Strikeforce

by Nick James

  Cassius caught glimpses of the catastrophe below him—snapshots of fire and rubble—but never enough to get a full picture of the wreckage. He wondered how many passengers were still onboard during impact. It was worse than Skyship Altair had been. Bigger ship, more casualties. If nobody had been able to escape via shuttle or cruiser, how had anybody gotten to safety?

  Had anybody gotten to safety?

  He thought about the Tribunal. Enemies, maybe, but he couldn’t imagine them all snuffed out so suddenly. It didn’t seem real.

  Cassius clenched his fist, extinguishing the fire. The parachute dipped down immediately.

  Atlas had crashed off to their right. If the wind started to push them toward the blazing wreckage, he’d conjure another flame to steer them to safety. Right now, all he could do was let his arms fall to his sides and close his eyes, unwilling to look down.

  When he refocused on the ground, they were less than a mile from the Surface. He could see people now, running away from what was left of the Skyship. He imagined that they’d piled at the edges of the upper docking bays, jumping off just before the explosions at the center of the ship had spread to engulf them. Others had fallen to the ground on parachutes, only they’d already landed—most much closer to the wreckage than Cassius’s steered chute would bring them. Most had undoubtedly been crushed.

  “Look!” Eva’s voice pierced his thoughts.

  She wriggled her arm free and pointed to the sky, off in the opposite direction from the crash. Cassius turned his head. At first, he didn’t notice anything. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the oncoming wind. Then he saw it.

  The red in the air began to dissipate—fold back into itself. Normal blue sky replaced it, starting from far in the distance and racing closer to their parachute.

  It stopped. The sky was blue again. Everywhere but one spot, directly in front of them.

  As if being pulled by a magnet, the red energy swirled together, churning like an enormous whirlpool in the sky. Cassius half-expected to watch a tornado form out of thin air.

  Something did emerge from the whirlpool. But it was no tornado.

  A metal object—so seamlessly silver that the sun beamed a blinding reflection off its hull—protruded from the center of the portal, growing in size as it came down upon the earth. First it was narrow, like the tip of a missile, but it soon expanded into a wide, oblong shape. A rocket, without windows or wings or tail fins. In seconds enough had popped out that it dwarfed everything around it. Cassius could hardly see past the metal siding of the craft. It dropped several miles away from them, sending shockwaves through the sky. Their parachute blew sideways in its wake.

  Cassius watched in horror as the strange vessel fell closer to the Surface. He expected it to explode just like Atlas had, but instead of dismantling, it worked its way into the ground like a drill, sticking in the earth at a diagonal. The red whirlpool above evaporated. The ship stopped moving.

  Cassius couldn’t take his eyes off it, and with good reason. Within seconds, he and the others would land back on the Surface, inches away from the vessel. They were heading straight toward it.

  14

  A slap wakes me.

  I jump and grab hold of some sort of plush handle to my side. When I open my eyes, I realize I’m sitting with my back against the wall. A cramp right between my shoulder blades makes twisting uncomfortable. My entire body aches with bruises.

  My eyes part to see Avery crouched before me, hand recoiled and expression worried. She winces. “Sorry. I figured you were already beat up enough. What’s another slap?”

  I wiggle my jaw. It feels displaced. Nothing feels right.

  Beyond Avery, the narrow space we’re both in seems to be completely empty. It’s not like a normal room—too long and constricted to make much sense as anything but a closed-off hallway. The metal walls are barren, dark and scuffed up beyond saving. It’s unnervingly quiet, except for a constant rattle underfoot, like I’m sitting on top of a generator or engine.

  “Avery.” My voice comes out weak and strained. “What’s happening?”

  She sits back, though a sudden shift in the ground almost throws her to the side. “Thank god you’re alive.”

  “Did the Drifters … did the Pearl energy make it out?”

  Her jaw clenches. “Don’t worry about the Pearl energy.”

  “I lost consciousness … ” I shake my head. “Back in the reactor chamber. The energy … the Drifters.”

  “I know.” She lays a hand on my knee, mostly to stop me from talking. “Listen Jesse, none of that matters right now. They’ve got us.”

  I search her eyes, trying to understand. “Who?”

  She glances nervously to the other end of the room. A door. I hadn’t noticed it before. “Who do you think?”

  My heart sinks. “The soldiers?”

  She nods. “The Authority.”

  “But—”

  “The explosion from the reactor must have drawn them to you,” she interrupts. “Jesse, I did what I could. I tried to stop them. When they surged on you—grabbed what I thought … ” She pauses, shielding her face from view. I can tell she’s fighting back tears. “What I thought might be your lifeless body. I wouldn’t let them take you without taking me, too. I was sure they were gonna kill me. But they didn’t. And now you’re alive too.”

  I peer around the room, hoping to find anything besides blank walls.

  “The door’s locked,” Avery says. “I already tried. They left about five minutes ago.”

  “Where are we?”

  Avery bites her lip. “Some sort of train. Transport, I think. It’s definitely not the Chute. They hijacked it and brought us onboard. I’ve got no idea where we’re headed.”

  I stretch my arms, wincing as bolts of pain shoot through my limbs. Suddenly the rumble underfoot gains new significance. We’re moving. “Why didn’t they just kill us? It’s worse this way. It means they’re planning something.”

  Avery glances at the door, hand shaking. “The entire city’s gone to hell. Should be in complete ruins by now. I saw the buildings crumble, Jesse, as we were being dragged to the train car. Then, just after the Bio-Nets fell, the sky bled. It was as red as the Authority Pearls. What are we up against?”

  “It’s worse off than we thought,” I reply. “And I was stupid enough to think that freeing a few dozen Drifters would have any effect. If they can take down a city like that—”

  “You did what you could,” she interrupts. “We’re alive. We learned. Now we just need to stay alive.”

  Before I can respond, the door bursts open and a pair of foot soldiers stride through, similar in height and design as the one that nearly killed me in the bunker. On first glance, it would be easy to mistake them for human, but as they turn to appraise us, the gleaming red of their eyes is more than enough to dehumanize them.

  Avery grabs my arm and pushes her body against mine. We press against the wall, unable to look away from the soldiers.

  They speak to each other—words I can’t comprehend, but ones that mirror the desperate sounds of the pleas from inside Pearls. The native Haven language is twisted as it spills from these soldiers’ mouths in deep, guttural phrases.

  They’re unarmed. Once I get past the initial horror of seeing them so close, this observation registers with me. Not that the guy down in the bunker had been armed, either. And not that I have any Pearls around to use as an offense.

  Where did Talan and Sem go? What about Skandar?

  These questions ricochet in my mind as my panicked brain tries to work out what to do. There is no help in this train car. Only Avery and I. Sure, we’ve overcome a lot together already, but neither of us is the least bit physically imposing when it comes down to it.

  Once the soldiers have finished communicating with each other, the one on the left advances. Avery lets out a yelp as he grabs her by the arm and forces her to her feet.

  That’s all I need to see. The sight of her manhandled by this
guy gets me standing, even though pain nearly collapses me once more.

  “Let go of her!”

  The soldier doesn’t seem to understand. Or maybe he does. He clenches her tighter against his body, eyes blazing crimson.

  “Jesse,” she says through a half-suffocated windpipe. “No!”

  I ball my fists, determined to fight. I know I won’t last long, but I can’t just stand here and watch Avery crushed to death.

  The enemy Drifter smiles, wide enough that I get a look at his teeth. The second approaches me. I tilt away, legs apart, ready to punch.

  What the hell do I punch? His body’s covered nearly head to toe in armor. I don’t stand a chance.

  Just then, the entire back wall of the train car rips open. I fall against the metal behind me, watching in horror as the train’s ripped apart. The back end peels off with ruthless efficiency. Once gutted, the entire square of metal flies onto the tracks in the distance, thrown by an unseen hand.

  The first soldier drops Avery. She collapses, gasping for air.

  A man jumps, from above the train, into the opening he just created. He stands there, framed by the jagged hole. Train tracks disappear behind him as he grips the frame, feet firmly planted.

  He wears a baggy gray shirt, so dark that it’s nearly black. His legs are partially covered by some sort of armor—badly worn and cracked in several places. His head is shaved, and he wears a deep frown. I only see one eye. The other is covered by some sort of patch. From this distance, it looks as though it’s been sewn into his skin somehow. His bulky shoulders heave with exertion.

  When he speaks, his voice rumbles with the same force as the train engine. “Jesse Fisher.”

  He knows my name.

  Releasing his hold on the door frame, the man stomps into the room.

  The first soldier springs into action, lunging at the man before he can say or do anything else.

  I watch as the stranger deflects his attack, kneeing the soldier in the gut and swinging him back through the opening. The Drifter hurtles onto the tracks outside, quickly forgotten.

  Seeing this, the second soldier comes at the man, only to be met by a colossal fist, shattering the Drifter’s helmet. Before the body can even hit the ground, the stranger grabs the soldier by the neck and pounds him into the opposite wall, hard enough to leave a dent in the metal. The soldier falls to the ground in a heap, unconscious. Probably dead.

  The armored man turns back to me. “Come with me, Jesse.” His good eye narrows. “We have things to do.”

  I back away. “I don’t—”

  Before I can finish, he sprints toward me, impossibly fast. I attempt to counterattack, do something, but in less than a second he’s whipped his arm up around my shoulder. We stay still for just a moment. Then the ground falls away from us.

  We’re out the back opening and in the sky before I even realize we’re flying.

  15

  Cassius’s feet nearly collided with the strange vessel. They plummeted so close to its hull that he could clearly see his terrified expression reflected back at him against the silver metal.

  Their parachute landed on the ground in a mess, mere yards from the base of the ship. Madame undid the bands holding them together. Cassius was too shell shocked to do much of anything.

  When they were freed, he fell to his knees, hands in the dirt. He breathed heavy, exhausted from conjuring and maintaining a flame for so long.

  Eva stood and staggered away from the enormous ship. They’d landed right in front of it, positioned so that it rose up in a diagonal away from them. Even at an angle, the vessel seemed taller than any building Cassius had ever seen. When he stood and peered up, it looked almost like an endless silver slide, stretching into the heavens.

  Behind them lay a pile of dirt and rock, exhumed from the impact of the ship’s pointed nose burrowing into the ground.

  “What is it?” Eva asked after a few moments of silent observation.

  Madame neared closer to Cassius, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Did you see where it came from? One moment the sky was clear. The next … ”

  “It’s the Authority,” Cassius whispered, the strength of his voice stolen by their daring escape. “It has to be.”

  “We’re too close,” Eva said. “If there are Drifters inside, we’re in trouble.”

  Cassius didn’t take his eyes off the metal. He waited for it to shift or transform, for some sort of door to appear and release whomever was inside.

  But all was silent. If the ship was occupied, there certainly wasn’t a sign of it.

  Far behind them, the ruins of Atlas smoldered. A cloud of smoke rose into the air, adding to the haze caused by all the dust in the Fringes. Beyond that, they were too far away now to hear or see anything of note. Too far to help any of the survivors, either. The Fringe heat started to get to him.Madame pointed up.

  “Look at the sky.”

  Cassius peered into the blue. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Exactly.”

  His heart fell at the realization of it. Usually, when standing on the Surface, he could see at least two or three Skyships, even if they were little more than small dots. Without any clouds, he should be able to notice them immediately.

  But the sky was empty. No Skyships in the distance. No shuttles or cruisers.

  Atlas had sunk. So had everything else.

  “They immobilized it all.” Madame’s voice was quiet. “Brought it down in one quick move. They turned this into a ground war.”

  Eva shook her head. “We don’t know that for sure. The Skyships are … well, they’re designed to withstand things like this.”

  “Things like what?” Cassius began walking away from them. “An alien invasion? Obviously the Tribunal didn’t see any of this coming.”

  He moved farther away. His reflection distorted as he neared the shiny siding of the vessel. Carefully, he reached forward and pressed his hand against the metal. He closed his eyes, half-expecting to be shocked or burned or something.

  Instead, it felt perfectly normal under his fingers. The only thing that struck him as slightly off was the temperature. In comparison to the atmosphere around him, the metal felt pleasantly warm, but not hot. He knew that normal metal—even after a few minutes in the Fringes—became almost unbearable to touch.

  “Cassius.” Madame’s concerned voice came from behind him. “I wouldn’t.”

  He turned. “Wouldn’t what? Touch it?”

  “You don’t know what kind of defenses this craft may be equipped with.”

  “I don’t see anything.” He glanced behind him again, eyes tracing the length of the vessel. The top end climbed beyond his vision, growing hazy the farther away it stretched.

  “Exactly,” she whispered. “Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean that everything’s safe. There could be invisible traps.”

  He turned back to the ship, pressing his hands on the metal once more. The temperature hadn’t changed. “I want to see what’s inside.”

  “No,” she said. “We have a mission, Cassius. A plan.”

  “You mean had a mission,” he responded. “It didn’t work. Time for Plan B.”

  “You know fully well that we have no Plan B.”

  He leaned in closer, staring at his expression in the silver reflection. “We do now.”

  Eva stepped up beside them. “We need to contact the others. Tell them what’s happened.”

  “Go ahead,” he replied. “You’ve got a com-pad, don’t you? Call up Fisher. Meanwhile, we’re here. Could be the base of the enemy. We could be right in the thick of it. Maybe it’s the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

  Madame laid a hand on his shoulder. “And if we were to attempt a break-in, how do you suppose we get in? I see no doors.”

  Without responding, he began to skirt the perimeter of the ship. It was nearly as wide as a city block, so he moved fast. Fast enough to be out of earshot.

  But Madame wouldn’t let him. She
followed close behind, pecking at his patience with little annoyed noises. Starts of sentences that she couldn’t finish.

  Halfway around the ship, Cassius felt the metal tremble under his fingers.

  Shocked, he bolted back and stared at the underside of the vessel, which now climbed above their heads, dwarfing them in an enormous shadow.

  Something blossomed far above them. Cassius watched as a ring of steam issued from the perimeter of the ship, half a mile up. It emanated from somewhere within. Streams of white clouds flowed along the surface of the metal, far enough in the sky that it didn’t immediately threaten them. Still, something was happening. Cassius wanted to see it closer.

  The steam stopped suddenly. It evaporated in the air, silent and invisible.

  Madame took a step back, keeping her eyes on the ship. “What was that all about?”

  Cassius shook his head.

  Before he could speak, something new issued from the metal.

  It dripped from within—long black torrents that spilled down the sides of the craft like an overflowing cup. It clung to the metal as it descended. At the angle it fell, it should have dripped right down to the earth, but something held it in place.

  “Oil?” Madame squinted to better focus.

  “No,” Cassius said. He knew exactly what the substance was. Only one thing could be so pure in its void of color, so otherworldly in its movement. He’d fought for his life against it only weeks ago. Under the control of the right Shifter, it was incredibly dangerous.

  Ridium.

  He’d recognize it anywhere. Impossibly black, it came down in thick tendrils—dozens around the perimeter of the ship. It didn’t exist naturally on Earth, only on Haven. And it could be used for almost anything. Most notably: killing.

  It slid down in silence until it reached the ground. Cassius backed up, pushing Madame with him. He feared it would stretch toward them and engulf their bodies. Instead, it plunged into the dirt, coursing under the crust until it disappeared completely.

  Madame slid in front of him to get a better look.