Oblivion: The Complete Series (Books 1-9)

by Joshua James

  Ben stared in shock as it slid by. The ship convulsed and vibrated, making sounds as if it was alive. Before it came to a stop, the ship split in two and, in a seamless fluid motion, became two huge Shapeless creatures who immediately tried to attack.

  Ben called out to the group, so they knew what was going on and didn’t get caught from behind. Then he opened fire on the monsters. He heard the others behind him firing as well.

  “This is stupid,” Ace shouted.

  He wasn’t wrong. Bullets did nothing more than slow the Shapeless down. It was only a matter of time until they reached the group of survivors and cut and sliced through them, turning them into bloody meat ribbons.

  “Nonsense, pretty boy,” LeFay said. “I’ll take the lead one.”

  “You’ll take it?” Ace said. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Moving faster than she had since Ben had met her, legs a blur that reminded him of her arms a moment earlier, LeFay ran straight at the closest Shapeless and grabbed it by one of its blade-like shoots.

  The moment she touched it, sparks exploded from the contact. The Shapeless seemed to convulse, its body mutating over and over as its shape contracted and expanded again and again. Through it all, LeFay wouldn’t let go of the appendage she’d grasped in an iron grip. Ben could see the hairs on her head standing on end, crackling with energy.

  A moment later, the Shapeless started to burn. Its chest blackened, and the convulsing increased for a moment, then stopped suddenly as it burst into flames.

  The explosion finally threw LeFay backwards, and Ben realized she was still holding onto the limb; it had just been torn free when the Shapeless had erupted in flame. There was a scorched mark on the surface of the courtyard where the Shapeless had been reduced to a burning pile of matter.

  “Ooookay?” Ben stopped shooting and stared at LeFay. “How did you—"

  “Look out!” Ada shouted, and super-heated bullets whizzed right past his face a moment before he saw an alien tendril swiping at his head. He ducked away, hoping he didn’t turn right into the fire that someone was laying down behind him. The bullets threw the alien off enough that Ben was able to spin and leap away.

  “Here ya go, big boy,” LeFay shouted.

  Ben saw that LeFay had her pistol-sized grenade launcher aimed at the Shapeless. She fired the grenade at the foot of the creature. The explosion tore a hole in the concrete courtyard, and sent the Shapeless flying.

  LeFay rushed after it, reloading her launcher in the blink of an eye. She fired again, reloaded, fired again, reloaded. By the time she was standing over the Shapeless, she’d put no less than four rounds into its central mass.

  The heat of the explosions was collectively having an effect. No single blast hurt it, but one after another did.

  The blasts were hurting LeFay, too. Her clothes were scorched, as were her face and arms. But nothing like the Shapeless eating the brunt of the blasts, one after another. It started to convulse under the impacts; then it suddenly erupted in flame as well.

  “One more for fun,” LeFay said through gritted teeth as she fired one last grenade into the heart of the burning Shapeless. It screeched like an animal mortally wounded, then was torn to shreds under the final blast.

  LeFay popped out the spent cartridge. Her face was bloody from a pair of shrapnel cuts. Her pants were ripped in several places, and somehow she’d lost part of the upper leather of one of her boots.

  She spat on the remains of the Shapeless and turned around. “So…extreme heat in the form of high voltage and consecutive explosives. That’s the list so far,” she said.

  No one said anything for a full second. Engano seemed like the only one that wasn’t fazed. “And extreme cold,” she said, “or so my sources tell me.”

  “Oh, that too?” LeFay said, sounding like she was discussing a change in the weather.

  Tomas cleared his throat. “I think you need to add yourself to that list.”

  “No shit,” Ace agreed. “That was, like...” He seemed to cast around for words. “I don’t even know.”

  “Eloquent as always,” LeFay said.

  “What the hell are you?” Ben said, his voice hoarse from all the yelling.

  “Customized,” LeFay said with a shrug; then she winked at Ben. “You oughta know.”

  She turned to Engano. “So can we get to this damn bunker before we see more of these things, Director?”

  “We’re here,” Engano said. She gestured not at the ascending the Senate Circle steps, but around the base of the steps and its nondescript walls.

  Ben watched as Engano felt around the wall with her hand until she hit something. It was a secret button whose discovery was indicated by a loud click. A part of the wall slid away, revealing a short hallway and another thick steel door.

  “Get in and hurry up,” Engano said. “Before another one of those things comes.”

  Ben thought it was pretty pushy, coming from the person that had walked them right into the Shapeless to begin with, but Engano didn’t seem like the type to take constructive criticism. After LeFay brought up the rear, Engano closed the door again, and Ben had no doubt that the seal was once again practically impossible to see for anyone not looking for it.

  Engano pounded on the inner steel door as the entrance to the secret passageway closed up behind the group, making it pitch black in here. No one answered, so she pounded again. Finally a small opening in the steel door slid open, providing the only light, partially obstructed by a young man’s head.

  “Identify yourself!” ordered the young man. Ben couldn’t make out the uniform from where he was, but it was clearly an AIC soldier of some rank.

  “AIC Intelligence Director Engano.”

  The man hesitated. “How do I know that?”

  Engano sighed. “What happened to the retina scanner?”

  “It’s down,” the soldier said.

  “So what was your plan, then?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “To authenticate,” Engano said, the impatience in her voice clear. “Since you don’t know that you can trust the name I’m giving you, what was your plan to authenticate? Or were you just going to rely on your expert senses to know when someone was lying to you or not?”

  “Uh no, ma’am,” he said. Then he paused. “Well, I guess, yes, ma’am.”

  Engano sighed. “Surrounded by idiots.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “I’m going to have you securing Mongovian grub worms on an automated transport to the end of the galaxy in about five seconds if you don’t open this door, Private,” Engano said. “And I’m going to personally ensure that you’re castrated and your testicles fed to them before you leave.”

  There was a short pause, followed by the loud, clear sound of disengaging locks. Finally, the door opened.

  Fourteen

  The last thing Clarissa Moreno remembered clearly was the fast-approaching reflecting pool she was going to crash-land the Lost in to. That was it. Everything from there was just disconnected parts of vague events happening around her.

  Clarissa remembered small glimpses of fighting. There was a ground battle on Vassar-1. She couldn’t recall if the group was involved, but she remembered being carried through the chaos by Ben. It was hard to forget that unique feeling of being held by a human and a metallic robot arm.

  As far as Clarissa could tell, the group had made it to safety. Where was she now? She was on a surgery table. She knew the woman standing above her.

  LeFay.

  Had things become so desperate she’d had to turn to LeFay? God, she hated that woman.

  Then there was a loud bang, followed by gunshots. Clarissa couldn’t seem to sit up. She stared up at the surgery lights as they were turned off, and she waited and listened, slipping in and out of consciousness.

  Clarissa woke up, for good this time. When she looked around, it took her a little bit to put together where she was. There were a woman and man in the same small, confined space. Both were
bald, both had blood on their faces, both were—as she easily put together—cultists.

  “Why this one? What good is she? Just looks like more broken meat to me,” said Vesta. Her hands rested on the butt of her gun, which balanced on what was a black transport’s floor.

  “That broken meat will lead us to the son of Saito. The Pale Man wants him, so we’ll use her to lure him to us,” answered Ducar.

  “I get that, but why? What’s so special about all of them? The Pale Man, I don’t doubt his plans. Don’t get me wrong. I would never question the holy one, but he pretty much already owns this city. What do we need with the son of some UEF captain?”

  “It’s not our place to question him, Vesta. Our place lies in service. Remember that.” Ducar pointed to his head. “And remember they’re listening.”

  “Oh, believe me, I remember. I’ll never forget when they put that damn thing in,” Vesta said, a grimace crossing her features.

  “Stop your bitching. If it wasn’t for them and what they did to--for us—we’d just be more of these pathetic worker bees. Fighting the inevitable. Better to be the red right hand of the devil than in his path.”

  “I think she’s awake.” Vesta looked over at the woman, whose uniform said Morgan. Vesta made eye contact with her, and enjoyed the frightened look on her face. She blinked, allowing her black, inky eyeballs to unsettle the woman further.

  “Well…put her back to sleep. Don’t want to drag a wiggler back to base.”

  Vesta smiled as the woman managed to rock her body as she tried to resist her approach with an auto-injector. She finally got her arms moving, but they were weak and uncoordinated. She pushed and slapped pathetically to avoid the needle, but Vesta pressed her knee down on the woman’s stomach wound and enjoyed the sound of her squealing in pain.

  “Vesta,” Ducar said.

  She sighed and injected the woman. She was out cold in seconds.

  “She’s heavier than she looks.”

  Clarissa heard Vesta’s voice as she regained consciousness. That was followed by stabbing pains in her side and stomach. She awakened to the pain of her wound and the agony of having to listen to the bald cultist woman.

  At least she’d caught the woman’s name before she’d been injected.

  When Clarissa opened her eyes, she saw that she was crossing a street. One of her arms was around Vesta’s shoulders as the small but strong woman dragged her along. Looking down, Clarissa saw her feet half-walking, half-dragging across the asphalt. There was debris, broken glass, and a little blood on the ground.

  Clarissa looked back and saw an all-black transport ship. She figured it must’ve been what she was brought in. Brought to wherever the hell she was. Six or seven more of the bald bastards stood guard as smoke-engulfed buildings behind them still smoldered.

  “Where are…where are you taking me?” asked Clarissa, groggy. Her mouth was so dry. She’d drink sewage water at that point, just for the hydration.

  “Just hurry up. Need I remind you we’re on the clock, on a timetable here?” said the man.

  Clarissa turned her head forwards and saw him walking just in front.

  “Maybe if you helped me, we can go a little faster,” Vesta said.

  The man turned back and raised an eyebrow, but didn’t slow. “Complaints will get you nowhere. Just hang on. We’re almost inside. Remember, we need her to join us if this is gonna work.”

  Join them?

  Moments later, Clarissa entered a large concrete structure. She read the holographic sign that flickered above the entrance. It read: “City Sentinel Precinct 5”.

  Why the hell are they taking me to a police station?

  “Home sweet home,” the man said, opening the glass-fronted doors of the bombed-out precinct. Shards of broken glass ground against each other as he opened it up.

  Vesta sighed. Then she readjusted her hold on Clarissa. “Never thought I’d be back here.”

  Clarissa was too sickened by the stench to pay much attention to what her captors were saying. The police station, like the sanctuary station before it, was filled to the brim with death.

  Dead city sentinel officers littered the ground. There was so much blood splattered on the walls, it was hard to tell what the original color was underneath. From what she could see, some of the bodies had been shot. Others looked to have been run over by razor-blade-lined lawn mowers, and the amount of gore on the floor was staggering. It was so bad that everyone’s shoes and boots threatened to slip and slide.

  “Come on. Back here to the chief’s office,” the man said. Clarissa watched as he waved Vesta forward.

  “Smells terrible in here, Ducar,” said Vesta.

  Ducar. Now we all have names.

  “Yeah, well, a station full of dead pigs doesn’t smell great. What can you do?”

  Clarissa was more disturbed by the living things in the precinct than the dead. There were sentinel officers milling around, but not really. She could tell they weren’t quite human.

  One of the cops kept mushing his face, while looking at a dead officer on the floor under him. From what Clarissa could tell, he was trying to match the visage. In practice, it was an unsettling sight of all his facial features being manipulated and morphed like wet clay.

  Clarissa witnessed another officer, a woman, with her hand inside the throat of a dead cop who looked just like her. Then the living one tried to speak in a horribly twisted, unnatural voice, like it was trying to mimic a real one with no context of what humans actually sounded like.

  Clarissa even saw an undulating pile of meat and bone transform into the shape of a human being, though it didn’t have any details or distinguishable features yet. It was just a human-shaped mass of flesh, and that confirmed it. She was surrounded by the Shapeless.

  “Here we are, sir, just as you requested,” Ducar said as he entered the City Sentinel chief’s office.

  Standing with his back to them behind the desk was a skinny bald man with a pale complexion and sharp cheekbones.

  “The woman known as ‘Morgan’, Ben Saito’s pilot,” Vesta said, following Ducar in and dropping Clarissa on one of the chairs at the opposite end of the desk from the Pale Man.

  “Wonderful,” the man said. His voice was so deep that Clarissa thought she felt it reverberating in her own chest.

  The Pale Man turned around. At first glance he might’ve looked human, but his complete lack of body hair, including his eyebrows and his obsidian eyes, made it clear he—it—was something else.

  “Ducar, Vesta, you will be rewarded. Now, please leave us. We have much to talk about.”

  Fifteen

  “I’m glad to see you, Madam Director,” said the young private who’d been on the other side of the bunker door.

  Ada couldn’t help but wonder if that was the response that Engano was expecting after threatening the private’s, well, privates.

  If Engano was surprised, she didn’t show it. “Who’s in charge down here?”

  “I’ll take you there right away, Madam Director,” the private said. He turned and started down the hallway. Engano didn’t follow. After a dozen feet, the private stopped and turned back around. “Ma’am?”

  Engano sighed. “Who’s going to watch the door, Private, while you take us on a grand tour?”

  The private looked confused for a moment; then her words seemed to slowly sink in. “Oh, right. Yeah, I see what you mean.”

  Engano looked like she might implode on the spot. “Private, do you have, I don’t know, maybe a radio or something that you could use to call for someone to come get us?”

  “Nothing like that is working,” the private said, grimacing. “But it’s fine, ma’am. We aren’t expecting anyone else. You were the only one that I was told to watch for.”

  LeFay crossed her arms. “You didn’t believe it was her when we got to the door, but she was the only one you were told to expect?”

  The private looked confused again. “Yes?”

  Engano balled
her fists. Ada could see the whites of her knuckles, and decided to step in. She didn’t care for Engano, but she didn’t need a dead private in this dank hallway, either. “Since we’re who you were waiting for, it’s probably fine to leave the door for the moment to show us into the bunker,” she said for Engano’s benefit.

  “Fine,” Engano said at last. “Lead the way, mighty defender of the fortress, Private… what’s your name?”

  “Greyston, ma’am.” He saluted. “Mitchell Greyston.”

  “Don’t salute me, Private. I’m a civilian.”

  “Oh.” Greyston just stood there.

  “How about we get moving, Greyston?” Ada suggested.

  “Yes,” he said, and turned around.

  After a last exasperated glance around, Engano followed him. Ada and the rest fell in behind.

  Greyston led them down a long, winding hallway that led downwards. At one point, he turned to the group. “Glad to see you guys. All of you. We need all the bodies we can get.”

  “For what?” Ada asked. She noticed the air down in the bunker wasn’t stale. She felt a slight breeze, and wondered where it might be coming from.

  “For our counterattack, of course,” Greyston said. “There’s no way we’re letting those imperialist bastards destroy our capital without paying for it.”

  “You do know what you’re up against out there, right?” Ace said incredulously. “There’s no counterattacking that.”

  “I know.” Greyston’s enthusiasm waned a bit. “We all know that. But still, we can’t just let them get away with this unscathed. We need to show them… something.”

  Ada was pretty sure the private hadn’t even been born yet when the war started. “I understand, Greyston. But those are … powerful forces out there.” Engano gave Ada a glance that told her not to say too much. “What do we have to fight back with? Rifles? Charges?”

  Greyston smiled. “You’ll see. We’re almost there.”

  When the group turned one final corner, a large cavern-like room was revealed. In it were rows of AIC fighters, and a surprising amount of military personnel running around prepping the ships, arming themselves and the vessels.