REV: REV Warriors Book 1

by T. R. Harris

  Zac had a small locator with him, carried in the backpack until needed. Now he turned it on. It would guide them to the extraction point where they would meet up with the locals who would get them off the planet. He was rewarded with a strong signal, about two miles out and to the east, on the opposite side of the Temple wall from the spaceport.

  “Mike, how you doing?” he asked through his comm.

  “Just reached the spaceport, about to commandeer a ride. Where are you?” Mike’s voice was filled of agony.

  “Heading east through the city. Extraction point is just on the other side of the wall from your location. If you get a chance, land your vehicle on this side. We’ll try to get you out.”

  “Don’t bother. I have other plans.”

  People around the world continue to mourn the death last Saturday of Doctor Clifford Slater, the prominent scientist credited with taking a once-illicit performance-enhancing drug and turning it into one of the greatest weapons we have against the Antaere threat….

  Obituary, December 30, 2088

  25

  Mike Brickey ran up to one of the small, one-alien aircraft and pulled the pilot from the cockpit. He jumped inside and closed the canopy.

  The plane ran on lifting fans and chemical fuel, with vertical takeoff capabilities. Mike had no idea how to fly it, so he took the control stick and pressed it forward. The craft skidded along the ground, plowing through a group of Qwin who had come to stop him. That was fortunate, but he really needed to get airborne.

  There was another control stick on his right. He grabbed that one and pressed it forward. The plane lurched forward, nearly burying its nose into the tarmac before he could stop it. He pulled back on the stick and the plane lifted off.

  He relaxed his grip and evened out the stick. The plane leveled out, but it wasn’t moving forward. The center stick did the trick. Using a combination of both controls, he lifted higher and began to move forward, in the direction of the north wall.

  Other craft were launching and coming after him. Small bursts of plasma energy were coming at him. He pulled the center control stick over and the plane banked to the left. The barrage of bolts missed him. The second wouldn’t.

  Mike had no idea how to fire the weapons or even how to increase speed. There were no foot pedals, so he was at a loss. All he could do was move forward, gain or lose altitude and bank.

  He grimaced with pain, with a spasm in his side so severe that he almost passed out. This had to be serious when even the natural NT-4 couldn’t dull the pain enough for him to stay conscious. There wasn’t much time left. If he couldn’t provide air cover for the team….then he needed a diversion.

  He glanced out the side of the plane and down on the huge dome below. Staring up at him was the round eye of the crustal lens, aglow in the light of mid-day on Iz’zar. “Why not?” he groaned. “Probably won’t do much, but what the hell. It’s worth a try.”

  Taking both controls firmly in his hands, he banked the plane over and accelerated. A moment later he buried the nose into the lens, fully expecting to bounce off the thick crystal. He didn’t. Instead, the massive lens shattered.

  As the roof crumbled, the sides of the dome began to collapse inward, creating a series of explosive sounds as supports broke walls crumbled. Layer by layer the one-hundred-story tall building fell, until the debris reached the ground level and smashed deeper into the underground sections. When the downward motion of the falling debris ended, a roiling cloud of white dust shot skyward, channeled by the surviving walls of the dome. Rather than spread out, the cloud billowed up like a fountain, before forming a mushroom top about three thousand feet in the air.

  26

  Zac and the team were nearly knocked off their feet by the rumbling of the ground. Some of the weaker huts around them collapsed, causing the REVs to dive for cover. When they looked up, they saw the cloud of dust rising up from where the Temple had once stood.

  “Did Mike find a nuke somewhere?” Donovan asked.

  “That’s not nuclear,” Kyle corrected. “The dude just took out the whole damn Temple!”

  Zac looked around. There were natives around, all gawking at the rising mushroom cloud.

  “Move out,” Zac ordered. “Let’s get to the rendezvous spot while everyone’s distracted.”

  “I’m pretty distracted myself…and in awe,” Angus said. “Damn, Mike!”

  Five minutes later the four remaining members of the team reached the location highlighted on the small screen. A native appeared out of a doorway and called them inside. There were six others in the room.

  The Kalori—as the natives of Iz’zar were called—were of Human height and build, but with six fingers, four ears and a pair of eyes placed on the end of inch-long stalks. Their skin was leathery, with patterns resembling scales.

  “What did you do!” the leader cried out. “You were to only acquire an ancient document. Why have you destroyed the Temple of Light?”

  All the Kalori in the room were agitated and nervous. Some looked out windows, while others stared at the Humans, appearing ready to attack. The REVs raised their weapons.

  “Everyone stay cool,” Zac said. “We have the document.”

  “And matters so?” asked one of the other natives. “This is beyond!”

  Zac didn’t want to reveal too many details about their mission, confident that this level of native resistance wasn’t privy to the full story. “Don’t worry, things will settle out once the contents of the document are revealed. That was the purpose of the mission. The Temple was just collateral damage.”

  The leader shook his head. “This is far too serious.”

  Zac stepped closer, his weapon menacingly close to the alien. “Are you going to help us or not?”

  “Can you assure liberation through the document? That is all that matters.”

  Zac nodded. “That’s the plan. Now make up your mind. We don’t have all day.”

  “We will help, but only to get you off Iz’zar before you can be traced to us.”

  “That’s all we ask. Lead on.”

  The team was dressed in over-sized hoods and capes and put aboard a native car. A small caravan of three transports wound its way through the ghetto before emerging on a dirt road heading into the mountains. The trip took longer than Zac anticipated, but they were heading away from the Temple Complex. The cloud still lingered in the sky, turning golden as this fateful day was coming to an end.

  About an hour after dark, the caravan pulled up to a small airfield dotted with aircraft of conventional design.

  “Where are we?” Zac asked.

  The native leader—who refused to give his name for fear of being found out—had not spoken a word for the entire three hours of the trip.

  “This is a crop sanitizing center, used to protect against insects and the like.”

  “I don’t see any starships here,” Angus pointed out. “How are we supposed to get off the planet?”

  “Under the canopy there you will find transport. It is a simple lifting shuttle, old yet functional.”

  The transports pulled up beside the covered spacecraft. Natives climbed out and pulled the canvas away.

  “Do you have a pilot among you?” the unnamed leader of the Kalori asked.

  “No we don’t.”

  The alien seemed particularly perturbed. He turned to one of the natives standing nearby, looking angry and defiant.

  “I implore you, Nanno,” said the leader. “Only get them to the ship, then move to Roswor. That will mask your return.”

  The younger native turned and entered the rusty-skinned shuttle, mumbling to himself as he did so.

  “Are you sure this thing can make it?” Kyle asked.

  “It has good function. We of the non-believers use it often. The exterior has been disguised.”

  The team entered the shuttle. Zac thanked the leader, who just turned and walked away into the darkness.

  The shuttle actually worked quite well, and thirty
minutes later, the team floated weightless on the bridge as the young native pilot closed in on a bulky, ugly star freighter. Everything having to do with the Kalori seemed old and rundown, causing Zac to wonder if this was what became of species after two hundred years of Antaere rule? Fortunately, humanity had been able to throw off their yoke before it was too late.

  The shuttle moved into the freighter’s landing bay. An atmosphere was established and the team stepped into sub-freezing temperature as they double-timed it to an airlock. The Kalori shuttle was gone before they knew it, leaving the four Humans standing in a small, unattended room next to the bay’s control room.

  Zac felt the engines engage. They were going somewhere, but where?

  A locking handle on a hatchway moved up, and the door opened. An alien Zac recognized as an Enif stepped over the threshold. The alien had a huge bulge for a forehead, looking like one of those big-brain creatures from the old science fiction videos. Zac knew better. The Enif weren’t very smart.

  “Leader?” the alien asked.

  Zac stepped forward. “Lieutenant Zac Murphy,” he said as an introduction. It still felt awkward to call himself lieutenant.

  “I be Wisn, captain. Follow.”

  The team obeyed and were taken to the bridge. There were four other alien crew, all Enif except one. He was a Kalori. The Iz’zar native took the lead.

  “I am called Finsic. We are heading out system at maximum speed. The Antaere are just now launching forces to track you. We will continued on this course for another hour before reversing course.”

  “Reversing?”

  “Yes. The Antaere are looking for vessels heading out-system. We will appear to be arriving.”

  “And then what?” Zac asked.

  “Then we will return to Iz’zar.”

  “What…why?”

  The alien looked impatient. “You will remain there for several days until the search is called off. Then you will be moved off planet and to a waiting Human starship a light-year from here. It is what has been deemed the safest option.”

  Zac nodded his approval. Although he didn’t like the idea of returning to Iz’zar, the plan made since. He just hoped none of the natives would have second thoughts about helping them. He would hate to have to kill them.

  The freighter was challenged by an Antaere ship, but was allowed to proceed when told they were heading for the planet rather than away. After clearing that hurdle, Zac and his men were shown to a small work area off the landing bay, with a couple of tables and chairs enough for the four of them. They spent a few minutes in quiet reverence for their fallen comrade.

  “Well, that didn’t turn out exactly as planned,” said Angus, breaking the silence. “We better hope that document is enough to cover our arses.”

  “What does it say, Zac…I mean lieutenant.” Kyle wasn’t being funny, just accurate.

  Zac was curious about the document, too. He removed the ancient Antaere script from the protective plastic pouch it was in. The translation device was in a pocket of his fatigues. He laid the square page on a table and began to scan the text.

  “Final Glory of Mentar, Universal Corollaries to the Order of Light,” he recited.

  “That sounds like what we were looking for,” Kyle remarked.

  The reader scanned each line and then made the translation. Zac continued.

  “In the glory of the Universal Light, we issue these Corollaries for guidance and wisdom to the Order. Shall they be followed in their entirety.

  “The Glory of the Antaere shall be Final as Order spreads across the Universe, achieved through the light of the yellow stars which give birth to the followers of the Order. Until such time as Order is achieved, the Guardians shall use the labors of the followers to assist in bringing Order to the Universe. Upon the time of the Final Glory, the Guardians are to initiate processes regarding the followers as prescribed here.”

  “Here it comes,” Zac said as he moved the reader to the next line of text.

  “Upon the Final Glory, when Order comes to the Universe, all followers of the Light shall be welcomed into the Glory, to share with the Antaere eternal peace and joy in the Order. Until that time, the Guardian will encourage and assist the followers to achieve the greatest Glory in their own lives and on their own worlds. We are one. We shall be one at the Final Glory.”

  Zac stopped scanning, picked up the sheet and turned it over. There was nothing on the back. That was it.

  “Holy crap—literally,” Kyle said. “That’s not what we were told it would say.”

  Zac was stunned, on a variety of levels. First: As Kyle said, this is not what the document was supposed to say. Not even close. And second: There was nothing here that would shield them—and Earth—from what just took place on Iz’zar.

  “We’re in some deep shit,” Donovan said. “And I mean all of us. We can’t release that text. If we do, all it will do is strengthen the Antaere hold on their followers, not lessen it.”

  Zac stared at the ancient, yellowed document. Maybe things had changed since it had been written. Maybe the new strategy of the Antaere was as they’d been told. But where was the proof? Where was the document that would vindicate the Humans for what they’d just done? The sheet of paper on the table in front of him wasn’t it.

  Zac could see the shitstorm forming that General Smith has spoken of a month before. This wasn’t good, not at all.

  27

  It took the team three weeks to make it back to Camp Slater. Along the way, they monitored Grid-wide broadcasts, and the near-endless looping of stories about the destruction of the Temple of Light. And it didn’t take long for the Antaere to identify who did it.

  They were now broadcasting videos showing close ups of Zac and his team mowing down unarmed and elaborately-dressed priests in cold blood…and laughing as they did. Zac had to admit; they did do a fair amount of laughing, but that was just a reaction to being back in the REV saddle again, and not out of any morbid delight in the killing. But no one was speaking up for them. In fact, there was a news blackout coming out of Earth. They had no comment on the Temple fiasco.

  Now, as Zac made his way to the admin building for a meeting with General Smith, he could see the storm cloud gathering, and he was right in their path.

  “What went wrong, lieutenant?” Smith asked as Zac took a seat. The tone of his voice wasn’t accusatory, but more rhetorical.

  “The intel was faulty, general. That means we were set up.”

  “That may be so, but we have no way of proving it.”

  The general shook his head and opened a file on this desk, not to read it, but out of habit. “Did you really have to destroy the Temple?” he asked. “I told you what would happen if you did.”

  “Would you believe it if I said it was an accident?”

  “A hundred story dome structure, built like a brick shithouse…and the five you took it down—by accident.”

  “Actually, that was Sergeant Brickey.”

  Smith knew the details already. He just needed to vent.

  “So how bad is it?” Zac asked.

  “Worse than we could have imagined,” the general began. “Every ES world where we’ve had operations have now pulled their support. Even on planets we’ve secured we’re being asked to leave, and any resistance that may have been on those worlds has either dissolved or gone deep underground. There are even calls for a unified force to be sent against Earth. That’s not gaining much support, but the Antaere seem to be toying with the idea, seeing that they now have almost unanimous support in the Grid.”

  “That wouldn’t be advised.”

  “You would think not,” said General Smith. “But the small faction of Sun worshippers on Earth are back at it again, accusing their own kind of the most heinous atrocities, real and imagined. This is only one of hundreds of deadly events or accidents being blamed on the Humans. If an alien breaks a fingernail, it’s our fault. And this is just the beginning.”

  Zac was hesitant to br
oach the subject, but he had to. “What about us? I’ve seen the videos. They make us out to be a bunch of blood-thirsty killers. REVs already had a pretty nasty reputation in the Grid. This isn’t helping.”

  Smith averted his eyes, looking down at his desk and shuffling some papers. When he looked back at Zac, his eyes were filled with worry. “There’s talk back of Earth of throwing you guys under the bus, to make it out as a rogue operation by a bunch of former REVs all strung out on a new version of the drug.”

  Zac saw this coming. He nodded. “Makes sense,” he said. “Even I might believe it. You’re not going to let them do that, are you, general?”

  “It may be out of my hands, son,” said the general. “But there is plenty of evidence showing this was a sanctioned operation.”

  “If the evidence stays intact.”

  The general nodded. “Until then, I’m sending all of you to a new facility Colonel Cross has set up. It’s back on Earth, so you’ll be protected from any aliens out for vengeance.”

  “What about my fellow man?” Zac asked sarcastically. “You know they’d stab us in the back if there was even the slightest chance of gaining favor with the rest of the Grid.”

  “You’ll go in secret; no one but Cross and his staff will know you’re there.”

  “I don’t trust that guy,’ Zac said. “He’s not what he seems to be.”

  “Right now he’s about the only friend you have.”

  Zac sensed the meeting was over. He rose to his feet, shook the general’s hand and then left the office. He had packing to do.

  28

  Andus Zaphin was the Rowin of the Antaere, the next in line to lead the Guardians of Order and all the worshippers of the yellow stars. He was the second of his father’s male offspring, yet personally selected to be Rowin. He had more intelligence and sense than his siblings, and his father knew it. That was fortunate. He would have regretted having to kill his older brother. They were good friends.