by L. V. Lane
Yes, the cracked helmet pissed me off far more than his bloody nose. The nose would heal, the helmet might well be one of our last.
We trekked the remainder of the way in silence. A looming awareness of passing time beat down, as if every step on the soft shale shore we took, drew us steadily closer to an ominous date when the second ship was due to arrive.
The ‘what next’ question was a hard one to ignore.
By the time we rounded a final outcropping to bring the transport into view, the light was starting to fade. It was partially submerged in the water, and even without a closer inspection, I could tell it wouldn’t yield much in the way of useful supplies. Its debris scattered the shoreline. Jagged hunks of the titaliua hull, random innards, and the remains of its former occupants.
“This has been a pointless search,” Justin piped up from the front. “Two days, and there is nothing here… Nothing.”
After my earlier ‘conversation’ with the brawlers, Justin was alone in offering an opinion. He picked up a lump of former transport and threw it toward the river in a fit of temper.
I stared after the disappearing wreckage before returning his attention to Justin. “We’re here now,” I said in a reasonable tone. “We will thoroughly investigate before we head back.”
Justin looked up. Perhaps sensing my diminishing patience, he wiped his nose, and with a nod, began to help the others who were searching through the crack.
“It’s the flu. It’s getting to them,” Carlson muttered.
It was getting to me too, and I hadn’t even caught it. I was sick of listening to the disgusting noises Justin made: coughing, sneezing, blowing his nose—perpetually—and spitting out some kind of revolting phlegm stuff every few minutes. Several others suffered from illness, but they didn’t make as much fuss. The man had zero mettle and I was convinced he was one of those who had used corrupt means to infiltrate the colony. I should put him out of his misery and just shoot him.
“Looks like explosive,” one of his team offered pointing at a jagged hunk of metal from the former ship.
“Yes, it does,” I agreed. Two transports, both with explosive damage. Then there’s whatever happened to the ship? I had parked the concerns Eva had expressed so long ago back when we were still on the ship. They had become lost under a watery onslaught and the continuing struggle to establish the basics of shelter and food. But they had never really gone away, and I feared they were about to make their presence known.
After a few hours, we established that there was nothing here worthy of carrying back. We made camp. As we sat down to eat, I sensed an odd vibe within the group that manifested furtive looks and whispered conversations.
It had become apparent, somewhere during this, my second foray into the chasm, that the colony was on the verge of collapse. The unrest here was symptomatic of a wider unease. I didn’t need Eva to tell me this, although I wished she’d felt able to trust me with whatever secret she was keeping.
Tomorrow, we would begin the two day trek back to where our transport waited. When I got back to the base camp, I was going to talk to Eva, whether she was ready for the conversation or not. Until then, the revelations I was now convinced she was holding on to, would have to wait.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Eva
NIGHT FELL AS we were marched deep into the forest. Back on the ship, I’d talked to Landon of my concerns for Riley’s safety, of the dissension within the colonists. Now, it was coming to fruition.
Riley didn’t deserve this. But people rarely got what they deserved, be that good or bad.
The hold on me was tight and unyielding. Confronting Riley’s captors had been foolish with hindsight. I should have gone with Cathy, should have abandoned the pretense of normality, and run as fast as I could for someone who could help. But then I would never have found Riley, and she would have suffered alone.
There was also the problem of whom I could trust. Other than those few people I knew had not suffered from illness, I didn’t know who might be able to help. Reeve wouldn’t have left me without a good reason, and I also worried for whatever that might be.
“Eva’s not part of this,” Riley said. They had staked her out against an enormous tree like an ancient offering to a vengeful god.
“Too late now. She’s seen us,” the ringleader said. I didn’t know any of the people present, nor the average joe in charge. “I’ll be doing the colony a favor taking her out now that she can’t predict. If we want to survive, we need a strong colony with strong people. There’s no room in this world for Federation scum or former predictors. It’s survival of the fittest. We’re back to basics here. Landon knows that. He’s a strong leader. He’ll appreciate us sorting this little matter out.”
“That’s why you’re here in the forest, doing this in secret,” I said. The leader smiled at me, cold and deadly before turning back to Riley. “You’re even more delusional than I thought. Landon won’t thank you. He will kill you. And I never stopped predicting.”
Silence settled over the area, and every eye turned my way.
The leader pivoted and stalked toward me, forcing me back into the man behind me. He caught hold of my chin in a bruising grip. “Not sure I believe you. You’re obviously making shit up to save your little Federation friend. She destroyed our ship. My wife died. She was a trained medic and she died when her transport crashed. We’ve all lost someone.” He pinched harder until my bones creaked under the pressure. “I’d say you’re no use to any of us. You didn’t predict the ship and you didn’t predict this now, did you?” He released my chin but continued to stare down at me with hooded, distrustful eyes.
“Riley didn’t destroy the ship, Brent did,” I said.
Brows lifted as he rocked back on his heels, then he burst out laughing. “You’re fucking defective. That’s what you are.” Turning his back on me he stalked away.
Riley’s pale face suggested she knew I was telling the truth.
The leader didn’t. Grief had twisted him up into a force beyond reason. Yet still, I had to try. “Have any of you been ill?” He paused again. “You’re right, I didn’t see any of this. Prediction doesn’t work that way.” Oh, how I wished it did. “The people who’ve been ill are Federation. I don’t know what will happen next, but I know with absolute certainty that everyone in this camp, in every camp who has suffered with illness of any kind, is Federation. They are the threat, the real threat. The one you’re too stupid to see.”
I knew he was going to hit me—there was nothing predictive about it, I just knew.
He covered the distance in a single stride, jabbing me in the stomach so swiftly, I barely saw the blow.
It snatched the breath from my lungs and would not allow me to drag it back in. My muscles went slack as the pain radiated out in a sickening wave, and I collapsed to the ground.
The crass name the leader called was delivered in a snarl before he turned back to Riley.
“The Federation are here,” I repeated as I was hauled roughly to my feet. “They’re here and they brought collars! Hundreds of them, hidden at the back of the stores!” Sobs punctuated my words as vicious blows began to fall upon Riley.
“Shut the crazy bitch up,” the leader called over his shoulder, and strong fingers clamped over my mouth.
The madman commanding this militant group took his time, like he was savoring every blow. I fought and railed, feeling the echo of every punch and slap. Riley didn’t make a sound and somehow, that made it more horrifying.
I’d been close to monsters before. They were the Federation prisoners and captives of war that I’d conversed with in the hope of insights useful in the war. The Aterran man who toyed with Riley was not just about revenge, although he might delude himself as such. Every human had the capacity to be monstrous. For some, the basal instincts were closer to the surface. I had always believed myself to be incapable of violence. But were someone to place a gun in my hand now, I would have no hesitation in ending the tormen
tor’s life.
The silent impasse ended. Riley’s plaintiff cries broke me up and broke me down, and I still fought the useless fight for freedom, even knowing with so many of them that I could offer no help. My energy waned with the ongoing effort and the diminishing hope.
Finally, Riley fell silent again. Her head and body hung slack.
No!
Another man stepped over to check, and a quiet conversation ensued between the new man and the ringleader.
The glint of a needle caught my attention. Riley roused with a sudden gasp.
“Welcome back,” the leader said with a grin.
Hopeless tears began to fall. The tears served no purpose nor offered any aid. Incoherent words spilled from my lips, muffled behind the hand. Pleading, begging, and cursing them as I realized what they were doing—what they would continue to do until Riley’s body finally gave out and she could not be roused any more.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Landon
I WOKE IN painful increments… to the discovery that someone was dragging my limp body over a rocky surface. I tried to get command of my legs, but they lacked coordination, and my mind was fuzzy.
Had I been drugged?
A rock snagged against something around my throat, and I choked before whoever dragged me gave a sharp tug and the pressure gave. My fingers reached to my throat finding a solid band. Adrenaline flooded my body and my eyes popped open, blinking, and squinting at a clear cloudless sky.
“Nice of you to join us,” someone said as they shoved me forward so that I rolled onto my front.
Here it was, the trouble I’d sensed lurking, manifesting in ways that exceed even my worst nightmares.
I pushed up off the ground, rising slowly as my brain began to function in scattered increments.
Sometimes things just worked out for the best. I’d been so close to sending Jax here. But Jax wasn’t here because Eric had been escorting Rachel to the ‘sick’ camp, also known as Base-44, and Jax was the only person I trusted to watch Eva without drawing suspicion. Had we not been so desperate for supplies, there was no way I’d have made this God-awful trek now.
I made a slow sweep of the vicinity. Half my men were in a state of groggy compliance with collars around their necks, with telltale bloody scratches at their throats. Everyone had tried to rip the collar off the first time it was used. The rest of the coup wore expressions ranging from nervous anticipation to outright sadistic glee.
“You put a control collar on me?” It was hard to keep the note of incredulity out of my voice. I very nearly laughed. My body fought the residual effects of the drug, and I kept my knees locked, determined not to waver. Every Aterran in the military experienced a control collar as a harsh lesson on the dark Federation past, and to remind us of what we were fighting for. Still, knowing it was a Technologist wielding the control and not some asshole trainer, added a visceral edge to the terror.
“You think you’re above this because you’re a war hero?” Justin spat at my feet for good measure. His tough talk was somewhat lessened by his red nose and raspy, flu-laden voice.
I did start laughing then, which was when the wave of pain hit me. It took me to my knees and an inhuman cry erupted from my throat. A boot caught me in the center of my back, driving me to the ground.
The collar pain ceased, and I pushed up slowly, breathing deep and steady until the sensations petered out. On my periphery, a scuffle ensued. The genuine members of my team were soon subdued with a pain collar or fist.
Head hanging low, I surreptitiously pressed my thumb to my wrist plate, and said, “Override 4-7-3.”
The audible bleep from everyone’s weapons was immensely satisfying. No point in making this easier for them than it already was.
“What did you do, asshole?” Another boot came up under my jaw and this one sent me tumbling. “Reenergize the weapons! Or I start taking your team out one by one!”
I spat a glob of blood to the ground. My head was ringing, and my ribs ached. But I could feel heat forming at the site of damage, indicating that my body was already repairing. “You’re dying first,” I muttered under my breath.
“What did you say?” Justin screeched at me, moving in for another kick.
I rolled out the way and came to my feet a pace away, lifting my hands in surrender. “I said fine. I get it, you’re in charge now.” I gestured for Justin to give me his gun.
“Do I look fucking stupid?”
I blanked out my expression and bit down a derogatory quip. “It needs my thumb print.”
“You can do it from your wrist plate. Don’t play me!”
This time I was ready, and when Justin depressed the control, I only staggered slightly. The pain bordered on insanity. Every nerve in my body was screaming, but I was functioning.
Justin blinked. I smiled through clenched teeth. I had him by the throat before he could blink again, kicked his legs out, and slammed him to the ground. I snatched up the gun, hit my thumb to the plate, and shot him in the arm. “I changed my mind,” I said. “I think I’ll kill you last.”
Justin squealed and writhed as I stood. There were many dark days during which I questioned the control collar training. While everyone in the military experienced the collar pain, only a few were trained to endure. Variant. The military always knew what I was, although you would find no reference to it on any official record. My body didn’t process things like emotions and pain in the same way as an ordinary human. Given my clearance level, and the number of high risk operations I’d been involved in, they had deemed it a necessity in my case.
I was no fool. They were also experimenting on me to see want I could take.
Today, I was glad they had.
Two of Justin’s little coup were rushing toward me. One kept running. I shot him point blank between the eyes—even the former version of me couldn’t miss. The second froze. I shot him, too. The rest fled. I took them out with clean shots. One was obscured by a rock and the bullet clipped his hip—he wasn’t dead and tried to crawl away.
Results were more important than finesse.
“Fetch their bodies,” I said hoarsely. “You’ll need their fingerprint to release the collars.”
My collar was still on and the pain was close to unmanageable. The failsafe wouldn’t kick in for several minutes yet. I crouched down over Justin, who was trying to staunch the blood flow where I’d shot him. Grabbing his right hand in a bruising grip, I stabbed his bloody finger against the collar plate. I tried another one. Fuck it! Either I had the wrong fingers, the wrong man, or the blood was getting in the way. The thumb worked, and I gasped in relief as the collar popped open and dropped to the ground.
I sucked a couple of quick lungfuls of air before checking the status of the camp. My men, the ones who were not part of the coup, were busy removing collars and finishing off those who were not dead.
I turned back to Justin. “Have you ever tried one of these?” I indicated the collar.
Justin tried to kick away, but I took hold of his wounded arm and that gave him something to think about as I clipped the collar into place.
It must have been activated somehow. Justin’s screams echoed off the chasm walls.
Patting his bloody arm, I stood, deciding to let it play out until the failsafe kicked in.
“Load up. Essentials only. We need to get back to the camp.” Justin was still writhing—I guessed they didn’t train their own people to endure.
“Are they Federation?” Carlton asked.
I nodded. “It would seem so.”
I dragged the screaming Federation member back to his feet, snatched the control from his pocket, and pressed the button to cease the flow.
Justin fell into sobbing. “Don’t worry,” I said, tapping his cheek to rouse him a little. “You’ll soon be eager to comply with my wishes. I believe everyone does.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Eva
THERE HAD BEEN many occasions during my life when I had co
ntemplated death. My own death, the death of people I hated, and the death of people I loved.
Red tinted the world. I’d fought against the man holding me until he’d put his fingers around my throat and squeezed. After, everything turned black. I was on my hands and knees, and the ringing in my ears was overwritten by a wild cacophony.
I blinked. Fighting? The crackle and whiz of firearms filled the air as shots zinged past, shouting, and guttural cries of pain, anger, and anguish. I blinked again, my body numb and mind scattered. Everything was spinning. Shots boomed in every direction. Dark shapes—people—running past, and yet more cries.
Riley? I tried to gain my feet, but the movement lacked coordination and it took me a couple of attempts. I swayed as the chaos abated to a rumble and the occasional distant shot and scream.
“Cut her down!”
Jax’s voice, I thought.
Riley? I braced a hand against a nearby tree. There was blood in my mouth trickling from my nose.
People clustered around Riley, working on the bindings. As they cut her first wrist free, a tormented cry followed. I tried to walk to her, but I ended up on my knees again.
“Take it easy,” Jax crouched beside me, helping me to sit back. Beyond Jax was Cathy, her face stricken and eyes wide in the dull illumination. The compassion I’d seen blossom such a short time ago shone brightly as she stared at Riley.
“I need to—” Tears streamed down my face. I tried to rise, desperate to go to Riley and comfort her.
“What you need to do is sit down for a minute,” Jax said tersely. Someone passed him a scanner, and he pressed it against my forehead.
I didn’t argue, but I watched on, helpless, as they cut the final binding and eased Riley’s limp body to the ground.
Cold spread through my arm as Jax dispensed something that eased my dizziness. “I need to see her.” Finally gaining command of my body, I scrambled to my feet, only to come to an abrupt halt as Jax snagged me around the waist.