The machine conformed to his movements, offering just enough resistance to make the controls intuitive and realistic. Jake’s strength was amplified a hundredfold at least, and the HUD exceeded anything his v-lenses were capable of. It showed Ixa piloting mechs of their own, fighting in an urban landscape populated by towering buildings and looming warehouses.
He’d run similar simulations in lucid before, but nothing this detailed, and nothing with such an advanced, intuitive interface.
Jake led a team of fellow mech pilots, and together they rampaged through the city, saving the populace from the mechanized Ixa.
The most memorable moments included punching an Ixan mech in what would have been its sternum, sending it hurtling from a seven-story building, and corralling an enemy grouping of three mechs using rockets alone, which bought enough time for some nearby civilian office workers to reach safety.
Historically, the Ixa had never had mechs, but as always happened in lucid, Jake’s brain accepted the simulation as total reality. That was the strength of using dreams to run sims. The fear was real, and so was the sense of victory when Jake and his mechanized companions smashed unit after enemy unit until they were slag.
Ten minutes of lucid felt like hours, subjectively, and when Bronson finally removed the headgear, bringing Jake back to reality, he felt like he’d had a good run with the new tech. Of course, he also felt ready to go back for hours more.
But he didn’t say so. He wanted to keep his cool in front of the destroyer captain.
“What did you think?”
“It was awesome!” Jake blurted. So much for keeping my cool. He coughed. “I loved the thermal lances for breaching bay doors, and the HUD was out of this world, but…”
“But?”
“Well, why did the sim only have me piloting mechs? I would have expected a sim designed for Darkstream recruits to be more well-rounded than that.”
“I told you. This is designed for certain recruits only. Recruits with the skills to become mech pilots, namely.”
“But Darkstream doesn’t have any mechs.”
“That’s true, we don’t. Yet.” Bronson drew a long breath, his shoulders rising and falling. Jake got the sense that the old man felt almost as excited as he did. “Can you keep a secret, Jake?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Because what I’m about to tell you is classified. Darkstream has long had a program to develop viable mechs. They would be the perfect weapon against the Quatro, who currently overpower us. Yes, enough bullets will take them down, but they’re remarkably resilient, and if one of them reaches you, well…it’s lights out, isn’t it? And we can’t very well bomb the Quatro from orbit, because we’d risk damaging the planet that’s best-suited for human colonization. We’d risk damaging the Gatherers, who have become so important to our industrial base. No, what we really need is a brand new war machine that can go down to the planet’s surface and stand toe-to-toe with the beasts.”
“Mechs.”
“Yes. We need to win this fight on the ground, and mechs may be our only way to do it. You and your father finding this mech, way out here—it was an amazing stroke of luck. It’s almost as important a discovery as the Gatherers. We haven’t been able to create a viable mech, for multiple reasons, but now that we’ve found one, we know it’s truly possible. By studying it, we can improve our own designs, and hopefully, before long, we can start producing them. The reason that sim put you in a mech the entire time is because your lucid scores are high enough that if you make it through Darkstream’s training, you could conceivably pilot a mech. How does that sound, Jake?”
Jake’s breath came much heavier, now. He tried to sort out his thoughts, tried to identify the right thing to do. But it was no clearer than before.
It didn’t matter. One thing was clear: there was no way he could say no to the chance to drive a real-life mech. It was the ultimate incarnation of his lifelong dream to join Darkstream’s military. Saying no simply wasn’t an option anymore.
“I’m in,” Jake said. “I’m in.”
Chapter 9
Confession
The goons dragged Lisa through Habitat 2, avoiding streets with fighting. They both had their guns drawn now, and they seemed to pay more attention to the city’s dark places—its smaller streets, its shadowy canopies, its alleys—than they did to Lisa.
That made sense to her, now that she knew she posed no threat to them whatsoever. Even if she’d still had her gun, they probably would have disarmed her just as easily as before.
I’m a total failure. A fraud.
If her captors noticed her dejection, they didn’t remark on it. Instead, they brought her into a low building, whose door opened onto two short rows of poorly made cots. A kitchen followed, and then a set of stairs, and then Lisa was in a squat storage basement, with narrow, street-level windows filled with thick glass.
She had the presence of mind to wait a few minutes after her kidnappers’ departure before seeking a way out.
She threw herself against the door they’d left through, but it didn’t budge, and trying the handle produced no results.
A cursory glance at the horizontal slits the room had for windows showed that even if she could shatter their glass, there was no way she would squeeze through them. Knocking on them generated only a dull thud—no one outside would hear, especially not over the shooting, which continued still.
A man ran by with children in tow, and Lisa waved at them frantically, but they took no notice of her or even of the building that was her prison. For all she knew, the windows were one-way.
Before long, she gave up, sitting on a long crate and taking stock of her surroundings.
Nothing that shouted criminality drew her attention. There were a few guns, but none of them had any ammo. Besides, anyone was allowed to carry pretty much any firearm, wherever they wanted in the Steele System.
That gave her hope. If the criminal element was taking over Habitat 2, then maybe its residents would find the strength to fight back.
She tried to imagine Phineas Gage holding a gun. Or worse, Bob O’Toole. Her shoulders slumped once more.
Dragging together some empty sacks to make a bed, she fell into them, awaiting her fate. Hopefully the men who’d brought her here weren’t killed. That would be even worse than facing them again: starving to death down here, alone, forgotten.
Memories of her family came flooding back to her. They were in Kuiper Belt 2, or the Belt, as most of its residents called it. She’d been born in Hub, the de facto capital of the Belt, and she’d hated the close quarters there. The closed-in world, the ability to look directly up and see what your upside-down neighbors were doing…
Now, she wished she’d never left.
The door opened, and Lisa leapt to her feet instinctively.
This is it. She was ready to fight, this time. I won’t stay down here any longer. If she had to take down several muscled goons, she didn’t care. She’d do it. She would.
Tessa Notaras descended the stairs into the basement, clutching a pistol in each hand. When she saw Lisa, she came to a halt.
“Tessa,” Lisa said. “What’s going on?”
Glancing behind her, the white-haired woman motioned with one of the guns. “Come on. We have to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what the hell is happening to Habitat 2.” Lisa wanted to stamp her foot, but it seemed like it might come off as childish. A real soldier would rely on the authority of her commanding voice alone.
But am I a real soldier? She didn’t think so. Not anymore.
“Fine.” Tessa turned around and ascended the stairs.
“Wait,” Lisa said. “Okay. I’ll come!”
The sound of the door clicking shut reached her ears, and Tessa reappeared. “Calm down. I was just securing the door.” She reached the basement and crossed the room, placing her pistols on the crate Lisa had first sat on and taking a seat beside them. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Are…are you?”
“Yeah. I guess.” Tessa sniffed. “I need to make this quick, because we’re very short on time. Listen carefully, okay?”
“Okay.”
“The drug trade in Habitat 2 is controlled by two rival gangs. One gang just went to war with the other, and the worst of the two won. That gang, called Daybreak, now controls Habitat 2. Their leader is Quentin Cooper, and he’s a ruthless bastard. If we stay here long enough, he’ll find us.”
“How do you know all that?”
“Because I work for Three Points, Lisa. The gang that lost this fight.”
Lisa studied Tessa’s lined face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” She shook her head. “How could you, Tessa?”
“Because the gangs are the only meaningful opposition Darkstream faces on Alex. And I have a lot of hangups when it comes to my old employer. Listen, why do any of us do what we do? I needed the credits, for one. But that doesn’t matter right now.”
“It matters a lot, actually. Darkstream will send troops soon to liberate the town, and when they do, it’s my job to report your confession, Tessa.” Lisa sighed. She really liked Tessa. Even despite what she’d just learned about her. Maybe there was some way to get some leniency for her. “If you cooperate, it’s possible they’ll reduce your punishment.”
Tessa chuckled. “You’re cute, Lisa. I wouldn’t hold your breath on Darkstream liberating anyone. The company’s negotiating with Daybreak right now.”
“Negotiating what?”
“The terms of their occupation. That’s been Daybreak’s plan from the start. Take over Habitat 2, make themselves rich, and keep Darkstream happy by giving them an even bigger cut of the resources collected than they were getting before. If Habitat 2’s residents become slaves, their standard of living can go down. It’ll no longer matter whether they’re happy—just that they have whatever scraps are necessary for survival. Meaning more resources, for the gang and for Darkstream.”
“That’s ridiculous. Darkstream would never allow that to happen. It would destroy their public image.”
“They’ll play it off like they had no choice. Maybe say something about the gang threatening to blow up the habitat if they tried to intervene. Something like that.”
“I won’t believe it.”
“Believe it, honey. It’s happening.”
Lisa stood. “We have to do something. Darkstream will come soon, but we’re no use to them in captivity, or dead. Maybe…maybe we could make it to Habitat 1. Recruit some reinforcements, to come back and help my colleagues retake this Habitat once they arrive.”
Joining her in standing, Tessa said, “Leaving certainly seems like a good idea. For us both. They’ll kill me if they find me, and they may kill you, if your employer doesn’t bother to negotiate for your release.”
Shaking her head, Lisa marveled at how brainwashed Tessa was. She’d had no idea that the old woman had drunk so deeply from the anti-corporate lemonade.
“Andy Miller does supply runs between here and the space elevator all the time,” Lisa said. “If we can reach him, convince him to help—”
“Oh, we’ll convince him,” Tessa said, scooping up her pistols in one fluid motion. “One way or another.” She grinned. “Grab some weapons and let’s go. There should be ammo upstairs.”
Chapter 10
White and Scarlet
Gabe watched the woods roll by as the armored personnel carrier trundled along the Gatherer path, much slower than the speeders most civilians used. For vehicles this size, it was much more efficient to use old-fashioned wheels than to try to make it hover. But it sure made for a slower trip.
So did having to delay their departure from Allendale, because of an Ambler patrolling the path between there and Northshire.
Luckily, this one was functioning properly, and it didn’t go on a rampage. Instead, it turned onto a connecting Gatherer path, following the same circuitous route it had followed since Darkstream had first mapped this planet and documented the predictable behavior of its high-tech inhabitants.
Once the Ambler left the route between Northshire and Allendale, it was finally safe for Gabe and the others from the Northshire garrison to head back toward their original posting.
Part of him was anxious to get back, to see Jess, and part of him was extremely hesitant—to face Jess’s father, Mayor Sweeney. Had she successfully hidden their encounter from him? And did Gabe really want her to?
Over the years, there’d been no shortage of young women throwing themselves at him. Probably because of his fame as the first man to set foot on Eresos, and also his role in carving out a foothold for humanity on the planet, though no one fully knew what he’d had to do to accomplish that.
Mostly, he’d rebuffed their advances, but sometimes not. He led a lonely life. Most professional soldiers did; there was no hiding that fact. And sometimes the urge roared louder than his willpower.
But even the ones he’d lain with had amounted to nothing but a flash in the pan, and he doubted they’d been any more upset about his eventual departure than he was.
Jess, on the other hand…Jess was different. He couldn’t quite say why, but no one had ever set his heart to racing like she did. She made bizarre thoughts parade through his head. Thoughts of trying to change, of quitting Darkstream, of settling down.
He’d done some awful things, in this galaxy and the one he’d left behind. Could there be redemption for a man like him? Was there such a thing as cleaning a blood-covered slate?
Suddenly, his implant HUD washed red. Considering they’d dialed them back from full-alert mode, the fact that this notification was getting through meant that it was serious, and also that it directly pertained to them.
Sure enough: “QUATRO ATTACKING NORTHSHIRE. REPAIR TO POSTING IMMEDIATELY.”
His heart tried to crawl up his throat and out of his mouth. “We only left Robinson and Sawyer there,” he choked out. “They’ll be completely overwhelmed.”
The driver, Seaman Morrissey, cursed softly.
“Don’t just sit there, you idiot!” Gabe yelled. “Step on it!”
Morrissey did, and the personnel carrier lurched forward, doubling its speed. That still wasn’t very fast.
Gabe felt like he could get out and run quicker than this. He knew that wasn’t true, but watching those weird trees crawl by, it sure felt like it!
“Faster!” Gabe barked.
“Sir, this vehicle was not designed to go any faster than this on an uneven dirt surface. To avoid tipping over, I strongly recommend—”
“I don’t give a shit what you recommend, Morrissey. I’m ordering you to go faster!”
The seaman accelerated, and the vehicle didn’t tip. Eresos’ strange forests sped by faster, and with Gabe’s constant urging, they began to blur.
At last, Northshire drew into sight.
By then, of course, it was far too late.
The personnel carrier barreled past burning buildings on the village’s perimeter. Nearer the village green, the Darkstream self-erecting structures had fared better.
Not so, the people of Northshire. Bodies were strewn everywhere—all over the green, between buildings, on doorsteps. Gabe saw Toby Horton draped over a fence surrounding a garden. His blue overalls were soaked red.
The personnel carried ground to a halt, and Gabe threw open the door, not bothering to close it behind him. He ran through the village toward the mayor’s residence, SL-17 at the ready, legs pumping as hard as he could force them to. Blood surged through his veins like molten lava.
A white shape caught his eye, and he came to an abrupt halt. The white of a summer dress. Stained with the scarlet smear of blood.
He dropped to his knees roughly five meters from the body of Jess Sweeney. His assault rifle tumbled to the grass.
He had no idea how long he remained there, staring at Jess’s corpse.
The blast of a gunshot brought him back to his senses. It had come fro
m inside the Sweeney residence.
Gabe forced himself to move. Just inside the house, he found what remained of Mayor Sweeney, sitting in a plain, wooden chair. He’d lodged the barrel of a shotgun under his chin and pulled the trigger with his toe. His face was gone.
Stumbling out of the house. Stumbling through the village, past pock-marked metal structures, past burning wooden ones.
Unsure where he was going.
He came to a halt again, hands on knees, and his breakfast of eggs with hot sauce came steaming up his throat and onto the neatly clipped grass. Then came the retching. And the tears.
“Pioneer,” someone croaked.
It was Seaman Sawyer. Horse. Lying sprawled near the bay doors where Gatherers entered and exited the collection facility. His torso mangled.
Gabe went to him.
“They had guns, Pioneer. Guns.”
“What? How’d they hold them? How’d they pull the trigger?” Quatro had only paws, with no opposable thumbs.
This makes absolutely zero sense. The aliens weren’t known to possess technology of any level. Just their sheer size, brute strength, and low cunning. And yet…
“The guns were strapped—mounted, like—on their backs,” Sawyer said. “As for how they fired them…” Horse shook his head, which looked like it took more effort than it needed to.
“I’m going to get you help, Horse. Don’t move.”
Gabe pushed a hand through his short hair as he jogged away. None of this made any sense.
But in the end, it didn’t matter. Guns or no guns, technology or none, it didn’t matter.
He intended to make the Quatro pay.
Chapter 11
Pockets of Resistance
The gang that had taken over Habitat 2 still hadn’t secured their hold over it. Pockets of resistance remained, with bullets being traded intermittently.
The city’s artificial night was falling, which coincided with Alex’s actual night. That made Lisa’s and Tessa’s job easier, as they crept from doorway to dumpster to alley, waiting for the way to clear before moving ahead to stop again and wait.
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