Critical Strike (The Critical Series Book 3)

by Wearmouth

  For the next fifteen minutes, in a tense silence before the storm, they worked together as a team, rebuilding the device. Along the way, Mike had spotted a few errors from before and fixed them. They were simple and he doubted they were the cause of the malfunction.

  The part Gib was working on wasn’t grounded properly in the circuit, causing a potentially dangerous feedback loop. That error had been compounded by his own mistake of not matching the transformer and the transmitter’s power.

  Mai soldered in some components to equalize the distribution. Mike also decided to use a transmitter from a different radio system, one that handled a wider range of frequencies. He hoped that by going wider, and including a component to sweep across the range, that they’d cover all their bases. It meant lower power overall, and it was a safer bet it would work. But the cost would be less range.

  Aimee staggered into the cavern, her face pinched and tight with stress.

  “We need that thing now!”

  “We’re going as fast as we can,” Mike said.

  “It’s not fast enough, dammit!”

  Mike noticed the sweat from Mai’s forehead drip to the workbench and her hands now shaking violently. “Leave us to it,” Mike snapped.

  “No,” Aimee replied, stepping toward the workbench. “I can’t leave without it. Tell me, what’s the issue, when will it be ready?”

  Mai’s hand suddenly became still and she dropped the device to the bench’s surface. She clutched her chest and looked round at Mike with wide eyes full of fear. She struggled to take a breath as she stood up from her stool. She reached out a hand to Mike, but her body tensed and she collapsed before Mike could reach for her.

  Mai hit the ground, her right hand clutching her left arm, her face taking on a gray pallor.

  Mike pushed Aimee out of the way, kicked the stool across the workshop and fell to Mai’s side.

  “Mai!” he screamed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Charlie sat with his back against the smooth dirt wall of the makeshift shelter beneath the overhanging tree. The river snaked down the yellow grass valley to a shimmering light blue lake. A rock formation towered over the opposite end, surrounded by undulating hills with clusters of small metallic buildings on each.

  Vingo sat to Charlie’s right. He gazed toward the small settlements and fiddled with his arm-pad. Denver and Layla lay flat on their backs behind them, catching up with some well-deserved rest.

  Charlie’s limbs ached and he felt every inch his age. He sipped water from his refilled system and waited for the mashed root he slipped inside the container to take effect. Within a minute his extremities tingled and the lactic-acid pain in his limbs eased.

  The only positive he could take from the croatoan invasion of Earth, besides Denver, was the root. It allowed him to carry on the fight for nearly three decades. It still didn’t buy a single one of them a shred of gratitude. It would be like forgiving the Nazis for wearing smart Hugo Boss uniforms.

  A rectangular black shuttle rose from a valley toward the west. It carried out a half rotation and headed for the atmosphere, in the opposite direction of the black prism, leaving a double vapor trail in its wake.

  Charlie couldn’t see the main scion ship from their position under the tree, but it was impossible not to feel its presence as bolts continued to pepper Tredeya’s surface, even though the war was already won.

  Vingo’s helmet twisted as he followed the shuttle’s trajectory. A scion fighter zipped over a mountain, its engine roaring in the sky. It fired a missile. A small bright blue dot streaked through the air and exploded on impact. Burning pieces of debris shot from the shuttle.

  The shuttle arced down and plummeted to the ground at terminal velocity. Vingo bowed his head and grunted.

  “It’s time me and you had a conversation,” Charlie said.

  “We’ve already had a conversation,” Vingo replied.

  Charlie scraped toward him on his backside and narrowed his eyes. “Why did that mech come after us? It seems like a strange priority considering the scion presence.”

  “I’ve already told you. I gathered information for the Amalgam. Croatoans fear the scion, but the Amalgam are also a concern after two colony rebellions.”

  “You can stop playing games with me. I don’t give a shit about cosmic politics, I only care about my son and Layla surviving, and getting home. You need to start coming up with some answers. You owe us.”

  Vingo blinked repeatedly. Charlie glared at him, waiting for a response. He’d had enough of the tredeyan’s bullshit. The previous punches were only a drop in the ocean compared to what he would do to him if he didn’t start talking.

  “I may have a solution that will meet both of our needs,” Vingo said and pointed toward the distant hills. “Our capital city, Gauruss, is just over there. I can get you new air filters, supplies, and perhaps a chance to make it back to Earth.”

  “A chance?” Charlie said, feeling like they’d already been here before. The false promises, like dangled carrots, leading them to achieve Vingo’s own objectives. “I don’t trust you. The moment our air runs out is the moment I empty my magazine through your visor. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, but please listen. If we can gain entry to the storage vaults, I can access the master system and find the location of a micro-gate.”

  “A micro-gate?”

  “The rumor is that we created a compact solution. The gate you destroyed was a first-generation design. The locations are a closely guarded secret—if they even exist. It’s a long shot, but it’s the only option I can offer.”

  Charlie frowned. “You expect us to believe this, don’t you? You know we have little choice, but I swear, Vingo, the moment I suspect you’re up to something, I will gut you like the fish out there. Don’t even pretend you’re being selfless, by the way, because I don’t buy it for a second.”

  “If you help me into the vaults, I can gather more technical specifications and communicate with the Amalgam. If I have enough to offer, it might convince them to come and collect me. As things stand, this is our only option, for both of us.”

  At least Vingo was being more open about his motivations. If he wanted to survive, and his actions suggested he did, then perhaps there was a small chance he was telling the truth about the micro-gate. Either way, it wasn’t as if they had a lot of options open to them.

  Three black scion mechs, square in shape and the size of a regular house, floated up a distant hill toward a group of eight buildings at the top. They hovered above them and red lasers shot from their undersides, blasting each building in turn until they burst into flames.

  Charlie hated not having a plan, but they were flying blind without local knowledge. The thought of Denver and Layla suffocating on Tredeya was insufferable after all they’d been through. As much as it grated him, once again they would have to follow Vingo’s direction.

  “We’ll take you to the vaults,” Charlie said. “But fuck us over and you won’t see tomorrow.”

  “You don’t need to threaten me. I’ve lost my group, my ship, and only have one option left. You are in the same situation. We can work together to achieve a satisfactory conclusion.”

  The political speak made Charlie clench his fists.

  Vingo glanced down and edged back.

  “We can always go back to the command center and get filters,” Charlie said. “I remember seeing at least another thirty human suits.”

  “It’s under scion control. You will die. But it’s your choice if you want to risk it.”

  Charlie turned away from Vingo. A pair of scion fighters passed overhead and split in different directions. The confusion created by the invasion probably helped them survive to this point, but that alone wasn’t enough.

  With the tech on display from both species, a way home didn’t seem unrealistic, but Charlie struggled to believe Vingo’s claims about a micro-gate. He wondered if there was a way to speak with the scion. They had a common en
emy in the croatoans, after all, and as far as he could tell they didn’t have a beef with humans from Earth… but then the very idea of siding with an alien species made the bile in his guts churn.

  Everybody had a motivation for going into battle and Charlie would side with the devil to get everyone safely home.

  “Did you hear all of that, Den?” Charlie said.

  “Every word,” Denver replied. “It’s time to move.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The descending early evening sun continued to warm Augustus’ mask. Distant gunfire crackled to his right. Zoe’s flanking move had started.

  He turned to view his army spread around a clearing in a pine forest a mile from Unity, eagerly waiting for his command to advance. The timing had to be right.

  “Enemy advancing,” Zoe said over the radio. “Two hundred… no, three hundred heading toward us. Twenty bikes.”

  “Hold your position and fight to the last man, woman, and croatoan.”

  “Roger, out.”

  Augustus felt a surge of irritation. Subordinates didn’t end conversations with him. He always had the final say.

  Most of the Unity force had been drawn in to the flanking move. They couldn’t simply hold against Zoe’s numbers and hope for an attritional siege. It wasn’t in their nature and would also guarantee defeat. He knew they had to attack.

  Destiny presented itself on a silver platter. It was time to make good on his promise to the scion and reclaim the world once again.

  This time there would be no mistakes. Augustus turned to face his army and raised an arm. A hush descended around the clearing. “Do not let fear overcome your place in history. Battle is the most beautiful thing in the world. We cleanse all that is wrong. Bravery is the best form of defense. Tonight we will celebrate the dawn of a new world, forged in our blood and sense of duty.”

  Augustus paused and glanced around the troops while the croatoan commanders translated for the aliens who didn’t understand. A low vibrating sound rose from the ranks—the collective noise of alien satisfaction.

  “Whoever brings me the body of Aimee Rivery will earn a seat on the council,” Augustus shouted. He turned and pointed in the direction of Unity. “Advance!”

  Collective clicking filled the air, like a thousand raindrops hitting a glass roof.

  The army was already aware of his battle plan. Soldiers were to assault the eastern end, the opposite direction to Zoe’s force. Hover-bikes would supply air support. They would charge through the city, burning the rickety buildings, killing anything showing signs of resistance, and corralling the rest of the citizens into the arena. He would give them a choice once there. Join the new empire or face immediate execution.

  It didn’t need to be intricate. Augustus could afford plenty of collateral damage and still remain the global superpower. With victory came immortality, however the scion managed to do it.

  Each croatoan commander led his division through the pine forest. Augustus straddled a hover-bike and thrust into the air. He needed a high-level view of the battle, in case a change of strategy was required.

  The hover-bike cavalry took to the sky and headed east, on a wide sweeping course that would bring them over Unity at the same time the soldiers attacked.

  Maria was secured in a shuttle, ready to use as leverage if required.

  Tears of pride welled in the corner of Augustus’ eyes. The sight took him back over sixteen centuries to his last big battle. Today would ensure that Adrianople would be finally crushed into the dirt. All texts destroyed, talk of it punishable by death. His decisive failure would be forgotten by future generations, who would celebrate him as a brave leader and liberator.

  Trees rustled ahead as the army made quick progress. Augustus made sure he kept a safe distance from the front ranks but close enough to remain visible. He remembered reading about the battle of Hastings in 1066. Confusion set in the Norman ranks when a rumor spread that William was dead. Augustus didn’t have time for confusion. William the Bastard removed his helmet and regrouped his army to seize the day. Augustus wouldn’t make the same mistake. Besides, nobody in his army had a mask.

  The hover-bikes to his right returned from their outward sweep, telling him they were close. Croatoan rifles snapped below. Augustus smiled as his army swatted the Unity sentinels away like irritating flies.

  Heavy gunfire continued to the west. Augustus raised his radio. “Status update, Zoe.”

  “Zoe’s dead,” a man replied. “We’re holding firm and depleting their forces.”

  “Keep fighting. Your name will be heralded by our future sons and daughters. Out.”

  Augustus couldn’t remember his name, but it was the kind of inspirational quote that drove men forward. Zoe’s death wasn’t a surprise. He felt comfortable in the knowledge that she’d played her part in his master plan. More of her type would soon be flocking to his cause, and he could take his pick.

  Two shuttles blasted into the sky above him, entering a holding pattern above Unity. They were ready to use the pulse cannons, or to deliver Maria.

  Desperate reports would be reaching Aimee now, if she were still alive. Augustus enjoyed picturing her panic-stricken face. The sinking feeling that her forces were deployed and struggling to hold part of his force, and it wasn’t even the main body. He expected she would commit suicide. Death instead of dishonor.

  The setting sun cast a watery glow across a root field ahead. The basin lay just beyond it. Even if Unity’s hover-bikes remained, they would be no match for his cavalry, which powered across the sky in an arrow formation.

  Hundreds of his croatoan soldiers broke through the trees and charged across the field. Some paused to fire. They met with little resistance.

  Twenty residents leaned over the edge of the basin and fired their antique weapons. They killed several croatoans but were overrun by the sheer weight of numbers and were quickly slaughtered.

  Augustus navigated his bike around to the switchback trail that dropped from the eastern end to the foot of the drained lake.

  Soldiers climbed and toppled down the five steps cut into the sides. Some threw grenades into the houses and waited for people or aliens to exit, before disappearing inside. Light flashed from some of the dark windows as weapons discharged.

  A body of two hundred aliens ran down the trail below him and swarmed toward the city. Augustus peered along the main cobbled road. Tightly packed market stalls and wooden houses surrounded either side, leading to Aimee’s towering stone residence in the distance. Three sections of the rampart glinted, but she wouldn’t have the resources to hold his army at bay.

  Hundreds more of the army descended and entered the town. A small group cut away, headed for the initial invasion ship still poking out of its sinkhole.

  Flames licked around the roofs of the nearest buildings. People screamed above the rattle of the guns. Augustus’ soldiers dragged humans into the street by their hair. It seemed they didn’t afford the same luxury to the Unity aliens. Augustus didn’t blame them. By all accounts, any who encountered the helmetless citizens also met with death.

  Confident everything was going as expected, Augustus navigated his bike forward and drifted over the edge of the buildings.

  ***

  Gunfire gradually eased at the far end of the basin. Augustus watched his flanking forces charge the remnants of Unity’s army, who crowded behind two destroyed hover-bikes. Twenty fell during the advance, but the defenders were no match in terms of numbers. By forcing a battle of attrition, there was only one logical conclusion.

  “Victory is complete in the west,” a man said over the radio. “What are your instructions?”

  Augustus clipped his radio off his breast pocket. “Kill the enemy battlefield casualties. Take any prisoners to the arena. We’ll join up with you after taking the main building.”

  The tavern came into view along a muddy street. Augustus remembered having to deal with normal people in there, after being denied a rank that sui
ted him. He hovered five meters above it, slung a rifle off his back and aimed at the door.

  A croatoan soldier shouldered it open and threw a silver grenade inside. The explosion blew out the thin glass windows and Augustus’ bike rocked in the air.

  Nobody came out of the entrance. The same croatoan threw a second red-colored grenade and flames belched out of the door and windows.

  Fire quickly consumed the tavern. Augustus stayed for a minute to watch its wooden beams blacken and crackle.

  Every street he observed after gaining height over the city had one of his soldiers shooting, taking prisoners, or burning buildings. An adage spanning back centuries, even before Augustus’ birth, said if you want peace, prepare for war. He found it wise compared to vacuous modern phrases, and followed it. Unity’s army was no match. They wanted peace and prepared for it.

  Thick black smoke puffed into the sky from multiple locations, creating a dark gray cloud above the city. It drifted away on the gentle evening breeze, creating a signal to any remote observer that things were changing.

  In the distance, lines of scruffy citizens were being harried through the open gates of the arena. Augustus decided to check his ludus to give the army time to clear the town before assaulting the main prize, Aimee’s residence. He thrust higher in the sky to get a bird’s-eye view of the area.

  A long line of his soldiers headed up the basin from the west, only around two hundred deployed from the two thousand, which was more than he thought would survive. Twenty unarmed humans and aliens walked thirty meters ahead of them at gunpoint. It was wise not to give them a chance of reform. They’d already taken up arms against him. Augustus couldn’t risk an early rebellion brewing. They would make for good entertainment when he recommenced the gladiatorial games.

  The ludus still appeared intact. A croatoan soldier left his former office and peered into each of the cells in the square courtyard outside. He didn’t mind the terrible wooden buildings in the city being burned to the ground, but wanted to keep the better parts of the infrastructure.