The Reckoning (Earth Haven Book 3)

by Sam Kates

  The intelligence raged. The Keeper submitted. His people followed.

  * * * * * * *

  Irving spoke urgently into the walkie-talkie.

  “You should have visual now. It’s within range. Take it down.”

  He released the button and waited for a response. The set remained silent.

  Irving had walked away from the knots of people so as not to be overheard and his route had taken him out of sight of the Argute. He turned and hurried back towards the cliff edge, casting worried glances at the black object descending from the sky. It was difficult to get a handle on precisely what shape the craft was; it denied examination, growing fuzzy and indistinct the more it was stared at.

  Some sort of commotion was going on amongst the people milling about the cliff top, but Irving paid no attention. He needed to see the Argute. It was still there, floating easily in the swell which had increased since the appearance of the black craft. Men stood on the exposed decks, but even from this distance they looked unnatural. They were still, statue-like. As he watched, one figure toppled over in a particularly heavy upswell of the ocean.

  “Stevens! Manning!” Irving hissed to his two men; they had not moved from the spot where they had been unceremoniously disarmed. They were glancing from the sky to the nearby commotion, expressions of deep unhappiness and disbelief on their faces. Irving snapped his fingers. “Pay attention! Binoculars. Field glasses. Do either of you have a pair?”

  Stevens paid him not the slightest notice, but Manning’s eyes cleared. He fumbled in his jacket pocket and extracted a set of binoculars.

  “Sir?” he said as he handed them to Irving. “What’s going on?”

  Irving shook his head. He raised the binoculars and focused them. A face came into view, frozen into a rictus of fear. More faces, all immobile. Men had fallen to the decks and lay in danger of being washed away if the waves grew higher.

  He could not see Commander Napier, but hadn’t expected to. He should be in the control room, ready to give the order to fire. The missiles were primed and armed. Orientation and targeting would be a doddle; the subject was descending almost directly towards them, growing larger by the moment.

  He handed the glasses back to Manning.

  “Something’s wrong,” he said. “I can’t raise the Argute, though I was talking to Commander Napier not two minutes ago. Everyone I can see on the decks and around the conning tower seems to be, er, frozen.”

  “Frozen, sir?”

  “Not moving. Immobile. See for yourself.” He waited until the rating had raised the binoculars and issued a low whistle. “We need to find out what’s causing that immobility and do something about it. Fast.” He turned to the other man. “Stevens? Stevens! Snap out of it, man!”

  Stevens looked his way, but his gaze was vacant. The lights were on, but there was no one home.

  “Okay, Manning,” said Irving, “it’s up to me and you.”

  * * * * * * *

  When the ship burst from the clouds, Bri’s bladder almost let go.

  “Oh, wow! Bri, look!” Will tugged on her arm, his expression rapturous.

  She didn’t like it; it made her feel queasy, like looking at one of those weird three-dimensional pictures that you had to stare at until your eyes went funny to see the full effect.

  “It’s got booster rockets,” said Will in a tone of awe. “They’re slowing it down so it doesn’t crash.”

  “Yeah.”

  Bri glanced to either side. Both Ceri’s and Colleen’s expressions mirrored how she felt. Tom kept shooting worried glances out to the submarine and around the patio area as though looking for someone.

  Further away stood Milandra, most of her companions clustered behind her in a loose group. Except for Simone. She stood apart, a look of intense concentration on her face.

  Bri pulled away from Will’s side—he didn’t even notice—and approached Milandra.

  “Excuse me…”

  “There’s something wrong,” said Milandra. “There’s a great deal wrong.” She looked at Bri and Bri felt it.

  She turned away and hurried back to her friends.

  “Tom. Ceri. Colleen. Listen. Milandra’s really worried. She saw something. I’m not sure what, but it’s about the spaceship.”

  All three faces looked pale in the new brightness of the day. The ship would come down too far out to sea to cast a shadow on the land.

  “What’s the matter?” said Tom; he seemed a little distracted. “Hurry, Bri. I need to speak to Irving.”

  The man from the submarine had appeared, still clutching his walkie-talkie, striding with a look of grim purpose towards his men.

  Bri took a deep breath. Behind her, some sort of scuffle had started and there came a raised voice, but she pushed on.

  “The beings on that ship. Aliens, or whatever they are. They don’t come in peace. They’re not only going to kill us. They’re going to kill Milandra and her people, too.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The moment Milandra set eyes on the descending spacecraft, she knew it was too small to hold seventy thousand people. Not merely a little undersized; she had been expecting to see a craft twice as large as this one.

  She could sense the new arrivals’ intellects buzzing like a swarm of hornets at the edge of her consciousness. Combining thousands of minds to control the crew of one submarine would be a little like using a flamethrower to light a cigarette, but she needed to call on the new minds to boost those she already had at her disposal. Otherwise, the best she could do would be persuade someone on board the Argute to sabotage the missiles or the sub itself. She did not want to be the cause of any more human death, at least not until a fully ratified Commune. Even that she would perform with a heavy heart.

  Milandra probed, trying to find out how many were aboard the incoming craft. But someone had beaten her to it. Another intellect, almost as powerful as her own.

  She glanced around. The Chosen had moved to where she had an uninterrupted view of the submarine, staring at it with a fierce look of concentration. Milandra probed again… and jerked back as though burned.

  Simone had taken control of the thirty thousand minds aboard the craft. Only thirty thousand, still sufficient for most purposes, but less than half of the number they had expected.

  During the millisecond that she had been inside Simone’s head, images had flashed through Milandra’s mind with the speed of a turbocharged projector. Fighting, dying, stone torn asunder, revolution and revelation.

  “What’s she doing?” asked Grant by her elbow.

  “Still trying to become Keeper. Every mind on the craft has joined with hers. She’s preventing the crew on the sub from shooting its missiles.” She turned to look at Grant. “Jason, there are only thirty thousand of our people. And they are our people no longer.”

  Grant’s eyes grew wide. “Only thirty thousand? What’s happened?”

  “Another civil war. The truth about our past must have been unearthed by the Keeper on Earth Home, but she didn’t keep it quiet. It sparked disagreement, unrest, war. This time, the traditionalists won, but at what huge cost. More than half of our civilisation wiped out. The survivors intent on resurrecting the old ways. The way of the cuckoo, the parasite, the apex predator.” Milandra sighed deeply. “We are the only ones who remain of all our people who do not believe in the old ways, who want to continue to strive to be peaceful, cultural, altruistic, despite knowing the truth.”

  “And their attitude towards us? You glimpsed it, didn’t you?”

  Milandra nodded. “After all we have done to prepare the way for their safe arrival, I am afraid that gratitude will not be forthcoming. They not only intend to kill the remaining humans. They intend to kill us. Every last one of us.”

  Grant sagged. “Huh.”

  “Oh, fuck,” said George Wallace. He, Lavinia and a bewildered-looking Rodney Wilson had drawn close enough to hear. Peter Ronstadt and Diane Heidler were approaching, concerned looks on their faces. W
allace took a step towards the Chosen. “Simone!” he roared. “Let them go!”

  “No!” Milandra glanced at Grant and nodded.

  He put out a muscular arm and grabbed George Wallace by his collar. Wallace immediately started to struggle.

  “Listen, George, you stubborn ass,” hissed Milandra. “While the Chosen has control of them, they can’t do much else. They can’t deploy their combat unit, they can’t steer their craft, they can’t take evasive action.”

  Wallace stopped struggling and the anger melted from his features. “You mean…?”

  Milandra nodded. “But you will all need to help. When they learn what we mean to do, they will try to overcome the Chosen. As you know, once one of us takes control of others’ psyches with their consent, the only way they can be released is with the controller’s acquiescence. Whether thirty thousand acting in concert can alter that cardinal rule, I don’t know, but I’m certain they will try. You Deputies and Rod must bolster her, do what you can to keep the thirty thousand under Simone’s control.” She looked at Ronstadt and Heidler. “Peter? Diane? Will you help?”

  “My aim has already been achieved,” said Ronstadt. “The knowledge I seek is here within Earth Haven. It will be of no use to me if they overcome and kill us. Yes, of course I’ll help.”

  “I’m batting for humanity,” said Heidler. “And for us, I suppose. So, yeah, I’m in.”

  “Okay, gather near Simone and be ready to lend your mental support. She’s going to need it and it might not be enough. Do not do anything yet. I shall let you know when.” Milandra glanced away as movement caught her eye. “What now?”

  Three men were marching towards Simone. Milandra, with her deceptive turn of speed, stepped into their path.

  “Tom? Mr Irving? Sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

  “Er, it’s Manning, ma’am.”

  “We have a bit of a situation going on, gentlemen. Would you mind telling me what you’re doing?” Milandra glanced at the sky. The craft was appreciably lower, almost filling the horizon. “And quickly, please. We don’t have much time.”

  “Milandra,” said Tom, “we have to bring down that ship. But we can’t while Simone is doing whatever she’s doing.”

  Irving held up his walkie-talkie. “I can’t raise my commander or crew. There are men on the open decks who cannot move. The sea is growing rougher. They are in danger of being swept overboard.”

  “Mr Irving, how long will your commander need to be able to fire his missiles?”

  “A minute. Maybe two.”

  “Then stand where you can see me and be ready with your radio. Tom, keep everyone else out of the way. Let us do what needs doing.”

  She didn’t wait to see if they would obey her instructions, but turned on her heels. The Deputies, Rod, Peter and Diane had gathered around the Chosen who continued to stare fiercely at the submarine. More fiercely than required merely to hold its crew in stasis until the craft made its landing.

  Milandra reached.

  Simone, stop! I know you’re about to force a member of the crew to open the ballast tanks and send the sub to the bottom of the ocean with its hatches open. Big mistake.

  Fuck off, drone lover.

  Look into their hearts, Simone. Really look. They aren’t going to make you Keeper. They’re going to kill you. And not just you, not just the humans. All of us. Look and tell me it ain’t so.

  Silence, but Milandra could sense that the Chosen had stopped the crewman from opening the valves that would flood the ballast tanks with water.

  Simone?

  Oh, shit, Milandra. What have I done?

  Nothing that can’t be undone. Release the crew.

  More silence.

  Simone?

  I can’t. They suspect I’m up to something, tricking them. They can sense it.

  Well, it’s a two-way street. Always two ways. I’m going to send help. The Deputies, Rod, Heidler and the one you call ‘Traitor’. Let them all in.

  Hurry.

  Simone’s face had turned bright red with the effort she was making to maintain her grip on the newcomers’ intellects. Milandra sensed them struggling to break free like a sail in a typhoon.

  The gazes of Jason Grant and the others were fixed on her. She nodded.

  Now she sent. Help her.

  Milandra looked out across the ocean. The black craft was nearing the end of its journey. The boosters that had sprung from hidden compartments along the edge of the wide hull were performing their appointed task. Her people—if that’s what she should still call them—had done an admirable job of gauging the required strength to cope with Earth Haven’s slightly stronger gravity. The ocean beneath the thrusters must be frothing into a white frenzy; waves were being thrown towards them at increasing height and velocity.

  Without anyone capable of adjusting the Argute’s trim and lie, the submarine was pitching and yawing in the heavier conditions. As Milandra watched, a supine figure rolled off the open deck and splashed into the sea.

  Her gaze was snagged by fresh movement. A yellow dinghy cut through the waves, its outboard motor almost inaudible above the rising wind and waves. It was being piloted by one of Irving’s men—hadn’t he said his name was Manning?—and two figures sat in the bow, reaching forward to pluck the sailor from the water.

  Milandra looked at the small clutch of humans. Both Tom and Ceri were missing. Colleen, Bri and Will had moved to a bench near the cliff edge and huddled there with the dog.

  She turned her attention back to Simone. In the nick of time.

  A steady stream of blood ran from each of the Chosen’s nostrils. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her hands clenched into fists at her chest. The other three Deputies together with Rod, Peter and Diane clustered around Simone, staring intently at her. Jason Grant’s gaze flickered her way, briefly, but she read the message clearly in his eyes.

  Help us.

  Milandra reached and found a maelstrom.

  * * * * * * * *

  Before leaving the warehouse, Zach took a quick inventory of their ammo.

  “Not enough for everyone to have all they’ll need,” was his blunt verdict.

  He divided the ammo amongst those who knew how to handle their rifles and submachine guns; to them also went the remainder of the grenades. There were no mortar shells left.

  Those without ammo kept hold of their weapons—a rifle in Amy’s case—and a spare rifle was found for Elliott.

  “You’re the beaters,” Zach told them. “You’ll form the front line. Your job will be to beat the holy crap out of anything with four legs that comes at us. Rat, dog, whatever. We can’t afford to use bullets shooting ’em.”

  “Won’t we be a little, er, exposed?” asked a woman who looked too dead beat to carry her rifle, let alone swing it like a club.

  Amy was glad she’d asked. The same thought had occurred to her, but she didn’t voice it for fear of sounding disloyal to Zach. And Joe. A warm tingling deep in her stomach appeared whenever she thought of Joe and the way he had kissed her in front of everyone. Her momma would turn in her grave, thought Amy, if she were in one.

  “The rest of us will be immediately behind you,” said Zach. “When we see drones, we’ll shoot or grenade ’em.”

  “And any of those alien fuckers we see,” added Joe.

  “Aye,” agreed Zach, “though I don’t expect to see any. Not many high buildings on the approach here so nowhere for them to hide. Beaters, stay in close formation. Everyone else, stick to the beaters’ asses.”

  They proceeded in tightknit formation. When they encountered the first wave of vermin and dogs, Zach called a halt and the rear lines flung grenades to wreak havoc among the creatures. Those that got through were met by swinging steel and plastic.

  When drones appeared behind the waves of creatures, the shooters used bullets and the remaining grenades to destroy them.

  But there were many drones. Too many. For every one they killed, it seemed that another tw
o stepped forward to take their place.

  Slowly but surely their ammunition and explosives became depleted. Their lines grew thinner as people fell to bullets fired by humans who once would not have dreamed of killing another human, but who now had no concept of what they did.

  Amy’s arms ached and bled from multiple rat bites; if she didn’t bleed to death, she reckoned she’d die of some horrible rat disease. Elliott was bleeding, too, and looked shattered, at the end of his tether. Aletta’s fair hair had turned red with blood from a wound high on her scalp. She seemed just about ready to drop. Zach fought next to Aletta with Joe alongside him, both of them flanking Amy; she would die between her two favourite people. Her main regret would be never finding out what it was like to lie with a man.

  They had made good ground, put the warehouse out of sight behind them, when they came to the end of an alley lined with industrial units. The land opened up into a wide area of scrubland bordered by the river to one side, a high chain-link fence to the other.

  The scrubland was covered with line after line of drones, maybe fifty deep and thirty across. Most of them armed. Behind the drones and so shielded from frontal assault, in front of twenty or more gleaming vehicles, stood them. In excess of a hundred, standing silently, come to watch the last act of this tragedy. They cast frequent glances at a sky once more bright with sunshine.

  Amy guessed that their spaceship was coming in to land. She hadn’t had time to turn her head up to look. Now she didn’t have the energy.

  Zach issued his last order. Amy couldn’t remember when he’d assumed the mantle of unofficial general from Joe. It didn’t seem to matter.

  “Beaters, to the rear. When we run out of ammo, we’ll become beaters, too. Use that time to regain your strength. Then beat out as many of their soft brains as you can. It’s been an honour and a privilege to fight alongside you people. Now it is time to die alongside you. Farewell, friends.”

  Amy’s eyes blurred. She didn’t, therefore, see the drones advance.