by M. R. Forbes
Judicus Love didn’t say anything, but the door to the Chair’s bedroom swung open, and three dark-uniformed clones stepped out, fully armed and armored.
“General Aeron Haeri,” Love said. “I’m hereby placing you under arrest for treason against the people of Proxima. You will surrender immediately.”
Aeron glanced back at LaMont, who had started buttoning his shirt. Then he looked at the three clones. They didn’t have their guns drawn. Not yet. They knew he was unarmed from the scanner below.
They didn’t know as much as they thought.
Always be ready.
He was.
3
Aeron
At least, Aeron thought he was ready.
He expected the guards to come after him, and they did.
What he didn’t expect was for one of the guards to hand Judicus Love a pistol and for her to aim the gun at Chair LaMont.
“Love? What are you—?”
It was all LaMont had time to say. The single round went in through his forehead and out the other side in a messy spray.
“General Haeri just killed the Chair,” Love said calmly, dropping the murder weapon to the floor. “And he’s resisting arrest.”
Aeron smiled. He should have known.
The guards closed on him, drawing shock batons from their hips. Aeron remained upright, refusing to acknowledge they were in control of the situation.
Because they weren’t.
“You should have just shot me,” he said.
“There are four of us, and only one of you,” Love replied. “And you aren’t even a clone.”
“Neither are you.”
“No. I’m better.”
She rushed him, moving faster than any regular human and confirming Aeron’s worst fear. The Hunger was on Proxima. For how long?
He reached into his pocket almost casually as Judicus Love approached him. He didn’t try to evade her attack. Instead, he grabbed the weapon there and jabbed it through the cloth and into her gut.
Her eyes flew wide open in shock, her momentum carrying her into him and causing the microspear to sink even deeper into her abdomen. He caught her body, holding her as the weapon did its damage, thin tendrils reaching up from the point of entry to the khoron tucked into the base of her neck.
“How?” It was all she managed to croak out before she died.
“Always be ready,” he said, yanking the spear out.
He didn’t let her fall, keeping her upright in his arms as he looked at the guards. They were off-balance from the suddenness of the Judicus’ death—an opportunity he couldn’t afford to waste.
Aeron shoved her toward the lead clone, lunging at the man on his left. He threw a hard right hook toward the guard’s face. The man caught it easily, holding Aeron’s fist and squeezing. It hurt, but not as much as the microspear Aeron jabbed into the guard’s abdomen.
The spear was Axon tech, designed to kill khoron. And it was made of Axon alloy, a mixture of exotic ores that didn’t exist on Earth. It was invisible to scanners, including the one he had passed through coming in, and was sharp enough to penetrate nearly anything.
It went right through the layer of spidersteel beneath the thicker plates of the guard’s combat armor, diving into the flesh and expanding outward to attack vital organs.
Aeron let go of it as the clone let go of his hand. Turning, he ducked behind the dying guard as the clone’s body fell limply to the floor. The third guard swung at him with his shock baton, missing when Aeron moved to avoid it. The first guard caught Judicus Love’s body and turned it aside to fall on the floor as he reached for the rifle on his back.
Aeron stayed in motion, pivoting around the other side of the fallen guard, somersaulting past the third guard to concentrate again on the first. He grabbed the clone’s rifle, redirecting the fired rounds into the floor. Aeron jabbed the weapon into the clone’s groin and pulled the trigger.
The maneuver sent the guard reeling and left Aeron within reach of the dropped handgun. He had a split second to decide whether or not to grab it. Investigators would trace the bullet that killed LaMont back to the weapon, and if they found his prints on it the entire planet would be hunting him within hours. Yes, they would realize he hadn’t taken the shot sooner or later, but that wasn’t the Hunger’s goal here. They didn’t need to stop him completely. They only needed to slow him down. It would take an investigations unit time to discover the truth.
An investigations unit run by the Judicus Department.
Maybe they wouldn’t find he hadn’t taken the shot. Of course, they would still have to locate the weapon first.
He grabbed the gun, spinning to his knees and aiming it at the remaining guard just as the clone swung his rifle around from his back.
Aeron fired, squeezing the trigger nearly a dozen times. The rounds were well-placed, bypassing the thick plates of the combat armor and punching into the guard’s bodysuit and helmet. None of them were going to pierce the protection, but they offered a painful distraction, giving Aeron time to scramble forward and grab the microspear from the first guard’s flesh and fling it at his opponent.
The clone had recovered enough to swing his rifle up in an effort to deflect the sliver of matte black alloy. He was too slow. The microspear slipped past the weapon and buried itself in the guard’s chest.
He stumbled forward and collapsed.
Aeron didn’t waste any time. He got back to his feet, hurrying to the downed guard and reclaiming the microspear, grateful to Sheriff Duke for sending it to Praeton with Isaac. The Sheriff had wanted him to use Proxima’s more advanced tools to study it in a good faith effort to continue to improve relations between the two worlds. Hayden knew Aeron was a member of the Trust and had somehow guessed it wasn’t that simple. That there was more to the situation than he had ever let on. If he ever spoke to the sheriff in person again, he would make it a point to ask him how he had come to that conclusion.
In the meantime, Aeron had to get out of LaMont’s apartment. He needed to regroup and send a warning to the other members of the Organization. The Relyeh had infiltrated the planet. They had gotten close to the Civilian Council. Or worse, they had infiltrated that too. It was his job to figure out how they had gotten here and how many there were.
It was his job to make sure they were all destroyed.
He straightened his uniform, looking back at Chair LaMont. Every member of the Council had an implant tracking their vital signs. As soon as his heart had stopped the tracker had passed a code blue to the nearest emergency response station, which just happened to be on the second floor of the building.
It meant he had less than thirty seconds to figure out how he was going to get out of this mess without leaving the room in restraints.
He glanced down at the gun in his hand. Maybe he shouldn’t have picked it up. But if he hadn’t, he would probably be dead.
Whatever happened next, he had lost his chance to inform the Council about the coming starship, at least for now. Besides his immediate predicament, he had another more important threat to worry about. The Hunger’s move against him and Chair LaMont was no accident, and he was sure it wouldn’t start and end in this room.
Every single member of the Organization was at risk. So was every single person on Proxima.
His eyes darted to the lift. The control pad indicated the cab was on its way up, likely carrying a full complement of medics and guards. If he discarded the gun, he could talk his way out of the building. But they would find it within hours, and then they would come after him.
For the second time in a minute, he had to make a hard choice.
Or did he? He had been playing this game too long to be outmaneuvered so easily.
He had spent years cultivating a reputation as a strong and loyal leader. A man both his Marines and the civilians they defended held in high regard. He didn’t need to run.
He also didn’t need to lie.
In the absence of contrary evidence, the
y would believe whatever he said without question because of who he was. That didn’t mean he was out of this. The death of a Judicus would lead the branch to launch an investigation of their own, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not without looking guilty in a manner he couldn’t deny.
No, the real battle was just getting started. The Hunger was here and working against him, probably from the Judicus Department. But he could buy himself more time. Enough to warn his operatives and start fighting back. Enough to get his family somewhere safe.
If there was anywhere safe.
He put the microspear back in his pocket and placed the gun on the ground in front of him. Then he put his hands behind his head, waiting there for the remaining time it took for the lift to arrive.
The doors opened, the Centurion guards leading the way out into the room with the medics guiding a floating gurney behind them. Their rifles swept across the room before freezing on Aeron.
“General Haeri?” one of them said in surprise.
“Sergeant,” he replied. “You can lower your gun. You won’t need the gurney either. Chair LaMont is already dead.”
The sergeant lowered his rifle, clearly confused by the scene. Aeron lowered his hands.
“The murder weapon is there,” he said, pointing to the gun. “My prints are all over it. I needed it to kill one of the assassins before he killed me.”
“Are you okay, sir?” The sergeant asked.
“Well enough. I’m only sorry I didn’t get here in time to stop this from happening.”
“It looks to me like you’re lucky to be alive.”
“It isn’t luck, Sergeant. It’s preparation. Always be ready.”
“Yes sir. I’ll need you to make a full report, General.”
“I’ll take care of the report, Sergeant.”
“This is a damn tragedy,” the other Centurion said. “Why did they do it?”
“How did they get a gun up here?” the Sergeant added. “And who the hell are these people?”
“I don’t know,” Aeron replied. “But I’m going to find out.”
The medics entered the apartment, hurrying over to LaMont. They froze when they saw the bullet wound. They didn’t need any fancy technology to convince them the Chair was dead.
“Damn,” one of them said.
“Sergeant, secure the apartment. And keep this quiet. We don’t need the media jumping all over this. The last attack still has everyone on edge.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Medic?”
“Yes, General?” one of the medics replied.
“Not a word of this, do you understand? As far as your report is concerned, Chair LaMont had a massive stroke and dropped dead in his recliner.”
“Sir? With a bullet wound in his skull?”
“Put him in a body bag. We need to manage this internally while we get a handle on what we’re dealing with.” He pointed to the clones. “And make sure they disappear like the others.”
“General, illegal clones are a big deal,” the sergeant replied. “We can’t just sweep them under the rug.”
“We can and will.” He made eye contact with the sergeant, passing the silent threat along in his gaze. “Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If any of you leak word of this to anyone, I’ll have you in the brig so fast your head will spin. Consider this classified, level five.”
“Sir, isn’t that a Judicus?” the medic asked, noticing Love. “We can’t make her disappear.”
Aeron glared at Judicus Love. She was going to be a thorn in his side even after death. He needed to find something to do with her. He couldn’t afford an autopsy done by the wrong doctor revealing evidence of an alien parasite. Not yet.
“Bring her back to the base and hand the body over to Doctor Klein. If anyone from the Judicus Department comes to you, you direct them to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll send a team to help you with the cleanup.”
Aeron boarded the lift, turning around inside and tapping the control pad. The doors slid closed in front of him.
The Judicus Department would come. They had the authority to bring him in and submit him to any means of questioning they deemed necessary. While some of the Judicus worked for the Trust, some wasn’t all.
The race was on.
4
Hayden
Sheriff Hayden Duke charged up the ramp and into the dropship with Sergeant Walt balanced over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He was only a few steps behind General Nathan Stacker. The General, clad in his massive suit of powered armor, cradled an unconscious Caleb Card in his arms.
“Pyro!” Hayden shouted, knowing she could hear him through the shipboard comm. “Get us airborne.” He made the top of the ramp and hit the access control, a whirring sound accompanying the back ramp as it began to rise and latch closed.
“I’ll wait here,” Nathan said, dropping to a knee to lower Caleb to the deck. It would take too long for him to shuck his armor to get up to the main deck of the dropship, especially when he would need to get back into the armor a few minutes later. “I’ll reload us.”
“Pozz,” Hayden said, still holding Walt as he ran to the stairs, climbing them to the next deck.
Both Deputy Hicks and the remaining Eagles were waiting at the front of the space, spread across rows of simple jump seats. Corporal Hotch got up as soon as he saw Walt, heading toward them.
“Is she—“
“She’s alive,” Hayden replied without slowing. “I’m taking her to a bunk. Head downstairs and help General Stacker with Colonel Card.”
“What happened to the Colonel?” Hotch asked.
“Just do it.”
“Yes, sir.” Hotch turned and ran for the stairs. Hayden hurried through the first section of the craft, taking the port corridor past the bridge to the steps leading up to the bunks. He nearly fell over as the dropship lurched into the air, the sudden momentum pressing him back. He managed to get his elbow into the bulkhead, wedging himself tight as the craft rapidly ascended.
“ETA to Sanisco, five minutes,” Pyro announced.
Hayden had that long to get Walt into a bed, get back down to the hold, and grab some guns.
Sanisco was under attack. They had seen the smoke from the field where they had helped save a goliath from the alien xaxkluth, the large, many-tentacled creatures Caleb said belonged to a Relyeh called Nyalarth.
He didn’t need to see more of the creatures to know what was assaulting Sanisco. He knew the enemy force was on its way. According to Caleb, the whole planet was under threat from them; the entire world spotted with thousands of the hard-to-kill alien monstrosities. He still had no idea how or when the Relyeh had managed to plant so many of them in so many places, but it didn’t matter that much right now.
Right now, his city, his people—and most importantly—his family were in trouble.
“Pyro,” he said, loud enough for any of the nearby comms to pick up his voice. “Any word from HQ?”
“Negative, Sheriff,” Pyro replied. “And I don’t understand it. The link is green. Active. The only way we shouldn’t be able to talk is if nobody is monitoring the comm.”
“That can’t be possible,” Hayden said. He didn’t understand it either. The enemy was anything but subtle. There was no way they could sneak up on the city without any of his deputies reporting back to headquarters and from headquarters out to Pyro.
Or was there?
His heart was already racing, both from his earlier exertion and his current desperation. Now, a sense of cold dread washed over him, causing his chest to tighten and his body to shiver.
Josias.
The man who had come to Law to report his missing wife. The wife Hayden had rescued and who had told him her husband was dead.
The moment she had told the story, he had worried there was an Axon in Sanisco. But when they saw the goliath, he thought he would have time to help it and still get back to Sanisco bef
ore the Axon Intellect made its move.
Had he thought wrong? If there was no one in Law on the comms, did that mean the Axon had killed them? Was the attack on the city related, or had the Intellect adjusted its timeline to finish its business before the assault?
Was it all timed to occur while he was positioned north of the city and out of the equation?
He was the Sheriff, but he was still only one man. He couldn’t be everywhere he was needed at once and he couldn’t fight a xaxkluth or an Intellect on his own. Why would either opponent attribute so much importance to him?
He resumed his motion up the steps, his legs burning as he carried Walt to the top. The corridor wrapped around toward the center of the dropship, the racks in cubbies on either side. Hayden stopped at the first one, tapping the control panel to open its privacy shield and quickly lowering Walt onto the bunk.
She groaned slightly as he did, but she didn’t wake up.
Hayden stared at her for a few seconds. She was a host to a khoron who claimed it was seeking a new purpose after the loss of its master and had chosen to follow Nathan. It was a tough story to believe, but Caleb had chosen to believe it and allowed her to stay with the team.
Now Hayden wondered if that decision had been a blessing or a curse. The xaxkluth they were fighting had frozen mid-attack, stopped by a silent order sent to the creature through the Relyeh Collective. At first, he thought Caleb had sent the command, but the way Caleb had looked at Walt proved she had done it.
Hayden understood the problem without needing it spelled out. He had enough experience with the khoron to understand. None of their kind were powerful enough to seize control of a xaxkluth, and yet she had.
Which meant if she was a khoron, she was uniquely powerful.
If she wasn’t a khoron, then what the hell was she?
Caleb had confronted her then and there, likely to answer that question. The resulting battle of wills had taken them both out of the fight.
It left Hayden hesitant to leave her alone. She had used her ability to stop the xaxkluth and save their lives, but she had also fought back against Caleb. Whose side was she really on?
