Critical Path (The Critical Series Book2) (29 page)

“I was about to ask you the same thing. Come inside. The croatoans are going to put out the fire after they’ve finished chasing off another attack.”

“Bit of a slaughter in the paddocks?”

“The croatoans panicked after we lost comms, and killed the livestock. We were attacked this morning, again.” She pointed to the warehouse crackling with flames. “And they torched it. We killed most and are sweeping the forest for any others.”

The team sounded organized and still had fight in them. A good thing if he was to serve a generous portion of future justice to Unity. Augustus removed the robe from his face, turned to Zoe and smiled, flashing his yellow teeth. She opened her mouth and took a step back.

He strode across to the surveyor building, the one that childish fool Gregor used to call the chocolate factory, as purposefully as his old limbs would allow. “I’m here to discuss reorganization and future strategy. Open the door.”

Zoe’s expression softened, as if a wave of relief had just washed over her. She pressed against the handle, and Augustus entered into the gloom.

Eight surveyors and a driver sat around a large pile of root at the back of the building. Not the slick operation that this building used to be. Normally, they busied themselves around the front table, checking samples, punching things into their computers, and studying readings. He didn’t blame them for sheltering; the arena proved how useless they were at fighting.

“Take a seat. I’ll bring you some wine,” Zoe said.

Augustus perched behind a small desk in one of the side offices. He pulled the black prism from his chest and rolled it in his fingers. There was no chance that Hagellan poisoned this place. The fat toad sounded too busy trying to achieve the impossible with a bunch of dregs.

Zoe placed a plastic cup of orange wine in front of him and sat opposite.

He took three large gulps and groaned at the tingly feeling in his extremities. “As you may be aware, the ships went down four weeks ago—”

“An alien came here three weeks ago and told us. It went to join a larger force in the south.”

Augustus raised his eyebrows. “Larger force? Any idea of the exact location?”

She shook her head. “No. But we planned to leave in a couple of days. Supplies are running out, and the attacks are coming more frequently. They want to secure a large area of root, create a stronghold, and wait for instruction from the council.”

His pulse quickened. That council member could be him. He could pick up a readymade army and conquer Unity.

The doors flew open and two croatoan guards hopped into the building. They headed straight for the office and stood at the door. One, with human blood spattered on its visor, excitedly clicked and held its weapon forward. Not aiming at Augustus, but loosely enough in his direction to unnerve him. They were all probably in a state of total confusion.

“Augustus,” it croaked.

He rose from the chair and straightened his robe. An air of authority would be needed to pull things into shape, and only one man on the planet could do it. He turned to Zoe. “Do either of these speak English?”

“Not very well. One of the surveyors does.”

“It can act as my translator. Assemble the team around the table. I need to address the group.”

Augustus didn’t want anything to get lost in his message. His croatoan was basic. Zoe disappeared through the door, and he heard her barking instructions outside.

He moved to the front of the building, found a sturdy chair next to the front table, and stood on top of it. The surveyors and driver surrounded him in a semicircle. Three more guards entered, and the five of them stood behind the rest. Zoe joined the end of the line with a scruffy urchin dressed in filthy blue jeans and vest and sporting an unkempt beard. Sixteen witnesses in all would hear a speech that would signal the beginning of an empire. One that would travel through the centuries as a watershed moment.

The small surveyor waddled forward and stood next to his chair.

Augustus cleared his throat. “Ladies, gentlemen and croatoans. A town in the north threatens our very existence. They want all resources for themselves and will kill us all to make their dreams come true.”

He paused and the surveyor translated. The warehouse echoed with quiet clicks. The urchin whispered something to Zoe.

“They place humans and croatoans in an arena to fight for their own entertainment,” he continued. “Species isn’t important. They only crave seeing yellow or red blood spilled on the dirt.”

The surveyor clicked more rapidly, waving a gloved hand above its helmet.

“With the ships gone, we have to rebuild with what we have. Create a society where we can live together without the fear of attack. A society with law and order, where crimes will not go unpunished. To do this, we must head south, gather an army, and destroy the danger in the north.”

After the translation, the guards talked amongst themselves for a brief moment before looking back at Augustus. He peered along the line of helmets, smiling, nodding his head. “You are the chosen few. The ones that will be remembered in history books. If a croatoan ship returns, they will thank us. If one doesn’t, we will create a new golden era for this planet.”

The little surveyor relayed the final part of his great speech. One alien at the end of the line replied. Augustus leaned down. “What did he say?”

“They’re with you,” the surveyor said.

Augustus took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and smiled. “We have no time to waste. Prepare for travel.”

He jumped from his chair and headed for the pile of root. The wheels were set in motion. Unity would be crushed, and no pompous old woman or ragtag force would stop his well-drilled army.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Denver yawned. Golden dawn light warmed his eyelids. He turned over and rolled into the warm body of… he opened his eyes.

Maria.

Of course. She’d stayed here when they had returned from the shipwreck.

Temporary amnesia faded. Memories, obscured by sleep and nebulous dreams, sharpened into focus.

They were in their shack on the hills of Unity. Beside his bed was the dark case containing the bomb they’d picked up from Mai late yesterday evening.

Muted snoring susurrated through the thin walls. He knew that particular sleep-song belonged to his dad—the soundtrack of fatigue and a day’s good work.

Maria’s breathing came in steady lapping tides, warming his shoulder. She had her knees up to her chest, her arms around the sagging pillow.

A stray lock of hair had fallen across her face and flittered with each exhalation.

The filtered glow of the room brought vitality to her face.

For such a long time she had appeared, on the surface, to be at peace.

Lately, over the last few weeks, she had seemed to be struggling with some inner torment.

Denver had tried a few times to ask her what was going on, but she wouldn’t open up, and he didn’t have the words or skill to pick that particular lock.

Because she had just gotten on with things, he supposed they had all taken for granted how well she was coping.

Beneath the exterior of strength, there lay an insidious weakness. He reached a hand over to draw the hair from her face.

She stirred and brought her hand up touching Denver’s. She opened her eyes lazily and froze as their gazes locked onto each other.

Her body stiffened. She eased away. “Oh, hey,” she said. “Um, morning.”

Denver pulled his hand away and sat up in the bed, letting the blanket fall. Maria clutched it to her body.

“I’m sorry,” Denver said. “I didn’t mean to wake you… I just, well, how are you feeling?”

Maria yawned. “Weird… I need to talk to you. It’s about Hagellan. He can’t be trusted.”

A sharp rap on the door interrupted them. “Come on, kiddos, we got work to do.”

“Be right there, Dad,” said Denver. Then to Maria: “Sorry, we’ll talk, let’s just get this out of the way first.”

“Okay,” Maria said. “But it’s important.”

***

Mike and Charlie sat around the rickety coffee table, the salvaged parts spread out on the surface. A croatoan engineer garbled in broken English as it and Mike discussed the next stage of the operation.

Maria stepped out from behind Denver and greeted the others, the veneer of calm now fully in place. A practiced phenotype designed to act as camouflage.

Charlie gave Denver a knowing look with a micro-expression raise of his eyebrow. Denver shook his head a few millimeters, indicating that, no, he didn’t sleep with Maria. He caught a hint of disappointment in his father’s face. Denver wasn’t stupid; he knew his dad would prefer him to be with Maria instead of Layla, but right now, that issue wasn’t high on his list of priorities.

Mike stood and gathered the parts. “So this is it. If these work as well as my new friend here thinks, we should be good to go later today.”

“We go,” the alien said, tugging on Mike’s sleeve.

“We’ll catch up with your progress later,” Charlie said, striding across the room and opening the door for him. The guard outside gave a curt nod.

“Okay,” Mike said, looking weary as though he’d been up all night going through the installation process with his alien counterpart. “Proof is in the pudding and all that. Let’s hope all this works out.”

“With you on the case, Mike, I have no doubt,” Denver said, clapping the man he thought of as his uncle on the shoulder. If anyone had the ability to do this, it was Mike. Growing up, Denver had seen him do some spectacular things with the remnants of human technology and engineering.

The alien stepped outside, and Mike followed, carrying the bundle of parts. The guard escorted them. Denver watched from the open door as they descended the steps and headed for Hagellan’s craft. Apparently they’d towed it to Unity with a harvester last night. They weren’t messing around either.

Aimee approached from the direction of town, flanked by two shotgun-wielding croatoans.

“Great, what’s this?” Denver said.

Charlie stepped in front of him and met Aimee before she reached the porch.

“We got the parts,” Charlie said. “And the bomb. All is going to plan.”

“Good to hear,” Aimee replied, stopping a few feet away. Her guards hung back and covered their flanks and rear, their body language showing a high level of alertness. “I need to speak with you for a moment, in private.”

“I take it this is non-negotiable.”

“Quite.”

Charlie hesitated for a moment before Aimee stepped forward and gripped his arm with her elegant hand. “It’s okay, nothing serious, but I do need you to come with me for a moment. You’ll be back on the job in no time, I promise.”

Charlie turned back to face Denver in the doorway.

“You two okay staying here for a while?”

“Sure,” Denver said. It’d give him and Maria time to talk after all. “But I’ll come find you if you’re not back soon.”

He aimed that at Aimee as a warning. She inclined her head as if to understand the threat.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Charlie said. “I’ll see you kids later.”

Aimee turned and encouraged Charlie to her side. The two guards led them away.

Denver knew she and the guards wouldn’t know he was carrying a pistol in a lower back holster, or that he had two knives below his trousers strapped around his calves.

Once they were out of sight among the sprawl of the town, Denver closed the door behind him and sat opposite Maria.

She had a pot of root tea on the table and filled two mugs. She handed one to Denver with a smile.

“Thanks, I could really do with this with the exertion yesterday,” Denver said, knowing how lame that sounded, but needing a way into the conversation without being his usual blunt self.

The two of them sipped the root tea for a moment, sharing an easy silence as the root helped calm them, rejuvenating their tired muscles.

“So,” Maria said, looking down into her now-empty mug. “I think I know who I’m cloned from.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been having flashbacks for the last few days, and dreams… so real I thought none of this was real and the dreams were my actual reality. With meeting another clone, I think it’s shaken something loose up here.” She tapped her head.

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s all connected. We’re connected, through time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Roanoke,” she said. “I was there.”

“You what?”

Maria leaned forward, placing the mug on the table. “The real Maria, the one I’m cloned from, was there at Roanoke—and the aliens.”

“One thing at a time, tell me what you’ve seen.”

***

Roanoke, 1589

Maria lifted her skirts and stepped over a muddy puddle. The heat in this infernal place was thick and humid, making her sweat uncomfortably. The dense trees made it hard going. Up ahead, Franklin and Edgar slashed at the trees with their machetes, beating a path through the woods.

Behind her, she could just about see the mast of their ship, now wrecked against the rocks of the island.

With the local Croatoan tribe of Indians forcing them from their garrison, they had little choice but to carry on north. The plan was to meet and seek sanctuary with the rival Chowanoke tribe, offering their knowledge of the Old World in return for safety.

If only Walter Raleigh’s imbecilic friend John White had returned with more men and supplies when he had promised, they could have avoided all this.

If the earlier colonists hadn’t antagonized the local tribes over a missing silver cup, then negotiations of cohabitation could have been an option. One cannot sack and burn a village and not expect reprisals.

Now there was only certain death or become a slave to the Croatoan Indians if their appeal to the Chowanoke leader failed, which it seemed certain to do.

Only one hundred and fifteen of Maria’s fellow colonists were left to fend off the tribes. Hungry and under resourced, they were unable to resist.

This New World was not worth the blood and sacrifice. She regretted ever having agreed to come here. All the promises of wealth and riches were now nothing more than lies.