Critical Strike (The Critical Series Book 3) (7 page)

“It’s calculating what it should do next, based on our appearance. Prepare yourself,” Vingo said.

“How do we beat something like this?” Denver said.

“Cause enough damage, if we can.”

A small blue bolt shot from its base, passing straight between Layla and Denver in the blink of an eye and zipping into the forest over Charlie’s shoulder.

Layla and Denver fired again, but their rounds had no visible effect. Vingo jumped between them, knocking them out of the way as he rushed away from the entrance.

The prism’s rotations increased. A halo of white light appeared above it, brightening the rings of wooden benches crammed into the temple.

A piercing whistle blasted through the intercom, sending pain shooting through Layla’s ears. She grabbed either side of her helmet. Her focused blurred and she felt her grip weakening around her rifle.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dreams were not the seeds of one’s own imagination but the confused signals of the gods. At least this was what Augustus believed.

He yawned and rolled off his bunk, standing up with a stretch of his arms over his head. His back cricked satisfyingly. He turned to the small bedside table and removed a root pill from the drawer, downing it without water.

While he waited for the active ingredient to hit his bloodstream, he thought back to his earlier daydream.

Shortly after seeing to Zoe, he fell into a slumber. At first his dreams were the usual replaying of the day’s events: his conversation with his scion handler, Zoe on her hands and knees, but more importantly the remembering of a thought that had crossed his mind earlier in the day before; it disappeared as soon as it arrived.

This thought was about the scion and their purpose.

Since Augustus had taken over from the insider croatoan agent—this was when he was back on the mother ship with Hagellan and the council—he had always wondered what the scion’s true mission was.

He didn’t believe they wanted him to take over Unity, and essentially Earth, just for the entertainment factor of it. Although he had to admit that since gathering his forces and connecting with the other farms, he was certainly finding a lot to be entertained by.

Not least was Zoe. She really was quite a remarkable woman. Her pain, and pleasure, tolerance was admirably high. She reminded him of a previous concubine from back in his Roman days.

Back then, though, the women would break all too easily, but Zoe was bred from hardier stock. Perhaps she was more like him than he first realized.

She had certainly seemed to ingratiate herself into his thoughts.

Augustus smiled and sat back down on the bunk; the sheets smelled of her sweat and musk, conjuring the image of her naked body in his mind.

But now wasn’t the time to give in to animal urges.

He turned his thoughts back to the scion: what was it they were truly after? He knew they had been battling with the Croatoan Empire for millennia all throughout the galaxy. The previous agent had told him just a few details: that they were searching for their creator and it had something to do with humans, hence why the croatoan agent was turned against his race, and now Augustus had taken up the mantle.

But why humans? he thought.

What was it about his species that was of such interest to them? The scion had been around for longer than humanity—at least those on Earth—and had grown to such a formidable size they now truly threatened the largest empire the galaxy had ever seen: the croatoans.

When two huge entities like that clash, the ripples change the future—and Augustus didn’t want to get caught in the riptide. He wanted to be in a position to ride the wave, conquer it.

As far as he was concerned, once Unity was taken and the scion gave him his promise, he would be the custodian for the humans, and then he could negotiate with the scion for more information.

He had learned even as a small child that you keep your enemies closer than your friends, and you get to know them better than you know yourself.

When it came to the scion, though, there was no real understanding of them in his current situation. Information was permitted to him only when they saw fit.

That would need to change.

His thoughts were disturbed by the sounds of two shuttles landing in the square outside of his personal building. He turned to glance out of the window and watched as two large farm shuttles settled on the landing strip.

Once grounded, their passenger ramps lowered and a group of two men and three women stepped out and approached Zoe. In the darkness of the shuttles, hundreds of humans and croatoans sat, waiting.

Troops… reinforcements.

My army, Augustus thought, the sight bringing a smile to his face.

Zoe walked across the square with purpose, tying her hair into a tight bun. When she approached the others, they shared handshakes and motioned to the shuttles. Zoe nodded her approval and turned her back.

Augustus fitted his mask and left his room. A short corridor led out into the square. Still dressed in his fatigues, he strode across the ground toward the group with all the posture his position deserved.

This particular farm’s croatoan and human troops saw him and quickly stepped into rigid formation, their previous chatter silencing instantly. It seemed they were learning quickly. He enjoyed the effect he had on others; no doubt his new mask and choice of uniform only added to that impression.

“Augustus,” Zoe said, saluting with the respect of someone who hadn’t just learned his most intimate desires, “the reinforcements have arrived.”

Anyone else would receive a derogatory comment about observing the obvious, but for her he just nodded and turned his attention to the new entourage. An older woman with a rich complexion and huge eyes stepped forward, her lithe hand held out toward him.

“Good evening, Augustus; it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, let me introduce myself and my allies.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m Umbuwe, the coordinator for Farm 153. We were the first to heed your call and organize ourselves. I must say, it was like a call from heaven. Things were getting difficult for a time… but then you called, galvanized us, and gave us a common mission.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Augustus said, willing himself to be patient and let all the polite customs proceed. It wouldn’t stop him moving forward with more pressing plans. Umbuwe introduced the other farm coordinators. He didn’t bother to remember their names.

“So,” Augustus said, cutting off some blather from one of the coordinators: a young man who looked no older than twenty-five and who appeared to be having trouble growing a beard. “You’re here. We’re together, united. I will command us to a better future. Without the threat of the croatoan council, we’re free to colonize and settle—as soon as we eradicate our immediate threat: Unity.”

Augustus spent the next ten minutes educating the coordinators on Unity’s numbers, resources and levels of technology.

The young man’s face stretched in a smile as he said, “With you leading us, Augustus, how can we not fail?”

Although he liked the sentiment, his sycophancy just didn’t do it for him as it would coming from Zoe. Still, he took in the spirit as befitting his role and nodded his head.

“Umbuwe, I’m putting you in charge of the two shuttles. From now on, you’re the line of command to your troops, answerable to me. Zoe, likewise, you’re in charge of this group.” He pointed to the battalions of humans and croatoans on the square.

Both women saluted him stiffly.

“We set out in three hours. In the meantime, you two will come with me and I’ll explain how the attack will happen, but before that, Zoe, I need you to do something for me. Umbuwe, you’re to stay and watch.”

Zoe’s eyebrows came together as she asked a silent question. Augustus gripped her shoulder and led her away from the entourage until they were standing in front of their troop formation.

“Among this group are ten traitors,” Augustus said. “We can’t afford to have any seeds of dissention.”

“Of course not, sir. That would simply be… unacceptable. Do you know who they are?”

Augustus stepped forward and walked down the front line of the formation, peering at each individual. Some held his eye, others looked away, but neither were an indication of guilt, for he knew there were no traitors among this group.

Once he had walked the length of the formation, staring into the eyes of twenty men, women, and croatoans, he followed his footsteps back to where Zoe stood.

“I do,” he said. “But it’s immaterial.”

“Oh? I don’t understand,” Zoe said.

Umbuwe and the other coordinators were watching with curiosity and—with what Augustus had hoped for—fear.

“We need to set an expectation,” Augustus said. “We need to show everyone what’s at stake. Without that motivation, when the fight gets tough, our forces will crumble. They’re not used to combat. They’re used to working on administrative orders around the farm. We need to reach to that animal inside that will claw, spit, and thrash to survive.”

“I understand,” Zoe said, her voice displaying a slight tremble.

This was good, Augustus thought. He needed the officers and coordinators to feel the same fear and animal fury as the others. He needed them to know that their lives were at stake as much as those on the ground and in the trenches.

This was his mistake when he was Roman Emperor: those at the top had grown soft and weak and were too secure in their positions. It clouded their judgment, made them choose the easier, safer choice, even if it meant defeat for the empire.

He wouldn’t let that happen again.

Turning to the waiting formation of troops, he noted their apparent nervousness by the way they fidgeted and looked to each other. Augustus suppressed a grin as the thought about a group of meerkats suddenly realizing they had a hyena in their midst.

Addressing them, Augustus stepped forward and projected his voice so that it echoed across the square, rebounding off the small buildings surrounding them. “I want ten volunteers, right this moment.”

At first nothing happened, but then slowly a few croatoans stepped out. He knew they’d be the first; they just didn’t understand what was going on without the direction of the council. The humans were warier.

“I want the volunteers, right now,” August repeated. “If not, I’ll choose at random.”

When none stepped forward after a few seconds, Augustus pointed out ten random human soldiers. “Line up in front of the formation.”

The soldiers jogged out of the ranks and stood shoulder to shoulder, ten meters in front. Zoe and Augustus moved behind them. Augustus removed the pistol from his hip holster and handed it to her.

“Execute them,” he said. “We teach the lesson now so we don’t have to in the future. There’s no discussion on this.” He didn’t even wait for her response. He turned his back and walked toward his private room.

Most of the selected soldiers protested, but with each step he heard the crack of the pistol and one less voice questioning his decision. By the time he reached his building, ten shots later, there were no more dissenting voices.

The entire place took on a deathly silence.

He turned to survey the scene. Zoe stood over the bodies, holding the smoking pistol to one side. She looked up at him, no expression on her face. Augustus nodded once to her and then addressed the entourage.

“All of you, including Zoe, are to see me in my room in five minutes as soon as you’ve cleared the bodies. We’ve plans to make.”

When he received nothing but salutes, he smiled behind his mask and stepped into his building, knowing that he had learned from his mistakes and that knowledge was indeed power. He had this army exactly where he wanted it.

Unity would fall, of that he had no doubt.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Denver ducked to his left between two solid benches at the front of the temple. He winced in agony as the high-pitched tone continued to blast through the intercom.

Layla crashed to the ground next to him. The strip light inside her helmet illuminated her panic-stricken face.

A bead of sweat rolled down Denver’s temple. He had fought aliens all of his life, but nothing like the scion.

The prism remained in position. It seemed to float with an assured arrogance on the other side of the temple while inflicting torturous pain. The rifles had proven useless and Denver racked his brains for a plan.

White bolts spat from the halo above the prism and peppered the walls around the temple. Stone chips pinged off Denver’s and Layla’s suits.

Two tredeyan rifles fired outside. Denver guessed Charlie positioned himself by the door to assist in the fight. Vingo had also retreated outside.

Denver took a deep breath, raised his rifle and fired a full magazine. The halo vanished and the prism’s rotation slowed as twenty rounds slammed into its solid rectangular body. Thin white wisps of smoke and yellow spark fizzed from its underside and shot across the floor.

“Are you okay?” Charlie said.

“I think I’ve damaged it,” Denver said. “Give it hell.”

“You got it.”

The temple descended into a murky gloom apart from a single white beam that shone against the wall above their heads. Denver and Layla edged along the back of the bench away from its focus. His helmet automatically switched to night vision and he peered through a gap in the seating. The prism had closed in on them and a circular light shone from its midsection.

A bolt flashed over Denver’s head and punctured a six-inch hole in the wall behind him. The building shuddered and dust dropped from the ceiling. He grabbed a magazine from the magnetic holding position on his hip and reloaded.

The prism whirred closer. Denver looked across to Layla. “It’s now or never. Let’s unload on the damned thing.”

She nodded and raised her rifle toward the top of the bench. They couldn’t simply hold their position against this type of enemy. Waiting and hoping it would retreat would prove fatal judging by the intent it had already shown.

Denver sprang up. “Now.”

He positioned the target in his visor at the beam’s source. Layla fired on automatic and sprayed it with tredeyan metal.