Critical Path (The Critical Series Book2) (11 page)

Aimee didn’t wait and started her descent. The platform’s coarse surface scraped against Charlie’s boots, providing decent grip. As he made his way down, his eyes became used to the light.

Seats ran around the wall, hundreds if not thousands of them, with a raised bar above each, probably used for securing croatoan soldiers as they rose to the surface, like they were on a theme park ride. Below one of the seats, a rusting alien rifle and dusty helmet were secured to the floor with a black plastic strap.

Charlie imagined what it was like thirty years ago. Rumbling upwards, crammed with armed aliens, ready to attack. It sent a chill down his spine.

Only Baliska followed and passed Charlie halfway down. It ran a gloved hand along the wall, touching and feeling various devices, seats and bars. Its clicks increasingly echoed through the vessel as they went deeper.

Near the bottom, two people in brown robes were waiting by the torches. Aimee hurried round the last two circuits of the ship, jumped from the platform, and approached them.

Charlie reached the lower end of the vessel and noticed a jagged edge where the bottom had been cut away. He leapt down the remaining meter drop and landed in a crouching position. Peering around the side of the hulk, he noticed the lower ends of the platform extended out until it disappeared into the Earth. It must have risen like a corkscrew.

“They’re expecting us. Come this way,” Aimee said.

Baliska walked with her through a torchlit cave. Charlie glanced at the two humans Aimee had been talking to and froze.

He instantly recognized one of them. Ben. He grabbed him by the shoulder. “Ben? I thought you were dead. What are you doing here? Where are the others?”

Ben wrestled with Charlie’s arm. “I don’t know who you are. Get the hell off me.”

Aimee turned and strode back. “What are you doing? This is no time to start a fight. Let go of him.”

Charlie kept a tight grip on Ben’s robe and pulled him close. “I’m not letting him go until he tells me what happened to my son and friends.”

“He’s not the Ben you know. This one’s been with us for twenty years,” Aimee said.

“This one? Bullshit. He was with us a month ago. I never forget a face.” Charlie raised his fist. “Tell me now or I’ll beat the living crap out of you.”

Ben leaned away and raised a hand over his face. He shook as he cowered.

“Who is this guy? Aimee, please,” Ben said.

Aimee pulled Charlie’s arm away. “He’s a harvester clone. This is not the Ben you know. There’s hundreds of his type on Earth.”

Charlie didn’t want to believe it. It ripped away the glimmering hope of finding out what happened at the farm after he left in the shuttle. If Denver survived.

Charlie looked for recognition in this Ben’s eyes, but found none.

“It’s the truth,” Aimee said. “I swear on my own life. Let me explain once we’ve met Hagellan. We don’t have time for this.”

Charlie shoved Ben away, and he scuttled into a dark corner.

“Let me see the other one,” Charlie said, pointing at the other person in a robe who had retreated behind the torches.

“Take off your hood,” Aimee said.

The man slowly peeled it back around his shoulders. Charlie squinted through the flames. Ethan. The young man he’d seen getting his head blown off in Manhattan by Baliska.

“I don’t understand. I’ve seen other crews. They’re not all the same,” Charlie said.

“I’ve been told there’s five different versions of a crew. All replicated and deployed to each farm so no harvesters working an area will have duplicated personnel onboard, in case they meet each other or need to transfer a crew member.”

Charlie bit his lip and shook his head. By seeing the vessel and clones, he had found out more in the last five minutes than the last five years. It made him hate the croatoans even more.

“Come now. We need to get back to Unity before midday,” Aimee said.

She continued through the torchlit cave toward a bright opening. Strange carvings spread around the cave’s wall. Images of croatoans, symbols, one of a ship over Earth and an alien helmet with stars around it.

Aimee led Baliska and Charlie into a tall cavernous area. It wasn’t naturally created; large horizontal scrapes lined the ceiling and walls. A blue carpet led along the center of the smooth rock floor to three chairs at the end. The middle of which looked like a throne. Croatoan containers stacked around the side of the room in neat piles of three. Like the ones Charlie had seen shuttles bring down to a farm when observing through trees. He slowly gazed around the room, open-mouthed. All of this going on underneath the world’s feet while people worried about paying bills…

“This place used to be one of their barracks. There’s a whole cave system down here, with supplies that would last you hundreds of lifetimes,” Aimee said.

Clicks echoed at the end of the room. Baliska walked away and met another large croatoan by the throne, this one wearing tubes up its nostrils, revealing its ugly reptilian face. They held their hands toward each other and touched.

“Is that Hagellan?” Charlie said.

“Yes. He has hundreds of sons. Baliska is one of them.”

Charlie watched as both continued to press their hands against each other while engaging in staccato conversation. Eventually Hagellan sat on the throne and his son perched by his side on a smaller chair.

“Come forward,” Baliska croaked in a rough voice.

“It speaks English?” Charlie whispered.

“He speaks English. It’s not unusual. He’s been around this planet centuries longer than you,” Aimee said.

She hurried along the blue carpet and stopped five yards short of the throne. Charlie stopped a couple of yards behind. He wanted to at least give himself a chance of escape, to run if things turned nasty. Not that he expected to get away.

“You are the human that brought down my ship,” Hagellan said. “You also nearly killed my son.”

“What would you do in my shoes? You can’t expect to invade a place and not come across resistance.”

Hagellan laughed. “You are right, Aimee. He is naïve.”

“Can we discuss the plan?” Aimee said. “We don’t have much time.”

“No. Wait a damned minute,” Charlie said. “We aren’t the ones trying to take out a civilization. What’s so naïve about fighting back? I bet you weren’t laughing when your ship plunged to Earth.”

Hagellan leaned forward, his leather-like blue uniform creaking around his body. “I’ve watched your planet for many centuries. You’re no different to the rest of the galaxy.”

“You’ll have to explain that one to me,” Charlie said.

Aimee turned and glared at him. “We have not come here for history lessons—”

“Let me explain to Charlie Jackson. It might shake him out of his provincial beliefs. Your planet is but a smaller version of what’s happening in the wider universe. On Earth, throughout the centuries, rival factions have fought for territory and resources. Stamping over each other to gain power and possessions. Warfare drives technology, but you are not at the level of advancement where you can take the fight into deep space.”

“You’re using wars on Earth to justify your invasion? Where are all the other aliens if what you say is true?” Charlie said.

Hagellan scratched his head and grunted. “In universal terms, Earth is a backwater, a tiny irrelevant speck in a faraway galaxy. More powerful forces constantly battle for superiority. Earth has so far gone unscathed because of its remote location. Until we captured the transport gate, it wasn’t worth bothering with; you were not a threat but have rich land for farming.”

Charlie scoffed. “Rich land for farming? Is that the real reason you came here?”

“I don’t mean to patronize you, Jackson, but you need to understand the scale and power that you’re facing. Twenty other planets have resisted and managed to bring down a croatoan ship. All twenty were destroyed within two of your months. The empire’s network spans three hundred planets. They don’t have the patience to give second chances. You know about our race now; they won’t leave you to plan revenge.”

“Now you want me to save your ass because you screwed up,” Charlie said. Rage bubbled up inside him. Despite the threat, the ugly bastard in front of him was the alien who commanded the attack. He gave the orders that led to the death of so many people close to Charlie—and of the wider world.

“I can understand your anger,” Hagellan said. “But it’s not just me you will be saving. Millions of humans still roam the planet. I can get a craft working with my team. We need your team to build a bomb and help deploy it.”

Charlie couldn’t hold the thin veneer of civility any longer. “And all of you alien scumbags live happily ever after on Earth while I suffer a lonely death on a faraway planet. You can have my answer now. Fu—”

Aimee cut in. “Don’t do this, Charlie. It’s the only way out for all of us.”

“We need coordination to save our planet. Please, stop and think before opening your mouth again,” Hagellan said. “Let me show you something.”

It grabbed a black tablet from behind the throne, flicked up a chunky antenna on the side of it, and motioned to the screen. A green hologram rose from the tablet, showing a map of planets and stars. Tiny red spheres spread around them, with a code below each.

“What the hell is that?” Charlie said.

“A croatoan galactic tracker.” It pointed to the left edge. “This is the destroyer’s last reported decision. It will reach Tredeya in five days.”

Charlie shrugged. “Could be bullshit.”

“You stupid human.”

Charlie took a couple of paces forward. Baliska rose from its chair in response. Aimee quickly moved between them. “Baliska, accompany Charlie back to the cells inside my residence. We need to give him more time to think—away from Augustus.”

Hagellan stood. “Don’t make a mistake that you’ll regret for the rest of your short life.” He turned to Aimee. “I want his answer by nightfall.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Augustus pushed a sliver of ham through the hole in his mask—anything to take his mind off the inane drivel of the committee meeting. All morning he’d sat around a table in Aimee’s main chamber, listening to cretins discussing trivialities. He glanced back at his Doctore lurking by the entrance. He acknowledged Augustus with a slow blink.

One of the council members, Paul, who wouldn’t shut up, passed yet another piece of paper around the room, plastered in his scruffy handwriting. “Next item on the agenda is rebalancing trade due to recent increases and shortages of items.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Augustus stood up. “Just send me the meeting minutes. I haven’t got time to sit around discussing the value of milk.”

“This is your first meeting,” Paul said, leaning back in his chair. He looked over his half-eye spectacles. The four others nodded their approval. “You need to be aware of all issues that impact on Unity. Aimee instructed me that you were to stay for the duration.”

Augustus flopped back down and groaned. “Carry on. But make it snappy. We really should have junior members to decide on such pointless matters.”

Paul cleared his throat in an obnoxious way, as if demanding silence, although others could hardly get a word in. “Our harvest is becoming more successful. Stores are full of root, wheat, and barley. Livestock remains steady, although we’re not getting a sufficient yield from the breeding program. My first proposal is doubling the amount of crop required in exchange—”

Augustus blocked out Paul’s voice and swirled his wine. He could only concentrate on events happening outside the meeting. Aimee might already be dead. As soon as word filtered through, he could end the pointless debate and take control of the town.

“Augustus, do you agree?” Paul said.

“Agree with what?”

The officious fool ruffled his paper and frowned. “My proposal about balancing the cost of food.” Paul had a huge dose of self-importance. A strange thing to see from a greasy-haired cretin dressed in a filthy old shirt. To be an effective leader, you had to at least look the part. “Yes, whatever. Next.”

“You could at least pretend you want to be here,” the woman next to Paul said. Augustus had already forgotten her name, but it didn’t matter.

“We still haven’t assessed the impact of clothing and tools compared to crops and meat,” Paul said. “It’s crucial that we keep a balanced economy.”

Augustus sat up in his chair and straightened his mask. “Please, continue with this important work. I’m all ears.”

“Maybe we could move on to the next item on the agenda,” Paul said. “We would appreciate your input into the discussion. The local militia suffered losses while recovering the pods from the croatoan ship. Your pod included.”

“I’ve already thanked Aimee for that. She gave the order, not you.”

An awkward silence followed his response. The committee members leered at him and scribbled notes.

“We’re thinking of expanding our recruitment area to beef up numbers. In the last years, we only searched in surrounding areas, careful not to encroach on colonized land.”

Augustus cackled. “Colonized land? What do you think this is? There’s going to be plenty of humans and croatoans without homes after Jackson pulled his little stunt. We’ll be able to press-gang hundreds if we want.”

“The idea isn’t to press-gang,” the woman said. “We will offer them a place to live, work, and provide food, safety and a community.”

Augustus leaned forward. He could swallow playing the game with these people up to a point while he waited, but they were starting to cross the line in terms of respect. He refused to let pious peasants run rings around him. “What do you know about organizing an army? Do you have any idea of what is currently available in terms of resources? What’s your military background?”

Paul opened his mouth to speak, but Augustus raised his finger toward him. “Two thousand farms exist worldwide. Seventy thousand croatoans on the ground, ten thousand harvesters with over fifty thousand crew. This is the resource we need to tap as a first priority.”

“We can’t travel worldwide,” Paul said. “Why are they the best option?”

Augustus rolled his eyes. Trying to discuss matters with people who clearly operated on a lower level was as painful as pulling his own teeth out. “The croatoans have nothing. No ship, no shuttle runs, no guidance from me. We give them direction. The same goes for the brainwashed harvester crews. The livestock are thick as pig shit, but we can train them, give them easy jobs. I can tell none of you have run as much as a damned whorehouse before.”