by M. R. Forbes
James leaned forward in the captain’s chair, looking at the displays.
“I was hoping they wouldn’t send a ship to investigate,” he said. “We have to take it out.”
“What?” Nathan replied.
“You heard me, Relentless. We have to take it out. We can’t afford to have it track where we’re going. The USSF site on the surface was top secret back then. It’s damn near forgotten now. We have to keep them away from it so we can do what we need to do.”
Nathan watched the ship approaching on the display. The CSF wouldn’t have sent a ship up here unless they were planning on using it, and while dropships had plasma cannons, they didn’t have boarding interlocks. It was only a matter of time before the Spacer pilot shot at them.
“Unidentified starship, this is the CSF dropship Singapore. Please respond.”
Nathan looked back at James again. The general shook his head.
“You know what to do,” he said.
Nathan didn’t have any more time to hesitate. The Singapore was bearing down on them, and he could tell it was shifting to a better angle of attack.
He squeezed the trigger for the right plasma cannon, taking a quick shot at the remaining satellite. A moment later, he adjusted the throttle and twisted the control stick, sending the Pulse into a quick rotating spin.
The last satellite vanished from the display, the bolt a direct hit. There was no doubt the Singapore’s pilot had seen the attack, and he wasn’t surprised when a series of flashes appeared at the head of the other dropship, the cannons firing on him.
He changed the Pulse’s direction, firing retro thrusters and moving relative to up, climbing over the bolts that sizzled toward them. He made quick adjustments on the control surface with his right hand, while changing directions on the stick with his left. He got the Pulse’s bow facing the Singapore, and he convinced himself to squeeze the trigger.
He could see the plasma bolts in the forward camera, streaking out ahead of the other ship. The Singapore slowed and altered course, rolling and adjusting her vector almost too slowly. One of the bolts caught the corner on one of her atmospheric stabilizers, burning through the alloy and causing parts of it to float out into space.
“If Proxima wasn’t sending the Space Force here before, they will now,” Nathan said. Maybe it would have been better to take the overland route, instead of the shortcut through space?
“And do what?” James said. “They won’t be able to pinpoint where we launched, and Edenrise is invisible to their sensors. It’s more likely they’ll try to figure out how a rogue dropship wound up on Earth without anyone knowing about it.” He laughed. “It’s more likely it’ll put some unexpected pressure on the Trust.”
Nathan like the sound of that. This was the Trust’s dropship, after all. If they used it to destroy a Centurion Space Force vessel? Maybe he was satisfied to stay on Earth, and maybe he could let go of his quest for revenge against the syndicate. It would still be plenty satisfying to screw them over.
Nathan rolled the Pulse again, rotating it over ninety degrees and firing the vectoring thrusters, changing their direction as sharply as the ship’s frame and their bodies would allow. As replicas, they could stand up to greater g-forces than typical humans, and unless the Singapore’s pilot was also a replica, the other ship couldn’t do the same.
It could, and did. The Spacer pilot kept up with the Pulse, matching its turn and accelerating back and away. Nathan cursed, shifting his vectors and adjusting his controls, getting the Pulse headed on an intercept course. He watched the Singapore in the display, trying to get it lined up in the plasma cannon targeting reticle. It slipped left and right, aware that he had slotted in behind it and trying to lose him. Maybe the Spacer was a replica too, but he wasn’t a Stacker.
The Singapore broke hard to the left, small jets alerting Nathan to the path the pilot was planning to take. He fired his vectoring thrusters, slowing his approach and taking an opposite tack.
“What are you doing?” James said, realizing they were turning the wrong way.
“Trust me,” Nathan said.
On Proxima, James Stacker was known for his impossibly high simulator scores. It wasn’t a total lie. First generation Stackers were immaculate pilots, and he was no different.
The Singapore’s momentum brought it around, sliding through space, drifting back. The Pulse did the same, but facing the other direction, the first ship’s move anticipated. They drifted up and over the top of the Centurion craft, and Nathan fired the forward thrusters to force the bow down, the plasma cannons into position.
There was no time for the Singapore to react. No time for it to evade. Her pilot had made the wrong decision.
Nathan held down both triggers, firing the pair of cannons simultaneously. The bolts streaked into the top of the Singapore, one after another in a line from the center to the stern.
The structural integrity fell apart, the air venting out of the sudden holes in the starship. Then superheated gas hit the reactor, and the Singapore flared in an intense fireball that flashed and faded in an instant, leaving the vessel dark and lifeless.
“Nice work, Relentless,” James said from the captain’s chair.
Nathan stared at the wreck as it crossed from the forward display to the side, and then to the rear. He had never in a million years thought he would wind up shooting at one of his own, never mind killing them.
He swallowed hard. His heart was pounding, and he felt nauseous. He did what he had to do. If he hadn’t destroyed the Singapore, the Singapore would have destroyed them.
He adjusted their vector again, following the coordinates Tinker had entered and setting a new course, beginning the descent back toward the surface and keeping his eyes on the forward display.
He had seen the sphere. He had seen what the ATs were and what they were capable of doing. If Tinker was right, opening the door for the Others might be the only way to save any part of humankind.
So why did he suddenly feel so damn guilty?
Chapter 18
Hayden sat in the rear cab of the Liberator’s truck on a bench affixed to the left side, in the darkest corner near the front. Gus and Pyro sat across from him, pressed close together to keep to the shadows as much as possible.
They had all replaced their clothes with the dark green USSF jumpsuits the Liberators had been wearing, taken from the bodies Isabelle had created. She had broken their necks to kill them, keeping their uniforms relatively pristine. Gus’ was too small. Pyro’s was too big.
Hayden’s fit just right, but of course he had to tear off the sleeve to make room for his oversized arm.
He reached up and felt the cut on his cheek, hastily sewn back together by Corporal Zenith, one of the four remaining Liberator soldiers. It was rough and ugly, crisscrossing over a pre-existing jagged and ugly scar. He was getting prettier by the day.
Sergeant Cooper was up front, driving the truck. Isabelle was pressed into the small space behind him, out of sight from the ground. She had Hayden’s compact railgun pressed against the back of the seat, the weapon more than powerful enough to blow through the stuffing and then through the soldier’s back. While Hayden preferred not to kill anyone, especially an unarmed man, Isabelle didn’t have morals or a conscience. She acted on her orders, which right now were to make sure Cooper didn’t screw them over.
He lowered his hand, turning his attention to the three remaining Liberators. They were kids. All of them. Between eighteen and twenty-five at best. He felt ancient at thirty-six, and when he realized his birthday was in a few weeks, he felt even older. He didn’t belong out here, trying to stop some other crazed human from hurting innocents. He belonged at home with his wife and daughter.
But if not him, then who?
He sighed. Corporal Zenith looked up at him. “Does it hurt sir?” Zenith asked.
“No,” Hayden replied. “Thank you for asking.”
They returned to silence. Fort McGuire was only twenty minutes
out from New Egypt, and they had been on the road for ten already.
“Sir?” Zenith said, speaking up.
“What is it, soldier?” Hayden replied.
“Are you going to kill us?”
Hayden raised an eyebrow. They had tied the soldiers up, binding their hands in such a way that they looked naturally placed on their laps. They couldn’t pick up or shoot a gun if they wanted to.
The plan was simple enough. They would use the soldiers to get into the fort. The guards at the gate would have no problem letting men they recognized back in. The truck would return to the motor pool, and then the four Liberators they had captured would hang around it, ostensibly to collect their things and clean it up, or to deal with a mechanical issue or whatever. Hayden didn’t care what excuse they used, as long as it sounded good.
Isabelle would stay behind to make sure it sounded good, and to keep the soldiers in line. It wasn’t like she could wander around the fort anyway; not in her current condition. Meanwhile, Hayden, Pyro, and Gus would head across the base in search of the things they needed. Food. Fresh guns. Use of a terminal if they could manage. They had to keep the visit short, twenty minutes at best. They would go back to the motor pool, take one of the vehicles, and be on their way.
Of course, to get out with a vehicle, they would need at least one of their prisoners to remain their prisoner. Zenith seemed the most compassionate and the most intelligent. He was Hayden’s choice.
“Tinker’s virus is completed,” Hayden said. “Do you know what that means?”
“It means we need to get to Edenrise,” one of the other soldiers, Private Dix, said. “Or we’re going to die.”
“Only if you do something stupid,” Hayden said, responding to the earlier question. “You all are too young to die, and if you’re good people at heart who are maybe a little misguided, I don’t see why you should have to. We’re stopping at McGuire, and then we’re heading to Edenrise. You stay good, you stay calm, we’ll leave you at the fort unharmed. I know Tinker wants me dead, but I want to talk to him. I want the trife off Earth as much as anybody, but I don’t want him killing so many to do it. I have family out there.”
“Yes, sir,” Zenith said.
“So are you good at heart, Zenith?”
“I think so, sir. I joined the Liberators because they promised food, shelter, a place to belong, and safety for my family inside Edenrise.”
“I thought Edenrise was open to everybody?” Gus said. He looked a little less ragged now that he had changed, though he also had stitches in his head along with another set in his leg.
“Not exactly,” Dix said.
“But Tinker is calling people to the city,” Pyro said. “I’ve heard his broadcasts.”
“That’s right. He doesn’t let everybody in who shows up at the gates. I mean, he lets them in short-term, to a holding area. He’s got people who interview the newcomers. Evaluate them. Too crazy, you go back out with the trife. Too old, you go back out with the trife. Too sick, back with the trife.”
“People make the trip to the city, and then he doesn’t let them all in?” Hayden asked.
“No, sir. There’s a lot of space in Edenrise, but Tinker says the world will only thrive on the backs of the strong. The ones who can regenerate the population. Everybody has to do their part and earn their keep. For most of the women, that means having babies. For the men, that means joining up.”
“What can you tell me about General Stacker? What kind of man is he?”
“He’s a good man, sir,” Zenith said. “For the most part, though he does have a bit of a temper when he gets pushed too far. He’s loyal. Honest. Fair. He can be hard, but that’s his job, right?”
“When I first joined the Liberators, I really struggled with the mission,” Dix said. “We’d go into these small communities, these towns where people were fighting so hard to survive. Some of them were maybe a dozen people hiding in a boarded-up house, to a few hundred who had set up a barter station for travelers, and were hiding in an old bank vault or wherever they could find at night. This one town, they had almost a thousand people in it. Biggest town I’ve seen outside of Edenrise. Holed up in what they said had been a prison. A jail. It had guard towers, fencing with barbed wire, kind of like McGuire. It was made to keep people in, so it was great for keeping trife out. General Stacker brought us in there, three full platoons. They tried to resist. They fought back. We could have slaughtered them all, but he told us to limit the damage. Once people saw what he could do in that armor of his, they didn’t fight long. Anyway, going in there and taking the women out? Hearing them scream and cry for their husbands and children was tough.
“I don’t know if I could have done it without the general. He told us to picture a world without the trife. An entire world like Edenrise, but without the shields. An entire world, free. I don’t know about you, sir, but I don’t remember a world without the trife. I see the ruin all around us. The old things. The decay. I can’t imagine what that was like. Before and during, I mean. But I want it to end, you know, sir? I want a world without the trife. I think that’s worth fighting for. I think that’s worth sacrificing for.”
“That’s because you’re a man,” Pyro said.
Dix looked over at her, but he didn’t say anything. Hayden could see the man had tears in his eyes, talking about a world without the demonic aliens. He knew how Dix felt. It was his dream too.
He just wasn’t willing to sacrifice other people to bring it to fruition.
“Okay,” Hayden said. “We don’t need to get into that. Especially now. You three stay quiet in here while we go in, you’ll have no problem with us.”
“Yes, sir,” Zenith said.
Hayden leaned back against the side of the truck. General Stacker had tried to kill him, but he knew better than to make it personal. The general was following orders. Tinker’s orders, and Tinker was acting out of necessity, not malice. There was a difference. People died just as well over philosophy as they did hate, but at least philosophy could be reasoned with. Discussed. Negotiated.
He hoped.
They made the rest of the trip in silence. It was only a few minutes more until the truck began to slow as it reached the gates to Fort McGuire. Sergeant Cooper had already radioed ahead to Lieutenant Hong, explaining how they had taken heavy casualties while dealing with a much larger contingent of scavengers and nomads than they expected. The Lieutenant had offered to send more backup and to contact General Stacker for further orders, but Cooper had declined, claiming everything was under control.
Which it was. Just not his control.
The truck came to a stop. Hayden could hear the other soldiers outside. He could hear the activity behind the gates. The soldiers were working to pack up their supplies and equipment and get it ready for transport south to Edenrise.
He glanced over at Zenith and Dix and the third soldier, Rahib. If they were going to call out in alarm, now was the time to do it. They would die for their effort, but at least they would keep their base from being infiltrated.
They looked back at him, mouths shut. None of them wanted to die. Not now. Not when Edenrise was so close. How much damage could he and his companions do anyway?
Hayden nodded to them. They nodded back, acknowledging the decision.
In the distance, someone screamed.
It was followed by a shout, and then another, and then a third.
The shouts were followed by more screaming.
“What the hell is going on?” Pyro said.
“I don’t know,” Dix replied.
Gunfire came next, echoing across the fort. Hayden jumped to his feet, rushing to the rear of the cab.
“The Hellion!” someone cried out. “The Hellion is loose!”
Hayden turned back to the soldiers to ask them what a Hellion was.
Judging by their terrified expressions, he had a feeling he didn’t want to find out.
Chapter 19
The gunfire continued. So
did the screams. It was all joined by another sound. A loud screech, like someone screaming gibberish at the top of their lungs.
“What the fuck is a Hellion?” Pyro said.
“Sir, cut us loose,” Zenith said. “Cut us loose. Please.”
“Sir, please,” Dix said.
The soldiers raised their restraints.
The gunfire was getting closer, which meant the Hellion, whatever it happened to be, was also getting closer.
“Izzy!” Hayden shouted. “Get out here. Pyro, Gus, let’s go.”
He heard the creaking of the truck’s door and the soft clank of Isabelle’s metal feet on the concrete.
“Sir?” Zenith said.
Hayden moved across the aisle. He grabbed the rope they had used to tie Zenith’s hands and the soldier’s knife and quickly cut the binding.
“Thank you, sir.”
Hayden dropped the knife in Zenith’s lap. “Free the others. Shoot me in the back, and my robot will kill you.”
Zenith paled. “Yes, sir. I think we have bigger things to worry about, sir.”
Hayden ran to the back of the truck. He heard another screech and more screaming. A deeper thud sounded in the distance, a heavier caliber weapon firing at the Hellion.
“Zenith, what’s a Hellion?” Hayden asked, reaching the canvas flap and pulling it aside. They were still at the gates, the truck stopped just inside. The guards were gone, but he could see one of the towers on his right and the two Liberators standing up there. They were firing into the complex, and judging by the angle of their weapons it was headed this way.“
“Tinker created it,” Zenith said. “It’s a monster, made to kill trife.”
“It sounds like it’s killing people,” Gus said.
“She only listens to General Stacker. We keep her locked up, but I heard we had orders to set her loose.”
“Set her loose?” Hayden said.
“Just in case any creatures survived the virus.”
“Or any people?”
“That’s what I heard, sir.”
