by Joshua James
“Where are they?” asked Ducar, his rifle partly raised and aimed at the apartment’s front door.
“I don’t understand. They’re just hovering over us, not moving,” answered a confused Gar.
“How about the people in the ships? Has anyone gotten out?”
“Not as far as I can tell.”
Ducar thought about what was happening for a moment. Then he started to slowly back away. He could feel it: they were still coming, just not via the entrance they thought.
“Okay. We can’t stick around here. Let’s take the tunnels out—”
Before Ducar could finish his sentence, super-heated bullets cut through the ceiling of the apartment.
Three hit Gar: one in the chest, one in the stomach, and another in his head, killing him immediately. Yason took a bullet in his shoulder. Onica and Ducar managed to scurry away unscathed.
“Yason!” yelled Onica as Ducar dragged her away towards the back of the apartments and the tunnel they’d dug there.
“Go!” Yason screamed. “I’ll see you in the Abyss.”
Bleeding and hurt, he dragged himself to a nearby chair. He turned it towards the apartment door, then plopped himself down in it. Rifle resting on his lap, he waited.
Yason watched as sparks flew out from the inside of the apartment’s front door. Someone on the other side was using a laser cutter to carve an opening. As he faded in and out of consciousness, the cultist smiled, knowing that no matter what happened next, he would get what the Saviors had promised him and all the other Oblivion cultists: peace and happiness in the grave.
“We can’t just leave him!” yelled Onica as Ducar dragged her towards the kitchen at the back of the apartment.
“We can and we will.” Ducar, having gotten the idea from a hunt back on Vassar-1, pulled the refrigerator away from the wall, revealing the small tunnel the cultists had dug over the course of the previous two weeks.
“But he’ll be killed!”
“Yes, he will.” Ducar went over to Onica and held her by both sides of her face to make sure she was paying attention. He looked her straight in her big brown eyes. “We’ll see him again. You know that. For now, we need to survive to spread the truth. That’s our duty. Understand?”
Onica started to cry, but she nodded her head. Ducar was right. Of course he was. Human emotion and connection were hard things to shake off.
Ducar entered the tunnel first. It was primitive and rough. Rocks and other debris cut and scraped his palms and knees as he crawled through the tight dark space. He turned on the flashlight on his rifle to help him navigate.
Onica started to cry again when she heard gunshots from the apartment behind them. She knew what that meant. Her love was now in the Abyss. It didn’t slow her down, though. As much as she wanted to join Yason, Ducar was right. They had a job and a responsibility to carry on.
Ducar reached the end of the tunnel. Above him was a piece of sheet metal they’d put there, anchored down by a couple of pieces of rubble, which could still be found all over the city floor from the Shapeless’ attack. He pushed up.
Though it was heavy, Ducar managed to push the rubble-weighted sheet-metal panel off, and he stuck his head out into the open. Above him, he could see the lights that led all the way up to the night sky. He also saw two ships, city sentinel cruisers, hovering above where the apartment was. Their search lights scanned the area.
First he turned off his rifle-mounted flashlight. Then Ducar climbed silently out of the tunnel. He reached down and noiselessly helped Onica up and out as well. They knelt as they made sure to stay out of any sources of light. Their destination was still the forger’s place to get their new HUDs implanted. Nothing had changed. Their pursuers’ arrival simply moved up the timetable for their escape plans.
Ducar’s thigh burned from an old wound as he and Onica stayed low. They made their way to one of the countless shady marketplace alleyways in the Annapolis city floor. This particular one was called The Lows. Before entering, Ducar and Onica both wrapped scarves around their necks and heads, stood up straight, and tried to hide their weapons under their jackets.
The Lows was a perfect place for Ducar and Onica to go unnoticed. It was a sanctuary and safe place for the undesirables of the city. As they moved through the crowds of those selling and buying different vices, the two cultists kept their heads down. Though no one in those alleys were likely looking for them, there was a reward on their heads, and these were the kinds of places where rewards like that moved people to action. They still needed to be careful.
If Ducar’s beliefs and passion in what the Oblivion cult represented had wavered at all after the wars, they were re-cemented as he and Onica pushed and squeezed their way through The Lows. He passed beggars, from old to children, asking for any credits the undesirables who frequented those markets could spare. He looked and kept walking as some of those young beggars were accosted and actively being recruited by sex traffickers, pimps and slavers. Prostitutes, some drug addicts, a few pregnant and again, some young, too young to even attend high school, propositioned him, offering a good time in a private room. Drug pushers advertised their wares out in the open, offering an escape for those so beaten down by life that they needed a way out. Ducar watched as gangsters mugged those from the upper levels who’d decided to come down and slum it.
In Ducar’s mind, every poor soul in The Lows deserved—no, needed—the salvation that came with the Oblivion. But there was no time to stop and preach to them. Perhaps one day, when the heat dissipated and the scrutiny had blown over, someone like him could return to save these poor souls. But he had no illusions of ever returning, or the cult returning to any kind of prevalence in his lifetime. The damage that had been done was too severe.
“Hey! You!” Ducar heard someone yelling over the crowd. “Stop them! Them in the rags! Cultists!”
Ducar threw off the scarf as he and Onica started running as fast as they could. Luckily they were in a crowd of civilians, so their pursuers couldn’t shoot at them, for fear of collateral damage—assuming they were officers. If they were just trying to collect the reward, then all bets were off.
A big man, from one of the local thug crews judging by his tattoos, grabbed Onica by the arm as she tried to rush by. “Where the hell do you think you’re going, lovely?”
Onica was trained to fight, but sometimes such a large disparity in size and strength was impossible to physically overcome. Besides, they didn’t have time for this. Ducar grabbed Onica by her other arm and swung himself around, raising his rifle as he did so, and shot the big man in his face.
Everyone in The Lows instantly hit the ground like choreographed dancers going through a routine they knew only too well. Ducar realized his mistake, but it was too late now. He and Onica were completely exposed.
The UEF Marines trailing them opened fire.
On the plus side, Ducar thought, Onica was reunited with Yason sooner rather than later.
Ducar felt a sharp burning pain in the back of his bad thigh. That was followed by a much worse pain that came as a result of his right knee exploding from behind. He screamed as he hit the wet concrete.
“Everyone up and out now!” yelled a woman’s voice, with a slight accent that was hard for Ducar to place. “Or you’ll all be arrested!”
Two shots were fired in the air, and the crowds scattered almost as fast as the street vendors, who left their wares and shops behind unattended. All of them were doing illegal business down here, and were thankful to get off with a warning.
As Ducar tried to crawl away, he saw Onica’s lifeless eyes staring at him from the ground. He tried to ignore them, and kept crawling until a boot landed hard on top of his hand.
Ducar gritted his teeth and swallowed down a yelp of pain. He wasn’t giving them the satisfaction.
“Ducar, is it, right?” asked the woman who’d done the yelling. She knelt down in front of him.
“You!” Ducar spat. Even through his pain and agony, h
e recognized the woman. She’d been one of his targets back on Vassar-1. “You’re that bitch with the Saito boy!”
The woman smiled. “My name is Ada, but you’re not the first one to call me that.” She paused. “I’ve been looking for you for a while now. You’re a slippery little bastard, aren’t you? Or at least, you were.”
“You and your kind will pay for what—”
“I’ve heard the speech already,” Ada said, cutting him off. Then she lowered her voice. “I’m glad you know who I am. Because you’re going to get to know me even better soon enough, when you’re telling me how to find all your other friends scurrying around in the dark.”
Ducar let his face fall into the puddle under it. He didn’t care that it was filthy. It was over for him. “Just kill me already. You got me. Kill me. I murdered hundreds, maybe thousands. Kill me.”
As two more Marines put cuffs on him, she said, “First, you’re going to suffer for every single one of those lives you took. Then I’ll let you beg to be executed.” She stood up as he was dragged to his feet. “And I’ll personally make sure you get your wish.”
Epilogue
Four Months Later
Ben sat in a large fancy room, surrounded by all the most important people in both the UEF and AIC. There were politicians, military officers, and prominent businessmen. One glaring omission was representatives from Waterman-Lau, what was once the biggest, richest, most powerful company in the universe. All of its assets had been divided up among the colonies and planets that they were located on, their tech and money seized and split by the two governments. It was technology that was desperately needed now. The Earth was unstable without its moon. The terraforming technology that had been perfected on other worlds was being used back on Earth to stabilize the ecology, but it was looking more and more like the population of the Earth needed to look to the stars. In that sense, it was good that the UEF and the AIC had put their differences aside.
With all that work to be done, it seemed obscene to be here for this.
I’m not sure I belong here.
Ben stared into his glass of champagne. He wasn’t a big drinker anymore, but he took a polite sip.
“Yes, you do.”
Ben glanced next to him and saw his mother, Beverly. She was all dressed up as if she was actually there, not just a memory made into a manner of ghost. The Shapeless ghosts were visiting him more and more now. He wondered if this legacy of theirs would ever go away. Now he knew how Clarissa must have felt, and his father.
“No, I really don’t,” Ben responded out loud.
“Don’t what?” Ben didn’t realize that Congo had walked up behind him. She sat down next to him on the couch he was sitting on.
“Belong here. Not at all.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual. All these stuffy men and women in their suits and dress uniforms, it’s a bit uncomfortable. Especially for me.” Congo was in a stunning dress, the kind that made gentlemen from across the room take notice. She took a sip of her champagne.
“Speaking of pirates, where’s the ol’ captain?” asked Ben. “Haven’t seen him since the fighting ended.”
“Oh, you know, smuggling a little bit of this, stealing a bit of that. Once a pirate…”
Ben smiled and nodded. “Always a pirate. But not you. Look at you. You actually look like a well-respected member of society.”
Congo laughed. “Don’t get too used to it. Soon as I’m done watching your speech, I’m on the first flight back home. Gonna take some of this money the UEF so generously provided, and start my own clinic. Leave all this fighting and politician shit behind.”
“That sounds…amazing. I’m a little jealous.”
“Says the great protector of the United Earth Federation,” Congo chided him.
“You know that shit means nothing.”
“Nothing?” She shrugged. “It’s the truth by me. You and Ada and Clarissa.” At the mention of Clarissa’s name, her face soured, but she quickly recovered. “And your father. You all helped save all of us. No one is ever going to forget that, least of all myself.” Congo stood up and toasted him, then adjusted her dress and turned to go.
“Where are you off to?”
“I’m not staying here with these people. Come visit me at the clinic sometime. You’ll love it.”
“I will, I promise.”
“You better.”
Ben watched her leave, realizing it was probably the most he’d spoken with her as long as he’d known her. He promised himself he would go visit her.
Friends did that sort of thing, and there were lots of friends he wanted to see tonight. Some more than others.
Where the hell is she?
Ben looked around for Ada. He didn’t see her, and there was no doubt he’d easily be able to pick her out. She was tall, blonde, and a stunning beauty.
He got up. He’d been sitting on the couch too long. Besides, he still had weeks’ worth of untreated injuries aching and plaguing his body, and walking around kept him from getting stiff.
Ben, with his nifty, shiny new arm, gently put his empty champagne glass on one of the drone waiters that flew around the room. Across said room, he saw a couple of familiar faces.
Giving everyone on the way to the other side of the room the necessary pleasantries and “thank you’s,” Ben finally made it to those two familiar faces, and they were ones he’d never forget. Ace spun a pistol around on his finger like a cowboy. God knows what he was up to in the afterlife. Probably nothing good. Next to him was Clarissa, playing with her daughters.
“Why’d you drag us here, Cap?” Ace said. “I was having a good ol’ time in heaven, or is it hell? I dunno which it is or either, it’s just damn fun. All the guns and things that go boom I could possibly want. It’s a scream, brother.”
“I didn’t drag anyone here,” Ben murmured, trying not to look like a crazy man talking to himself. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“It isn’t him,” said Clarissa.
Tomas appeared out of nowhere. “It is him.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe Ben was—
“Mr. Saito!” A surprisingly enthusiastic Captain Thorne approached Ben with his hand out to shake, which Ben did.
“Captain. Congrats on your promotion. I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you’d be halfway back to Vassar-1 by now, helping with the reconstruction.”
“Oh, I’m heading back home soon as all this pomp and circumstance is over with, but I wasn’t going to leave before honoring you and your father. Plus our Senate wanted a high-ranking officer in attendance, and I’m about as high up as it gets these days.”
“I’m jealous. I wouldn’t be here if I could get away with it.”
“Mr. Saito, you see all these people with medals, stars, and bars? Some of them have achieved some great things in their careers. Myself, I got a couple of these for saving lives or winning battles. But all my accomplishments and those of every fake stuck-up politician in this room pale in comparison to you, your crew, and your father’s. You saved humankind. So I think if you want to leave this stuck-up shitshow, you can damn well leave.”
Ben couldn’t help but smile at the ornery old captain. “Maybe. And thank you.”
“For what?” Thorne took a sip of his beer. No champagne for him, Ben noted.
“For fighting with us. For helping.”
“No thanks necessary, son. If you want to thank someone, thank our late Captain Rhule. Far as I’m concerned, he deserves a statue right next to your father’s. Hell, I’m gonna use my own money to get one built on Vassar-1, along with a monument to all of those lost in my home. No, it’s me who should thank you. I heard about what you and your people did in our capital. You saved a hell of a lot lives there as well, including my son’s.” Thorne seemed like the kind to try not to show much emotion, but he was on the verge of tears.
“Your son was on-planet? I’m sorry to hear that, it wasn’t…well, it was rough there.”
“
According to him, he was going to be brought to a processing center, whatever that is. And you and your crew blew it up. After that he escaped. From what I’ve been told, once someone went into one of those things, they didn’t come out. Because of you, my home is free and my son is still breathing. So if you ever get sick of being the protector of whatever, you have a home with us on Vassar-1, on my estate. And I mean that, it’s not just an empty offer.”
Thorne’s words made Ben feel genuinely good. When everything was happening, he didn’t think about the fact that he and the others did save lives. Hearing it from someone out loud, especially someone like Thorne, it really did touch his heart. Ben hugged the big man, much to the old lug’s discomfort.
“All right, all right,” Thorne said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to save my wife from some senators, and it looks like someone’s here to save you from me. Good luck, son.”
Ben turned around to find Ada with a champagne in hand. “Yeah, ‘son,’” she said playfully. “Good luck.”
She kissed him, and Ben hung on to Ada’s hips. “Champagne and no uniform. Who are you?”
Ada smiled, her beautiful vibrant blue eyes locked on to Ben’s. “Don’t be a smartass.”
“But it’s my best quality.”
“Mr. Saito!” Ben heard the last voice he wanted to hear.
He lowered his head. “Oh, Jesus.”
Director Engano made a direct line for Ben.
“Looks like it’s time,” Ada murmured.
“I really wish you and Congo and, hell, even Wan were up there with me. I don’t like being the one to take all the credit.”
“You’re the name,” she said. “And let’s face it. Your father is the real hero here. Without him...” She shrugged.
Ben nodded. It was true, and he owed it to his father to honor him the best way he could.
“You’re going to do great, babe. I know it.”
Engano gave Ada only the briefest acknowledgment, then looked at Ben. “Speech time.” She grabbed him by the arm and steered him toward the dais. “Just make sure to emphasize your dad’s heroics and how these tragic events have put an end to the Universal War, and…” As the AIC Intelligence Director rambled on, her arm around Ben’s shoulder leading him away, he turned back to Ada and mouthed the words: “Help me.”
