Critical Strike (The Critical Series Book 3)

by Wearmouth

  A charcoal-colored tredeyan fighter whined overhead. It banked to the left, headed for the silhouette of a volcano, and released a missile from its wing. Seconds later, the ground shuddered below Layla’s suit, a tower of fire belched into the sky, followed by a loud boom in close proximity.

  Charlie ducked to one knee and swept the area with his rifle. “What kind of forces do the scion deploy on the ground? Do they have any missiles like that?”

  The explosion glinted against Vingo’s visor as he turned back. “They attempt to leave transmitters and probes. We have to destroy them quickly before they spread.”

  “How long do they carry out these probing raids?” Layla said.

  “This is no raid. It’s an invasion.”

  Denver and Layla quickened their pace to draw alongside the tredeyan, who continued to trudge up a hill. “Hagellan said this was a scouting mission. Is it likely to succeed?” Denver said.

  “We are picking up activity all over the planet. I knew this when I said I could save you. There is a good chance Tredeya will fall.”

  “And if you do?” Charlie said. “Where does that leave us?”

  “We have places in our village that have survived many invasions. The scion will not purge us completely.”

  Charlie glanced at Layla, who shook her head. She had no idea what the impact might be. Relating the situation to Earth during previous conflicts was her only frame of reference. Villages were easy targets for invading forces.

  Vingo picked up a winding dirt path between small bushes and zigzagged toward the ridgeline.

  “Why don’t you give them what they want if they’re going to leave after?” Denver said.

  “The croatoans and our command won’t allow it. They think once the scion have access to their networks, the universe will fall. Machines will replace life.”

  The thought sent a chill down Layla’s spine, although Vingo’s version of life probably didn’t include plants and animals, only the species who ruled each planet. Vingo trudged to the top of the ridgeline and crouched. Layla joined him and looked down into a light green valley peppered with rocks and circular dark green bushes.

  A group of fifty tredeyan ground troops moved under the cover of starlight, darting from tree to rock at the bottom of the slope. White-hot flashes burst from their muzzles and the hollow crackle of alien gunfire echoed in the valley. They headed for a six-meter-high square black machine hovering above the ground among a lone cluster of trees. A rod came from its under-section and planted in the ground.

  “The scion mech’s trying to break past our shield and hack into our lines,” Vingo said, almost with a resignation of the inevitable. “We need to find cover and wait for things to quieten down.”

  “Let’s get the hell away from here,” Denver said.

  “The mech might detect our movement. Wait for a moment.”

  The troops halted fifty meters short and continued firing. One held a bulky piece of equipment on their shoulder, broke cover, and fired. A blue bolt shot along the ground and exploded against the mech’s side. Smoke drifted into the air. A double-barreled gun on the mech’s side rose on a circular arm and fired. Light blue bolts sliced through the air like tracer rounds and ripped out large chunks of ground around the tredeyans. They scrambled for cover behind rocks.

  A scion fighter appeared over the horizon and headed for the position. Its engines screamed as it descended and approached at low level. Three spherical pods dropped from its underside into the valley and it roared over the group’s heads.

  The pods burst in the air before they hit the ground, throwing out a cloud of glowing red vapor that spread in all directions, shrouding the valley’s surface.

  When it cleared thirty seconds later, half of the troops were down, large sections of their suits degraded by the orb’s load. A beam of light shot from the front of the mech and searched the ground for targets. It advanced, rotating in the air and firing bolts, meeting little resistance as it neared the first bodies of its opponents.

  “I want to be as far away from that thing as possible,” Charlie said.

  Denver edged away from the ridge. He raised an arm, and his gauntlet clanked against Layla’s shoulder plate. She smiled through the visor at him, appreciating the gesture. She wondered if he shook with fear inside his suit as much as she did.

  “This way,” Vingo said. “I’ll take you to a temple in the forest.”

  ***

  The group cut right and descended into a dark ravine. The suit auto-corrected when Layla thought she’d lose her balance. The visor’s night vision enhanced further, giving their surroundings a green tinge, creating a sharp edge around the fauna and rocks that littered the slopes.

  Layla resisted the temptation to grab the trunk of one of the squat trees or the thick stems of the oversized pink ferns as they cut their way toward the sound of flowing water. Her confidence grew when she realized the sure-footedness of the suit in adverse terrain.

  A shallow stream ran along the bottom, gushing over smooth rocks. Vingo splashed through the middle of it, crunching over the pebbled bed, away from the sound of gunfire.

  The sparse steep hills on either side of the stream dropped until dense undergrowth covered either side. The forest ahead appeared to be an impassable dark mess of trees, vines and plants.

  “How’s your leg, son?” Charlie said.

  “I’ll live. The suit helps,” Denver said, although Layla could hear the strain in his voice. “Are there any wild clusps living in the forest?”

  “Yes,” Vingo said, “but it’s unlikely they’ll attack four of us with weapons.”

  Charlie just grunted and kept his rifle held high.

  As Layla closed on the edge of the canopy, her visor switched to infragreen vision, giving her a clear view through the forest. Small rodent-like creatures with long snouts huddled around a group of spiny yellow plants. When Vingo waded toward them, they scattered deeper into the undergrowth.

  “These helmets are amazing,” she said, viewing other small creatures shuffling around the forest floor.

  Denver paused and scanned the immediate area. “I need to take one of these back to Earth.”

  “You don’t have a wireless reactor or filters,” Vingo said in a matter-of-fact kind of way. “They also require regular maintenance from skilled engineers.”

  Nobody replied. Layla knew it wasn’t the time to discuss cultural differences.

  The stream thinned to a crack in the ground as Vingo cut to his right. He thrashed through ten meters of clustered spade-shaped leaves with his rifle. Charlie followed, sweeping them out of the way. They snapped back against Layla’s suit and visor, but the power in her arms and legs allowed easy passage.

  On the other side, a winding beaten path cut through the forest. Vingo trudged along it, sweeping his rifle from left to right.

  “Over there,” Charlie said, jabbing his weapon to his left.

  Denver spun and aimed. A clusp tracked them twenty meters away in the forest. It stopped. Its two muscly tentacles writhed on its back.

  “Ignore it,” Vingo said. “One followed us when we entered the forest.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Layla said.

  “It wasn’t important; it would be a needless fight. They’re not dull-witted creatures. It’s probably just tracking us, making sure we don’t threaten its young.”

  She thought it was, especially after seeing what the creature could do once close. The creepy rumbling noise it made sent a shiver down her spine.

  “We should kill it now so it doesn’t pose a threat later,” Denver said.

  “Save your ammunition for when you need it,” Vingo said.

  Denver sighed through the comms system. Layla surveyed other parts of the undergrowth in case other beasts were circling.

  Charlie kept his aim on the clusp and moved off. Layla knew he wouldn’t pause if the thing got within striking distance. She couldn’t take her eyes off it either. It continued to shadow them
but never got any closer, like a hyena stalking wildebeest, waiting for a weak one to detach from the herd.

  The track split in two directions. Vingo headed left. The unrecognizable luminous green data at the bottom of the visor kept changing.

  “What are the visor measurements?” Layla said.

  “The one in the corner measures your filter life,” Vingo said. “You only need to worry when it gets down to one unit.”

  “I’m at four bars,” Charlie said. “Are you sure it’ll last two days?”

  “Yes. The one next to it measures calibration. Each section of the circle is a part of your suit. Let me know if one turns red.”

  “What about the symbols?” Denver said.

  “Our coordinates on the planet. It means nothing to you, but I can teach you back at the village.”

  “Why not teach us now?” Layla asked.

  “We haven’t got time,” Vingo said and gazed up.

  A lone scion fighter, with its distinctive blue rear engine, powered over the track, rustling the canopy leaves on either side of them. Small insects dropped out of the trees and scurried back up the trunks.

  Vingo led them into a fifty-meter-wide clearing.

  Layla’s visor switched back to the regular night vision. A round stone building with a domed roof sat in the middle. If it had been painted in stripes, it would’ve looked like a prehistoric circus tent. “What is it?” she asked.

  “This is the temple of Tangus,” Vingo said. “She is our god of creation.”

  “How many do you worship?”

  “Thirty, and there’s a temple dedicated to each around the planet.”

  A crack of light seeped from the middle of two solid wooden doors. Vingo paused and peered through his sights.

  Charlie aimed at the door. “I take it you know the owner?”

  “I heard a croatoan priest moved in, but I don’t know them personally. We stopped going to the temples after the croatoans came. We didn’t agree with their views on existence.”

  “You expect the priest to welcome us with open arms?” Denver said.

  “The priests are duty bound to provide shelter.”

  A metal clank came from inside the temple, followed by a whirring like an electric drill. Vingo slowly advanced. Denver moved to his left, Layla covered his right, and Charlie swept the undergrowth, ensuring a clusp couldn’t spring a surprise attack.

  “That doesn’t exactly sound like the regular activities of a priest,” Denver said.

  “Wait,” Vingo said. “Let me look. It sounds like a…” He eased the metal door open with his rifle’s muzzle.

  A black prism hovered over a table in the center of the gloomy temple, surrounded by circular benches on the outer area. It rotated in the air, firing white and red lasers down at an electronic device that appeared to be building in size.

  Layla froze, concerned that even the slightest movement might attract the prism’s attention away from whatever it was currently doing.

  “Everything all right in there?” Charlie said.

  “What the hell—” Denver said.

  Vingo fired a burst. Tredeyan rounds sparked off the sloped edges of the prism and ricocheted around the temple. Layla pulled her trigger. The rifle kicked against her shoulder and she felt its judder through her gauntlets.

  Sky blue lights flashed around the midsection of the prism. The lasers stopped and it shot to the side of the room.

  Denver hunched around Vingo and fired. Dust puffed off the wall around the scion machine as the rounds hit a decorative painting of a large tredeyan in a golden robe.

  “What’s it doing?” Layla said as the prism circled around the far end of the temple and headed back toward them.

  “It’s calculating what it should do next, based on our appearance. Prepare yourself,” Vingo said.

  “How do we beat something like this?” Denver said.

  “Cause enough damage, if we can.”

  A small blue bolt shot from its base, passing straight between Layla and Denver in the blink of an eye and zipping into the forest over Charlie’s shoulder.

  Layla and Denver fired again, but their rounds had no visible effect. Vingo jumped between them, knocking them out of the way as he rushed away from the entrance.

  The prism’s rotations increased. A halo of white light appeared above it, brightening the rings of wooden benches crammed into the temple.

  A piercing whistle blasted through the intercom, sending pain shooting through Layla’s ears. She grabbed either side of her helmet. Her focused blurred and she felt her grip weakening around her rifle.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dreams were not the seeds of one’s own imagination but the confused signals of the gods. At least this was what Augustus believed.

  He yawned and rolled off his bunk, standing up with a stretch of his arms over his head. His back cricked satisfyingly. He turned to the small bedside table and removed a root pill from the drawer, downing it without water.

  While he waited for the active ingredient to hit his bloodstream, he thought back to his earlier daydream.

  Shortly after seeing to Zoe, he fell into a slumber. At first his dreams were the usual replaying of the day’s events: his conversation with his scion handler, Zoe on her hands and knees, but more importantly the remembering of a thought that had crossed his mind earlier in the day before; it disappeared as soon as it arrived.

  This thought was about the scion and their purpose.

  Since Augustus had taken over from the insider croatoan agent—this was when he was back on the mother ship with Hagellan and the council—he had always wondered what the scion’s true mission was.

  He didn’t believe they wanted him to take over Unity, and essentially Earth, just for the entertainment factor of it. Although he had to admit that since gathering his forces and connecting with the other farms, he was certainly finding a lot to be entertained by.

  Not least was Zoe. She really was quite a remarkable woman. Her pain, and pleasure, tolerance was admirably high. She reminded him of a previous concubine from back in his Roman days.

  Back then, though, the women would break all too easily, but Zoe was bred from hardier stock. Perhaps she was more like him than he first realized.

  She had certainly seemed to ingratiate herself into his thoughts.

  Augustus smiled and sat back down on the bunk; the sheets smelled of her sweat and musk, conjuring the image of her naked body in his mind.

  But now wasn’t the time to give in to animal urges.

  He turned his thoughts back to the scion: what was it they were truly after? He knew they had been battling with the Croatoan Empire for millennia all throughout the galaxy. The previous agent had told him just a few details: that they were searching for their creator and it had something to do with humans, hence why the croatoan agent was turned against his race, and now Augustus had taken up the mantle.

  But why humans? he thought.

  What was it about his species that was of such interest to them? The scion had been around for longer than humanity—at least those on Earth—and had grown to such a formidable size they now truly threatened the largest empire the galaxy had ever seen: the croatoans.

  When two huge entities like that clash, the ripples change the future—and Augustus didn’t want to get caught in the riptide. He wanted to be in a position to ride the wave, conquer it.

  As far as he was concerned, once Unity was taken and the scion gave him his promise, he would be the custodian for the humans, and then he could negotiate with the scion for more information.

  He had learned even as a small child that you keep your enemies closer than your friends, and you get to know them better than you know yourself.

  When it came to the scion, though, there was no real understanding of them in his current situation. Information was permitted to him only when they saw fit.

  That would need to change.

  His thoughts were disturbed by the sounds of two shuttles landing
in the square outside of his personal building. He turned to glance out of the window and watched as two large farm shuttles settled on the landing strip.

  Once grounded, their passenger ramps lowered and a group of two men and three women stepped out and approached Zoe. In the darkness of the shuttles, hundreds of humans and croatoans sat, waiting.

  Troops… reinforcements.

  My army, Augustus thought, the sight bringing a smile to his face.

  Zoe walked across the square with purpose, tying her hair into a tight bun. When she approached the others, they shared handshakes and motioned to the shuttles. Zoe nodded her approval and turned her back.

  Augustus fitted his mask and left his room. A short corridor led out into the square. Still dressed in his fatigues, he strode across the ground toward the group with all the posture his position deserved.

  This particular farm’s croatoan and human troops saw him and quickly stepped into rigid formation, their previous chatter silencing instantly. It seemed they were learning quickly. He enjoyed the effect he had on others; no doubt his new mask and choice of uniform only added to that impression.

  “Augustus,” Zoe said, saluting with the respect of someone who hadn’t just learned his most intimate desires, “the reinforcements have arrived.”

  Anyone else would receive a derogatory comment about observing the obvious, but for her he just nodded and turned his attention to the new entourage. An older woman with a rich complexion and huge eyes stepped forward, her lithe hand held out toward him.

  “Good evening, Augustus; it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, let me introduce myself and my allies.”

  “Go ahead.”