by Finn Gray
“It won’t hold!” Oates shouted. “Go around.”
But there was no time. The beast was closing in. Rory couldn’t risk trying to find another way. The beast would likely catch him. This was its home. It knew the way better than he ever would. His thoughts flashed back to the story Marson had told just before their descent into the catacombs, and he had an idea. Gritting his teeth, his stomach churning, he sprinted toward Marson and Oates. Gods, let me make it.
The floor cracked and crunched beneath his feet as his weight came down with each step. He could now see fractures running in every direction, cracks growing wider as he ran. He was halfway now.
Marson had reached the far end, and had unslung his rifle and taken aim. It looked as though he had Rory in his sights.
Trust your squadmate, Rory thought as his heart lurched. You don’t have to be friends to save one another’s asses.
Marson fired, the muzzle flash bright in the darkness. Rory thought he heard the bullet whiz past his ear, but it was probably his imagination. He heard a wet splat and the beast let out another roar but the footfalls didn’t slow. Marson might not have the necessary firepower to take it out.
Rory called upon reserves he didn’t know he had at his disposal, trying to make it across. How much time did he have?
Everything seemed to slow down. He saw Oates brandishing his knife. Marson fired another shot, then lowered his rifle, cursing. His eyes fell upon the passageway behind Oates and Marson. It was their way out, but was it narrow enough to keep the pursuing creature out? If not, they were dead. He was almost there, but would it matter?
His thoughts skipped to the story Marson had told about the frozen lake, and he had an idea.
Reaching the other side, he turned to face the beast which was now halfway across and closing in.
“Let’s go!” Oates shouted.
“You two get out of here!” Rory said. He unslung his rifle, reversed it, and raised it over his head.
“Plowboy!” Marson yelled.
“Keep going! You’ve got to find a way to save the squad!” Rory brought the butt of his rifle down on the floor right in the center of the widest crack. A dinner plate-sized chunk of limestone fell through, revealing a seemingly bottomless pit beneath. Again and again he brought the rifle down, each impact sending a jolt along his arms and down his spine. With each blow the hole became larger, the cracks that radiated out from it growing wider.
And still the creature closed in.
Crack!
Twenty meters!
Crack!
Fifteen!
Crack!
Ten! The creature tensed to spring.
Crack!
With a thundering boom, the floor gave way.
The creature seemed to freeze in midair for a moment, legs flailing as if it were swimming. It plunged into the darkness with a cry of rage.
Rory breathed a sigh of relief.
“That was too close.”
And then the floor gave way beneath his feet, and he was falling.
Chapter 21
The Hub, somewhere in the Aquarian system
“That took forever,” Shapiro said. The pilot lay stretched out on a battered sofa in the common area of the living quarters. “We shouldn’t be expected to do that kind of work. We’re not knuckle draggers.”
“That’s right. Our hands were intended for more delicate work,” Stine said.
“Like yanking your crank?” Gwen jibed.
Stine blushed as a chorus of “Oooh!” rang out.
Despite their circumstances, spirits were high. They’d found provisions—vitamin tablets and protein bars. They were bland but they lasted forever, and there were lots of them. Between those and the HUB’s water supply, they could stay alive for a long time. They’d also found a case of wine and were determined not to let it go to waste, despite Sherr’s orders not to overindulge.
Teddy looked down at the crimson liquid he’d poured into a cheap mug. After the day’s events, he couldn’t help but think of blood. Nevertheless, he drank.
“Have you noticed that the fleet hasn’t improved the quality of furnishings in what? A couple hundred cycles?” Ferenchick slapped the arm of the cheap, overstuffed chair in which he sat.
“Pay hasn’t improved either,” Teddy said.
“Cheers!” They raised their cups in salute.
The next couple of hours were spent laughing, reminiscing, and regaling the rookie Stine with wild tales of their exploits. Some of them were even true. Shepherd found an old synthesizer in the rec closet and led them in singing. He didn’t know many secular songs, so they settled for changing the lyrics of familiar hymns.
Teddy glanced in Gwen’s direction. Their eyes locked. Despite her smile, he could see the sadness there. Like him, she knew what was happening here. They were all taking one last moment to pretend that life was ordinary, that everything they had ever known and loved was not in deadly peril.
The revelry fell to a sudden hush when George appeared in the doorway.
“Any luck raising the fleet?” Sherr asked.
George shrugged. “A very brief, very laggy connection. Lost them almost immediately. The communications tech has been upgraded since the HUB was installed but it’s still pretty old.”
“What did you tell them?” Stine asked.
“What do you think I told them, fledgie? I told them a Memnon fleet had destroyed the Glavine 2 outpost and were probably on their way to Hyperion and Thetis.”
“What did they say?” Sherr asked.
“All I could make out was, ‘Did you say Memnon?’ Whether they heard the part about a fleet coming their way, I don’t know.”
“I was wondering,” Stine said. “If we were stationed on Glavine 2, where’s Glavine 1? Maybe we could go there.”
“It’s down there.” Ferenchick pointed toward the deck. “It was in orbit around Osoblanco until something went boom.” He spread his fingers for emphasis.
Stine hung his head. “So, that’s out.”
The room seemed to grow cold. Sensing what was about to happen, Teddy stood up.
“I think we all need some rack time. If we keep drinking, we’re going to be useless in the morning.” He glanced at Sherr. “Don’t you think, Captain?”
Sherr clapped his beefy hands. “You heard the Lieutenant. Hit the racks. We’ll take turns manning the bridge.”
“Can I take a shower, first?” Gwen asked.
“Make it quick. No playing grab-ass with Stine,” Sherr said.
“What? I didn’t…” Stine sputtered.
“Just go to bed, fledgie.” Teddy waved a hand in the direction of the sleeping quarters. A minute later, it was only George, Sherr, and himself.
“I hate to ask,” Teddy said, keeping his voice at a whisper, “but do either of you have any idea what to do next? Aside from hanging around here until the protein bars run out?”
“I’ll keep trying to hail the fleet,” George said. “If I can just get through, they can send a long-range ship for us. Although that might still take longer than the provisions will last.”
Teddy shook his head. “They won’t have a ship to spare. You saw the size of that Memnon fleet. I tell you the truth, I’m not sure we can match it.”
Sherr nodded. “And that’s not taking into consideration the damage the uprising caused.” He sighed, ran a hand over his shaved scalp. “Gods, our families, our friends.” He closed his eyes and stood there for a few seconds, as if picturing every person he cared about. Finally, he heaved a sigh and opened his eyes. “Honestly, I don’t care if I die or not. I just wish we could help.”
“Agreed,” Teddy said. “I’d rather die fighting than cowering here at the edge of nowhere until I starve.”
George cleared his throat. He stared at the deck, his cheeks red.
“What is it?” Sherr asked.
“Gods, captain, I don’t even want to say it.”
“Too late,” Teddy said.
George l
ooked up at the ceiling, rolled his eyes.
“These HUBs weren’t built on site. They were constructed back home and then jumped here.”
Sherr seized his forearm. “Did you say ‘jumped?’”
“Right, but we’re talking pre-Memnon War jump technology. It was nowhere near as reliable as what we have now.”
“But it worked,” Teddy said. “The fleet used it.”
“Yes, but the range was limited, it required a ton of power, and system failures were common. It was also imprecise, so they had to be very careful about where they plotted their jumps, or else they might end up landing in the middle of a sun.”
“Or worse, in the shower with the captain’s mother in law,” Shapiro said.
“But this ship is jump capable?” Sherr said to George, ignoring Shapiro.
“Was jump capable prior to the Memnon War. I’m sure the system is still in place, but who knows how much work it will take to get it back online, if it can be done at all.”
Sherr took George by the shoulders and smiled. “Jungle George, get yourself a few hours of rack time. You’ve got a big job ahead of you.”
Chapter 22
Soria, Hyperion
Strapped tightly into the pilot seat of the Mongoose, Hunter relished the sensation of being pressed back by the G-force as he throttled up and the craft rocketed down the launch tube. It was as if, for a brief instant, he and the bird were one. And then they were free of Dragonfly and zipping toward Hyperion.
“I will never get used to that,” Vera said from her seat on his right.
“Some day you’ll come to love it. It’s even better in a Cobra.”
Larger and heavier than a Cobra fighter, the Mongoose was designed for reconnaissance and small group transport. Unlike the Cobra, it was jump-capable. It could also deliver a nuke when necessary. That was the plan for today.
“I’m not going to live long enough to get that friendly with a bird.”
“You’re not that old, Vera. Although I do think Grandma would be the perfect callsign for you.”
“Screw you, Sir. And I mean that with every last bit of the respect that is due you.”
Hunter laughed. “I love you, Vera.”
Vera humphed. “You are hardly the first man to feel that way.” She tapped a button on the instrument panel in front of her, activating the open communication line between their craft and the bride of Dragonfly.
“Dragonfly, this is Mongoose R613. We are approaching the satellite defense network around Hyperion.” She consulted a digital display. “Satellites appear to be functioning properly, no warnings issued.”
“Roger that, Mongoose,” Cassier replied from the bridge.
Hunter’s heart raced as they drew closer to the satellites. One blast was all that it would take, and if the Memnon’s had disabled the warning capabilities, he might not get the chance to evade.
“Buster to the other side, Sir?” Vera suggested.
“You read my mind.” Hunter gave it full throttle and the Mongoose surged forward again.
“Don’t you shoot us you mother…” Vera whispered.
And then they were through. Vera let out a whoop of delight. The first clue of a personality Hunter had detected in the woman.
“Dragonfly, Mongoose. We are clear of the satellites,” Vera said.
“Roger that,” Cassier said. “Godspeed, you two. And Hunter, keep an eye on Grandma. Don’t let her wander off.”
“Roger, Dragonfly,” Hunter said, grinning.
Vera pretended she hadn’t heard the nickname. She kept her eyes locked on her instruments. “Time to Southgull Island is…”
“Belay that,” Hunter said. “We’re taking a slightly different route.”
“Sir?”
“We’ll go in over Seven Palms and then approach from the north. I think it will be safer than the direct approach.” That was a lie.
“Seven Palms? I thought a tsunami wiped it out when the nukes…” Her voice trailed away. “Oh, gods. You can’t possibly be considering rescuing her.”
“Who?”
“Don’t you dare treat me like I’m stupid. I’ll smack the taste out of your mouth, superior officer or no. I’m talking about your wife who has been lying in a coma for years with no prospect of recovery. Even if Seven Palms is still there, if she’s still alive, what do you think you’re going to do? Detach her from life support and take her with us?”
Hunter’s vision swam with unshed tears. The display in front of him refracted into a kaleidoscope of colors. He blinked, cleared his throat, and recovered a measure of his self-control.
“Did Sabre tell you that?”
“Everybody knows.” She hesitated. Softened her tone. “And I am truly sorry.”
Hunter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I was a terrible husband. Don’t get me wrong. I provided for her. I didn’t cheat on her or harm her. But I was neglectful. Seldom home, and when I was, I was there in body but not mind or spirit. She wanted a family and I kept putting it off, trying to summon up enough guts to tell her I wanted a divorce. I finally did, and she had a stroke two weeks later. She’s gone. Her body remains but she’s no longer there.”
“And she’s not coming back. She died that day; you just haven’t accepted it.”
“If I’d just given her a baby. She wanted to be a mother so badly.”
“Well, you didn’t. And for some reason, her dumb ass chose to stay with you for way too long. If she wanted a baby so bad, she would have found another man to give it to her. A woman owns her choices just like a man does. All this penance you’re paying, all this guilt you’re wallowing in, it’s selfish.”
“Selfish?” Hunter’s anger flared. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s all for your own benefit. Aside from seeing to her care since the stroke, literally nothing you do makes any difference to her whatsoever. Divorce her, stay with her, hook up with Sabre, play with your own sabre, do whatever you want because she doesn’t know the difference.”
Her words shocked Hunter into silence.
“The way I figure it,” Vera went on, “you’ve got reasons of your own for clinging to her, and they’ve got little to do with guilt.”
Hunter gaped at the woman.
“You’re mean,” he finally managed. “I mean, really, really mean. And I’ve been upbraided by some of the most vicious dickheads in the fleet.”
“Am I wrong, though?”
“Maybe not.” That was too much emotional baggage to unpack at the moment, but she’d definitely struck a nerve. “You’re a lot more insightful than you look.”
“And you’re a lot wussier than you look.”
“Again with the meanness. Seriously though, I appreciate the way you cut to the heart of the issue like that. Maybe your new callsign should be Scalpel.”
Vera tilted her head, eyes narrowed in thought. “Doesn’t sound right, but it’s a damn sight better than Grandma.”
“I’ll keep thinking,” Hunter said.
They completed the bumpy pass through the atmosphere and broke through the cloud cover to see a world on fire, or so it seemed. Distant columns of black smoke rose all across the horizon. The skies burned crimson.
“The whole world has gone to the hells,” Vera breathed.
They swept in over central Mahave, the southeastern region of Koruza. This was an agricultural region, citrus groves primarily, with tourist towns lining the coast. There was nothing here in the way of military installations, and the area was of no particular strategic importance, so he hoped they could avoid coming under fire until they approached Crab Island.
Flying low over the citrus groves was a surreal experience. This part of the world had been untouched by the war, and the placid beauty that lay below them was a stark reminder of how much had been lost.
They zipped down toward the coast, and soon the dark blue line of the horizon came into view.
“Orangeburg should be directly ahead, and then Se
ven Palms,” Vera said. “I recommend putting a few more angels between us and the ground now that we’re approaching civilization.”
Hunter took the Mongoose up until they skimmed along just below cloud level.
“Engage electronic counter measures.”
“ECMs engaged,” Vera said. “Any visual on Orangeburg?”
Hunter narrowed his eyes, trying to catch sight of the city. The clouds thinned and he spotted the city. Or rather, what was left of it.
“Oh my Gods,” Vera breathed.
Once a thriving coastal city, a cultural center for music and the arts, Orangeburg was now a debris-choked lagoon. Over the years much of the city had gradually sunk below sea level beneath its own weight. And now, the sea had claimed it. Buildings had collapsed. Others, medical and financial centers mostly, were smoking ruins. Even this city, always a place of joy and merriment, had not been spared by the terrorists.
Hunter brought the Mongoose down low and skimmed out across the Mahave Sea, headed toward Seven Palms. The water below them was slicked with oil that smoked in places. Bodies bobbed on the surf, nearly lost in the flotsam of a once-thriving city.
Hunter didn’t need to see Seven Palms to know what he would find. The column of smoke rising in the distance was all he needed. Still, he went through the motions of reconnoitering the site.
Like Orangeburg, the island had been slammed by a tsunami, probably more than one. The highland at the center had avoided the water but not the Memnon’s bombs. The business district was burning. And the care center where Trace had lived since her stroke was a smoking black crater.
“I’m sorry, Hunter,” Vera said.
“Thanks.” His throat was tight, his voice was hollow. He wasn’t certain what he was feeling. Anger. Grief. Rage. Relief? Perhaps even a measure of peace.
“You going to be all right?” she asked.
“You know, I think I just might be,” he said, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. “Let’s go kill some Memnons.”
