Invasion | Box Set | Books 1-7

by Platt, Sean

  For 1 percent of the population.

  “MARA!”

  She looked up. Toward the stairs. Toward the impregnable door where rioters were storming her gates.

  She clicked the video feed to one showing the palace interior. It was empty, as it had been every time she’d checked. She’d seen some aides running through a giant hole in the wall, possibly blasted by Charlie Cook and Jeanine Coffey. Reptars had been chasing them. She’d seen others leave of their own accord, but certainly nobody was still here who was, once upon a time, supposed to be here. The place was open for rioters and had been for hours.

  But still, the house was empty.

  “MARA! LET ME IN!”

  She climbed the steps. Turned all the right knobs and pulled all the right levers. She peeked tentatively out even after checking the screen beside the door, then opened it wide and stared slack-jawed at the black-and-blue mess across from her.

  “Kamal?”

  “So I am still as beautiful as I used to be,” Kamal said, his words somehow unaffected by his fat lip.

  Mara ushered him in, glanced through the hallway, and closed the door. She secured everything she’d unfastened then took his arm as they descended into the bunker. Kamal had a significant limp and fell down the stairs nearly as much as he was stepping.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  “I walked into a wall.”

  “Were you out in the city? Were you attacked?”

  “Your visitors did this. I never want to run a bed and breakfast again.”

  “Which visitors?”

  “Jeanine Coffey.”

  “Jeanine did this to you?”

  “I misspoke. I meant it was a gang of big, strong bikers.”

  Mara ushered Kamal to a couch and eased him onto it.

  “Do you need a … ?” She stalled, not knowing how to end her sentence.

  “How about some Flintstones aspirin?”

  “How can you make jokes at a time like this?”

  “I’m a hilarious person. I can’t control it.”

  Mara sat opposite Kamal. He seemed intact, just painfully ugly. Jeanine had done a number on him, but he wasn’t acting like anything was broken.

  “Where were you?” Mara asked.

  “Bitch knocked me out. I woke up a few minutes ago, and everyone had left. Then I went to the window and saw. Checked the feeds and saw more. So your State of the City didn’t go well?”

  “Not so much.”

  “And the Ark?”

  “Cameron opened it. That didn’t go well, either.”

  “And the girl?”

  “Clara? I don’t know.”

  “They thought I was Mullah. That I’d taken her. Just because I’m Muslim? That’s racist.”

  “What happened?”

  “Ravi, I think. Hard to tell with all the unconsciousness, but our secondary surveillance got most of it.”

  “Ravi is Mullah?”

  “I think. Shoulda known. He’s Muslim.”

  “So why did Jeanine beat you up?”

  “Because she’s a bitch. Please tell me she’s down here so I can punch her in the vagina.”

  “She’s dead.”

  Kamal looked genuinely sorry. “Oh. That sucks.” Then: “So who’s here?”

  “Just me. Charlie didn’t make it. Or Cameron. I don’t know what happened to most of our staff, including the insiders, but I think Reptars chased them out of the palace before they could assemble.”

  “Cowards.”

  “I was still with the Meyers. Ran into Piper and the younger one. Lila, the girl’s mother? Then Peers Basara ran up at the last minute, and we came here.”

  “Peers?”

  “Yes. And I think you’re right about him. He had something in his pack that he wouldn’t show anyone. Talked about escape tunnels but wouldn’t say how he knew.”

  “Mullah?”

  Mara nodded. “That’s my guess.”

  “He and Ravi should hang out.”

  “But I still don’t think he’s dangerous. I wouldn’t have let the others go with him if I had.” Mara realized she wasn’t fully explaining. Her mind was moving a mile a minute. There was so much Kamal might have missed. He hadn’t asked about the bloody footprints in the bunker, but that didn’t mean he knew about their new plumbing issues.

  “They all decided to leave. I told them where to find the Cradle and how to hook up with the others at the rendezvous linkup. The big ship outside … Did you see the big ship?”

  “Yes.”

  “The big ship made me think it wasn’t a good idea to go at all. Went with Plan C: Stay here. But now I wonder if I could’ve made it. If there was any chance they’d so much as try to stop me.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  Mara waved a hand through the air like wiping an invisible windshield. “I’ll tell you later. Did you see the broadcast?”

  “Yours, or the one by Divinity just now, about how we have to play the lottery to see who lives or dies on that thing?”

  “The second one.”

  Kamal nodded his puffy, bruised head. “Quite the conundrum. Although I don’t know why they said we need to choose. People will kill each other for their spot. It’s probably full already.

  Mara showed Kamal the feed. Let him take it in until he squinted and frowned, seeing the force field.

  “They can’t get in?”

  Mara shook her head. “There’s a barrier. And they sent me the code, I think.” She showed him the laptop with its new message.

  “Why?”

  Onscreen, a team of Reptars was entering the plaza by the Apex, moving in a slow line toward the mass around the boat.

  “What are they doing?” Kamal’s eyes moved upward on the screen. “And why a boat?”

  Mara shook her head. “Maybe it’s symbolic. It’s not the first symbolic thing they’ve done.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mara’s eyes flicked toward the blood on the floor. “Nothing. I can explain later.”

  Reptars moved toward the force field. Then they stepped right through it, though its energy still seemed to hold the humans at bay. They lined up inside, then marched slowly outward, inching the citizens of Ember Flats away from the field, forcing them to disperse somewhat.

  Order restored. Chaotic situation controlled through might. But why?

  Something blocked the camera. Then whatever it was stepped back, and Mara and Kamal found themselves looking at a Titan’s overly pleasant face. It was a male, indistinguishable from any other Titan male she’d ever seen. She waited for him to move on and assist whatever the Astrals were doing in the plaza, but he stayed put, his face toward the camera.

  “What’s it doing?” Kamal’s voice was low, as if the Titan could hear him.

  Mara shook her head.

  The Titan looked directly into the camera. He gave that maddeningly polite, neutrally bureaucratic look they all had, but did so right at the two of them, as if he knew where the tiny camera was hidden.

  The Titan pointed. To his right, Mara and Kamal’s left.

  “What the hell is it pointing at?” Kamal asked.

  There was another knock on the bunker door. Right where the on-screen Titan was pointing.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  In the Canaan Plains palace, Viceroy Jayesh Sai stood staring at his message from the mothership above. It was terse and simple, as were all communications from Divinity. But this time, it was also a mystery. What was a lifeboat, in this context? Why did it have a perimeter? And why did Jayesh — who wasn’t even sure what perimeter needed deactivating — need the means to unlock it?

  He was wondering if the lifeboat in question had anything to do with the message they’d seen broadcast above the Canaan Plains main square when the door opened. At first Jayesh was annoyed. But then his dark face cracked into a smile, and a grin too young for his years surfaced.

  “Nitya! Have you come to visit your Daada?”

 
; The girl padded across the office rug, thumb firmly in her mouth. Watching her, Jayesh felt a disconcerting mixture of sorrow and envy. Nitya didn’t understand that the world was ending, didn’t know she might soon be dying along with her Daada, if the message from Divinity was any indication. But still, the sinking feeling he got thinking of the odds (1 percent survived while the rest were killed, and even the viceroy had no clue where to find the “vessel”) was counterpointed by the jealousy he felt when considering his granddaughter’s ignorance and how, if she died, it would be without the fear to precede it.

  How would it happen?

  When would it happen?

  And how were they supposed to make their attempt at escape?

  Jayesh hadn’t a clue. Between the time the still-alive Meyer Dempsey (and his clone) made their little speech and this newest announcement, his city had heard nothing. Canaan Plains grew agitated when they learned of Heaven’s Veil, but things had been percolating back toward normal until this.

  Nitya circled the room. She was only eighteen months old but walked as well as Pari, his assistant’s five-year old daughter. Pari was older than Nitya, but Nitya had that special spark. Sometimes it seemed like the girl could read minds. Always it seemed like she knew far more than she let on, as if she’d been an Elder since birth.

  “Nitya? I would love to play with you, but now is not the time.” Jayesh looked again at the message then at the girl, wondering if they’d ever have a chance to play again.

  She took the thumb from her mouth and said, plain as a teenager: “There is a new ship in the desert, beyond the valley, perched on its keel in a cage of blue glass. A man in jeans and boots is at the palace door, wishing to speak with you. And the rain is coming.”

  In the empty land beyond Loulan Mu, a fisherman named Shen sat in a small boat, looking out at the western sky. Thunderheads were forming on the mountains like dark and ominous snow. A slight wind rippled the water. It wasn’t like the normal breeze, in a way Shen couldn’t place. This was different. This was new.

  His line jerked. He looked toward the water, only now aware that he’d been staring into the distance for long vanished minutes. He doubled his grip on the rod, jerking it to set the hook, and whispered his usual prayer for bounty. It was a ritual he’d always had, but in the days since the visitors came — and especially since they formed their cities and the world beyond became lawless — it had found new meaning. Shen’s village was tiny, nestling a valley few had reason to cross. Even as news of the crumbling world reached Shen, he’d mostly ignored it. He had little use for such knowledge; his life consisted of fishing and family and farming, with little need for anything else. Small prayers in thanks for fish seemed a fitting way to show his appreciation to that which kept his life the same, that kept his family safe while the planet changed forever.

  Shen reeled in his catch. On the end of his line, somehow fused with the hook, was a metal ball the size of a large walnut.

  Shen touched it, and took it from the hook into his palm. It wasn’t wet or slimy, hadn’t spent who-knew-how-long on the stream floor. There were no punctures to indicate where the hook had been, or how it had entered. Perhaps it had been magnetism holding it in place. He could almost feel its energy warming his skin.

  He hefted it. Used one finger to roll the thing, noting the way it warmed wherever it touched him. It was a pleasant feeling that made Shen’s stiff joints feel better. He moved it around more, old fingers making it roll.

  “Like this,” said a voice.

  Shen jumped. His pole stayed in the boat, but the vessel rocked, sending a radar of ripples from its hull toward the stream’s bank.

  There was a man sitting in the boat behind him.

  “Don’t force it to roll,” the man said, looking down. “Let it roll.”

  The man was white with a long, weathered face, but he spoke Shen’s language perfectly, down to every nuance of the dialect. But his words weren’t what Shen noticed most, nor was it the fact that he’d simply materialized in his boat. Shen was most transfixed by the similar silver balls — three of them — rolling circles against each other in the man’s large right hand.

  “It’s like a dance, Shen. Do you see?”

  The stranger set a second ball in Shen’s palm.

  “Who are you?”

  Despite the man’s Western appearance, he showed every sign of understanding. He simply said, “I am a friend.”

  “How did you get into my boat?”

  “That is not important. What is important is that you take your family and cross the northern pass. There is a flat place there, with twin trees at the spot where the path emerges, then a series of pools beyond. Do you know it?”

  Shen nodded.

  “There you will find a boat much larger than this one. Take your family onto the boat. It is your new home.”

  It occurred to Shen that he should have a thousand questions. He should not trust this man, or have any reason to believe him. But he looked down at the silver balls in his wrinkled palm, felt their warmth, and trusted. He felt their weight and believed. He would do as the man said without question.

  “Why?”

  “Because rains are coming. And because a ship larger than any of the others is on its way to the north. It will move south after that. Only a few will find the boat I’ve told you about in time. For the people of Loulan Mu, there will be no lottery as in the grand capitals of Earth. Nobody holds its key. You will survive if you find it. That is the nature of Loulan Mu’s test.”

  “Which test?”

  “One that you and your family will pass.”

  The stranger raised his hand. He made the balls circle then roll along the top of his vein-strewn skin. Then he flicked his wrist, and the balls hopped into his palm, which he closed. When he opened his hand again, the balls were gone.

  “If it is a test to find the boat, then are you not cheating by telling me where to find it?”

  And the stranger said, “Yes.”

  Shen looked to the thunderheads above the mountains. There was a flash, too far for sound. Shen could smell the moisture in the air, like fermenting leaves. It wasn’t just coming from the rain, born from the world itself.

  “Why me? I am only a fisherman.”

  The man in jeans said, “Because if I did not intervene, you would die.”

  Again Shen found himself wondering if he should disbelieve. Again, he looked down at the balls and felt faith without question.

  “Thank you. Thank you for saving my family’s lives.”

  “I’m not saving your lives,” the stranger said. “I’m saving mine.”

  In the Etemenanki Sprawl, at the lip of a crater the locals called Old Goat, two women stood looking down into the volcanic zone, squinting, shielding their eyes with their hands.

  Over the past few days, the hotspots had returned seemingly all at once. The spring-fed pools had become so hot that nobody could go into them. The volcano coughed ash in a steady, sooty stream that was almost too subtle to be seen but that showed in the capital atop the shiny roofs of abandoned cars and Astral shuttles that parked for too long. There were hikes that the women used to take as part of their daily ritual — those who tempted open caverns where lava had once come and gone — that they could no longer take because the molten rock had returned. The ground sometimes shook. And now every time they hiked up to look down into Old Goat they were careful to watch the ways in and out. If floes crossed the wrong spots, it was possible (if unlikely) that they could find themselves surrounded. You couldn’t just walk out when lava floes crossed your path. Rescue could only come from the air, and the aliens were picky when it came to humans and flight.

  But with today’s due diligence paid, the women had made their way to the crater’s lip and were looking down, toward the magma chambers, when they spied something new.

  “Is it a house?” Ina asked.

  Her friend, Maj, squinted harder. Sometimes, she hiked with binoculars. But not today.


  “Why would someone build a house in an active volcano?” Maj answered.

  “Maybe they want hot springs,” Ina said.

  “It’s taller than a house. And the bottom is narrow, like it’s balanced and about to fall.”

  Maj squinted harder. She’d just turned forty, but Ina was twenty-nine. The last thing Maj wanted to admit was that she could see none of the same detail, and that to her it looked more like a fortress of metal and wood atop blue scaffolding.

  “Maj …” Ina trailed off. And when Maj looked over, her friend’s eyes were wide, hand pressed to her chest.

  “What?”

  “I think it’s …”

  “What, Ina?”

  “I know how this sounds.”

  “It sounds like you being ridiculous because you won’t finish a sentence.”

  “Don’t you see it? Tell me I’m not crazy.”

  “Maybe if you told me what you might be crazy about?”

  “The message. From the Astrals. You know how the woman talked about ‘vessels’?”

  Maj nodded. She’d thought of little else. It was a sticky problem. As the viceroy of Etemenanki Sprawl, her job was to protect her city, but how could she do that if her mandate said that only 1 percent would survive whatever the aliens were brewing?

  “Of course.”

  “Well?”

  “Just spit it out, Ina. I can’t see that far because I’m too fucking old, okay? And if you keep reminding me, I won’t let you sit in on the viceroy rendezvous. I’ll kick you right the fuck out of the Cradle and you can just walk until your skin burns off.”

  “Wow,” Ina said. “Old bitches sure do get touchy.”

  Maj sighed. There was no help for her friend.

  “It looks like a boat, okay? A big, giant boat right in the goddamned middle of the crater, surrounded by rivers of lava.”

  Maj looked again. Now that Ina mentioned it, it did look sort of like a dry-docked boat. But there were no rivers or lakes, only the distant, frigid ocean riddled with icebergs this time of year. The days were already short, and would be shrinking still as winter came. Boating sounded horrible. When Maj heard that the city would be given a vessel, she’d personally been hoping for a luxury spaceship. The lucky 1 percent could tool off to Mars and live in style. That would be fine with her. If humanity had to die, she could stomach being with it but didn’t wish to see its final breaths.