by J G Cressey
A gust of wind erupted, so fierce that Laurence was forced to break his defiant stare and shield his eyes. When he finally uncovered them, he found his shirt had been ripped clean in half and was now flapping free. Confused, he looked about with rapidly blinking eyes. The drone was nowhere to be seen.
After a moment of confused searching, he detected movement to his right. Moving cautiously toward it, a lull in the wind improved the visibility enough for him to see his attacker lying on the ground. It wasn’t alone. Two Carcarrions with gray, swirling patterns marking their skin were savagely beating the drone. Tark’s friends…my friends. The ferocious pair were concentrating their attack on the slug-like creature clinging to the fallen drone’s neck.
Despite the stinging rock dust, Laurence watched on with horrified fascination. The Carcarrions began clawing and tugging at the wriggling creature, which was now little more than a pulpy mass of dark flesh. Eventually, they succeeded in ripping it free from their long-dead comrade, its tiny, pale tendrils hanging limp. Raising the ruined creature to its mouth, one of the Carcarrions proceeded to sink its fangs into the pulpy flesh then triumphantly tore it in two. Laurence couldn’t help but shudder as the two aliens raised their clawed fists to the rumbling storm clouds and let out blood-curdling roars.
“Quite a sight, don’t you think?” came Tark’s voice in an uncharacteristically loud tone. The little man stepped up beside him, his white dreadlocks flying like the swirling tentacles of some albino creature of the deep. His eyes were fixed on his Carcarrion’s.
“You were right,” Laurence shouted over the howl of the wind. “No problem fighting.”
“The ash war paint’s formidable, eh?”
“Yes,” Laurence agreed although he found it difficult to imagine a situation when the creatures wouldn’t look formidable. Attempting to study them further through the grit, he noticed tight bindings covering their necks and running down their spines, a crude but seemingly effective protection from the neck slugs.
Tark turned to face him. “Here you go.” He held out a glass syringe, its green contents glowing brightly in the bleak air. The little man cracked a wide grin. “Might help you put up a bit more of a fight next time, eh?”
Laurence nodded with a half grin and gratefully plucked the syringe from his little friend’s hand.
Chapter Forty-Two
BEST LAID PLANS
Fucking pirates.
How the hell did they beat The Orillian’s warning sensors? A barrage of curses coursed through Cal’s mind. The plan was well underway; there’d be no stopping that now. He and Kaia had just achieved a near miracle, and he had no doubt that the helix bomb had done its job. But now, fate had gone and punched them full in the face. Where the hell did they get two synthetics? And who the hell broke their behavior inhibitors? He took a few deep breaths. He had to calm down. He had to focus.
Turning about within the sphere, he made sure he was aware of everyone in the room. Fortunately, they were all situated in the direction of the lab’s entrance. As well as the man in the long coat, who was still standing near the base of the sphere, and the two men standing near the synthetics, there were three other men idly roaming the room. Even at a glance, it was clear they were as fond of weaponry as their long-coated friend. There was also a woman, short with spiky, brown hair. She was standing apart from the others, leaning against a desk and clutching her left arm with a pained expression.
Not everyone was standing; there was a lifeless body sprawled on the floor halfway to the lab’s entrance. Kaia’s handiwork, Cal thought as he scanned back toward the consoles surrounding the sync sphere. A moment later, he saw what he was looking for: a discarded syringe. Kaia had injected a dose of Xcel and put up a good fight. Unfortunately, she’d ended up in the clutches of a synthetic, and that was where her fight had finished. No amount of Xcel could match a human to a synthetic’s cybernetic strength and speed. Even so, Cal would have given anything for one of those little syringes. His eyes swept over the nearby consoles, but he saw none. There was something though. Kaia’s control wand lay on the floor not far from the heavy boots of the long-coated pirate. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
“Will you hurry the hell up, Finch?” The shout came from the older, hawk-faced man who was standing near the synthetics. He was aiming his small, dark eyes at the man next to him, who was tapping away at a console. “In case you’ve forgotten, there’s some nasty fucking aliens down on that planet. Get the hell on with it.”
The man at the console shrugged without looking up from the screen. “They can’t see us. Besides, I’ve been hacked into the ship’s system for a while now.”
The hawk-faced man pressed his palms on the edge of the console and leaned forward. “So why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
Again, Finch shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by the sharp tone.
Shaky chain of command, Cal noted. Something that could work in his favor. Again, not much, but something.
“I’ve been poking around,” Finch replied nonchalantly, still not bothering to look up from the console. “Well, hello! What you been up to, woman?” he said, finally lifting his eyes to turn and regard Kaia.
Kaia had gone limp in the synthetic’s tight grip but still appeared conscious.
“What? What is it?” the hawk-faced man asked irritably, leaning in closer to get a better look at the screen.
“Somehow, this clever little bitch has hooked into one of those starships drifting out by the moons.”
Cal cursed. The sight of the synthetics and his fear for Kaia had distracted him from the dropships. They should have been en route to the planet surface by now. He could easily activate them from any one of the multiple consoles throughout the lab, but what was he going to do, step out of the sphere and politely ask for a pause until he’d seen to an urgent task?
With his eyes turned back to the console, Finch suddenly barked a laugh. “God knows what the bitch is up to, but she has the bloody great thing all powered up and ready to go. Even the dropships are prepped and programmed to—”
The hawk-faced man grabbed him by the shoulder and roughly pulled him around until they stood face to face. “Stick to the bloody mission, Finch.”
Untroubled by the sudden violence, Finch simply grinned, creating a standoff, which lasted for some time until the spiky-haired woman broke the silence. “Oh, bloody well get on with it, Finch,” she shouted across the lab. “I gotta pilot this frickin’ vessel, and that bloody bitch has smashed my arm good n’ proper.”
Finch ignored her protests. “What ya gonna do, Rek? Bust me up? Don’t expect any of these idiots to run the ship’s systems,” he said to the hawk-faced man.
“I’ll bloody well run ‘um’, Rekvit,” the spiky-haired woman blurted.
“You gotta pilot,” Finch said quickly. “Ain’t easy to do both at once, ‘specially with that dangly arm of yours.”
Finally breaking eye contact, Rekvit turned his hawk-like gaze towards the tattooed synthetic. The tall, cybernetic woman took a step towards them, her face impassive.
Finch’s eyes flicked nervously towards her. Then he snorted a laugh and pulled Rekvit’s hand off his shoulder. “Easy, eh? I was just screwing with you, Rek. No need to get your pet involved,” he said, backing up a few steps and raising his hands. “Peace. I’ll get on with it… But I’ll look forward to hearing you explain to the boss why you missed the opportunity of swiping a class one military starshi—”
Finch didn’t get to finish his sentence. In fact, his face slammed so hard into the console that there was very little chance he’d ever do anything again.
Cal blinked in surprise, unsure of exactly what he’d seen. The tattooed synthetic hadn’t been responsible; she’d not moved an inch. Neither had it been Rekvit; the man’s hawk-like face was speckled with blood, and he wore an expression somewhere between shock and anger as he watched Finch’s limp body slide almost comically down the sloped console to crumple to the floor.
&n
bsp; A moment later, Rekvit turned his shocked gaze towards Kaia. She was no longer limp in the synthetic’s embrace and was once again struggling in defiance. The corner of Cal’s mouth twitched as it dawned on him what had happened. Having spotted Finch backing up towards her, Kaia had seemingly kicked the unwitting man in the back. With the Xcel in her system, the kick had probably contained all the force of a speeding hover truck.
“What the…what the…” Rekvit was staring disbelievingly at Kaia. Then he looked accusingly to the face of the synthetic holding her.
“The woman seems unnaturally strong,” the synthetic woman explained in a monotone voice.
“No fucking shit,” Rekvit spat. He still appeared stunned as he turned towards the bloodstained console and stared at it dumbly. His fists were balled, knuckles pure white. The commotion had attracted the full attention of everyone in the lab, including the long-coated man, who had finally turned away from the sphere.
After a few moments, Rekvit raised his head and looked about. “Okay…everyone just bloody well stay calm,” he barked, his own voice completely devoid of calm. He whipped his head around towards the tattooed synthetic. “Get on this console,” he shouted at her. “Activate the ship’s flight controls.”
“And hurry the hell up,” the woman with the spiky hair added. “My arm’s frickin’ killing me.”
The tattooed synthetic took hold of Finch’s lifeless right ankle and pulled him aside like an obstructing sack of rubbish. Then she turned her attention to the blood-stained console.
“No more delays,” Rekvit barked, looking around the room, his cold, hard eyes hammering the point home. “We’re taking control of this ship and getting the hell out of here.”
Cal pressed his knuckles into his forehead, teeth grinding, temples throbbing. If it was just humans…but two Synthetics. Even one would have rendered his chances impossible, but two? Shit. Shit. Visions flared into his mind; the faces of his friends, the countless prisoners. He could only imagine their desperation waiting for the dropships. Cal had never been one to give into despair, but as he looked across the lab again at Kaia’s beautiful face strained in futile struggle, he suddenly found himself dropping to his knees. In a few moments, he would burst from the sphere. He’d give it everything he had, rain down as much destruction as he could, but…
Shaking his head, Cal steeled himself and began to rise.
Then he saw it: a bright green smudge in his peripheral vision. The syringe had been placed neatly on the sync sphere’s platform, right at the foot of the exit. How the hell had he missed it? He cursed his stupid mistake then managed something close to a smile. God bless you, Kaia Svenson.
The sync sphere’s door was little louder than a soft breath as it slid open. A couple of seconds was all it took for him to reach out and snatch up the syringe before re-closing the door. Not one of the pirates noticed, not even the long-coated man who stood a few meters away nor the synthetics with their hypersensitive hearing. They were all too preoccupied, listening—or at least giving the impression of listening—to Rekvit, who continued to bark out orders.
Still crouched, Cal wasted no time pressing the syringe to his neck. He could feel a glimmer of hope expanding within his mind. With Xcel coursing through his system, maybe there was a chance, an upgrade from impossible to poor, but he was grateful nonetheless. As the serum ignited within him, he stood and scanned the lab one last time, taking in the position of each and every one of his opponents.
“And you, you good for nothing mechanical bitch,” Rekvit rasped, addressing the synthetic who was restraining Kaia, “Keep that little wildcat under control.”
The synthetic stared at the hawk-faced man with soulless eyes. After a few moments’ she asked in an equally soulless voice, “Should I render her unconscious?”
Rekvit paused in thought, rubbing at his angular face. “Yes,” he said eventually, “but don’t bloody well kill her. The boss wants her alive and intact. Got it?”
“Yes,” the synthetic woman replied and immediately began tightening her neck hold. Kaia’s struggles became more desperate, her expression even more strained.
Cal had seen enough. His body felt ready to explode with strength, and the sight of Kaia’s desperation only fuelled it further. He had no plan, just instincts, perhaps some dirty tricks, and hopefully some blind luck.
He pushed his finger against the sphere’s door release and leapt out.
Jumper stared up at the dark, red skies, disturbed by the lack of dropships. Picking up his longeye bliss rifle, he set its sights on the Insidion base. Still no activity. The helix bomb had definitely detonated; the Star Splinter’s scanners had confirmed that. Then, just to be sure, he had popped off a couple of test rounds with a pulse rifle. He’d never particularly liked the pulse weapons, but his relief at its functioning was palpable. The Insidions wouldn’t remain idle for long, and he suspected their reaction would be brutal when it came. That thought probably should have caused a good deal of fear, but that was a hard emotion give in to when you had Xcel searing through your veins.
Shifting the rifle’s sights, he focused on the prisoners emerging from the swirling clouds of grit. As planned, they were running across the harsh landscape in droves, directly towards the plateau on which the Star Splinter sat.
“How they doing?” Toker asked. He looked energized to his core and was pacing back and forth along the rows of weapon-filled crates. “Are they on their way?”
“Oh, they’re on their way alright,” Jumper replied, “and they’re moving fast. Shouldn’t be long before we’re dishing out weapons.” He twisted around to his left. Viktor’s large, mechanical battle spider was hunched next to him on its eight, sword-like legs. “Any sign of the dropships yet, Viktor?”
“Still nothing.” Viktor’s reply had a metallic shrill as it sounded from the battle spider’s sound emitter. “I don’t understand. They should have activated them ages ago. Something must have gone wrong.”
“Ain’t nothin’ gone wrong,” Eddy said casually. She was squatting down next to her beloved Gibson gun and staring toward the approaching storm. “Cal and the lady doc can take care of things. They’re probably just hanging back a bit, give us a chance to get some fighting in, test out the enemy.” She sniffed then spat on one of the gun’s barrels and gave it a vigorous rub with her sleeve. “Course, the time them bloody aliens is takin’, we ain’t likely to see any action.”
“Can’t you activate the dropships, Vik?” Toker asked hopefully.
“No. We’ve already talked about this. Only The Orillian’s systems can activate them.” The boy was tetchy, obviously frustrated that a technological problem had arisen beyond his ability to remedy.
“Okay, bro, take it easy. How’s about contacting them?”
“No good. We’re still cloaked; so is The Orillian. If we start communicating, then our cover could be blown, and then the Insidions might—”
“Sure, sure, I get it.”
Jumper had a bad feeling the boy was right. Something must have gone wrong on board The Orillian, something pretty damn serious to prevent Cal from launching those dropships.
“What should we do, Jumper?” Toker asked, stopping his pacing to look at him expectantly.
Jumper kept his face as calm and composed as ever though his mind was anything but. He wasn’t keen on this new role as leader. His talents lay in survival, one-on-one combat, and making solo tactical decisions when the problem was laid out in front of him or indeed actively trying to eat him. But these decisions with multiple factors and other people involved… It wasn’t his strong point. He’d spent decades on his own, ordering and answering to no one but himself. Whatever decisions he made right at this moment would affect thousands. The pressure was a little overwhelming.
He began to sift logically through his options and did his best to bring his whirling mind in line with his outward expression. Before he could manage it, however, Viktor’s shrill, metallic voice interrupted his efforts. “There
’s something… Something’s happening!”
“The dropships?” Jumper asked hopefully. But as he said it, he realized that wasn’t what the boy wasn’t referring to. Even the distortion of the mechanical spider’s sound emitter didn’t mask the panic in his young friend’s voice.
“The Insidion base…one of the blocks…it’s coming apart.”
Laurence’s eyes felt raw from all the rock dust that had assaulted them. They were watering like crazy, making it hard to see, a problem that the constant flashes of lightning wasn’t helping. Damn this bloody dry storm. He’d been right; it seemed Mother Nature did want to join the battle. The winds were the worst he’d ever witnessed, and they seemed insistent on refusing a direction. Even with the Xcel serum feeding his muscles, he’d almost been blown off his feet numerous times already.
In two bounds, he leaped to the top of a pile of boulders and scanned the landscape.
“We’re lucky the twins are in full force,” Tark shouted at him. The little man had remained close by his side the entire time.
“Yes,” Laurence replied, looking to the horizon. “At least something’s working in our favor.” The two monstrous volcanoes that dominated the northern horizon were spewing huge volumes of fiery magma into the dark skies. He and Cal had chosen the massive twin peaks as a point of reference for the escape.
Trying to ignore the temptation to rub his eyes, Laurence looked around at the scores of running bodies. At first, most of his fellows had become confused and scattered within the blizzard of rock dust, but now, as they gained distance from the prison camp’s mine, the air had become clearer, and all eyes had fixed on the gap between the two massive volcanoes. If Callum had remained true to his word, a great hoard of weapons lay ahead as well as a fleet of dropships.