by SD Tanner
“Evasive maneuvers.”
Like a meteor storm, there were too many pieces to avoid them all. One skidded over the top of his viewer and it should have harmlessly slid away, but instead it stuck to the clear screen. Vibrating as if it were being blown by wind, long thin legs sprung from its uneven surface. The limbs ended in sharp claws that latched onto the sides of his screen.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Tank muttered. “Ark, open the viewer and get rid of that damned thing.”
Switching his visor to standard viewing, he studied the strange black monster clinging to their ship. Being only inches from his face, molded black eyes stared back at him. It had an unevenly rounded body with skinny legs, but the wide-open mouth beneath the eyes was full of sharpened black spikes. Its many legs were digging into the sides of the ship, making its fat little body sway as if it was on springs.
“What the hell is that?”
“Hell’s a good name for it. It looks like a type of critter.”
Before he had time to ask if he’d ever seen one like it before, it tipped its round body up and began gnawing at the clear viewer. Its sharpened spikes were sliding harmlessly over the hard surface, but it would eventually manage to eat its way inside. With only a few inches between their faces, he watched with a disgusted fascination. Its spike packed jaws had taken over half of its body, and although it didn’t appear to have ears, the face was oddly humanoid. All advanced life in the universe seemed to share the same genetic parents, making him wonder if Mariana had a point. What exactly was the gap between the enemy aliens and themselves? Judging by the critter angrily chewing at the viewer next to his head, it wasn’t a lot.
Unclipping his harness, he pushed the clear viewing window open. With his legs wedged against the chair and his back pressing on the top of the ship, he used both hands to grab the stumpy body of the critter, but it didn’t budge. Deciding that yanking it away was too difficult and unable to reach for his Burner, he brought his arm up, flicking it sharply to release the Smith & Wesson from its hidden spot under the flap on his forearm. As it slid neatly into his gloved hand, the antique gun was loaded with .357 magnum uranium tipped rounds. His grandfather had used this gun to kill critters during the first attack on earth. When he fired it at point blank range, the critter disintegrated into even smaller particles. With its body blasted away, the scrawny legs clutching the sides of the ship continued holding on for just a few moments before drifting away.
As he dropped back into his seat, he heard Tank ordering the other ships to check for critters, telling them he didn’t want them docking with any unwanted fleas. The attack ships flew in close formation, running bright lights across the hulls on each ship. They looked clean of critters, but the engineers at CaliTech would need to design them better weapons. If the enemy aliens continued to hunt for them then this engagement would be the first of many. Tank had always said that the critters adapted and it looked like they still did. This was only their second fight and they were changing their tactics.
“Tank, do you think this is what happens to the Boms? Are they killed by the critters?”
“I don’t know.”
Their attack ship was making its way through the gaping hole at the back of the battleship, landing clumsily onto its four legs. The problem with using living cells to create their ships was that they didn’t all turn out the same. Some were smart, some were capable of continuing to learn, and others were so stupid they were left on earth and used as airships. Their ship was one of the smarter ones, but even it didn’t know how to land properly. Stepping forward a few times, it finally stopped with its nose pressed up against the back wall of the bay.
Jumping down onto the docking bay floor, Tank was stalking around the attack ships, inspecting every surface for a critter that might have snuck onboard. “I’m going to check on Mariana.”
“Is that what they call it now? Checking?”
Turning away from the slit, he asked, “What does that mean?”
Laughter filled his earpiece and he sighed. He supposed he was intrigued by Mariana, but it wasn’t like that, or at least he didn’t think so. From an early age, he’d known his wife would be chosen for him. Although he was offered as many women as he wanted, he would probably never meet the one who would be known as his wife and the mother of his children. He was conceived decades after his mother had become a Bombardier and was lost to space. Like her, his genes would be harvested and he never expected to know his children, they would be born long after he was dead. The thought of any sort of romance was far from his mind and nothing he ever expected to have.
CHAPTER TEN: The lucky prince (Ark Three)
“Beautiful.”
Staring through the viewing window on the attack ship, all he could see was the usual bleak nothingness of space, and it wasn’t anything he would have described as beautiful. With only a clear screen between them and the emptiness, this was as close as anyone could get to being at one with the universe. The darkness in space wasn’t exactly black. In the distance, lights twinkled and blinked as the planets they belonged to spun around. Small meteors and tiny pieces of undefinable debris were drifting past them, each on their own frictionless journey from wherever they had started.
The lighting inside of the battleship was so poor that when he wasn’t in stasis, he had to spend at least ten minutes a day inside of a sun box. Even the walls of the ship were strange. Slightly warm to the touch and a murky deep brown color, they gave the ship a dreary look. With no windows on the battleship, it was easy to forget they were hurtling through space. Thanks to the heavy Bombardiers and their own Navigator armor, all of the chairs, beds and tables were battered and bruised. Their living quarters were small, but that wasn’t why they stank. The ship was alive and it came with a nasty odor all of its own. He couldn’t blame Mariana for wanting to leave. As a peace offering, he’d taken her out in one of the attack ships, traveling behind the battleship as it forged its way towards earth.
“There’s nothing out here.”
Sitting behind him in the seat he usually occupied, she sharply tapped the top of his helmet. “Stars.”
“That’s true.”
Although her way of speaking was short, he’d learned to interpret her few words. Considering she’d been taken prisoner by strangers, she was oddly calm. Any fear she had when they’d first met had disappeared, leaving no trace it had ever been there. During their strange conversations, she would challenge him about his life. She appeared to be less of a prisoner and more the visitor she should be, but he doubted the Guild would agree.
“Happy alive?”
It was an odd question. He was alive every day so he couldn’t honestly say he gave it much thought. “I suppose inasmuch as I don’t want to be dead.”
“Not die. Change.”
He never thought about it that way, but he supposed it was true. They took living cells and made them into another creature they could program and control. Perhaps death was the same, a transformation of sorts.
“What do you do when your species die?”
“No death. New body.”
It was a soothing way to look at death and nothing like he’d been taught. The original Dunk had made clear what he thought of death by refusing to die. Death was to be avoided at all costs, feared and delayed. He suspected Mariana’s people would greet death warmly, giving up their life freely, knowing they would one day live again in another body. With such a peaceful outlook, Dunk Two would call them hippies, and he didn’t rate their chances against the Guild. It made him wonder if he was leading lambs to the slaughterhouse.
“Not happy.”
It was a statement and not a question. “Why do you say that?”
“Questions.”
“How do you know that?”
“No trust.”
“Do you read minds?”
Her tone was heavy with amusement when she replied, “Mood.”
Allowing the attack ship to choose its own course, it wa
s following the fast moving battleship, keeping pace and swinging widely and almost lazily behind it. Once they were within range to communicate with Ark Command, Casey had said CaliTech would want to study Mariana. Unwilling to hand her over without being there, he’d refused to put her inside of an automated pod, insisting that their battleship return home. She wasn’t a virus, a bacteria or a bug, so they couldn’t take her apart like some dumb animal. With a long journey ahead of them, he wanted to get to know her, learning more about where she came from.
“What questions do I have?”
“Worry.”
“The scientists in CaliTech will study you.”
“How?”
It usually meant scans, dissection and cellular level testing, resulting in the acquired DNA being merged with other species to create new tools they could use.
“I don’t know. You’re a unique find. I don’t think we have a protocol for you.”
Sounding unconcerned, she asked, “Death?”
That question had an even less concrete answer than the last. The Guild did what was needed to keep earth safe and who was to say they were wrong. Thousands of capable men and women had built the Guild and it was hard to believe they would have intentionally created an evil empire. They might kill Mariana, but it would be a byproduct of the way the Guild worked and not a deliberate crime.
“Since we were almost destroyed we’ve had to rebuild our planet. It’s taken hard work and tough decisions. Not everyone’s a winner.”
Not seeming to notice that he hadn’t answered her question with an outright denial, she asked, “You win?”
Unlike everyone else, steps had been taken to ensure he would be safe within the Guild before he was even born. By birthright alone, he was at the pinnacle of the power pyramid.
“It’s my destiny.”
“Lucky?”
Other than being born with the right bloodline, he hadn’t done anything else to deserve his position. He was unproven and possibly unworthy of the power being handed to him. Even Dunk Three had more claim to the throne, at least he was an exact copy of a once successful leader.
“I guess I’m a lucky man.”
“Many questions.”
“Doesn’t everyone have questions?”
“One question.”
“What is it?”
“Evil?”
“Do you mean are you evil or am I evil?”
When she didn’t answer, he mulled over both questions. Was he evil? He wasn’t sure. His first trip into deep space hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected it to. They’d found two planets with complex and advanced life, causing him to kidnap two innocents, giving them to an empire he knew would look for ways to use them. Nothing he’d done had struck him as the actions of a good guy. As for Mariana, he didn’t know what she was to know if she was evil. On the surface she appeared innocent, but the more he talked to her the less naïve she seemed to be, but she hadn’t done anything wrong so he wouldn’t describe her as being evil. If anything, the jury was still out about both of them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: No place to call home (Granger)
Scrambling through the thick forest, he hugged his hunting rifle, worried he might drop it. Following him was a heavy-footed Navigator and he could see him no matter where he was. Every fetus was tested for alien DNA, but his parents hadn’t been willing to terminate him, choosing instead to escape from the city. Their decision had made him a renegade, forcing him to live off the land, hiding from the Navigators that liked to use them for target practice. Now yet another of their hiding places was compromised, and even if he made it back safely, he and his wife, Vela, would have to pack up their children and run.
Pushing through a cluster of low bushes, he ran towards the open dark hole on the other side of the concrete reservoir that had once been a dam for the city. Buried behind the wall were a maze of corridors that led to underground tunnels, and he knew the lone Navigator wouldn’t be willing to follow him. They might be tough, but an explosion inside of a tunnel could damage them.
“C’mon, you’re screwed.”
The Navigator’s taunting proved he was right. With his advanced vision, he could see the entrance and knew where he was going. It was only fifty yards ahead, but he had to get across a narrow and crumbling bridge against the wall of the barrier that had once held back the water. If the Navigator dared to follow him onto the bridge, there was chance his weight would bring it down. Not bothering to answer, he gripped his gun in his sweaty hands. One mad dash should do it, but there was a risk that the Navigator would shoot him as he ran along the exposed walkway.
Needing to create a diversion, he flicked on his earpiece. “Eric, it’s Granger. We’re compromised. Bug out.”
Eric was Vela’s older brother. He didn’t carry as much enemy DNA as her, but their parents had fled the city to protect their unborn daughter. Technically Eric could return to the world of the Guild anytime he wanted, instead he’d chosen the life of a renegade. It did mean that he could go in and out of the city as he pleased, which few renegades could do. He needed Eric for more than his access into the cities. He was loyal and trustworthy, devoted to protecting his sister and her children.
After the alien invasion, people had moved into the houses around CaliTech. He supposed they wanted to be near the only soldiers capable of defending them against another alien attack. Over the centuries, those temporary homes had turned into cities that now housed thirteen million people. The Guild had taken control of the population, encouraging them to have children, rewarding them with food, drugs and entertainment when they did. It was hard to believe that these docile and obedient slaves to the Guild had ever been tough enough to win against the aliens, not that he’d ever seen one.
A life in the cities wasn’t a whole lot better than that of a renegade. Every adult had a job, guaranteeing them a bed and three meals a day. He supposed it was better than running from one safe house to the next, barely surviving while they hunted and gathered anything they could.
“Are you safe?” Eric asked.
“No, I need to get across the walkway to the entrance on the south side, but I’ve got a nav on my tail.”
“Just the one?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, move fast when you hear us.”
He didn’t need to ask Eric what he was going to do. They’d been through this enough times to know. Eric would create a diversion and he would need to run like hell towards the entrance, hoping the Navigator was stupid enough to allow himself to be distracted by people he couldn’t possibly get at.
Rifle fire exploded from the far wall of the abandoned and dry dam, ripping the bushes apart to his left. There was no point trying to hide where he was or what he was doing, the Navigator already knew. Standing tall, he sprinted to his right, pushing his way through the bushes that had grown in an unruly way over what had once been a concrete path. On the walkway at the far side of the dam was a door that would lead him into the tunnels. The dam was three hundred yards wide, and no matter how fast he ran, he would be exposed to enemy fire for at least a full minute.
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 burst, 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 th
at 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.