Phantoms

by T. R. Harris

  “So they offered a bounty. That would explain it,” said Summer.

  “Again, I ask the universal question: why?” said Tidus. “Why is the Gradis so focused on us?”

  “A question for another time,” Monty said, his voice tense. “They’re coming out into the road. They’re trying to block us.”

  A squad of the uniformed aliens was the first to make a move. They stepped from the park and into the road, weapons level on the car. Monty wasn’t having any of it. It was bad enough to be chased by the Cartel. But to be swarmed over by a ravenous horde of savages in the middle of the deadliest city in the galaxy was another. He gunned the electric motor, sending the heavy transport crashing into four of the yellow stains. The bodies tumbled onto the hood and over the windshield before rolling off the back. As it was with most aliens in the galaxy, their bones were thinner and more brittle than Humans, the result of evolving in a gravity rated at about three-quarters that of Earth. None of the creatures Monty hit survived.

  Now others were opening up with the flash rifles. Fortunately, Anoc’s armored vehicle could take the hits. But now fifty or more beings from the park were rushing forward, some with sticks, others with what appeared to be bones, striking the car with all the force they could muster.

  “Get us out of here, dad!”

  “I’m trying!”

  The vehicle bumped several times as the thick wheels crushed bodies and kept moving. Monty didn’t bother with continuing the loop around the park to his turnoff, which would have prolonged their exposure to the massive crowd. Instead, he revved the motor and shot off along E-4, missing his turnoff.

  “We have to get to the compound,” Tidus stated. “It is the only place we will be safe.”

  “Yeah, but let’s get away from the crowd first. Then we can use the side roads.”

  The mob was left behind, but not the two vehicles that pulled in behind them. More flash bolts came their way.

  “Hold on!” Monty ordered. Then he slammed on the breaks.

  The trailing car crashed in the back of their transport, with the second pursuit car hitting the first. All three vehicles came to a stop. Tidus jumped out, an MK-17 in both hands.

  Each of the pursuit cars had creatures inside them wearing the tattered uniforms, their foreheads stained in yellow. They were Tribal members, not Cartel. Without waiting for the targeting computers to vibrate, the Juirean filled the interiors with brilliant flashes of light, draining the power packs in his weapons. These were not armored vehicles, so glass shattered, exposing the occupants to the deadly plasma bolts. In the end, eight aliens died.

  Tidus was back in the car a moment later, taking replacement power packs from Summer and popping them into his weapons.

  “Take that side road,” he said to Monty, pointing. The Human turned left.

  The road narrowed considerably, although it was also packed with an assortment of aliens, all grubby and emaciated. Most got out of the way of the speeding vehicle; however, a few didn’t. Monty didn’t care.

  “Where to now?”

  Tidus was watching the screen on his datapad.

  “Stay here. You should come to—”

  Suddenly, Monty slammed on the brakes, their way blocked by a cluster of derelict vehicles. These were rusted hulks, looking to have been abandoned years before.

  “Back up!” Summer cried out.

  Monty obliged, but he didn’t get far. The road was narrow, and he had to crash into the crumbling remains of a deserted storefront to get any kind of maneuvering room. That’s when another car came barreling down the street from the direction of E-4. It smashed into the side of the transport as it tried to turn around, caving in the door on the driver’s side. The motor died.

  “Take the weapons! Everyone out,” Monty ordered.

  All they had were handguns with a limited number of power packs, two projection blades and Summer’s bow. Tidus slipped out of his side of the car, followed by Monty and Summer.

  Flash bolts streaked past them, fired from the three creatures exiting the other car. Even with their targeting computers engaged, the shots were off. The computers weren’t calibrated for rapidly moving objects.

  The Humans and the Juirean had no such limitation. Without waiting for permission from a microchip, all three opened fire, burning holes into their attackers.

  “We must conserve our batteries,” Tidus mentioned. “It is still a distance to the compound, and now we must travel on foot.

  Summer glanced along the street, seeing the hungry and desperate looks on the nightmarish mix of alien faces staring at her. Even with the abbreviated gunfight, they didn’t seem scared. Instead, they were slowly working their way closer.

  “What is it with these people?” Summer asked. “Do they have a death wish?”

  Two of the closest aliens—skinny-as-a-rail creatures of the same race—jumped for Monty, draping their long figures over the much shorter but stockier Human. Although he was in constant pain from his injury, Monty was still a bull of a man and spitting mad. Even among Humans, he was a force to be reckoned with. Against aliens, it wasn’t even a contest. He gripped one of the hands holding his bare arm and pulled, hearing the ear-shattering screech of the creature as his limb was pulled from the shoulder. But Monty wasn’t done. He then proceeded to use the detached arm from the first alien to bash the second to the ground, before unceremoniously stomping on its large head, crushing it like a tomato, red pulp and all.

  Monty’s defense finally had an impact on the aliens around them, at least enough to allow the trio to past through the line of bodies and into a relatively clear part of the road. They began to run.

  “Slow down,” Monty called out to Summer. When she looked back, she was twenty yards ahead of her father—who although injured—was ten yards ahead of the seven-foot-tall Juirean. Summer had never seen a Juirean run, and she almost burst out laughing seeing the alien’s gangly gait. Although his stride was long, he also appeared to move in slow-motion, at least as compared to the Humans.

  She slowed, allowing the others to catch up.

  Sirens blared all around, and they could hear the buzzing of electric motors as vehicles raced up and down adjourning streets. The road they were on had long ago surrendered to overcrowding and was used more for tents and lean-tos than for motorized vehicles. That kept the swifter pursuit confined to the flanking streets, even as curious, yet desperate, pedestrians followed at a safe distance.

  “Does it seem to you as if the whole city is after us?” Summer asked.

  “It would appear so,” the Juirean agreed.

  “How much farther to Anoc’s house?”

  Tidus grimaced. “You do not want to know.”

  “We have to find another car.”

  “That would be a solution. We should move to the other streets to find one.”

  They entered a dilapidated building and passed through its dark and crumbling structure to reach the other side. There were refugees here, too, but they weren’t aware of what was going on outside, except for the noise and confusion. Instead, vacant eyes simply stared, surrendering to whatever fate the invaders had in store for them. The team moved swiftly, ignoring the occupants.

  Tidus stopped suddenly. He took the bag of weapons from Summer.

  “Only four power packs left.” He handed them to Monty, along with his MK-17s. “You take these.” Then he pulled out the two projection blades, giving one to Summer. “Have you ever used one of these?”

  “No. What good is a foot-long sword going to be against flash weapons?”

  Tidus pressed a button on the pommel of his weapon. The blade extended out to a meter long, with a faint, neon-blue light painting both sides of the blade.

  “This is a projection blade. It contains a very thin laser running from pommel to tip on both sides of the blade. It burns at a temperature of two thousand degrees and will cut through almost any material. Please be careful when wielding the weapon. It has no safety feature to protect friendly f
orces.”

  Summer pressed the release button, and her blade came to life. She smiled. The weapon was light in her hands, and she was mesmerized by the soft glow along the double edge. “Cool.”

  “I doubt Monty will be able to handle such a weapon efficiently with his injury,” said the Juirean. “He will use the flash devices and the limited power packs while the two of us resort to this more primitive backup weapon. Once again, please be careful, Summer. I do not wish to lose a limb to an errant sweep of your blade.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  She stepped back and swung the blade a few times. It didn’t seem too difficult to use.

  “Press the button to retract the extension and turn off the laser. The weapon then becomes simply a short sword.”

  “Got it. Now, let’s go. The natives are getting restless.”

  They could see another road through the broken façade of the building, this one wider and clear of obstacles, but there wasn’t an opportunity to hijack one of the many vehicles racing along the street. Most traveled in caravans of three or more, packed full of a menagerie of aliens sticking out of the windows or cut out tops and wielding a variety of weapons. The team ducked for cover as the vehicles passed.

  “What the hell is going on?” Summer asked. “The whole place is going crazy.”

  Just then, two of the caravans met coming from opposite directions. Cars screeched to a halt, angled diagonally across the road as their occupants jumped out, took cover and began firing at each other. Summer could see the red on the foreheads of the closest group, now engaged in a deadly fight with the blues.

  “Others are invading the sector,” Tidus said over the din of the battle. “The bounty must be substantial. I also fear for restraint by the participants. I am quite aware of capture techniques for fugitives. There is too much random fire taking place to ensure our survival should capture occur.”

  “You mean they want us dead or alive?” Summer asked.

  “That is a fair assumption. Come; we must move.”

  Using the firefight as cover, the trio moved through the murky darkness to a point beyond the battle. The deeper they moved into the Blue sector, the fewer of the refugees were aware of what was going on and simply wanted to save themselves from the violence. They ignored the two short Humans and taller Juirean moving among them. There was a general exodus heading south, farther into the sector.

  “What’s that?” Monty asked, pointing to a glow above a craggy, black skyline silhouette.

  Tidus glanced at his datapad.

  “It is a Blue processing center for both refugees and food stock. It will be a center of maximum Tribal control. Members in this sector must be going there seeking protection.”

  “That would mean better-trained troops guarding the place,” Monty stated.

  “Perhaps, along with confusion from the influx of members seeking shelter.”

  “Confusion works for me,” Summer said. “Let’s join the party.”

  The street fighting tapered off around the huge complex of buildings, well-lit within a sea of darkness and intermittent orange fire. There were huge numbers of neighborhood creatures here, all surging toward the boundary of the facility. There was no formal wall; the facility was well within the Blue sector and protected by its location. Or at least it had been. Although no fighting was taking place in sight of the complex, the flares of flash weapons lit up the night.

  Along the way, the team found discarded cloth which they used to wrap their heads and shoulders in hoods and scarves, concealing their identity. Now they were lost in a sea of alien flesh, comprised of a hundred different species. No one paid them any special attention.

  But there was a phalanx of guards circling the facility, keeping the mob at bay. These were much healthier and more imposing creatures, the best of the refugees recruited specifically for their size and skill. They showed no reluctance at firing into the crowd when things grew too unruly. To Summer’s shock, this didn’t cause wholesale panic, rather sad acceptance. It was almost as if the refugees were hoping to be blasted out of their misery by a well-placed flash bolt.

  “We must get to the other side,” said Tidus.

  Summer wasn’t paying attention. They were close enough for her to see into the complex and the line of emaciated and dejected aliens being herded toward one of the buildings. These creatures were mostly of a singular race; small, weak beings with almost pure white skin. Although a fair number of guards had been pulled for perimeter duty, there was still a rough line of hulking beasts prodding the aliens forward. Summer didn’t have to be told what was happening. This was the line for the slaughterhouse.

  Summer watched in shock as the last remnants of a race of intelligent creatures were marched forward, like prisoners to the German gas chambers. She felt bile climb in her throat. It had only been a little over a year since Kracion began his deadly campaign, and in that short time, the history of an entire species was coming to a pitiful end. These creatures could not have seen it coming. Nor did they deserve it.

  Summer gnashed her teeth. Nearly everything she’d seen or experienced since taking that first fateful step into the galaxy in search of her father had been a sickening disappointment. The Milky Way was not a nice place, even without the Mad Aris stirring things up. Now it was so much worse.

  Summer suddenly shifted direction, pressing herself through the crowd and toward the line of white-skinned aliens. She was well within the kill zone by the time Monty and Tidus noticed.

  By then, the guards holding back the surging crowd had noticed her. Weapon barrels turned her way.

  A moment later, Summer had her projection blade out and fully extended, the leading edge glowing a soft blue. She moved with uncharacteristic quickness and was among the line of guards in the blink of an eye. She swung the blade low, marveling at the ease with which the legs of the aliens became severed with barely a trace of resistance. The star-hot laser cauterized most of the wounds, even though there was still blood—lots of blood. The first three guards sprawled on the ground, moaning from the pain, as the life drained from their bodies.

  Then more guards noticed and came to the aid of their comrades. A flash bolt was released in Summer’s direction. She lifted the blade as a shield. The plasma ball contacted the sword and flared before its energy faded away. She didn’t know the laser could counteract the effects of an energy bolt. This was good to know.

  Her movements were becoming even swifter, more fluid. She danced between two guards, stabbing one in the chest before moving the blade to the side, leaving the body of the first to slice across the stomach of the second. Her attack was accomplished in one stroke and at blazing speed.

  Then she noticed the flashes from other bolts being fired to her side. But they weren’t aimed at her. Monty moved up, but well out of range of the deadly sword. Tidus had his blade out but had yet to reach any of the guards before they backed away in panic. With the breakdown in the defensive line, the refugees surged forward, penetrating deeper into the complex. There was mass panic, on the parts of both the guards and the mob. It carried over to the line of placid white creatures and the aliens guarding them. Some of the tiny beings began to run, seeing an opportunity to escape the slaughterhouse and without thinking about what happens next. A moment later, this side of the processing center was lost to the raging horde.

  Summer saw all this happen with clarity and awareness, and not a trace of fear. She stopped, holding the humming blade out in front of her in a defensive posture. What was happening to her? Then she felt a familiar sensation. It was the same as aboard the Forty when the Cartel first attacked. She felt possessed, not under control of her own movements. Then she looked around. The crowd was avoiding her and the bodies lying at her feet, giving her a unobstructed view of her handiwork. There were six of them; she could barely recall the fight.

  She shivered. It had to be J’nae, the ominous presence from her dreams. Her shiver was not from the idea of another consciousness inside he
r, but rather from the thought of what would have happened had J’nae not taken over. She’d acted on impulse to save the white creatures from the slaughterhouse. Would she have had the reaction time and skill to survive her impulse had it not been for J’nae?

  It was only after she retracted the blade that Tidus and Monty approached close enough to speak to her.

  “What the hell, Summer?” Monty asked. “You trying to get yourself killed? What happens on this planet has nothing to do with us. Stop trying to save every lost kitten you find.”

  “I… I’m sorry.”

  “Let us move,” Tidus prompted. “There is ample confusion and disarray to allow us to get to the other side of the facility and resume our journey. And, Summer, please no more acts of emotion. We still have a long way to go.”

  11

  There were still thousands of aliens moving toward the processing center, making the three fugitives stand out as they moved in the opposite direction. They were tired and moved more slowly now. The sounds of fighting began to taper off the farther they moved into the Blue Sector. Tidus told them they were still seven miles from Anoc’s home.

  Summer allowed her mind to wander, consumed by questions for which she had no answer. She was scared, as well as mad. She was mad at Adam Cain for infecting her with some kind of alien disease which she knew was trying to take over her body. Even now, she felt the dark presence clouding her mind. She fought consciously to keep it at bay. Since the recent battles, the feeling had only grown stronger, the ominous sensation no longer confined to just her dreams.

  And yet she was also scared because of the consequences. Twice now she was convinced the presence had saved her life, along with that of her father and Tidus. Aboard the Forty, the strange effect was welcome. At the processing facility, it was her reckless impulse that had placed them in jeopardy. If not for J’nae’s help, she would have surely died.