Critical Path (The Critical Series Book2) (10 page)

“Is he still alive? The one that escaped from the pod?”

No response. Not even a click.

That at least told Denver something: that the thing was withholding.

“I know he is. I saw the smoke in the sky. You’ve got a settlement a few kilometers north of here, haven’t you?”

No response.

“You have others like you waiting for you to return, don’t you? What will they do when they find you dead, eh? Will they care? We’re going regardless of what you tell us, and when I find your family, I won’t spare them like I have with you.”

The creature’s eyes narrowed this time, and a deep rumbling click came from deep in its throat.

Denver smiled. “You understand that, at least. Tell me what I want to know. Tell me about the pod survivor and we’ll take you back home personally. Keep you safe. We can be reasonable about this.”

No response.

Denver thought about the blade on his belt. One cut of the air tubes would encourage the bastard, but Layla had pleaded with Denver not to do anything drastic, convinced that there could be another way to handle this.

Heeding her advice, Denver kept this questioning cat and mouse up for another ten minutes when he decided he had had enough and was going to go get Charlie regardless of what awaited him. That’s when he heard a commotion from the camp.

He dashed back to Khan, Maria and Layla.

They had already gathered behind the trunks, pistols and rifles at the ready. Denver pulled his rifle from behind his back and crouched down with the barrel pointed in the direction of the footsteps.

Through the trees he saw the silhouette of Gregor.

He placed his finger on the trigger, feeling the tension, wondering if he could justify his killing as a mistake.

Before he made up his mind, the crime lord burst through the trees, Venrick’s tanks in one hand, a smoking cigar made from leaves and root paste in the other.

His eyes were wide and dilated. A stupid grin stretched across his face. He threw the root tanks to the ground, knocking over a pot of boiling water.

“For God’s sake, Gregor, what the hell?” Layla said.

“You wanna shoot me, eh, kid?” Gregor said to Denver. “Go for it. You won’t hit me anyway. Go on, I fucking dare you. One shot free.”

Denver paused for a moment, bringing his finger back to the trigger, but Layla stepped in the way, causing him to raise the rifle clear and free. He stood up and joined the others.

“Where’s the alien?” Khan asked as he looked at the tanks. It was pretty damned obvious.

“Yes, Gregor, where is she?” Layla asked, getting close to him. “You killed her, didn’t you? You couldn’t keep your damned hands off her for one moment, could you! She was important to us, to finding Charlie.”

Sneering, Gregor looked past Layla at Denver. “I shouldn’t be the only one you’re pissed at. Little Den here ain’t so innocent. Isn’t that right, Jackson Jr?”

Layla turned to Denver. “What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing. Look at him, the fool’s off his face on root. We can’t trust a damned word he says.”

“Gregor!” Layla said. “Tell me what happened. What did you do to her?”

Turning on Layla, pointing the glowing end of his cigar toward her, he shouted back, “You want to preserve the fucking aliens again, eh? What side you on, Layla? One minute you’re helping the bastards farm humans, the next you’re rebelling against them, and now you’re back defending them. You should be siding with us, damnit.”

As he jabbed the cigar in her direction, the glowing tip struck her in the face, burning her just below her eye. She screamed and turned away, clutching the burn with her hands.

Denver exploded forward.

He dropped the rifle and pulled his right arm back, ready to deliver a right hook to Gregor’s face.

The older man, high on root, saw it coming, though, and managed to sidestep out of the way. He bundled Maria over as he dodged Denver’s attack. Khan reached out to help Maria out of the way as the two men tangled and wrestled to the ground.

Gregor managed to get the upper hand, driving Denver’s back onto the tanks. The impact winded the younger man as Gregor reached for his head and tried to push him into the fire.

The heat burned Denver’s face as he fought against Gregor’s root-enhanced strength. His eyes felt like they were melting in the heat. Gregor screamed with effort, but Denver wasn’t yet done.

Feeling stronger from drinking Khan’s tea, he managed to twist away, breaking the older man’s grip.

Denver slipped out from beneath, got to his feet, and lashed out a kick to the Armenian’s exposed ribs. Gregor curled into a ball with the impact but held onto Denver’s foot and twisted, trying to snap his ankle.

Grabbing his knife from his belt, Denver fell onto Gregor, bringing the point to his throat. But Khan had grabbed him by the shoulders as Layla and Maria tried to hold Gregor down.

“Stop it!” Layla screamed.

“What did you do with Venrick?” Khan asked.

“Venrick?” the alien said, finally speaking. The words stopped everyone as they all turned toward it.

Denver let Khan lift him off Gregor.

Stalking closer, Denver approached the alien. “You’ve got something to say now, eh?”

“Venrick… my… sister.”

Gregor grabbed the knife from Denver’s hand and brought it to the alien’s throat where the air tubes entered its system. “You better start speaking. Tell us everything you know unless you want to join your sister in whatever Godforsaken afterlife you scumbags believe in.”

Under Gregor’s continued threats, the alien told them everything they wanted.

After twenty minutes of questioning, Gregor turned to the others.

“That’s how you get information from these bastards. Pack up; we’ve got a house party to go to. Oh, and, Den, thanks for the blade. I think I’ll keep this for when we meet up with your old man.”

Khan and Layla grabbed him before he could react, but he just sneered at Gregor, satisfied to leave his comeuppance for another day.

At the very least, they knew Charlie was still alive and where the aliens kept him.

“I’ll enjoy ending your miserable life,” Denver said.

“Likewise, Junior.”

With that, Denver turned his back and prepared to leave.

He’d given everyone enough time to rest and do things their way. From this point on, it was his show regardless of who wanted to go with him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Two hours passed. Charlie peered out of the cell, hoping Aimee would return. He decided to go with her and at least hear Hagellan out. Since she left, he couldn’t get the image of Earth exploding and shattering out of his head.

The alternative appeared bleak, but Aimee probably knew it and guessed he’d figure it out too. Augustus would find out about her visit as soon as he got back from his meetings. Things might advance at a swift rate from there, and not in Charlie’s favor. He’d be dragged to the arena or murdered by Augustus’ cronies. If that happened, there would be no bomb, no second chance.

Somebody thumped the gate three times. A guard slid across a large iron bolt, pushed the gate ajar and looked through the gap. Aimee hustled past him, wearing a full-length, brown monk’s robe with a black woven rope belt secured around her waist. A croatoan followed her, rifle slung, carrying a bundle of brown clothing.

“Open the cell,” she said.

The guard rapidly nodded, jogged over and twisted a key in the lock. Charlie edged back as the guard shoved open the door.

Aimee stood at the entrance. “Have you made your decision?”

“I’ll speak to Hagellan. But I need some guarantees. My son and friends—”

“They are not in Unity; I can’t give you any guarantees on them. Use whatever resources you need. We’re all in the same fight.” She waved the guard forward. It dumped a robe and belt next to Charlie’s feet. “Put these on. Quickly.”

Charlie picked up the damp, heavy robe. “I thought you ran this town? Who or what are you hiding from?”

“It’s more for Hagellan’s protection. Some of the older croatoans are wary of any senior officer that comes to Unity. His integration will be gradual. There’s also Augustus. I need to explain to him that he’s slipped a place down in the pecking order. I suspect he won’t like it.”

“No shit. He only likes power and causing pain.”

He slipped the robe over his head. It had a musty smell that reminded him of time spent with Pippa. They had gone away for a weekend to evaluate a dig site in 2012. Charlie had left wet clothes in the washing machine to fester for three days. When they got back, the clothes smelled exactly the same as the robe he shuffled over his body. Pippa laughed and said it was his usual odor.

These small connections kept Charlie grounded, reinforcing exactly what he lost, thanks to the aliens and their charlatan human helpers.

“We need to go,” Aimee said. “When I return, I’m taking Baliska as my new champion. You can stay with Hagellan or return and fight him.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the converted barracks at the bottom of the invasion tunnel. There’s a croatoan temple. Most humans don’t go down there, and nearly all croatoans stopped worshipping a few years ago. It’s safe.”

Charlie pointed at Baliska. “You can bring him with us. Besides you, he’s the only other friend I’ve got around here.”

He hated himself for saying it, but after hours of drawing in the dirt, they’d struck an alliance. Baliska loudly clicked and held out a gloved hand when Charlie scrawled a man in a mask and punched it with his fist.

Aimee eyed both of them with a look of suspicion. She briefly left the cell and spoke with the croatoan outside before calling to the guard, “Release the prisoners into my custody.”

Charlie walked out of the cell into the morning sunshine bathing the courtyard. He wondered if Augustus left him out of manacles because he wanted Charlie to fight, taunt or kill Baliska. Whatever the reason, the crazy old fucker wouldn’t be deciding his fate for the moment.

A guard scuttled into the cell, and Charlie heard the clanking of chains. Shortly after, Baliska’s helmet scraped on the underside of the door as it stooped outside in its dusty graphite uniform. The giant croatoan stood in front of Aimee, gently ticking. It flexed its arms and turned to the other alien who accompanied her to the ludus.

After a brief conversation in their mother tongue, the smaller alien pulled out its thigh sword and handed it to Baliska. It swished the blade through the air, practicing two swings before turning to face Charlie and Aimee.

Charlie tensed. A moment of truth arrived for their flimsy pact.

Baliska stood for a couple of seconds, towering over them, and then slid the sword into the scabbard attached to its thigh.

It took a brown robe from the other croatoan and held it up. The thing would never fit. Baliska tore it down one side, as easy as if it were made out of paper, and then extravagantly wafted the robe around its wide shoulders before placing the hood over its helmet.

Aimee raised her hood over the top of her head. “It will do for now.” She turned to the red-faced guard. “You can tell Augustus that Charlie Jackson is under my control.”

He pulled the gate open. “Don’t expect him to be happy about this.”

Aimee ignored him and headed toward the cramped streets of Unity.

“You seem to trust the aliens,” Charlie said, moving alongside her.

“Most of them are sons and daughters of the conscripts sent to far-flung planets to carry out a dirty job. Unity is their home. They have no loyalty to their supposed empire.”

“Jesus, I didn’t know they’d been breeding here. What about Baliska? It’s no stranded son or daughter.”

“He, Jackson, is pure croatoan blood, but has a relative here.” She smiled at Charlie. “I’m taking you to meet him.”

“Hallagen? I take it Augustus doesn’t know?”

“Augustus probably doesn’t care. He thinks Hallagen’s dead. When you and I chatted earlier today, Baliska told my temporary protection that he respects you as a human warrior. He asked to be freed to help in any way he can. Baliska knows what the Grand Council will be planning—he’s seen it all before.”

They continued along a side street leading around the edge of town. To their left was a long row of smartly constructed pens filled with sheep, pigs and cows looking healthier than Charlie had seen in the last twenty years. Beyond the animals, crops wavered on the distant steps cut into the basin’s side. Small rickety wooden houses, glorified sheds with washed clothing hanging off the frames, lined the right side. The place stank of shit.

“Did you get me some root?” Charlie said.

She produced a fresh orange piece from underneath her robe. “Take this. There’s plenty more where that came from—if you continue to cooperate.”

Charlie didn’t hesitate. He crammed it into his mouth and chewed hard in order to get the juices flowing down his throat, injecting life into his tired limbs. He’d dismissed escaping after thinking of the planet destroyer heading toward Earth, but he still didn’t trust any of these people or aliens.

The minute he sniffed bullshit or the plan looked like failing, he’d run, get away, and spend his final time on Earth under his terms.

Aimee gestured to her left, and they approached the sinkhole, or attack tunnel as she called it. The dull silver nose cone of a croatoan attack vessel rose from the chasm, slumped to one side, covered in a thin layer of dirt. A gap the size of a door had been cut into the bottom of the giant cone at ground level.

Charlie thought back to when he saw his first one, when he dangled at the bottom of a rope in a sinkhole near Roanoke Sound. It came from directly below him, smoothly rising out of a cloud of electricity-filled smoke. He managed to scramble up the rope and run, along with the rest of the people, before it sent out a pulse jarring through his body and killing anything electronic in the area as the croatoan soldiers spilled out to take control. Shock and awe. Nobody was prepared.

“Don’t be frightened. They mean you no harm,” Aimee said.

She entered the vessel and disappeared to the left. Charlie took a deep breath and followed. Inside, he immediately looked down. In the center, a hundred-meter drop to the bottom of the structure. Several torches were burning at the bottom, providing dull lighting for the off-white interior. A two-meter-wide shallow spiraled platform curled around the edge all the way down.