by J G Cressey
Again, the two synthetics nodded in unison. And with that, Rekvit turned to leave.
Anger boiled up in Cal as he watched the man carry Kaia off through the exit. He gritted his teeth, his head suddenly pounding. It took all of his will to not to jump up and attempt a last-ditch effort at saving her. He pictured himself unleashing everything he had at the synthetics and running straight for the bastard. Every instinct screamed at him to do just that, but he forced the feeling down. He wouldn’t stand a chance. The synthetics would take him out before he got anywhere near.
He’d failed her.
Anger threatened to overwhelm him then, but he extinguished it with force of will. She’s still alive, he reminded himself, something that couldn’t be said about him for much longer if he didn’t pull it together. He shook his head defiantly. He had to think, had to focus. Kaia wasn’t the only one relying on him, not by a long shot. If he didn’t come up with a strategy, the synthetics would kill him efficiently and without the slightest remorse. And if that happened, the fate of those down on the planet surface wouldn’t be much better.
A sudden commotion made him whip his head toward the screen. Rekvit’s last man was making a dash for the exit, sending lab equipment flying as he did so—maybe a desperate attempt at distraction or just plain clumsy panic. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Cal let him go.
Doing his best to gain control over his anger and his fear, Cal watched the two cybernetic killers on the screen. They were moving slowly, skirting in opposite directions around the room. Then, in precise unison, the pair turned towards the center of the lab and began to stalk him.
Chapter Forty-Four
CHAOS
Jumper had never witnessed such utter chaos. He had climbed onto a rock to get a better view of the situation and didn’t like what he saw one bit. The multitude of cube ships that had detached from the distant Insidion base were now dropping from the thick storm clouds. The ships were large, maybe three times the size of the Star Splinter, their smooth, gleaming surfaces flaring bright under the angry sky’s white lightning. The ships were merciless in their descent, coming down swiftly, crushing many of the escaping prisoners beneath their huge, flat hulls.
As planned, the prisoners were converging on the crates and passing the weapons back. Unfortunately, that crowd was now far larger than had originally been intended. Only a carefully selected portion of the escaping prisoners were supposed to be arming themselves. Those selected were then to offer cover, should it be needed, while the remaining boarded the dropships. But with no dropships evident, panic and confusion had erupted, and the crates had become the sole focus of attention. Bodies were clambering, limbs were flailing. Desperate fingers clawed, searching for that cold, reassuring gun metal. Jumper, Eddy, and Toker had done their best to redistribute the crates, but too many were converging all at once. In a desperate attempt to make room, Jumper had requested that Viktor use his mechanical combat spider to tow some of the crates further afield.
Pivoting on the rock, Jumper turned towards the Star Splinter. Despite his proximity, his eyes couldn’t register it. As well as the ghosting net, he had instructed Viktor to create a temporary force field around the ship to ensure it didn’t become overrun by the confused crowds. The expanse of flat ground behind the cloaked ship was still distressingly empty. He glanced up to the skies and again found them devoid of dropships. Twisting back to the chaos, he mouthed a silent curse.
Up to this point, the Xcel serum had served the escaping prisoners well; getting them swiftly over the jagged landscape to their destination in a fraction of the time it would have otherwise taken them. But now, with no dropships to converge on, the Xcel was proving a hindrance. Being their first time experiencing its effects, many of the men and women were having trouble keeping control. They were far stronger and faster, but there was suddenly no room to allow for mistakes. Further back, bodies were tumbling and crashing all over the place perhaps due to fear and confusion or maybe an over-eagerness to fight. Closer to the crates, however, the escapees had become pressed together like sardines in a can. Weapons were being fumbled as they were passed back, resulting in the occasional mistaken discharge. Most of the blasts disappeared harmlessly into the rumbling skies, but many tore into the mass of bodies, causing countless early casualties.
Trying his best to ignore the heaving chaos, Jumper took advantage of his elevated position and concentrated on the Insidion cube ships. Those already landed had opened up, one full side of their hulls dissolving away. Peering through his bliss rifle’s sights, he swore—audibly this time—as he witnessed giant, crab-like creatures pouring out of the cubes in nightmarish swarms. The huge beasts had dark red bodies with dirty yellow stripes crossing their broad, flat backs. Upon each back were three Carcarrions, all crouched menacingly on the juddering mounts and ready to pounce.
“Something wrong?” Toker cried up to him.
Jumper looked down from his perch at his young friend’s perspiring, grubby face. He and Eddy had been working tirelessly handing out the weapons, Toker shouting words of encouragement and reminding them to pass the weapons back while Eddy shoved weapons roughly into the reaching hands, growling at anyone whose eyes fell admiringly on the Gibson gun nestled at her feet.
“We might have unwanted company very soon,” Jumper shouted down, making sure Eddy could also hear and that she was paying attention.
“The big silver ships?” Toker asked, looking skyward.
Jumper nodded. ‘Remember, no heroics. We stick together and stay close to the Star Splinter at all times. As soon as it gets too hairy, we get on board. You hear that, Eddy?”
Eddy was practically falling headfirst into a crate in order to reach the last of the weapons. When she re-emerged, she looked up at him with a shrug. “Whatever you say, J.” She shouted it with little conviction, and Jumper didn’t believe for a second that the girl had taken his words in. He watched as she turned back to the mass of reaching hands and practically threw a rifle in the face of an escapee. “Get shootin’,” she growled at the bewildered looking man.
Toker shook his head and looked up at Jumper. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Another cube ship dropped rapidly from the sky. This one was far closer than the rest, and Jumper had no need of his bliss rifle’s sights to see the hull open up.
“They’re getting close,” Toker cried out and without waiting for a reply said, “What the hell happens if one of the bloody great things comes down on our heads?’
The words had barely left Toker’s lips before a rapidly increasing roar sounded overhead. Jumper snapped his head up to see a silver, square doorway in the black, tumulus sky. It was growing larger by the second. “Run, everyone run,” he bellowed, and he wasn’t the only one to shout it.
Leaping off his rock, he was only vaguely aware of the mass panic erupting around him; his eyes were fixed solely on Toker and Eddy. The huge Gibson gun was already in Eddy’s Xcel-strengthened hands, and she was in the process of directing it upwards towards the fast-dropping ship. Toker, having wrapped his arms around the girl, was doing his best to drag her away. Seconds later, Jumper was joining him in the effort, practically lifting the girl off her feet as the cube drew nearer.
Jumper felt Eddy’s tiny frame shuddering in his arms as the Gibson gun spewed out a massive surge of explosive pulse rounds. As he and Toker stumbled wildly across the hard, jagged terrain, Jumper saw countless prisoners struggling around and over the weapon crates to join them in running for their lives. It was suddenly getting very hot. He risked a glance up; the smooth, silvery hull was close, so close, he could make out the distorted reflections of pale, fleeing bodies among the black rocks. He briefly wondered how the hell the strange ship was flying. He could see no thrust jets, no boosters.
“Faster. We’ve got to run fucking faster,” Toker screamed in his ear.
Jumper couldn’t have said it better himself.
He wondered if Eddy was even aware that she would very po
ssibly be squashed flat in the next few seconds. Whether she did or not, her finger didn’t ease off the Gibson gun’s twin triggers for an instant. She was even continuing her fire as he and Toker threw her through the air—even if they were crushed, she might just make it clear.
As he made his final leap, Jumper’s ears seemed to filter out the thundering storm and the cacophony of guns and ships. All he heard was Eddy’s unrelenting battle cry and the unique sound of Toker’s half-scream, half-roar. He hoped to God that those kids would survive. He simply couldn’t imagine a life without them.
Then every sound was overwhelmed by a horrendous boom: the sound of a massive ship meeting hard ground.
Laurence hurriedly picked himself up. He’d misjudged one of his Xcel-enhanced jumps and had gone head over heels as he’d hit the ground. The wind was gusting stronger than ever, and it didn’t help that there were countless others running and leaping around him. Collisions were plentiful. There was blood pouring from a gash on his forehead. He couldn’t really feel the injury just as he wasn’t feeling the myriad of others over his body, but this one was troublesome as the blood continuously dribbled into his eyes. He dabbed at the gash with his sleeve in an unsuccessful attempt to stem the flow.
Tark landed nimbly by his side. His friend had adapted well to his new strength and speed and was wielding it with infinitely more style and grace than Laurence could ever hope to achieve. Without a word, the little man quickly tore a strip off his shirt and bandaged Laurence’s head. “Should do the trick.”
Laurence opened his mouth, but his thanks were interrupted by a pulse blast that ripped through the small space between their heads. He stumbled back in surprise, falling on his backside. Seeming unfazed by the pulse blast, Tark didn’t shift an inch.
“It’s getting pretty chaotic up there,” the little man observed, looking towards the increasingly dense mass of bodies ahead. “Quite a crowd.”
Laurence picked himself up and nodded. “They’ve got nowhere to go; there’s still no dropships,” he shouted back, trying to sound calm. “And those attack ships are causing a mass panic.” He looked back at one of the nearest cubes. “Did you see what’s coming out of them?”
Before Tark could answer, a man crashed to the ground in front of them. Laurence reached down to pick him up.
“Run. They’re coming. The crabs are coming this way!” The man was young, his eyes wide as he looked desperately at Laurence.
Laurence laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Go get yourself a weapon, son. We’ll be barbecuing the bloody great beasts in tonight’s victory feast.”
The words, and the confidence in which they were said, extinguished a little of the fear in the man’s eyes. He straightened up and managed a shaky salute before bounding cautiously towards the heaving crowd.
Tark shot Laurence an approving smile. “Nicely said.”
Laurence nodded. Even as the words had left his mouth, it struck him that they’d sounded like something his father would have said. Even his tone of voice had begun to resemble his father’s.
A distant screeching accompanied by multiple human shouts seemed to hitch a ride on the howling wind. Laurence turned to see a scramble of people surging over a distant, rocky ridge. Three of the massive, crab-like creatures stomped among them, Carcarrions leaping off their backs to land mercilessly on their victims. Some of the escapees were running as fast as their legs could carry them. Others were putting their faith in their new power and defiantly turning to fight. Laurence admired their bravery, but he could also see it was suicide.
“We should hurry. We won’t stand a chance without a weapon.”
Tark gave a nod of agreement, and together, they leapt off the rock.
A few minutes later, Laurence was deep in the crowd. He’d given up trying to control the direction he moved. Whether he was heading the right way, he had no idea. The dense mass of bodies was so tightly packed, they seemed one entity. A great number of weapons had already come his way, but reasoning that those nearest the attacking aliens would need them the most, he’d passed them all on and hoped to God they weren’t being passed in a circle. He wondered how Tark was doing, he’d lost sight of the little man a while back.
Suddenly, Laurence’s back pressed up against something that wasn’t flesh and bone. He was rammed in so tight, however, that it took him a few attempts to turn around. When he eventually managed it, he found he’d been carried right to the source of the weapon distribution. Looking left and right, he could see a long line of large, metal crates. Bodies were pressed up hard against every single one, and those who were lucky enough to be facing in the right direction were reaching in and pulling out a myriad of weapons, some of which Laurence didn’t even recognize. The crate he was jammed up against was almost empty, but it had never been the plan for every person to be armed.
On the opposite side of the crate, he saw a small, spiky-haired woman who was practically toppling head over heels in order to grab the last of the remaining weapons. When she popped up, Laurence was surprised to see how young she was, little more than a girl. Despite her dirty face and the slightly crazed look in her eyes, she was really rather pretty. Shooting her a quick, encouraging smile, Laurence leaned over in an attempt to grab a stinger rifle that he’d spotted. Despite his best efforts, however, the weapon remained a good finger length away from his grasp. Frustrated, he straightened up, and it was just as well he did. The wild-looking girl threw a pulse rifle at his face without the slightest warning. If it hadn’t been for his enhanced reactions, Laurence supposed that he’d have been relying on his fellows to carry his unconscious body to the dropships. The girl was shouting something inaudible at him. The expression on her face suggested they weren’t gentle words of encouragement.
Awkwardly passing the pulse rifle over his head, Laurence became aware of a strange, roaring noise, and those around him, including the wild looking girl, turned their attentions heavenward.
His gut lurched as he looked up, already knowing full well what he’d see. One of those huge, bloody ships was coming right down on their heads. “Move! Everyone, get the hell out of here.” Some were slow to react and continued to stare up in horror. Others were already trying to climb over the crates without much success.
His instinct taking over, Laurence reached across to the inside corner of the crate, ripped aside a safety catch, and pressed a button. Immediately, the crate gave way, collapsing as far as the remaining weapons inside would allow. Like water through a breached dam, Laurence and those around him burst through the gap. A man fell and would have been trampled underfoot if Laurence hadn’t grabbed him and hauled him to his feet.
“Run. Run,” Laurence bellowed and, taking his own advice, began scrambling over the rocks.
Just ahead, a torrent of rapid pulse fire from what must have been a massive gun was lighting up the increasing darkness with flashes of bright orange. But soon, even the noise of that weapon was drowned out as the roar overhead became almost deafening. Visions of being squashed flickered into Laurence’s mind, but he ignored them and continued running as fast as his boosted muscles would allow. He was tempted to look up, but fearful of tripping, he forced himself not to. The ship was so close that the electric white light from the dry storm was all but blocked out. The roar above his head was merciless, threatening to burst his ear drums at any moment as an intense heat began to scorch the top of his head. Suspecting that the vessel would be crushing its way onto the rocks at any second, Laurence dove as far as his boosted, burning legs could manage.
Then, quite suddenly, every last flicker of light was completely snuffed out.
The two synthetic killers stalked like a pair of lionesses. Cal watched their progress intently on the distant screen. Fortunately, they were adopting a slow, deliberate approach, undoubtedly cautious of his five-click pulse rifle. Cal tried to ignore the increasing warm damp seeping from his injured side. He kept telling himself not to look down at the wound, but he couldn’t resist a quic
k glance. He was a mess, that was for sure, and the pool of blood beneath him was a sickening sight.
The blood triggered a thought or, more accurately, a memory. He was standing over Laurence Decker’s crumpled form, the faint buzz of cutting lasers the only sound to be heard. There was blood dripping from the man’s nose and mouth, pooling on the floor where a single, white tooth settled. Despite the events happening only a handful of months ago, it felt to Cal like a different age. He had made a decision that day, a resolution to live a life free from responsibility. The thought of it almost made him smile. The more you try to control life… Now thousands of lives were hanging in the balance with nobody but him to tip the scales. A whole world of responsibility. Yes, fate really could be quite the bitch.
He took a deep breath, and the last of his lingering fear seemed to seep out of him and run dry.
An idea took shape in his mind.
As the synthetics crept nearer, Cal pulled Kaia’s control wand from his sleeve and assessed his new plan. Ironically, it was the morbid thought of not being able to win this fight alone that had triggered it. It was an absurdly dangerous idea that would undoubtedly result in utter chaos followed closely by his death. But all of a sudden, he felt like going out with a bang. And just maybe, the ensuing chaos would give him those precious few moments to activate the dropships. There was really no alternative and therefore no choice.
Without further hesitation, Cal stood, feeling more than a little dizzy as he did so, and stretched both arms out in the direction of the synthetics. In his right hand, he held the five-click pulse rifle and in his left the little Godsend of a control wand. The two synthetics paused ever so briefly, assessing the threat now that he had so boldly revealed himself. The short length of their pause suggested he was barely considered a threat at all.