Rise | Book 3 | Reclamation

by Ford, Devon C.

  Cole shrugged, giving Alec a blank stare. “What do you mean?”

  “I know you. Well, not really, but I think I know you well enough to understand you.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you hate crowds. You prefer to be in the wilderness with a coyote for a pet…”

  “That was by accident,” Cole said with a sideways grin.

  “You know what I’m saying.”

  “You’re worried that after we blow up some gates, I’m going to come to camp, and wander around for a few days, maybe a couple weeks, and fade into the wild where I’m more comfortable, is that it?” Cole asked.

  Alec was impressed. “That’s exactly what I’m wondering.”

  “You seem to have this idea in your head that we can rule side by side and take over where Tom left off. Our father was a politician, and it’s in our blood, blah blah blah, but man, that’s not for me,” Cole said.

  “So you will leave? After it’s done?” Alec hated the way the conversation was heading.

  “No.” This caught Alec off guard. “I’m not going anywhere. Lina wants to stay, and so do I. We can help things, and after spending my entire damned life alone out there, running away from metal monsters, it’s time to settle down. Where better than with my new brother and friends?” The last word had a lift to it, like the very concept shocked him.

  Alec clasped his brother on the arm, and smiled wide. “Good to hear it. Now let’s go reclaim our world.”

  Chapter 39

  Cole

  “We should be down there, you know,” Soares grumbled, standing beside Cole on the bridge of the largest alien ship they currently possessed.

  “You’re in no condition to fight, General,” he answered, reminding Soares that his hands were still bandaged and useless but mollifying that harsh truth by awarding him the newly bestowed title. “And besides, your place isn’t on the front line anymore.”

  Soares grumbled again, muttering darkly under his breath but loud enough for Cole to make out a few choice words.

  “Everyone’s in position, ready for your go,” a woman said, turning in her seat, which was a high-backed office type bolted to the deck in place of the alien chair it replaced.

  Soares huffed through his nose and glared at Cole. “She ain’t talking to me,” he said with evident amusement. Cole tried not to return the glowering look, as uncomfortable as he felt being revered by their troops like he and Alec were some kind of joint messiah risen again to lead them to redemption.

  “On your command, General,” he said, deferring control of the operation to Soares as the infinitely more qualified man for the job.

  “Order the advance. All weapons are a go,” he said, sounding as if he took no enjoyment from the commencement of another crushing defeat coming to the aliens. Smaller ships surged ahead, weapons firing. Three vessels took off from the ground cleared in the rainforest, two taking fire before they could turn to fly away as the lead ships in the human advance switched their aim without requiring orders.

  The third craft, the one that took off last and avoided the initial salvos that dropped its companions, managed to turn south and power up to stretch out a short lead before incoming fire from an oblique angle tore into it to tumble the ungainly hull to the ground.

  “All ships target the Gateway,” Soares ordered, looking ahead but holding one bandaged hand out toward the woman in charge of communicating his orders to their small, liberated fleet.

  They watched as the fire converged on the inert ring, hearing the whoops of wild elation come through their radios as the device fell to the ground in shattered pieces.

  “Hold position,” Soares instructed. “Signal the support group to move in and secure the area. Takes us to objective Bravo.” He looked at Cole as the orders were relayed, feeling the lurching sensation under their feet as the ship moved forward to fly south.

  Their reconnaissance team reported no survivors at the Mexico site, hence the mass bombardment with no risk of killing humans. The support group, comprised more of the willing than of the capable in Soares’ potentially unfair assessment, would clean up the site and dispatch any remaining aliens before salvaging as much of their technology left behind as possible.

  They were facing uncertain times, even if they could defeat the dwindling alien forces left on the planet and emerging onto the surface without fear of death or imprisonment would require many of them to learn new skills.

  Already the Reclaimers, Roamers, and Freeborn were busy exchanging methods and their own unique brands of technology. All of that, combined with the alien tech, was providing them with new discoveries almost daily.

  “Helm, what’s our ETA?” Soares asked, maneuvering into his seat and wincing as he moved.

  “Are you okay?” Cole muttered, bending his head closer so the others couldn’t hear his concern. “Is it your hands?”

  “You’re not my mother, kid,” Soares muttered back. “And I’m not in pain. I can't believe I sounded like the Captain of the god damn Starship Enterprise just then.”

  “Starship… Enterpr—”

  “Forget it,” Soares said with a dismissive wave, earning an actual wince of pain as he moved his healing hand too quickly.

  “ETA two hours, give or take,” Becca reported from the primary pilot’s seat.

  “Give or take what?” Cole asked.

  “Traffic,” the older woman on the communications station answered. “And if Grandpa here’s likening himself to Kirk, then I guess that makes me Uhura.” She shot Soares a wink to go with the wry smile.

  “That’s General Grandpa to you,” he answered. Cole stood straight and looked between the two of them before throwing his arms up lazily in exasperation.

  “I swear, I have no freaking idea what you old people are talking about some days.”

  “Don’t sweat it, kid,” Soares said as he shifted in his chair to get comfortable. “Now this old person’s gonna take a nap before we reach Brazil. That okay with you, hotshot?”

  “Yes sir, General Soares sir,” Cole said, opting to go with an elaborate bow in place of the sarcastic salute Soares was no doubt expecting.

  “Signal all ships to stop,” Cole announced, having been warned of their imminent arrival at the next Gateway site. He was surprised to find two others on the same continent so close together, but then he figured they’d been built where the most wanted materials were to be found. He also thought back to a time not so long before when he was considering heading for Mexico in search of the rumor that there were no aliens or Hunters down there.

  “Fighter groups to flanking positions, all eyes on the sky in case they have the guts for a fight,” Soares added, seemingly unbothered about his authority being usurped by the young man he felt an intense, burning pride for every time he looked at him being all… leadery.

  “Lower us to deployment altitude,” Cole ordered their pilot, repeating the words he’d heard used before and making sure he understood their full meaning before repeating the phrase. “Deploy all Tracker drones.”

  “Deploying all Trackers, affirmative,” a male voice answered from another station behind him. Soares rested an elbow on Cole’s shoulder, no doubt in place of a hand that, by rights, he should still be resting in a hospital bed somewhere. It was bad enough that he’d lost sensation in part of his left hand and the smallest digit from his right, but he was adamant with the doctors that he was getting back to work.

  “You have come far, my young Padawan,” Soares intoned theatrically. Cole smiled at him, mostly in confusion but partly because he was enjoying this new, relaxed version of the brooding man.

  “Dude, keep mixing your metaphors like that and we will fall out. Sir,” the woman working their communications drawled at him.

  “These kids don’t get either anyway, so I guess I’m good to keep on doing it.” Soares smiled at her before a voice interrupted their moment.

  “Drone feeds online, patching to the viewscreen now.”

  The
big window ahead of them went partially dark and showed fast-moving footage of the dense jungle in close up. Cole watched, mesmerized for a moment about what life must be like for Buddy if he saw the world from that perspective. He still couldn’t shake the guilt he felt over his Tracker being destroyed, even though logic told him it was just a machine.

  And yet, a part of him felt the sting of loss and responsibility, which he could only make up for that with his actions.

  “First wave approaching target location,” he was told. He didn’t acknowledge or turn his attention from the screen as he watched the dense foliage melt away as the drone transmitting its footage burst into the clearing to attract fire from the enemy immediately.

  The image on the screen shook concussively until Soares asked for an audio feed to go with it.

  “Sorry, sir, no audio. Only what you can see.”

  He grunted at the answer, but Cole gave no response as he stared at the screen. The shaking coincided with the air in the middle of the display distorting for a fraction of a second until he realized it was the drone firing its own weapon back at the alien as it crossed the open ground to cut the distance.

  The footage froze, flickered twice, then the screen went black.

  “Take us up,” Cole demanded, staring at the monitor impatiently until another perspective came into blurry focus. It took him a few seconds to realize he was watching the same scene from a different angle of the clearing in the forest, and the new drone was sprinting hard at the flanks of the alien position before leaping into the air to slam into one.

  Cole fought his body’s urge to flinch as the targeted alien turned at the last second to show a hideous mask of terror before the sky and the ground tumbled over each other twice. They watched in silence as the reprogrammed Trackers stormed the facility and overwhelmed the defenders, forcing a group of them to retreat to a ship and leave three of the lanky creatures behind to protect their retreat.

  “Ready weapons,” Soares said. “I want those bastards blown outta the sky.”

  Orders were relayed and weapons hammered shots out to drop the escape attempt back to the ground.

  “Sir?” the communications operator said, pulling the earpiece aside as she turned to face Soares and Cole without making it clear which one she was talking to. “Second squad’s reporting human prisoners.”

  “Order all drones to convene on that location and defend the people,” Soares barked, adding, “Authorize landing of ground troops. I want those people rescued and onboard as soon as possible.”

  The battle was one-sided and over quickly. The few aliens able to defend themselves were overwhelmed fast, and a grim discovery of dead and dying aliens in what passed for their medical bay showed how successful and unusually cruel their attack on the source of the misters truly was.

  Safely onboard their ships with another liberated craft adding to their fleet, Soares ordered them to fly out to a safe distance before turning and firing their guns on the inert gateway.

  They spent the next ten minutes rushing the survivors on board, who were completely panicked before realizing they were being rescued. Cole heard someone say there were seventy of them, and he set a grim smile at the news.

  “Takes us home, helm,” Soares said tiredly as he took his seat on the bridge again.

  “Sir, incoming call from the base,” he was told. He picked up the offered headset, nodding along as he listened before signing off and handing back the set.

  Cole’s face was expectant, and seeing it, Soares seemed to remember himself, filling in the bridge crew on the news.

  “Good news from Africa,” he said. “That’s the last gateway we needed confirmation of.”

  Chapter 40

  Dex

  The ship lowered at the outskirts of the Barony, and Dex couldn’t stop staring at the place through the viewscreen. Even from here, it was evident this was a real home, an established colony.

  “What do you think?” Marisol asked.

  “I think we might want to take a few days here before heading back.” Dex smiled at Becca as she rose from the modified alien pilot’s seat.

  Becca had returned from the mission to destroy the gates a couple days earlier, and Dex was still recovering from the celebration that ensued. Someone had managed to find an old cache of aged wine from California stored in a nearby town, and the bonfire party to commemorate their liberation was one for the books.

  “You guys gonna help with the cargo?” Becca asked, walking toward the exit. The ship had stores from the Chicago facility: rice, water, oats, wheat, even some animals they’d rounded up from massive farmland the humans had tended to in Kentucky. Dex had driven by them years ago, and to see them now, the animals grazing in the fields, the chickens scraping by somehow, showed him how resilient creatures could be.

  Dex couldn’t help but smile these days, and it was a strange sensation. Their lives had been flipped upside down. Only a few short weeks ago, he’d been hunting Trent James, and now he was in England’s northern territory at a castle with a couple thousand people living around it.

  Marisol appeared to read his mind, and she grabbed for his hand with hers, whispering in his ear, “It’s okay to feel this way.”

  He nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Let’s unload this. I’ve never been to England before. Might be nice to do some sightseeing.”

  Marisol let go as the large ramp lowered, revealing ten healthy young men, ready with hand carts and pallet jacks. They were prepared for this.

  The smell of fresh roasting meat carried through the air as smoke climbed into the sky from a few outdoor firepits. The castle was the focus of the entire area, and Dex caught the glint of sunlight off the hovering Seeker drones protecting the Barony. He glanced behind the ship to see a Tracker on guard.

  “Dexter!” Daniel’s voice called. He was being followed by a beautiful woman in a long colorful dress, a small child clinging to her like a barnacle.

  “Dan. Good to see you,” Dex told the man. Marisol greeted the woman and crouched near the boy.

  “Who is this sweetie?” Marisol asked.

  Daniel answered. “This is Ava and her son Benji. She’s… the Queen here.”

  “Enough with that… I’m no Queen. I never liked the fact that the people gave Jack that title, and he didn’t either. I’m only Ava, and I’m one of the leaders here at the Barony, but only until Daniel accepts the role,” she said. Her eyes were dark brown, and Dex noted the sadness behind them.

  “I’m sorry about your husband. I saw what he did in Norway. We couldn’t have won without his ingenuity,” Dex told her.

  Benji appeared to warm up to Marisol, and he walked over to her, tugging on her shirt. Marisol’s hair was tied in a braid today, and she wore durable jeans and a white t-shirt. They’d raided the storage facility for clothing too, and some older seamstresses at the Lake had begun altering the utilitarian garb of the workers into something more wearable.

  “What is it, Benji?” Ava asked.

  “Where’s your hand?” the boy asked with the innocence only a child could muster.

  Marisol didn’t hesitate. “It paid for my freedom.”

  “Oh. Did it hurt?” Benji asked.

  She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “It did, but it was worth it.”

  “Like how my daddy helped us.”

  “That’s right.” Ava set a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Come on. My team can unload the goods. Let me show you around.”

  Ava took them on a tour, first showing them through the town, which was comprised of a main street. They even had businesses established, with places to eat eggs in the morning and soup for lunch. Another had items people could exchange, another clothing made from furs and fabric rolls lined the rear of the building.

  “This is…” Marisol ran her fingers over a dress.

  “How were you able to survive like this?” Dex asked Ava.

  “We didn’t live in fear. Jack wouldn’t have it. He brought us here to the lake he u
sed to fish with his father years before the invasion. It was so isolated that when he determined it was outside the Occupation’s radar, he moved us all here. We started as a group of two hundred, and we lost a lot on the way, gaining others,” Ava told them as they walked toward the castle. The tower was tall, with windows giving a view of the land and inhabitants.

  Marisol pointed to a Seeker hovering twenty feet overhead. “And the drones?”

  “Jack also wanted to have protection, so he took a team to London. The aliens had a port there, a ship on call in the early years. We attacked and took the ship. The drones came with it, and taking the second ship a couple months later was easier.” She stopped at the gate, two guards opening the heavy iron portcullis at once.

  “I had no idea there was so much resistance,” Marisol said. “If only we could have contacted one another sooner.”

  “What of you?” Ava asked the Roamer woman.

  “Not much to say. Worked as a slave most of my life, and when my mother finally tracked me down, she broke me out of the fields.” She lifted her arm, which ended at the wrist. “We were together at least. Had a large group in Chicago.”

  They entered the castle grounds, Dex impressed with how well maintained it was. After years of seeing nothing but overgrown roads and towns, this felt like something real, tangible. He slowed, Marisol keeping pace. “What if we stay here?” he asked.

  “Stay?”

  “You see the way they look at me in the States. Plus, didn’t you tell me the other day you could use a change of scenery?” Dex asked, knowing the others only reminded her of Renata, the mom she’d lost in the battle of Norway.

  “You’re right.”

  Dex grinned as they continued toward the castle. Green vines clung to the side of the stone walls, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful building. Not after so many years of decrepit rotted roof bungalows in the small towns he’d chased people through. This felt like a dream. “I’ve always wanted to build my own place.”