Critical Strike (The Critical Series Book 3)

by Wearmouth

  Maria made eye contact with Mike. He gave her a firm nod and lowered his weapon. Four Unity citizens darted for the dead hunters, grabbed their rifles, and slid their swords out of their thigh scabbards.

  Others saw them and followed suit, claiming rifles from the croatoans who had suffocated and fallen.

  A couple of hundred former farm workers in Augustus’ army remained standing, spread thinly around the upper section of the steps. A few raised their weapons. Most turned and ran, losing their previous bravery now that the numerical advantage had swung in the opposite direction.

  Multiple snaps of croatoan rifle fire split the air. Unity civilians sensed this was their moment and roared. The ones with swords ran from the now unguarded entrance gates.

  Maria knew she had to get away and find shelter until the dust settled. She was frightened that the people of Unity would see her as guilty by association to Augustus. Rifle projectiles hissed up from the arena. The remnants of the army were being killed or had already fled.

  An injured farm worker fell to the dirt. Civilians clustered around him. A sword in the center of the throng rose and fell. His screams quickly died out.

  Augustus ducked and headed for the rear steps in a crouching run.

  Maria dropped to one knee and slid a sword out of her dead handler’s suit. She followed Augustus down a set of stone steps to the rear of the structure, but planned to head in the opposite direction as soon as they were clear.

  Outside, a few of the army sprinted across the basin, with civilians in hot pursuit. Others ran through the smoke-filled charred remains of the town. If they held themselves together and organized, they probably would’ve still clung on to victory, but they panicked and spread out. Maria doubted they would get far. Unity would hunt them and settle scores.

  Augustus turned right and headed for a path that zigzagged up the five steps surrounding the basin. To Maria’s left, armed civilians poured out of the arena’s main gate. She had no choice but to follow Augustus, head for the forest and lose him there.

  Root grew around the first two steps. Augustus reached down and ripped a few strands of the crop free. He charged up the incline and disappeared around the side of a small metallic warehouse.

  Maria glanced over her shoulder. They weren’t being followed. She decided to hide in one of the houses of the fourth level. As soon as she spotted Mike, he could give her a pass and remove the bindings around her wrists.

  Reaching thirty meters in elevation above Unity, Maria paused for breath.

  Augustus stepped from behind the building and pulled a dagger from his belt. “I thought it was you who followed me. At least you’ll get what you deserve.”

  Maria backed away a couple of steps. “I won’t tell anyone I’ve seen you. Please.”

  “You’re pathetic,” Augustus said and straightened his mask with his spare hand. “I hold you responsible for today. You knew about Mike’s weapon and didn’t tell me. I’ll return with an army and slaughter the old man, but I’m not leaving without giving you a proper goodbye.”

  He thrust the knife toward Maria’s chest. She stumbled back, lost her balance and tripped.

  Augustus’ momentum carried him forward. He growled and raised the dagger above his head.

  Maria flipped her sword up vertically.

  The sword punctured Augustus’ fatigues and pierced his chest. He gasped, dropping his dagger. It thumped against the dirt next to Maria’s head.

  A thin stream of blood dribbled from his mask’s mouth hole and pattered against Maria’s cheek. Augustus wheezed and attempted to grab the blade but slid further down it as his own weight drove it deeper. The tip of the sword appeared out of his back as he slumped to the side.

  Scrambling to her feet, Maria wiped the blood off her face with her cuff. Augustus lay on his side, held out an arm and murmured something. She thought about all of the things he’d put her through: her life on the harvester, friends killed, threatened at knifepoint.

  Anger and hatred welled up inside her. She never thought much about revenge, assuming it was beyond her capabilities as a lost clone, split between two warring factions.

  Augustus went to unstrap his mask with his quivering bloodstained hand. Maria knelt beside him, knowing she would never get a better chance to put the past behind her. She grabbed the rough hilt of the croatoan sword, clenched her teeth and twisted.

  Two people shouted at her from below and charged up the steps. Maria glanced over her shoulder and saw two Unity civilians approach. She twisted again. Augustus let out a deep scream. His arm fell by his side, his body shuddered and he let out a final deep breath.

  One of the men, a young carpenter from the city, reached her and peered down. “Is that who I think it is?”

  Maria nodded, unbuckled his mask, and flipped it to one side, revealing his scarred face and vacant eyes. She spotted a small black prism on a thin gold chain around his neck, grabbed it, and ripped it free.

  The prism vibrated in her hand. Maria jumped up and stared at the object in her palm. It appeared to be some kind of alien tech, but none she recognized as a croatoan design. She decided she’d offer it to Mike as a gesture of peace, along with the news that Augustus was finally dead. Both gesture and news would surely bring a smile to his face.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Denver woke with a start, sitting up and trying to remember where he was. The place around him was cold and dark. Beyond the entrance he could see the moving water rippling with blue and red lights—the overhead ships’ engines.

  He drew a mouthful of water from his suit’s supply and let the cool liquid ease the dryness from his throat. His head was thumping, presumably through dehydration and exertion, but a sensation started to tingle at the edges of his fingers and toes.

  Root.

  He remembered then; during the day, they had harvested some root and tredeyan fruit. As he eased the tiredness from his limbs, he started to feel more alert, awake, and thankfully, energetic. The rest had clearly done him good.

  “Anyone awake?” he whispered over the comms.

  “I am,” Vingo said. “I’ve been keeping watch.”

  “You need to lead us to those filter systems or we’re all dead.”

  “Don’t worry. I know Charlie will kill me if I don’t get you fresh air.”

  A low glow from Vingo’s helmet showed his location toward the front of their makeshift shelter. The fire had burned down to embers. Denver scrambled forward to join the alien, making sure he didn’t make too much noise so as to wake Layla and his dad. He didn’t doubt they needed the rest and recuperation as much as he.

  “All safe out there?” Denver asked, feeling awkward talking to Vingo. He knew him to be a liar and a traitor, yet there was still that hope that he could help them. With no other real choices, Denver thought it best to at least get along with him, draw some information out. If they were going to be double-crossed, it made sense to get the measure of the tredeyan.

  “Where is your family?” Denver asked, sitting next to Vingo at the entrance of their cave. “If your kind have families, that is.”

  “We do. Mine are dead.”

  “Sorry about that,” Denver said, half meaning it. He knew enough about loss to know that even someone like Vingo wouldn’t find it an easy proposition.

  “We should move,” the alien said. “The war is dying down. The scion will consolidate their domination and get to work with their search. I already heard their network of energy probes coming online.”

  “What’s this city like?” Denver asked. “I mean, do you have residential and commercial buildings there? Shops, that kind of thing? What sort of economy do you have?”

  “Every planet in the galaxy is different,” Vingo said, softening his voice as though appreciating Denver’s interest. Denver suspected they’d get more from him this way than threatening him.

  “Go on,” Denver prompted. “I’m interested. I know we’ve not had a lot of time or opportunity to talk about this kin
d of stuff, but now Earth is connected to all this, I would like to know more about how it’s all set up. We’ve gone from thinking the croatoans were the only other species out there to learning there’s a galactic conflict going on.”

  “I can see how that might be difficult for you.”

  “Not difficult, just… interesting.”

  “So our economy on this planet is done via a caste system of privileges. At birth, every tredeyan is analyzed to see what their genetic makeup will be more applicable to. They’re assigned a role and a set of privileges. Of course, those born from the higher families benefit from a skewed assessment in their favor.”

  Denver wanted to say that sounded entirely unfair, but from what his dad had told him of Earth’s culture before the war, it wasn’t entirely different. There were always glass ceilings and levels of status that some could not cross.

  “How do you trade with other species and planets,” Denver asked, “if you don’t use money here?”

  “Depends on where in the galaxy you go and with whom you’re trading. You’ll soon learn this, I’m sure. A favor can often go further than any monetary compensation.”

  Vingo lingered a knowing look at Denver, being entirely unsubtle about his point. Denver just smiled and nodded as though he understood in order to build a bridge of trust between them, even if Denver knew Vingo would wait for his chance to double-cross them.

  “How much air do you have?” Vingo asked.

  Denver looked at the small readout on his visor’s HUD. “About five TUs.”

  “That should be fine. It’ll take one and a half to reach the capital city. We’ll be able to restock your suits there… if the supplies haven’t been taken or looted.”

  “What do you mean?” Denver asked. “Are you suggesting there are humans here who would be needing those supplies?”

  Vingo blinked his eyes, a gesture Denver had learned from the croatoans that meant ‘yes.’

  “You better not be talking about slaves,” Charlie said from behind them, his voice thick with the croak of tiredness.

  “No, not slaves. I’ll explain more later. Let’s not waste your air arguing over something that won’t help us stay alive. We need to move now. Once in the outskirts of the city, we’ll find transport and head for the vaults. If fortune is on our side, it’ll work out as we intend.”

  “I can’t say fortune has favored us much so far,” Charlie said. “I’ll put my faith in guns. Which reminds me, how are we doing for ammo?”

  “I lost my rifle,” Denver said. “I just have a knife.”

  “I have two magazines on me,” Vingo said.

  “Three here, grabbed from the others back at the prison,” Charlie said. “Rifle’s taken a few knocks, though, so I don’t know how useful it’ll be.”

  “Layla?” Denver said. “Are you awake?”

  She groaned and rolled over in the darkness. “Just a few more minutes,” she mumbled, sounding like a small child pleading with her parents to let her stay in the warm embrace of slumber for a while longer.

  Charlie moved over to her and checked her suit. “Two here,” Charlie said.

  “If we go now and be careful, we might not even need the weapons,” Vingo said.

  “We’ll see about that,” Charlie replied.

  “Layla, come on. We’ve got to,” Denver said, placing his gauntlet on her shoulder, shaking her gently and rousing her from sleep. Her face looked so peaceful behind her visor. He just stared at her for a while, words he couldn’t express refusing to come to him.

  “Den?” Layla said, finally opening her eyes to look up at him. “What time is it?”

  “Time to move.”

  “Where are we?”

  She sat up and saw Vingo staring at her from the entrance. She grimaced as the realization set in. “God,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought we were… well, not here.”

  Helping her to her feet, Denver put his arm around her shoulder and led her out of the shelter, saying, “We’ll get home. There’s always a way. We always win… somehow.”

  “Come,” Vingo said, leading them out of the shelter and onto the dark shoreline. “If we’re quick and quiet, we’ll be at the vaults with plenty of time to spare.”

  ***

  In just over a TU and a half, they crested the hill and looked down at the capital city. Illuminated by a moon and starlight, Denver saw that half of the city was cut into a low mountain overlooking a dark lake. The rest was a sprawl of squat buildings, indicating the vast network underground.

  In the distance, a number of scion mechs hovered through the streets and valleys, firing their lasers with surgical precision at specific targets. Strewn throughout the wide streets and surrounding areas, smoking, flaming hulks of croatoan and tredeyan military vehicles lay dying.

  Denver spotted half a dozen destroyed scion craft among the wreckage. It was clearly a bitter-fought battle that even now seemed to be ongoing, albeit in a more controlled, inevitable fashion.

  “Get down,” Vingo said, indicating to a stone wall at the top of the hill.

  Denver and the others did as they were told and ducked down into the shadows. Vingo raised slowly and peered down into the city with the rifle scope.

  “Most of it is deserted,” he said. “They got out.”

  “Who?” Layla asked.

  “The government officials and the higher ranking citizens. There, see?”

  Denver and the others crept up to peer over the edge of the wall.

  From two of the large mansion-like buildings cut into the mountain, a pair of ships took off and headed west, directly away from the city, their engines kicking in as soon as they were at the right altitude.

  “What are they?” Charlie said.

  “Escape craft. Only the most privileged have them.”

  “Why don’t we take one?” Denver said.

  “We won’t need it. See that scion ship on the horizon? We’re going there. Besides, it’s not likely any will be available. They would have left as soon as they could. Those that didn’t leave in time are probably dead.”

  “That’s just great,” Charlie said.

  “Over there.” Vingo pointed to a dark structure in front of the lake. “A supply station. It looks mostly intact.”

  Only it wasn’t intact.

  They reached the single-story building that resembled a concrete bunker. It lay on the edge of the lake with a dozen others, seemingly rising out of the ground like square gravestones. Vingo approached the first door and pushed it open. It wouldn’t budge. They all gave it a push and realized it had been blasted off one of its hinges and dug into the hard surface of the floor. Through a gap Denver managed to peer inside and saw that it was empty, the shelves bare.

  “Fuck,” he said. “That was a waste of air.”

  Vingo had moved onto another part of the building, testing the door. This one opened and Denver’s hopes rose. Charlie and Layla entered the room with Vingo, and by the time Denver joined them, he heard Charlie’s disappointment over the comms.

  “Great, suffocation it is, then,” he said.

  “We still have time,” Vingo said.

  “Where to next?”

  “There’s a building down there with a ground vehicle in the port. We can use that to get closer to the capital’s vault. It’ll provide protection and speed, and it might have a supply of air in it for the previous owner’s drivers.

  “They used humans as drivers?” Charlie said.

  “Among other tasks,” Vingo replied. “Come, before the scion are finished and decide to sweep the area.”

  The sounds of war seem to increase beyond the ridge of mountains, and Denver wondered what would be waiting for them once they secured a vehicle. Whatever it was, he preferred to be working toward some plan rather than waiting around until death claimed them. If he had to die, he’d rather die fighting.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Mike couldn’t help but feel as though there were something poetic about the way t
he dawn light bathed Unity in a red hue. So much blood on both sides had been shed during the brief but brutal fight.

  As he lurched through the streets, stepping around individuals helping to clear the bodies or nurse the injured, he winced with every bump of his elbow, but continued on toward the field hospital that had been hastily erected to help the injured as best they could. Mai was there, but he didn’t know if she had survived the night.

  After the battle was over, he had heard about Maria’s heroics in defeating Augustus. He had made his way back to the workshop to check on Mai, to tell her that the modifications to the device had worked, and that it was all over. He found the place empty.

  Ryan’s body had been taken too.

  From asking around in somewhat of a panic, he had learned Mai was taken to the temporary hospital, but the person whom he had asked couldn’t tell him if she were alive or dead.

  He helped a pair of elderly women into a house as they carried a young man, his arm in a sling and packed with root. “Did you see Mai?” Mike asked the young man, explaining who she was, but he didn’t need to; everyone in Unity knew who Mai was, especially after the success of the weapon.

  “She’s there,” he said. “I saw her being brought in on a stretcher. Go down the road and turn at the remains of the tavern, you’ll see the hospital tent. Good luck. I hope she’s okay,” the boy said, sweat from the pain of his injuries glistening on his face.

  Mike thanked him and followed the directions.

  Unity still smelled of smoke and burning flesh, despite the fires being put out many hours ago. He suspected the stench would cling to the place for some time to come yet, a reminder of their struggles and their losses.

  As he reached the tavern, its remains still smoldering and cracking as timbers beneath the pile of wreckage retained the heat of the fire, he did indeed spot the tall tent of the hospital. It reminded him of a circus tent from his childhood.

  He pushed that old memory aside and stepped forward.

  A line of human and croatoan traffic crossed his path, making him pull up to a stop. The remaining survivors of Augustus’ army were shackled and chained and led across the street toward the ludus.