Earthfall: Retribution

by Mark Walden

  ‘Good God, the second helicopter! You’re bringing those creatures into the city,’ Stirling said. ‘You can’t do that – millions will die.’

  ‘A small price to pay to defeat the Voidborn,’ Talon replied. ‘You pathetic humans have no idea what is at stake. You have one minute to make your decision, boy, before the countdown on the electronic locks sealing the Vore cage expires. The only thing that can prevent it is me transmitting the disarm code. The choice is yours.’

  Sam’s mind whirled. Who was this creature, where had he come from and what was he truly intending to do with the Mothership? Too many questions, no time for answers. Sam felt a pit open in his stomach as he had a sudden horrific vision of millions of ravenous Vore swarming through the streets below them. The creatures that Talon had transported to London would only need to reach one group of Sleepers and their numbers would begin to expand geometrically. There would be no hope of stopping them. In that instant he knew that he had no choice. Talon might be bluffing, but some gut instinct told him that this creature was more than prepared to carry through on his threat. That was not a possibility he could contemplate.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Sam said, putting his hand on the Servant’s shoulder before stepping in front of her and looking up at the towering armoured warrior. ‘What do you need me to do?’

  ‘Let me in,’ Talon said, raising his massive gloved hand and pressing it to the side of Sam’s head. Sam felt a moment of disorientation and then he could sense Talon’s presence inside his mind as the light around him faded to nothingness. It wasn’t the horrific invasive feeling that he had felt when the Voidborn had entered his mind during their final confrontation. Instead he felt a sense of disembodiment, as if he were floating weightless in a black void. The voice that suddenly rang out seemed to come from all around him.

  ‘Control cannot be taken, it must be given,’ the voice said. It sounded like thousands of individuals speaking in perfect, uncanny unison. ‘That is the way of things.’

  The voice sounded calm, soothing even, and yet something about it filled him with a mixture of awe and dread.

  ‘What do I have to do?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Simply exercise your will,’ the voice replied. ‘Grant us control.’

  Sam thought for a moment about the idea of granting control of the massive vessel to Talon and that was it. His senses returned in a flood, the control room around him seeming impossibly bright for a moment as he collapsed to the floor unconscious.

  ‘Excellent,’ Talon said with a smile, turning to the Servant. ‘Your services are no longer required.’

  The Servant gave a sudden horrible digitised shriek and her eyes flared with bright yellow light before she disintegrated, a cloud of dirty yellow dust falling to the floor where she had once stood. Rachel ran to Sam, picking his head up from the floor and cradling his limp body.

  ‘What have you done to him?’ she snapped at Talon as he looked down at them.

  ‘The boy was overwhelmed by his union with the Illuminate,’ Talon said. ‘It is not unusual for the experience to be too much for the fragile minds of unelevated species. He will recover in time.’

  ‘If you’ve hurt him I’ll –’

  ‘Do what, girl?’ Talon said with a sneer. ‘I have faced armies of Voidborn and seen civilisation after civilisation fall before them like grass before the scythe. What do I have to fear from one such as you?’

  Stirling suddenly felt the mechanical tendrils of the Hunter behind him wrap around his arms, locking his limbs in their vice-like grip. Instinctively, he struggled for a moment, but he knew it was no use. The machine’s inhuman strength was far greater than his own.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ Stirling asked, staring at Talon. ‘You want to destroy the Voidborn – so do we. We can work together.’

  ‘I do not need your assistance,’ Talon said as another Hunter moved towards Rachel, pulling her away from Sam’s unconscious body and restraining her also, despite her fruitless struggling. Talon moved towards the central control pedestal as the final Hunter looped its black tentacles beneath Sam’s armpits and hoisted his unconscious body into the air, the toes of his boots dangling just a few centimetres off the ground. The Hunters’ skin now throbbed with a pale blue light instead of yellow, a change reflected in the patterns of light that pulsed through the walls around them.

  ‘You will be detained for now,’ Talon said, and the cables that surrounded the control platform rose up and began to snake around him, slipping in between the plates of his armour and locking in place as they too began to throb with blue light. ‘Be thankful that you have been spared the fate of your companions below.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Stirling yelled as the Hunters dragged them from the room. ‘What’s going to happen to them?’

  ‘That rather depends on whether they somehow manage to escape the Vore,’ Talon replied.

  ‘My God,’ Stirling said, ‘you can’t mean . . .’

  ‘I can’t risk the Voidborn recapturing the drilling site once the Mothership departs,’ Talon replied, glancing down at the glowing display mounted in the forearm of his armour. ‘I released the Vore five minutes ago.’

  7

  Mag glared down at the soldiers guarding the large metal container in the middle of the road beneath her. They scanned their surroundings, the bright beams of the torches mounted beneath the barrels of their weapons cutting through the darkness. A moment later one of the soldiers’ radios crackled, the message inaudible from Mag’s position. He gave a quick nod and then spoke briefly to his companion. They both jogged back down the road to the broad junction where the helicopter that had delivered the crate just a few minutes earlier waited, its rotors slowly spinning.

  Mag watched them climb on board before she dropped silently to the slush-covered pavement five metres below. She sniffed the air as she approached the crate, the stench of the Vore inside stronger than ever. She was still exhausted from the first stage of the journey. It had been two nerve-shredding and exhausting hours hanging on for dear life to the steel box as they had flown low and fast over the English countryside. Just when she had started to feel that the freezing temperatures and battering winds might prove too much for even her unnatural strength and stamina, the helicopter and its disturbing cargo had touched down at the abandoned airfield outside the city. Mag had been grateful for the few hours of rest that the break in the journey had provided, but she could not allow herself to sleep. She had to make sure that she stayed with the crate, no matter what. This second leg of the trip was much shorter as the helicopter completed its journey into London. She had leapt from the crate on to a nearby rooftop as the crate was dropped on to the street, waiting and watching as the soldiers stood guard.

  ‘What are you doing, Mag?’ she whispered to herself as she walked up to the crate. As she touched the cool metal sides of the box, a sudden insistent electronic beeping came from one end of the crate, startling her. She instinctively backed away, eyeing the box with suspicion. Without warning, the explosive bolts on the hatch sealing one end of the crate fired and the door swung downwards, hitting the road with a loud metallic clang. Mag watched in horror as a Vore slowly slunk out of the box, sniffing the air. Slimy black drool trickled from its monstrous jaws as its senses were overwhelmed by the overpowering smell of the boundless quantities of sleeping prey that filled the buildings around it. Mag took a single step backwards and the Vore rounded on her with a growl. Mag braced herself as the creature leapt, pivoting as it slammed into her, gasping in pain as its claws raked her shoulder and slinging it away across the street, using its own momentum against it. The creature sprang back to its feet, preparing to leap again.

  Mag saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye as a second Vore from inside the box leapt at her. She dived to one side and the creature missed with its first pounce, sliding across the slushy street before regaining its balance and joining its pack-mate in circling Mag with an angry hiss. The two creatures prowled around her,
hissing and snapping their razor-filled jaws as they picked their moment to strike. She felt a moment of fear as she desperately tried to keep watching both creatures at once, feeling like a mouse being played with by a pair of cats.

  Suddenly one of the creatures launched itself at her again and she drove the blade-tipped claws of her hand upwards into the creature’s exposed throat as it hit her, knocking her off her feet. She felt a warm gush of blood spilling over her hand as the Vore gave a gurgling howl of pain, its jaws still snapping just centimetres from her face despite the mortal wound she had inflicted. She pushed with all her strength, rolling the thrashing creature off her and climbing to her feet just as the second Vore slammed into her back, knocking the wind from her and pinning her face down on the ground. She tried to push herself up, but the creature’s weight on her exhausted back was too great and she felt its hot, fetid breath on the back of her neck as it opened its jaws to deliver a final killing bite to its prey.

  From somewhere nearby there was a sudden loud bang and the Vore’s head seemed to just vanish in a black mist of blood, its limp body collapsing on top of her, now just dead weight. She rolled the creature off her back and staggered to her feet to see a boy with bright red hair walking towards her, a massive rifle shouldered and levelled straight at her.

  ‘Wait!’ Mag yelled, raising her hands in the air. ‘I’m not one of these things.’

  The boy hesitated for a moment and then there was the sudden sound of rifle fire from the other end of the street and the ground around Mag almost seemed to explode as the pair of soldiers who had been guarding the Vore just a couple of minutes before opened fire. Mag leapt behind the armoured metal crate as the hail of bullets pinged off its surface. The red-haired boy ran towards her as the soldiers laid down more fire, and he threw himself down on the ground beside her. For a moment he stared at her pitch-black eyes and the jet-black veins that ran just beneath the surface of her paper-white skin.

  ‘Sorry, don’t mean to stare,’ the boy said after a moment. ‘I’m Jack. I don’t suppose you know what the hell those guys at the other end of the street were doing releasing these things, do you?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Mag replied. It seemed an act of utter madness.

  ‘Are there any others?’ Jack asked, bobbing his head quickly round the corner of the crate and spotting the two soldiers advancing down the road towards them, ducking back into cover just as they opened fire again. They were pinned down.

  The soldiers were only twenty metres from the crate when a puff of blood erupted from the lead man’s thigh and he collapsed to the ground with a scream of pain, his rifle scattering away across the road as his hands flew to staunch the flow of blood from the fresh gunshot wound. The second soldier spun around to see Jay standing ten metres behind him with his rifle levelled at the man’s chest.

  ‘Don’t,’ Jay said.

  The soldier ignored him, swinging his own rifle up and leaving Jay with no choice. He fired just once and the soldier fell, dead before he hit the ground.

  Jack jumped up from behind the crate and ran over to the other soldier, the man’s blood-slick hands fumbling with the release of the holster on his hip. Just as the soldier drew the pistol, Jack slammed the butt of the sniper rifle into the side of his head, knocking him out cold.

  ‘You OK?’ Jack asked, glancing over at Jay, who was standing looking down at the dead man at his feet with a deep frown on his face.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jay replied, running his hand over his head with a sigh. ‘Just never killed someone before.’ There was a world of difference between gunning down Voidborn monsters and taking another human life, even if he hadn’t had a choice.

  From the other end of the street they heard the sound of the idling helicopter’s engines start to increase in pitch.

  ‘Come on!’ Jay yelled, turning and running headlong down the street towards the helicopter that was preparing to take off. He reached the bottom of the loading ramp and raised his rifle to his shoulder, aiming down the passenger compartment. At the far end a figure sat in shackles with a black bag over his head. Jay walked quietly towards the figure, passing by without saying anything, heading for the cockpit. He stepped inside the cramped compartment and the pilot half turned as his shadow fell over him.

  ‘Don’t move,’ Jay said. The pilot didn’t hesitate, going for the pistol in the holster strapped to his chest. Jay swung his rifle butt, bringing it up under the man’s chin, his head snapping backwards as he slumped sideways in his flight seat, out cold. ‘No, seriously, don’t move,’ Jay said, shaking his head.

  ‘Jay, there’s something wrong,’ Jack yelled, ‘come quick.’

  Jay jogged back down the compartment, past the slumped shackled figure and out on to the street. Jack was standing next to the odd-looking girl who had gone toe to toe with the Vore just a couple of minutes earlier and staring up at the Mothership. Craning his neck, Jay looked up at the massive vessel above him as the yellow lights on its surface flickered out, one by one, being replaced by glowing blue streams of energy.

  ‘What the hell?’ Jay said, as slowly the Mothership began to do something he had never seen it do before. It began to move.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Jack said.

  ‘Nothing good,’ Jay replied. ‘Sam’s up there with Stirling and Rachel – they were taking Mason to see the Mothership.’ He couldn’t be certain what was happening, but he was willing to bet that it was more than just a coincidence. ‘There’s no way that they’d move the Mothership without letting us know first. Something’s wrong – we have to get on board.’

  ‘How the hell are we going to do that?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Um, isn’t that a very large helicopter behind you?’ Mag said, pointing over Jay’s shoulder.

  ‘Slight problem,’ Jay said, looking back up the ramp leading inside the Chinook, ‘I just knocked the pilot out cold.’

  ‘Well, that’s a bit more than a slight problem, Jay,’ Jack said, ‘since none of us can fly this thing.’

  ‘I can,’ a voice said from somewhere behind Jay. Jay spun round, startled. He’d assumed that the hooded figure sitting slumped against the bulkhead had been unconscious. He walked over to the prisoner and pulled the bag off his head. The man beneath the hood had a mop of curly brown hair and quick, intelligent eyes that darted from Jay’s face to Jack’s and then Mag’s.

  ‘You serious?’ Jay asked with a frown. ‘Can you get us up to that thing?’

  ‘I can get us up there,’ the man replied, ‘but whether we can do anything to stop what’s happening, well, that’s another question.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jay asked with a puzzled frown.

  ‘I rather fear that a lunatic has just taken control of that vessel,’ the man replied, looking Jay in the eye, ‘and he means to use it to defeat the Voidborn once and for all.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound so bad,’ Jack said.

  ‘Oh, and kill nearly every last human being on the face of the planet in the process,’ the man replied calmly.

  ‘OK,’ Jack said, ‘that is bad.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Mag demanded.

  ‘Because I used to work with him,’ the man replied, ‘until I realised the lengths he was prepared to go to achieve his goals.’

  ‘OK,’ Jay said. He knew they didn’t have time to sit around debating this. He had no idea how long they had before the Mothership would be out of range of the helicopter. ‘Where are the keys for your cuffs?’

  ‘I think one of the guards had them,’ the man replied.

  ‘Jack,’ Jay said, and his friend nodded and sprinted back down the loading ramp and down the street towards the fallen soldiers.

  ‘This is Mag and I’m Jay,’ Jay said, quickly introducing them to the stranger, ‘and the guy who just went to find the keys is Jack.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ the man replied with a nod. ‘My name’s Shaw, Daniel Shaw.’

  Adam, Nat, Anne and Liz watched as the soldiers that had been sit
ting in silence in the common room for most of the day suddenly gathered their equipment and filed out of the room without a single word.

  ‘Where are they going?’ Adam asked.

  ‘No idea,’ Liz said. ‘They sort of give me the creeps.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Nat said, taking a sip from her mug of tea. ‘I’ve heard of the strong, silent type, but that’s ridiculous.’

  ‘Guys, you have to see this,’ Will said, running across the room with a panicked expression on his face. ‘The Mothership’s leaving.’

  ‘What do you mean it’s leaving?’ Anne said, frowning.

  ‘I mean, it’s moving,’ Will said, ‘away from here. You’d better come and have a look for yourselves.’

  The five of them hurried outside. Above them the Mothership was moving slowly, but gathering speed, the parabolic dishes that covered its underside glowing with a blue light. On the other side of the compound the soldiers were filing on board the helicopter, whose enormous dual rotors were slowly starting to spin.

  ‘What on earth is going on?’ Will said, staring up at the giant vessel as it glided over them with a deep, almost subsonic rumble.

  ‘Hey!’ Adam shouted, running after the nearest of the soldiers. ‘Where are you going? What’s happened to the Mothership?’

  The man ignored him, never breaking step as he marched towards the helicopter. Adam put a hand on his shoulder and the soldier whirled around, delivering a vicious backhanded blow to his jaw that sent him to one knee, clutching his mouth. The soldier then turned and followed the rest of his comrades up the loading ramp and on to the helicopter. The ramp whirred shut and closed with a solid-sounding thud, and the helicopter’s turbines began to roar as the pilot applied power for take-off.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Nat asked, helping Adam to his feet as they all retreated from the ferocious down draft from the helicopter as it lifted into the sky.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Adam said, looking angrily at the departing chopper. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I think we’d better get to the armoury.’