Critical Path (The Critical Series Book2) (13 page)

The leaves had tiny curled hairs that worked like hooks, snagging against his clothes with every movement. It was how the plant attracted and retained microbes and small insects in the air for an energy supply.

He’d make quicker progress trying to swim through sand, but it remained a preferable approach than being obvious about it and walking straight into trouble. He’d leave the reckless bullshit to Gregor.

A further twenty minutes later he dared to lift his head and the riflescope above the crop.

Just a hundred meters away now, he spied on the two closest sentry towers.

They resembled pictures of medieval towers with their wooden tree trunk infrastructure.

From his position he noticed great wide steps cut into what looked like a large canyon. The steps went all the way down, below his vision.

More root and other vegetables thrived growing on these steps, and in among them, with both hand tools and much smaller versions of croatoan harvesters, he spotted a mix of human and alien workers.

The more he panned round, the more he saw a populated township.

Dozens of buildings and dwellings arranged in streets, all made from wood and sheet material, gave the place a rustic look.

Moving in closer, he magnified the scope and started to scan the faces of the various people, human and alien, busying themselves with varied tasks, in the hope of seeing his father.

He couldn’t. If they did have him here, Denver doubted he’d be a free man.

But in the east end of the settlement, he saw a trio of people dressed from head to foot in roughly made brown robes.

The hoods obscured their faces and the length hid their feet, giving them a strange floating quality as they kept to the shadows and moved through the narrow alleyways, disappearing and then reappearing in view.

Something about the way they walked, cautious yet with a steely confidence, caught his imagination.

Who were they? Where were they going?

He tracked them for a minute or so until they came out of one narrow street and headed into an alley where he couldn’t see them. He panned to where he thought they may come out and didn’t see them.

On that side, though, leaning up against the wall of a dwelling of some kind, was a small band of thuggish-looking humans. They wore tatty clothes and carried rudimentary weapons: clubs and what looked like handmade knives.

For a moment he felt like shouting out to the robed people in warning, but as he lifted his scope again, he heard a heavy, solid footstep behind him, quickly followed by an urgent click and then a blinding pain on the back of his head as he slumped forward into the dirt, slipping into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Baliska shadowed Charlie, occasionally shoving him in the back as they ascended the vessel’s staircase. Charlie thought about grabbing one of the few rifles still attached below the seats, but dismissed the idea as an unnecessary risk. They were probably left with good reason and would have been taken by now if they still worked. Charlie remembered the strength and weight of Baliska from their previous fight in the forest. Attempting to throw it off the platform might mean him going in the same direction.

Rounding the last three circuits before reaching ground level, Charlie tried to rationalize the guilt gnawing at his mind.

If what Hagellan said was true, it meant that his actions had triggered the deployment of a destroyer, but also put a stop to the terraforming. He caused the current mess, but only by stopping the previous threat. Either way he looked at it, the responsibility to assist was his.

Aimee disappeared through the gap at the top. Charlie followed, exiting the vessel into the midday sun. Aimee’s smaller croatoan guard appeared by his side and nudged his rifle sideways, prompting Charlie to move.

“You need to swallow your pride, Jackson,” Aimee said. “How many people do you think have spoken to Hagellan like that and lived to tell the tale?”

“Do you seriously believe I was motivated by pride? Did you even witness our recent history?”

She walked alongside Charlie and grasped his arm, pulling him away from the thoroughfare. “We need to keep to the back streets and alleys. Remember what I said about protecting Hagellan.”

“How could I forget? You want me to save his ass for the cost of mine. I’ll ask again, did you witness recent history? Because if you did, you should have more understanding.”

Aimee tutted and brushed her long silky brown hair over her shoulder. “I’ve witnessed more history than you’ll ever know. Plantations in the New World, prerevolution France and the Ottoman Empire near the height of its powers. They put me in stasis, then transferred me to the vessel you’ve just seen. Since coming back into the world, I’ve worked hard to form the safe community you see.”

“Very impressive. But I’m more concerned about the future.”

Aimee dug her nails into Charlie’s bicep. “If you are, you’ll help with the plan.”

Charlie sighed. Aimee had no idea about his current mental battle. He knew she spoke the truth, and the right course of action seemed obvious. But she hadn’t spent years fighting aliens or lost loved ones during the attack. He just couldn’t bring himself to agree with their proposal. Not yet.

Aimee dropped back, and the smaller croatoan bounced with a loping gait to his side. Charlie pointed to a painted sign over the entrance of a bar. “No croatoans. Are you living in unity or denial?”

“Fool,” the alien croaked.

The alien prompted Charlie left. They cut down a narrow back alley barely more than a meter wide. Houses backed around the edge, giving the place a dirty claustrophobic feel. A few buckets filled with human waste sat outside rear entrances.

A few animal hides hung across the alley, drying in the sun. Charlie ducked and swiped his way underneath one. Ten meters in front of him, a man with a gray beard sat on the steps outside a property. He glanced at Charlie and straightened.

The man slowly reached by his side. Something about him didn’t seem right. The look in his eye, his cautious movement… Perhaps he wasn’t used to strangers walking down his alley. Behind him, Aimee and Baliska brushed the hide to one side and approached.

Charlie glimpsed movement behind them before the hide dropped. Somebody exited a house and pressed against a wall. He crouched down to get a better look. Two sets of feet coming up the alley.

“What are you doing?” Aimee said.

The croatoan jabbed its rifle into Charlie’s side. “Move.”

“We’re being followed.”

“Now,” an unfamiliar voice shouted.

The hide flew to one side and two men appeared just a few meters away. One with a short sword, the other held a baseball bat with nails hammered through the end.

Footsteps slapped across the dirt behind him. Charlie jumped back against a wall. The man with a gray beard leapt at the smaller croatoan and plunged a hunting knife into its eye before quickly sawing the tubes running from its nose with the serrated edge of his blade.

The alien clutched its throat, wheezed, and sank to its knees.

The man pointed his knife at Charlie. “You. Monk. Run. We only want the woman.”

Charlie had to make a quick decision. He had his chance to escape. Unity would probably hunt him, but he had evaded his enemy for years. He could find Denver, the others. The image of Earth exploding in a huge ball of flames flashed through his mind. Charlie had a responsibility, whether he liked it or not.

He kept focused on the attacker and hunched. The old man stood opposite Charlie in an open-legged stance, rocking from side to side, exchanging his weight from one foot to the other, and circling his knife.

Baliska roared behind him. Charlie heard the swish of the alien’s sword. It thudded against something wooden, like an axe burying into a tree stump.

“You’ve got no dog in this hunt,” the old man said to Charlie. “I’ll give you two seconds to move.”

Aimee scuttled behind Charlie. Baliska forced the other two men back down the alley with looping, rapid swings of his sword.

Charlie reached for a metal bucket of waste by a door and grabbed the handle. “I’ll give you two seconds to run.”

“It’s your funeral,” the old man replied. He lunged forward, thrusting the knife toward Charlie’s chest.

Charlie swerved to his left and threw the contents of the bucket in the man’s face, splattering him with waste.

The old man frantically wiped at his eyes. Charlie backhanded the bucket into the side of the man’s head, knocking him to the side.

Baliska had successfully beaten one man back and hacked in his direction. The other lay in the alley with a deep wound in his neck. Charlie positioned himself between Aimee and the old man again. “Give it up. You’re not going to win this.”

The old man edged back. His hunting knife shook in his hand. Charlie raised the bucket over his head and stepped forward.

“Kill him, Charlie,” Aimee said, her voice cold.

Charlie hesitated.

The old man took the opportunity to run. He stumbled along the alley, banging into walls as he groggily fled. At the end of the alley he turned left and disappeared.

Aimee sniffed. “Forget about him. Let him run. I’ll have him hunted down like a dog.”

Baliska dragged two corpses up the alley by their necks. Its sword was back in the thigh scabbard. Blood dribbled from the top, along its suit. It dumped the bodies by Aimee’s feet and wiped its gloves on the side of a house. Charlie threw his bucket to one side. Both victims looked like preinvasion survivors and residents of Unity judging by their crudely manufactured shirts.

Aimee smiled. “Well done, my champion.” She turned to Charlie. “I always knew you were a good man, Charlie Jackson. I assume by your actions that we’re fighting on the same side?”

“Don’t be so sure,” Charlie said.

“I’ll be keeping you in my cells until you make a final decision. It’s for your own protection. You’ll be fed and watered.”

“You make me sound like a dog. But I’d rather be there than the ludus. Do you get attacked often?”

“This is the first time in years. I think I know who planned it, but I need confirmation before acting. To keep the peace in Unity, we must have evidence to convict.”

“You don’t need evidence to throw strangers into the arena.”

“Strangers are not citizens of Unity, but they have a choice. The rules of the modern cities you remember have vanished, and you have to adapt.”

“No shit. Is your number one suspect Augustus?”

Aimee turned to Baliska. “When we get back, take Charlie to the cells. Ask one of the guards in my courtyard to show you the way.”

All three walked back to Aimee’s residence together. Charlie didn’t feel under threat despite Baliska having the rifle over its shoulder. He felt a strange connection with the creature. From a desperate fight in the forest a month ago to sharing a cell and fighting together… strange times.

Aimee quickened her pace around the side of town, perhaps conscious that another attack might take place. They passed the pens and rickety houses again. This time, a few people tended the animals. All shot casual glances at the three of them as they walked by. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least for Unity.

The main gate of Aimee’s residence creaked open as the three of them approached. A bald man dressed in filthy khaki shorts burst out, throwing up puffs of dust from the ground as he staggered straight toward them, waving a black tablet in the air.

Baliska rapidly clicked and reached for its sword. Aimee held an arm across the alien, nudging it back. “He’s one of our coordinators. Unless we’re attacked like before, wait for my order.”

Charlie wondered if Baliska could speak English or just understand it. It seemed to be reacting to Aimee’s commands, but didn’t really show any signs of recognition in the cell. Perhaps it felt like Charlie. They were forced together in an inconvenient marriage due to circumstance. Charlie’s only two vows were to not to try to kill it, and to serve up justice to Augustus.

The man stopped short of Aimee and thrust his tablet forward. “One of the patrol…” He gasped for air. “They… they…”

“Calm down, catch your breath, and tell me,” Aimee said.

The man gasped for air and squinted. “One of the patrols in the field is acting strangely. They haven’t reported back, and their position has barely moved in the last hour or two. Do you want me to send part of the northern ring to assist?”

He jabbed his finger against the screen showing a map of the surrounding area, circled with moving dots, apart from the one that he indicated. Charlie had forgotten about the tracking beads, but using them to assist in Unity’s defense made sense if the croatoans weren’t bothered by it.

“Dead, captured or asleep on duty?” Aimee said.

The man swallowed hard. “We don’t know. He’s the only one in zone four. We thought we’d give him a chance to come back.”

“Coordinate a team and scramble the hover-bikes. If it’s a threat, we need to crush it.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mike Strauss yawned as he sank into the old armchair Layla had brought to his office. Situated in the engineering department of Freetown, Mike and his wife had free rein over a group of fifteen eager young students—men and women from the various farms that had either previous engineering skills or showed some proficiency for the craft during their time working under the croatoans’ influence.

Tiredness lurked at the fringes of every muscle and, of course, his brain, which now that he was into his seventies was beginning to slow and lose stamina. He let his body relax into the chair, and he reached over to a small side table, crafted from the pinewood of the nearby forest, and gripped the mug of steaming green tea.

Mai’s perfect blend, his wife called it. She, along with Khan and some of the other trackers, had identified a blend of plants and leaves that when mulched and dried made for a surprisingly pleasant flavor.

It was made even sweeter for the added drop of rum from his own reserves—which sadly were running lower than he anticipated. While he and Mai were still in Manhattan, working in the basement of his and Charlie’s old workplace, Quartanary Productions, they had ventured out into the ruins of the city and managed to salvage a few dozen bottles of choice beverages.