by M. R. Forbes
Hayden reached into his pocket and withdrew the ring. “I took it for safekeeping. Nathan is big and strong and resourceful, but he doesn’t know this world like I do.”
“I don’t know if anyone knows this world like you do.”
“Did he have any idea what’s on it? He didn’t have a chance to tell me.”
“No. He doesn't know. He wanted to find someone who could tell him.”
“I want the same thing. I know nobody died and made me Earth’s protector, but as far as I’m concerned, I have a responsibility to keep people safe and to try to help, whether I’m on the east coast or the west coast, or wherever on the planet I happen to be. My father was a Sheriff. So was his father before him.”
“I know what a Sheriff is from Hawaii Five-O. It’s an old entertainment stream.”
Hayden smiled. “I knew a man named Duncan. He had a huge collection of old movies and shows. We have it in the Tower in Sanisco now. People take turns picking them out to watch. I haven’t seen Hawaii Five-O.”
“It was my brother’s favorite. It was about lawmen too.”
“Bennett dragged me into this. I kind of regret it now, but what’s done is done. I’m going to see it through.”
“Well, Nathan saved me from the trife, and now so have you. I owe both of you, and the truth is I can’t go home, so I guess you’re stuck with me for a while. Maybe I can even be useful.”
“You’re a good shot with a pistol,” Hayden said. “I’m sure you can be useful.”
“I’m pretty good with a spear too. Against trife, at least. Anyway, I’m glad you two are on the same side now. Or not?”
Hayden realized he had made a face in response to her statement. “He thinks I stole the ring from him. I don’t know if he’s realized why I took it, or if he’s just pissed he doesn’t have it. I can’t guarantee when we run into one another again that he won’t try to kill me for it.”
“Maybe if I’m with you I can stop him before he does anything too irrational.”
“Here’s to hoping.”
“So, Sheriff. What do we do now?”
Hayden pushed himself back to his feet. He was still tired, but the ten minutes of rest he had taken helped immensely. “I’m going to take a look around. Hopefully, the last people in here didn’t take all of the military gear the Navy likely left behind. We don’t have a single gun to speak of. Or a spear.”
“You’re going out there with them?”
Hayden held up his good hand. It was scuffed and dented, but at least it was still functional. “I’m not defenseless. I’m also wearing a bodysuit under here.”
“Bodysuit?”
“Flexible armor. It helps against trife teeth and claws. You can wait for me here. Lock the door behind me, and you’ll be safe.”
“I don’t want to be alone in here.”
“I might not be able to protect you.”
“I’ll take my chances.” She pointed at the two bodies in the corner. “At least they died together.”
Hayden didn’t have a counter for that statement. He wasn’t thrilled about the idea of dying alone either. He returned to the door, unlocking it and slowly pushing it open. Its old hinges whined slightly, but the area remained clear.
“Stay behind me. Stay alert. The trife are in their own world when they’re mating, and most of the sentries went out to fight the armored soldier. There will still be some guards around, though. Pozz?”
“Pozz?”
“It means yes, or okay, or I got it.”
She smiled. “Pozz.”
Hayden didn’t know why he always taught people he met the slang word. Maybe because it reminded him of simpler times.
“Good. Let’s go.”
Chapter 7
Nathan’s eyes opened slowly. For a few seconds, he couldn’t remember where he was or what had happened to him. He opened his mouth to call out for Niobe. He stopped himself.
That wasn’t right, was it?
Niobe was dead.
The thought hit him hard, and he dropped his head back. He blinked his eyes, feeling them welling up with tears. Niobe was dead. He was on Earth. Stacker. General James Stacker.
His hands clenched at his sides. Where was he now? Someplace warm and dry. A bed. A pillow. He turned his head, trying to look around.
“Easy,” a voice said beside him. “We gave you a sedative to help with the pain.”
“Pain?” Nathan replied. He lifted his head again, looking down. His leg. He had been shot. Sheriff had shot him.
“We took the bullet out and patched it up. It didn’t hit anything vital. You’ll be fine.”
He blinked a few more times, and then wiped the crust out of his eyes. The speaker came to stand in front of him. A hard looking woman. He remembered her now, from the subway tunnels. “Doc?”
She smiled. “You remember me.”
“Where’s General Stacker?”
“He’ll be along soon.”
Nathan’s heart was racing. He tried to steady his breathing to calm it. “I got shot on Proxima,” he said. “They pulled the fragments out without any meds. It fucking hurt like hell.”
“I can imagine,” Doc said. “We would never do that here. We have our own labs. We make our own medicines. We treat our people with respect, no matter where they came from or how they came into being.”
“You know about replicas then?”
“Of course. My commanding officer is a Stacker.”
Nathan felt stupid for asking the question. “Right.”
He paused a moment, taking in his surroundings. The outer wall looked like it was made of brick. A window with a drawn shade blocked his view of the outside. The interior walls were a faded yellow, patchy and cracked. A bench covered in surgical tools sat on his left. A rolling cart of drawers was beside it. On his right, a chair and an intravenous drip.
“Where did you get the plasma?” he asked, noticing the bag.
“We have donors that provide fluids for the wounded. We all have to do our part against the trife.”
Nathan leaned back again. He was comfortable here. Almost too comfortable. He couldn’t let himself forget who these people were.
“You’re working for the Trust. Is that part of doing your part?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll let the General speak to you about that. I’m a doctor. I take care of the wounded. All of that other stuff is over my pay grade.”
She smiled, and he couldn’t help but relax again. She was right. She was healing him. He didn’t want to rush to any conclusions. They could have killed him already if they wanted him dead, or if the Trust wanted him dead. He was still alive. He had been treated and medicated so he wouldn’t feel it.
The ring.
He remembered it suddenly, his hand sliding under the covers to reach for it on his chest. He touched only bare skin. No chain. No ring. He groaned. Fucking Sheriff had taken it.
“Are you okay?” Doc asked.
Nathan let his hand fall to his side. “I don’t know yet. I don’t know what you want with me. I don’t know why I’m here. You attacked my ship. You attacked the Spacers. You sent soldiers after me. Now you’re taking care of me? None of this is making sense.”
“Just relax,” Doc said. “Stay calm. I promise the General will help clear things up.”
Nathan grunted in affirmation. “Where am I, anyway?”
“Forward Operations Trenton,” she said. “Fort McGuire.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“Off the island. Safe. Is that better?”
“I’m not convinced I’m safe yet.”
She smiled. “Of course. Are you hungry?”
Nathan considered for a moment. His stomach felt empty. “Yeah.”
“Can I trust you to stay here while I get you something to eat?”
Nathan gave it serious thought. “Unless there’s something horrible on the other side of that shade, I’ll stay.”
Doc laughed and went back t
o the window. She pulled the shade up, revealing it was early morning. All Nathan could see through it was green grass and blue sky, with a red brick building in the background on the left. What had happened to the apocalypse?
“Nothing horrible there, unless you hate fresh air.”
“I’m from Proxima. We don’t have fresh air there.”
She went to the window and slid it up, allowing the breeze to come in. The air was cool, but taking a breath of it helped Nathan relax a little more easily.
“It would be trivial for you to jump out that window and disappear,” Doc said. “But I hope you won’t.”
Nathan smiled. “I want to hear what General Stacker has to say.”
“He figured you would. I’ll be right back.”
She went over to a wooden door. It wasn’t automated. She pulled it open, and closed it behind her, leaving Nathan alone.
He was still for a moment, breathing in the crisp air. The smell of it was new to him, and he took a moment to enjoy it. All he had seen of Earth so far were destroyed buildings, overgrown streets, dark tunnels. Grays and browns. Death and decay. It was as if he had been transported to another world entirely.
He reached down to the needle sticking out of his wrist, connecting him to the IV. He carefully removed it, putting pressure on the spot for a moment. Then he slid out of bed, moving slowly. He realized he was naked. He looked around, finding a pair of pants on a bench at the end of the bed. He hadn’t been able to see it from the prone position on the mattress. They were dark green, a soft material. They had the eagle and star logo stitched onto the side. He grabbed them, looking down at his leg before pulling them on. The bullet wound was hidden by a CSF-issue field patch. Where had these people gotten Proxima medical tech?
At least he knew it would keep his wound clean and healing. He slipped into the pants. They were a perfect fit.
He continued over to the window. He ducked down, sticking his head outside and taking a deep breath. He looked to his right, finding what appeared to be a tarmac there, a pair of large structures beside it. There were flying machines scattered across the blacktop. He didn’t recognize any of them specifically, but he assumed they were drones like the Peacekeepers. None of them looked like they were space-faring.
He looked the other way. A pair of soldiers in green fatigues were walking along a path, headed for the building he had seen in the distance. They looked like regular people to him. They could have been Centurions for all he knew.
Except they were working with the Trust.
He reminded himself of that fact a second time. He had to be careful and not let himself get sucked in by what seemed to be a soft landing spot. Doc had called this Forward Operations Trenton as though there were multiple locations. Who were these people? What did they have to do with the Trust? What did they have to do with the condition of Earth?
He brought his head back inside and retreated to the bed. He sat down on it, upright enough to lean his back against the wall. His stomach rumbled. He was really hungry.
He put his hand up against his chest again, where the ring should have been. Knowing these people were involved with the Trust made him wary, and tempted him to jump out of the window and start running. But General Stacker was a Stacker, and Nathan had run to Earth for an opportunity to start getting answers. What if this was his best chance?
He just had to be careful about what he said and how he said it. No matter what General Stacker said or how he presented, he had to remember:
You can’t trust the Trust.
Chapter 8
For the second time in a few hours, James Stacker climbed out of his combat armor. He crossed the room to his locker and retrieved his fatigues, carrying them across the narrow corridor to the head on the other side. He tucked them into the corner, stripped off his sweaty underclothes, and entered the showers. The room was big enough to wash twenty soldiers at a time, but he was the only one in it at the moment.
Maybe if more of his platoon had survived.
He turned the water on, shaking his head. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to deal with Sergeant Poole himself. The Spacers had killed him, gunned down in an apparent ambush. They had killed two dozen of his soldiers. In. One. Fucking. Night.
He slammed his fist into the stone wall ahead of him, tearing the skin at the knuckles and chipping the wall. He had been leading Tinker’s armies for eight years now. This was the first time he’d failed a mission for him.
He shook his head again. He had been at it for over forty years. This was the first time he’d failed a mission. Ever.
He had caught up to the remaining Spacers. He had killed one of them, a replica who was better optimized but not as experienced. That was the problem with the program. It tried to replace experience with genetics, but it didn’t work that way. They hadn’t learned the lesson the trife were trying to teach them. They should have been sending their soldiers down here to fight the monsters, to give them that experience. They were so in love with their protocols and their lies that they hamstrung the soldiers they were relying on to protect them, as if simulations could replace the real thing.
The other soldier had gotten away, an Earther woman in tow. That one was different, and not because of his augmentations. He had the look of a man who had been through a lot and learned a lot in the process. A man who had gotten the experience he needed to reach that next level of survival instinct. The way the soldier had used the trife against him was pure tactical genius. He had no choice but to respect him for the move.
There was no way that one was a Centurion. He was from Earth. James would bet his life on it, though the augmentations suggested otherwise. What part of Earth? And how was he connected to Proxima? Those were the real questions, along with where the hell had he gone?
He had lost track of the man and his companion when the trife jumped him. Hell, he was lucky he had survived. The armor was powerful, but nothing could hold out alone against hundreds of opponents. They had vanished into the city, and now he had to decide whether to continue hunting them or to let them go. He knew what Tinker would say. He knew what the Trust would want. He was hesitant to keep throwing his soldiers at the problem. Finding two people in the city was a challenge, and he didn’t have access to their identification codes to track them like he had with Nathan.
Of course, if the man was with the Spacers, he would want to report back to the Spacers. Even if he didn’t, he would probably want to go home. The good thing about Manhattan was that it was surrounded by water, and there were only a few directions that made sense. He could cover the passages out with a dozen soldiers and a few drones.
He turned the water off. He didn’t reach for his towel. Someone wrapped it around his shoulders for him.
“Nathan’s awake,” Doc said.
He had heard her coming, despite the sound of the water echoing in the open space and despite the noise in his head. If she had taken him by surprise, she would be dead already.
“Did he say anything of value?”
“He’s waiting for you. He doesn’t trust me.”
“He won’t trust me either. Not at first.”
“Should he?”
“I guess that depends on his priorities.”
He stayed still while Doc dried him off, spending extra time to ensure the skin around the prosthetics was clean. Then she wrapped the towel around his waist and tied it closed.
He went back out into the head, grabbing his underwear and fatigues and putting them on. Doc stayed nearby, waiting for him.
“How did it go out there?” she asked.
He shook his head again. “I lost one of the Spacers.” He cracked a smile recalling the means of the escape. “He manipulated the trife into attacking me in force.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I swear. It’s too good to make up.”
“He deserved to escape then?”
“In a sense. That doesn’t make it any less annoying.” He paused to think. “Actually, why
don’t you head over to operations and tell them to get three of the Watchers in the air? Have them keep an eye on the river. Also, find Lieutenant Hong and tell him to gather two squads to guard the tunnel. I don’t want it resealed just yet. If the Spacer tries to get off the island that way, I want to know about it.”
“Yes, sir,” Doc said. “I promised Nathan I would bring him something to eat.”
“I’ll pick something up at the mess and bring it to him. Did you find anything on him?”
“No. We did a full suite of scans: x-ray, MRI, ultrasound. No foreign objects detected. If his wife gave him a dump of the intel, either he lost it, or it was on the Explorer when it crashed. I didn’t ask him if she said anything to him. I’m not strong enough to handle him if he gets angry.”
“I’ll take care of the questioning. You did well, Major. Get the drone sorties set up and get Hong on the move. We can’t afford to let the Spacer escape. If he gets word back to the wrong person in Proxima Command about our presence here, it’ll create all the wrong kinds of complications.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
Doc saluted and hurried from the room.
James finished dressing, taking his time. Let Nathan have a chance to think about his situation. Let him get that initial rash anger out beforehand. Then they could talk man to man.
Brother to brother.
Chapter 9
Nathan was still looking out the window when the door to his room started to open. It had been nearly an hour since Doc had left him, a surprisingly long time that had caused him to reconsider leaving more than once while he sat. It had also caused him to experience multiple rounds of anxiety and anger, sadness and guilt.
How could he even be considering listening to a man who was working with the people who had killed Niobe?
His reasons to remain hadn’t changed, but his feelings about them were mixed. Was he doing the right thing? Or was he making another huge mistake?
He turned his head, taken off-guard when General Stacker entered, carrying a tray of food.
“Nathan,” he said. “I’m glad you’re awake. I’m-”
