiency they hadn’t witnessed before. Despite victory being confirmed, the stronghold still had to remain vigilant. Not every wastelander would have joined Finch’s army, and Jake wanted no casualties today.

  Trader had left his SUV parked outside Finch’s mansion. Citizens were already digging graves on the front lawn. Others headed out under the protection of Trader’s team to gather and burn the wastelanders outside.

  He opened the trunk, produced a camping stove and frying pan, and unwrapped a paper packet of anemic-looking sausages.

  “Better make it quick, Trader. We’ve got plenty of work to do today.”

  “Just give me ten minutes of your time; that’s all I’m asking.”

  Trader lit the stove, and within minutes the sausages sizzled. Jake leaned against the SUV and thought about his ship.

  “I still haven’t seen Mills,” Jake said. “That’s the only thing I can’t square in my head.”

  Trader reached inside his breast pocket and pulled out a light green piece of material. He handed it to Jake. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  He recognized it as a Fleet name tag, with the name Mills in faded black stitching. “Where did you get this?”

  “When I joined the Fleet. You’re looking at him, Jake.”

  Jake stared at Trader, not knowing what to say. It didn’t seem possible. “You can’t be. You don’t even look like …”

  Trader smiled. “Oh, come on. Take off forty years, fifty pounds, thousands of cigarettes, dye my hair and give me a shave, and you’ll see it’s me.”

  Jake studied his face and thought back to his old partner on Endeavor Three. Trader appeared nothing like him, but he wouldn’t if he’d been out four decades. He eventually saw it in his twinkling eyes.

  “Mills … Why didn’t you say?”

  “I’m Trader now. This is my life. I wanted to pick the right time.” Jake’s mind raced with questions. Mills stabbed a fork through a sausage and handed it to him. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

  “What happened to the crew? Why did you leave me in stasis?”
>
  “We all spent a long time in orbit, Jake. When I woke and brought us down forty years ago, we agreed to leave you as an insurance policy while exploring the immediate area. It was only meant to be a short-term thing.”

  “Insurance policy for what? You could’ve asked me.”

  “I knew you’d refuse. It was only for a few hours until we established the dangers we faced outside. What would be the point in all of us dying? None of us expected wastelanders or strongholds.”

  “It still doesn’t make sense,” Jake said. “How did a few hours turn into forty years?”

  “None of us were thinking straight. Stasis destroyed a couple of the guys. We were ambushed two miles from the ship by wastelanders. I was the only survivor and got picked up by a Sigma patrol.”

  “Why didn’t you come back for me?”

  “I kept my mouth shut and said I was from the north. I planned to come back for you as soon as I managed to escape. Epsilon saw our ship come down, and they dragged it inside their walls after a couple of days.”

  Jake shook his head. “You’re not answering my question. Why didn’t you come back for me? You’ve spent years as the Trader.”

  Mills bowed his head and took a bite out of his sausage. Jake wasn’t letting him off the hook and waited for an answer.

  “You were part of Epsilon’s economy by the time I had freedom of movement. Quite a popular part, too. I decided to keep you as an insurance policy and integrate you into my role when I neared death’s door.”

  “You seem in reasonable shape to me. I take it you feared an unnatural death?”

  “I saw trouble on the horizon. Not exactly what Finch had planned, but I knew something was behind the increasing wastelander numbers. We needed a young military commander and the contents of the bunkers.”

  Jake suspected his captain’s knowledge of the access codes and the weapons inside the bunkers were the main motivation. The requirement of a young military commander was Mills’ attempt to sugarcoat and justify his decisions, although he could see the logic behind his words.

  “But you didn’t stay around after initiating my waking procedure. How did you know I’d survive?”