The Gate

by Finn Gray

  “Which means we stick to the jungle.” Oates began to crawl into the tangled vines. Rory followed.

  The going was slow. They had to hack their way through, all the while knowing they were making far too much noise.

  “Dare I hope you have some idea where we’re going?”

  “Yes and no. There’s a cave up ahead but I don’t know where it leads.”

  Just then Rory heard footsteps coming fast. Their stalkers had taken up hot pursuit.

  “I’m willing to take my chances.”

  They scrambled forward. Vines clung to Rory’s arms and tangled his ankles. For a moment he imagined they were living things clutching at him. And it wouldn’t be his first encounter with living plants on Soria.

  And then they were in the clear and making a dash for a low hedgerow. He heard a shout from somewhere behind them but he did not dare look back. Oates disappeared into the hedge and Rory followed him.

  A moment later he was blind. Two steps and he slammed into something solid.

  He staggered backward, hand pressed to his face.

  “I was off by a meter,” Oates said. “You hit the wall. Sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Are they still following us?”

  Oates knelt and peered back through the hedge line. Before he could reply, Rory felt cold steel pressed to his throat.

  A harsh voice said, “Drop your weapons.”

  Chapter 9

  The Scarn Nebula

  “This sucks. I miss the Memnons.” Teddy Zartler, callsign Teddy Bear, gazed balefully out at the fleet off his starboard side. The surviving battle cruisers had taken up defensive positions around the civilian fleet. Now the fighter pilots were tasked with the unenviable chore of flying in a circle round and round the fleet.

  “Quit your bitching, Teddy,” said Erik Shapiro, callsign Spartan. “At least we made it out alive.”

  “And quite a life we’re having. This sure beats shooting Reapers out of the sky.” He rolled his eyes, though he knew no one could see him.

  “Look on the bright side,” Spartan said. “Maybe the Memnons will find us.”

  They continued their circuit around the fleet. The battlecruiser Dragonfly loomed up ahead. With Glavine 2, their home base, destroyed, Teddy and the other pilots from his squadron had been temporarily assigned to her flight crew.

  “Can you believe that back in the old days people used to pay to watch people in terrestrial vehicles do this?”

  “Do what?” Spartan asked.

  “Go in a circle. I’m not even making this up. They would pay big money to sit in the grandstands and watch people turn left for hours. And millions would watch it on the vids.”

  “You’re winding me up,” Spartan said. “There’s no way anybody would do that.”

  “How about a little less chatter, you two?” said Adam Sherr, callsign Vesuvius.

  “Sorry, Captain,” Spartan said. “Are you afraid we might prevent you from hearing the Memnons sneaking up behind us?”

  “My family is onboard one of those ships. I’m determined to keep them alive.” Sherr’s wife and children had been on a cruise with his in-laws when war broke out. That meant they’d avoided the nuclear holocaust on the ground, and had escaped along with the other survivors.

  “Have you seen them yet?” Teddy asked.

  “Had a vid chat this morning. My father in-law is not impressed with our efforts. Says in his day they’d have kicked the Memnons’ asses back to wherever they came from.”

  “Like he could have done better,” Spartan said.

  “He’s convinced that he could have. He spent a lot of time explaining that to me.”

  “Did he serve?” Teddy asked.

  “No, but he’s read a few books and watched a ton of vids. That apparently makes him an expert.”

  At that moment, alarms blared. A single bogey appeared on Teddy’s RADs display.

  “Bogey at three o’clock!” he shouted.

  “It’s a Mongoose! Don’t engage. It might be from Kestrel,” Vesuvius said.

  All three pilots changed course, making a beeline for the newcomer.

  In their headsets, the voice of First Officer Cassier of Dragonfly rang out, demanding that the Mongoose identify itself.

  There was no response.

  Again Cassier gave the order. Still no reply.

  “It could be a vessel captured by the Memnons,” Teddy said. “We ought to shoot her down just to be safe.”

  “But what if it is one of Kestrel’s birds and they’re just having communication problems?” Spartan asked.

  The Mongoose zipped closer.

  “Dragonfly, what are our orders?” Sherr boomed, as if he didn’t have a comm link.

  A brief pause, and Cassier’s voice came again.

  “Vesuvius, by order of the commander, you are to shoot down the rogue vessel.”

  “Roger that,” Sherr said.

  The Mongoose chose that moment to turn and run with the three Cobra pilots in hot pursuit.

  “Why doesn’t she jump away?” Spartan asked.

  “It takes a while for a Mongoose to generate the power,” Sherr said. “I’m sure she’s spooling up her QE drive, though. We need to get to her before she jumps.”

  The three fighters closed in on their target. Teddy watched his display, eager for missile lock but dreading the moment. He had been the first to suggest shooting it down. What if he was wrong?

  As they pursued their target, the order was given for the fleet to begin emergency jump procedures. One by one the civilian ships seemed to ripple and then vanish in a flash of light, then the military vessels, until only Dragonfly remained.

  “I’ve got missile lock!” Spartan fired his first missile, but the Mongoose rolled to starboard and the shot missed.

  “Do you think they can get a message back to the Memnons from here?” Teddy asked.

  “Unlikely, but I suppose it’s not impossible,” Sherr said. “I’m sure they’re trying to do just that.”

  Teddy locked in on the target and fired. Once again, the Mongoose took evasive action. This time it swung about and made a run directly at the three Cobras.

  Teddy performed a roll, then came up firing. The contrails of the missiles streaked across the intervening space. The missiles struck home and the Mongoose exploded. He felt the thrill of cheating death and emerging victorious, but his was a hollow victory. How had the Memnons found them? And were more on their way?

  “Nice shooting, Teddy Bear,” Sherr said.

  “Do you think they managed to snitch on us?” Teddy asked.

  Sherr heaved a sigh. “I hope not. But I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Chapter 10

  Battlecruiser Kestrel

  Hunter had met Ed Begay on only a few occasions. He was an Echotan, of average height with broad shoulders, high cheekbones, and glossy black hair, going gray around the temples. Begay turned and nodded when Hunter entered the bridge.

  Hunter stopped in front of the commander and saluted. “Captain Nathaniel Hunt reporting as requested, Commander.”

  “At ease. It’s good to see you, Hunter.” They shook hands. “I’m sorry we’ve kept you cooped up for so long. Things have been a mess.”

  “If I may ask, why have I been sequestered? Do you have concerns about me that I should be aware of?”

  “Not at all. We simply have a million crises to attend to, and unfortunately, vetting the new arrivals did not take priority. Obviously, I know your reputation. Still, procedures are what they are.”

  Hunter knew Begay’s reputation. The man loved things like rules, regulations, and chain of command. It was also rumored that he favored fellow Echotans when it came to promotions. Nothing Hunter saw on the bridge did anything to dispel that rumor. Several Echotans were busy at various tasks. All wore their hair just a bit longer than regulations called for, and several wore some form of traditional jewelry—a choker, bracelet, or ring.

  “Can you explain to me how you
came to have Commander Vatcher’s parents on board your ship when you were supposed to be making an attack run?” Begay asked.

  “We had engine trouble so we put down on Southgull Island. The Vatchers came to us for help, said the Memnons had kidnapped them and forced them to turn over their optics, bios. The bastards took everything from them.” Privately, Hunter was struggling to generate much sympathy for the formerly wealthy couple. Let them live like ordinary people for a while.

  Begay shook his head but there was a twinkle in his eye. “Fortune is a fleeting thing.”

  “Indeed it is.” Hunter frowned. He sensed a certain reticence about the commander. This was not the gruff, shoot-from-the-hip Ed Begay he had heard so much about.

  “Your copilot, Bates, is she dependable?”

  “She’s green, a bit stubborn, but she flies well and she follows orders.”

  “That’s good. After the Memnon attack, we’re low on pilots. Even once our injured are out of sick bay we’ll have a surplus of birds.”

  Hunter nodded. The fleet and corps had long suffered from a personnel shortage. Most, if not all, battlecruisers had serviceable Cobras and Mongoose in mothballs, waiting for the day they might be needed again.

  “I need you and Bates to join our CAP on a temporary basis,” Begay continued. “My people are out of sorts. They can learn from your leadership.”

  This was highly unusual and not according to procedure, but these were not usual times. “I assume you’ve cleared this with Commander Graves?”

  Begay took a deep breath. “What I’m about to tell you is classified.”

  “Understood,” Hunter said.

  Begay looked him in the eye. “Something went wrong with our jump. We don’t know where we are, or how to get back to the fleet.”

  No matter how hard he tried, Jude could not get his mind off the injured man who had recognized him. And what had he meant that Jude had done this to them? Was he confused, lashing out, or did the fellow actually know something? Jude had to know.

  He looked around the barracks. Hunter had been called to the bridge hours ago. They’d come for Vera shortly thereafter. Neither had returned. Now, only Jude and Marson remained in the barracks. The others had moved to the rec room, where Magda was cleaning the young Marines out in a game of pakra.

  Jude made a decision. “I’m going for a walk,” he said to Marson “Care to join me?”

  Marson looked down at him from his perch on a top bunk. “Are we allowed to do that?”

  “It was only suggested that we remain here so we didn’t get lost or in the way. I, for one, am tired of being treated like a prisoner. I am a law-abiding citizen of Aquaria and you are an imperial marine, for the gods’ sakes.”

  Marson sat up, frowned suspiciously. “Why do you want me to go?”

  “I’m going to visit sick bay. I thought you might want to check in on your injured friend.” Jude had not missed the look of longing in Marson’s eyes whenever he mentioned Peyton.

  “Might as well.” Marson slid down off the bunk. “I kind of hope someone tries to stop us. I’m in the mood to knock someone on their ass.”

  “I’ll leave the punching to you,” Jude said.

  To Jude’s surprise, no one paid them any mind as they made their way to sick bay. Tension was thick in the air. Uniformed men and women hurried from one place to another, heads down, worried expressions painting their faces.

  “What’s up with them?” Marson asked.

  “The Memnons just slaughtered us, drove us from our homes. People in the service must be taking it extra hard.” Privately, Jude sensed there was more at play here, but he did not want to be an alarmist.

  They found sick bay with ease. The place was a madhouse. The injured had spilled out into the corridor, and nearby rooms had also been pressed into service. A woman in scrubs barely spared them a glance as she stuck her head out the door of the nearest room and called for more body bags.

  With so little attention being paid to them, they had plenty of time to find who they were looking for. They found Jemma Wade, the red-haired marine, in the third room they checked. She was sitting up, talking with a brown-skinned, middle aged woman in scrubs and a lab coat. Both women were in tears and paid the men no more mind than anyone else had. As they watched, the pair embraced, their bodies racked with sobs.

  A few beds away, an attractive young blonde spotted them. Beneath the bandage wrapped around her forehead, her brown eyes widened and she waved to Marson.

  “Take your time,” Jude said to Marson. “I’m going to visit some patients, see if I can raise morale.”

  Marson nodded, his eyes fixed on Peyton.

  Jude drifted away. Bringing Marson along was convenient. The young man had the bearing of someone who belonged in a military setting, and paying a visit to his friend provided a plausible reason for their presence at sick bay. It also gave him a chance to build trust and assess whether or not Marson might make for a useful asset. Jude had lost everything; it was time to begin rebuilding.

  He found the man he sought in a corner of the main sick bay. As with the other parts of the ship through which he had passed, everyone was far too busy to pay him any mind, and the jumpsuit that had been provided to him kept him from sticking out too much.

  He made his way over to the gurney on which the man lay. Jude took a long look at him, searching his face for any trace of familiarity. No, he was certain the man was a stranger to him. Once again, he remembered the man’s words.

  You did this to us.

  Who was “us?” The patients at Stone Mountain base? Or did the man somehow blame Jude for the Memnon attack? People often blamed the powerful for all of society’s ills and tragedies. The problem was, Jude had been duped into supporting the Memnons as they laid the groundwork for the uprising. Was it possible that this man knew something about Jude’s dealings with the Memnons? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Three possibilities, two of them frightening.

  “What do you know?” he whispered.

  No reply was forthcoming. Jude was no physician but he could tell the patient was in a bad way. Blood soaked the bandages around his abdomen. He was hooked up to a drip of morfex, a powerful pain killer. Jude watched the drip. It was a very high dosage. This was obviously a patient being kept comfortable until he died. Jude was ashamed by the wave of hope that washed over him.

  But what if he wakes up long enough to tell his story, whatever that might be?

  He eyed the morfex drip. A strong enough dose would stop a person’s heart. He could turn it up. Odds were, no one would notice. And if someone did, they’d simply assume that someone in sick bay had made a mistake in all the chaos. He casually looked around. Still no one was looking in his direction. His heart raced, his hands were clammy. He reached for the drip then quickly drew his hand back as a sharp voice called out.

  “What are you doing?”

  He turned to see the woman who had been sitting with Jemma moments before striding toward him.

  “Nothing.” He needed a better answer than that, and he needed to avoid behaving as if he were guilty of something. “My friend was visiting one of your patients, a pilot named Peyton. I wanted to give them some privacy.” He inclined his head toward Marson and Peyton, who were chatting amiably.

  “A blow to the head, a few stitches. She’ll be discharged soon.” The woman looked down at the patient beside whom Jude had been standing and raised her eyebrows. “Do you know this man?”

  Jude sighed, shook his head. “It’s foolish, I know. While I am not a physician, I am a PhD, a man of science, and I thought for a moment that I might be able to offer some assistance. It did not take long to realize I have nothing to offer.”

  The woman nodded, then inclined her head toward the door. Jude fell into step beside her and the pair began walking in the direction of the exit.

  “It was generous of you to want to help, Mister Vatcher.”

  “You know me?” Jude asked.

  “I’ve se
en you on some vids, and the last lab I worked in used software one of your companies designed.”

  “I hope it was user-friendly.” He forced a laugh.

  “It wasn’t the worst.” Her gaze softened, she looked down for a moment, then brightened. “I’m Becca Link.”

  They shook hands. Her palm was soft, but her grip firm, and she made direct eye contact. He could tell she was made of stern stuff.

  “How is the young marine, Jemma? Her friends are concerned.”

  “Physically, she is expected to make a full recovery. But she lost someone very close to her. Same as all of us.” Her eyes went misty and Jude could tell she was thinking of someone specific when she said the last.

  Before he could offer words of sympathy, a voice came across the com, freezing him in his tracks.

  “Attention, Kestrel. Doctor Jude Vatcher, report to the bridge immediately. Jude Vatcher to the bridge immediately.”

  Jude looked up, then glanced over at Marson, who waved him away.

  “Go on. I can find my way back,” Marson said.

  Jude turned and flashed Becca an apologetic smile. “It appears I am needed elsewhere. It’s been a pleasure.”

  “The pleasure was all mine.”

  Jude scratched his head. “One more thing. Might you point me in the direction of the bridge?”

  Chapter 11

  Arcallia, Soria

  “I’ve got the one on the left, you take the one on the right. Knives only.” Trent’s voice was a scant whisper. Cassidy had no idea the big sergeant was capable of such hushed tones. “Relax. I know you can handle it.”

  Cassidy nodded and swallowed hard. The truth was, she had never killed before. Not with a rifle and certainly not with a knife. She had shot down drones in her only actual combat experience. But never a human being.

  “Remember, they are targets,” Trent said. “Nothing more. You know where to strike?”

  Cassidy nodded again. They had covered a variety of killing blows and strikes in training. And, she had just been given a refresher course as she watched Trent take out the guards one by one, silently and efficiently. Even with an injured leg the big woman could strike like lightning. Cassidy hoped she would be half as effective. Bile rose in her throat. Hells, she hoped she would be able to do it at all.