by SD Tanner
His knees strained as he weaved and leapt over the low bushes. Reaching the opening to the walkway, the sound of large caliber weapons fire was behind him. The Navigator was either badly trained or he wasn’t trying very hard. While his people were unleashing as much firepower as they could, the Navigator was sporadically returning fire in an almost halfhearted way.
Running hard, his breath was coming in ragged bursts, making his lungs burn. He was fitter than this, but knowing he could feel the cut of a laser at any moment was making his whole body shake. It wasn’t so much his death he was worried about as it was leaving Vela and the kids. They wouldn’t survive on their own, even with Eric standing guard. Keeping his family alive took him and every other renegade working together as a team, watching one another’s backs. Whenever one of them was killed, they would adopt the surviving family as their own, caring for those left behind. Rumor had it that hunting renegades was part of the Navigator training program, forming one of the tests they had to pass. He suspected it was their attitudes they were assessing and not their skills. Testing Navigators by catching or killing a human was like measuring how well a dog barked. A person was no match for a Navigator regardless of how well they were armed.
“Go. Go. Go,” someone shouted.
He stretched his long legs to leap over the broken sections on the walkway. The dam had been dry for over a hundred years and, without water, nothing would break his fall. It would only take one careless step and he could stumble, falling to his death five hundred feet below. Dust crumbled from the wall on his right side and he glanced up. As fragments of old and dried concrete spat into the air, he assumed the Navigator was taking pot shots at him.
Navigator’s annoyed him. They swaggered about as if they owned the world, which he supposed they did. Sometimes when he couldn’t sleep, he wondered what he might have become had all things been equal. If he’d been born on the winning side rather than as a reject, would he have joined the human army? Navigators and their transformed brothers, the Bombardiers, stood before the enemy lines, protecting mankind from the aliens. In the eyes of the Guild, carrying too much of the enemy DNA made him a potential enemy, denying him the home that everyone else took for granted. His father used to say life wasn’t fair, telling him that he had to learn to roll with the punches, but being born a reject gave him no way to win. It wasn’t fair to be cursed from birth for a reason he couldn’t change.
Finally reaching the door, concrete was still pattering against the top of his head. It meant that this Navigator was the worst shot in the army, but that wasn’t even possible. The Navigators used computer controlled weapons and once a target was set they couldn’t miss. He could only assume that the Navigator was toying with him, but his life was worth nothing to the Guild, so there was no reason why he wouldn’t shoot him just for target practice. As the door opened in front of him, arms reached out eager to pull him to safety.
Risking a fast glance over his shoulder, the image of the Navigator burned into his brain. Dressed in a black fitted suit, red and white colored armor was strapped to his shoulders, arms and legs. Heavy looking guns were attached to each arm, and on his shoulders were packs he recognized as grenade launchers. The red and white fitted helmet had a strip of black so he couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew the man was watching him from the other side of the dam. Raising one gloved hand, the Navigator waved to him as if he were seeing off a friend. Unsure what to make of it, he raised his own hand, hesitantly returning the gesture. As hands pulled him inside of the gloomy corridor, the last thing he saw was the Navigator giving him the thumbs up signal.
This behavior wasn’t typical of a Navigator. Another thing his father had taught him was that not everyone was an asshole. He’d always said not to assume that a man was an enemy until he was one. If only the United Guild had taken that approach to life then no one would have been left outside in the cold. His father was a wiser man than the clowns who ran the Guild. Although the Navigator had spared his life, he knew there would be more of them nearby and they might not be as friendly.
His fellow renegades were running along the corridor, lighting the way with their headlamps. Finally able to catch his breath again, he said into his mike, “We need to bug out. You know the drill, people. Kids and vulnerable first. Able shooters last.”
“Which site?” Eric asked.
They had six primary locations in an area once known as Wyoming. Back in the days before the aliens destroyed Earth, it had been a thriving area, but now there were only abandoned and desolate buildings. Wildlife and nature had reclaimed the land, making it a good hunting ground. The many empty buildings might be falling apart, but they could still be used for basic shelter. With weapons and supplies stashed across the county, they could set up a new home within hours, fully functioning and able to take care of their families. This was their life, constantly on the move, only taking what they needed from one place to the next.
His group was made up of two hundred adults and thirty children under the age of fifteen. Renegade leaders like himself never met in large numbers, so they could only estimate how many groups they had. The last guess was there were three hundred like his, giving them around ten thousand people. Surviving in such small numbers, they were only ever a tiny thorn in the heavily defended hide of the Guild.
Inside of a room that had once been used by the engineers to manage the dam, he found Vela waiting with his three-year old son and their baby daughter in her arms. She was standing next to a pack containing their worldly belongings. The rest of his group were scattered throughout the tunnels, living in corridors and other abandoned rooms. Briefly giving Vela a one armed hug, he kissed the little girl she was cradling. Although only twenty-two, she had the tired and worn look of the hunted. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head and she was wearing a heavy jacket with thick patches of armor. When outside, she would tuck baby Sophia underneath the armor, hoping it would provide her with some protection. His son was now a toddler with a shock of dark hair and large brown eyes. Being born outside the rule of the Guild, neither his daughter nor his son had been tested for enemy DNA.
The people who had shared their small room were sitting or standing next to their loaded packs. His father had led this group, but after he was killed by a Navigator, the role had fallen to him. Being barely eighteen when he’d first taken over leadership, he was now a seasoned veteran of seven years. It might not sound like much, but their leaders rarely survived longer than a decade, so he was over half way through his expected term.
Their next closest safe house was in an old gas pipeline camp, some twenty miles from where they were. It was a long trek and they’d never make it in a single day, much less the afternoon they had left. They had transport hidden across the area, but using it made them too visible to the camera drones, so it was reserved for emergency use only. He was about to tell them to move out when the high-pitched whine of laser fire echoed along the corridor outside of their room.
Racing towards the door, he muttered, “No, no, no.” Pulling it open, green beams of light were cutting across the corridor, searing the walls while they sought their targets.
It was coming from the direction they needed to leave, blocking their escape route. He couldn’t even hope to lose them in the maze of corridors. Navigators could see through walls, so they knew exactly where they were and who they had with them.
Fear for his wife and children crawled across his neck, leaving an icy wetness in its wake, but he was determined to keep a cool head. “We need to use the west exit and get into the sewers.”
Eric was already hustling the twelve people from the room, leaving him to tell the rest of the group to head west. Navigators were better armed and fully armored so returning fire was a nonstarter. A lone Navigator could be brought down by ten able men, but a squad couldn’t be beaten. The only option he had was to run. He could expect some casualties, but with two hundred people, the Navigators wouldn’t get them all.
Despite the lase
r fire lighting up the corridor, people were emerging from the rooms. Grabbing Vela, he stepped into the corridor, and using his body as a shield, he pushed her in front of him. “Run!”
She didn’t need to be told twice, sprinting away from him with little Sophia tucked under her jacket. Holding his son against his chest, he joined the tumble of bodies running along the corridor. The children were howling, but the adults had long since learned that screaming only wasted energy. Already he was losing people; some were killed instantly, while others were too injured to move. They would carry anyone they could, which meant the children were always rescued, but mostly they would be forced to leave the adults. It was harsh, and sometimes people chose to stay with their loved ones, allowing themselves to be killed as well.
Eric was leading the way and he was following Vela, still carrying his son. Given a Navigator could run at over twenty miles per hour, the fact that they weren’t already dead meant they weren’t trying very hard. If they wanted to kill them all then they would die, it was as simple as that.
Jake was limp in his arms, but he could tell he was fine. His little fists were clinging to the inner pockets of his jacket where he was tucked under his armored vest. This wasn’t his first raid and he trusted his father to protect him. Each corridor was short, meaning the Navigators had to get into the same one to fire at them. With only the light from their headlamps, the shapes of the people running next to him were blurry. Every so often, a person next to him would fall behind, only to be replaced by another. When the corridor lit with laser fire, he could see the grim determination on each of their faces.
Just as he thought they might make it, a green beam cut through the gap in the bodies on his left, slicing through Vela as easily as a knife slid through water.
“Vela!” Stumbling to the floor, she slumped to one side, still holding Sophia. Skidding onto one knee, he bent over her. “Vela.”
The laser had cut her from the top of her shoulder and down her breastbone, sealing the wound as it went. This type of injury severed the lung from the bronchial, the stomach from the esophagus, and the blood supply from the heart to her body. They had almost no medical support and certainly none that could save her life. With her blood unable to flow, she would be dead within a minute.
Struggling to breathe, she panted, “Take her.” Thrusting the baby at him, seeing him hesitate, she summoned strength from somewhere. “Take her now!”
Gathering Sophia into his jacket, his arms were filled with their children. Vela’s eyes were already losing focus. Briefly leaning into her face, he whispered, “I love you.” She didn’t reply, but he hadn’t really expected her to.
The group had already turned the corner into the next corridor, and he could hear the heavy footsteps of Navigators casually making their way behind him. The empty corridor was amplifying the hum of the hydraulics inside of their gear. Struggling to his feet, he began to run, hoping to catch up with the rest of his group. The corridor ended at a T-junction and he hesitated, unsure which way to turn. If he got it wrong, he would be cut off from his group, left alone to defend his children. Behind him, the thudding steps with its matching hum was growing louder.
He needed to make a decision and do it fast. Turning left, he began to jog, trying not to lose his grip on the children. With his headlamp lighting his way, he recoiled in shock when it flashed across the darkened outline of a Navigator. Despite the gloom, the red and white armor with the matching helmet glowed oddly. Spinning his body around, hoping his own feeble armor would somehow save his children, he was surprised to feel a heavy hand land on his shoulder. When he tried to pull away, the Navigator tightened his grip, pushing him through a door and into a room filled with people. No one was speaking, but hands pulled him tightly into the group, taking the children from his arms and passing them to the back of the room.
Still shocked, he turned to face the Navigator, expecting to feel the cut of a laser before he died. The Navigator flicked up his helmet, revealing a boyish face with an impish smile. After giving him a slow wink, he turned and left the room. Still wearing his helmet up, the Navigator’s voice could be heard booming down the corridor. “Pack it up. We’re done.” Somebody must have objected, but that only made him shout more sharply. “I’m off the clock. No pay, no play. We’re done.” Whoever was complaining must have continued and he added sternly, “I’m docking you two days for irritating me.” There was a brief pause. “Anybody else wanna piss me off today?” Clearly, nobody did and he finally said, “Saddle up, we’re pulling out.”
A voice beside him whispered, “Granger, what just happened?”
He knew the man was asking why the Navigator had chosen to protect them, but his mind was still filled with his last sight of Vela. If the man had turned up just a few minutes earlier then she’d still be alive.
CHAPTER TWELVE:
We Be Gods
(Ark Three)
Returning to Earth a month later, he again took Mariana in one of the attack ships, this time flying low over the city of CaliTech. The company had once been hidden deep inside of Sequoia National Park, but nothing of its original setting remained. Trees had been cut down to expand the grounds that now contained a hundred buildings. Several Navigator barracks sat outside of the walls on either side of the city, but the bulk of the army were behind it. Tracts of small single story houses spread out from the cluster of buildings with roads weaving between them. Further out from these were more homes blending into the countryside where there were animals and crops. If he flew even further south-west, he would find what had once been Los Angeles. It had never been restored to its original condition, but it operated as an administration city for the United Guild. They used the once busy port to ship supplies from more farming land along the coast and other countries. Although they’d lost most of their population, with their drive to repopulate the country, it was slowly expanding again.
Pointing at the city emerging out of the cluster of low housing, he said almost proudly, “That’s CaliTech.”
“Not Guild?” Mariana asked.
Although he’d told her the history of their country and planet, he hadn’t really able to explain the difference between the two. “Yes and no. CaliTech are…they’re the research and engineering arm. They design and build things we need. The Guild is…it sort of controls the world, you know, like a single government for the planet.”
“More humans?”
Every country had tried to restore itself, but with only two percent of their population left, many skills had been lost. It made it hard to get medical and manufacturing operational again, meaning people were living off the land and dying of diseases that had once been curable. Thanks to the consolidation of expertise kept safe behind the walls of CaliTech, what had once been the United States of America was the most advanced. Success begat success so they were the most powerful country on Earth and growing at a rapid rate. It afforded them freedoms the rest of the world didn’t have, giving them the ability to expand into space. The U.S. flag still flew above the main gates to CaliTech, but Dunk had changed it to include the stars of the planets he’d considered his.
“Yeah, there are more people, but…we don’t have much to do with them.”
His answer wasn’t entirely true. If he were honest, he would have said they didn’t need them. Dunk had ruthlessly taken control of everything that was left after the invasion, including the few experts he’d found in other countries. Offering them protection that their own countries couldn’t, they’d been grateful to join them. Now the Guild only handed out technology and medical supplies to other countries whenever it could get something in return.
CaliTech had several large landing areas, one next to the Navigator barracks, and the other was near the main building at the front of the walled city. With its own command structure, the Bombardiers didn’t share barracks with the Navigators. They were rarely on Earth and, when not in space, the two armies had little to do with one another. Hovering over the grounds, he
waited until the battleship dropped onto its four large feet, landing gracelessly onto the landing pad. Engineers and technicians would run standard repair and maintenance routines on the ships, bringing them back to mint condition before they left for deep space again.
After their encounter with the enemy aliens, they’d spoken by radio with Ark Command about refitting the ship with better armor and more powerful missiles. They’d discussed their options, concluding that missiles with nuclear warheads were their best defense against the critters. If the enemy ships insisted upon multiplying themselves then vaporizing them was the only way to go. The Bombardiers were immune to radiation and the Navigators were protected by their suits. With radiation able to dissipate in space, they wouldn’t be exposed to its effects for very long anyway. Tank would reinforce the briefing in his usual terrifying style, making sure the CaliTech engineers did exactly what he expected of them.
As he jumped from the significantly smaller attack ship, he surveyed the hull of the battleship, noting how badly dented and scarred it was. While in space, small rocks and debris regularly hammered into it, and although the cells could heal, the technicians would give it additional energy to speed up the process.
Spinning on the heel of his boot, he surveyed the tall and squat buildings that made up his home. Single and two person transport pods were driving along the narrow pathways between the buildings. He understood people had once been allowed to dress as they pleased, but Dunk hadn’t been interested in ramping up manufacturing to make clothes, deciding that everyone could wear a uniform. His decision resulted in everyone being dressed in a bland flannel that only added to the dreariness of the city.