Critical Dawn (The Critical Series Book 1)

by Wearmouth

  Augustus leaned forward. “Is this the same as the other two times?”

  Vlad glanced at Gregor.

  “Look at me, not him. I’m the one asking the question,” Augustus said.

  “Very similar, apart from the resource switch, but—”

  Augustus turned to Gregor. “It seems you haven’t managed to get a grip of the local situation. Are you capable of handling it?”

  “I was going to report to you today, Mr. Augustus,” Gregor said. “We suspect one of our team with collusion. I’m going to personally deal with it.”

  “Is this true, Alex?” Augustus said.

  “Ye… Ye…” Alex said.

  “Stop stuttering, woman. Is this true?”

  Alex nodded.

  “I’m not sure I believe you. But execute him anyway. Put his body to good use.”

  “We’ve got him waiting by the paddocks. Would you like to see it?” Gregor said.

  “That’s your business. I’m going to spend the day talking to the croatoans. I want to get a good feel about local progress. You better get focused on sorting things out. If another harvester goes offline, you go offline. Do you understand?”

  “Of course, Mr. Augustus,” Gregor said as he imagined strangling him.

  “Meet me back here in three hours. We’ll talk once we know more.”

  Gregor left the building with Alex. They cut between the two warehouses and headed toward the farm. Igor waved as they approached. He stood by the eight-foot electric fence that surrounded eight separate paddocks, each forty square acres.

  Humans clustered together in the paddocks like flocks of sheep, dressed in dirty white sheets. Most under the makeshift shelters, some sitting around, eating from silver trays.

  “You wanted to see me, Gregor?” Igor said.

  Gregor approached and held his arms out. “Brother Igor, we’ve had another harvester sabotaged. Can you believe it?”

  “It’s the little wasp. I know it. That piece of shit,” Igor said and spat on the ground.

  “Augustus’s pissed. He came down straight away,” Alex said.

  “I saw the shuttle. What did he say?”

  “That we need to sort things out,” Gregor said. “Have you been speaking to anyone about the harvesters?”

  Igor shook his head. “They’re not part of my job. Are you suggesting I’ve been giving their intended paths away? I’m not the one who got caught with my pants down. You need to speak with Marek.”

  “Are you telling me what to do?” Gregor said. Igor stood motionless, mouth hanging open. “Do I have to ask you twice?”

  “No. You can trust me implicitly to do what’s best for the team.”

  That was Gregor’s main concern. What Igor thought was best for the team probably involved him being boss. The individual problems were mounting, but at least he had license to execute the Russian if needed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ben squinted at the sudden flash of light.

  The place smelled fresh and unfamiliar, a scent rooted in nature and in stark opposition to the sterile smell of the harvester. He breathed it in deeply, the damp atmosphere moistening his throat and lungs. The underground room accommodated the five of them plus Denver’s dog. Shadows gathered in the corners, cast there by a small, battery-powered lamp of sorts hanging from an overhead wooden beam, rough-hewn from a trunk.

  Ben remembered watching a video of humans of old cutting trees and planking the logs with simple machinery. Agricultural, Jimmy used to say, when denoting something wasn’t hi-tech.

  It seemed to Ben that this world, his home that he never had chance to know, was now a mix, but humanity weren’t the ones with the tech anymore.

  “Sit down and be quiet,” Charlie growled, indicating a log that had been placed on the dirt floor. Maria and Ethan did as they were told and huddled together. They were used to receiving orders. Ben, however, refused and remained standing.

  Denver pulled back at a tatty curtain to reveal a screen. A grainy image of armored figures like the one that had killed Erika played out a curious film. There were four of them in a diamond pattern. Each one carried a pistol like the one Denver had fired at one of the smaller creatures.

  “What’s happening?” Ben said, approaching Charlie.

  “We’re being hunted. They’re trying to locate your GPS signal.”

  “Our what?”

  “You really don’t know anything, do you, kid?” Charlie shook his head as he looked at Ben and his colleagues. He turned his attentions to Denver at the screen, joining his son with an arm over his shoulder.

  Denver whispered something to Charlie and looked back at Ben.

  Infuriated at being left in the dark, Ben stepped forward only to walk into the barrel of the alien pistol. “Hey now, this isn’t on—”

  Denver turned round. “Get back, sit down, and shut up. We’re trying to save your asses here.” Denver’s red beard hid the scowl, but Ben could see it in his eyes. Even though he was young, there was a severe degree of hardness there.

  If what they had said was true and this was how they lived, Ben couldn’t blame him. Being constantly on the move, hunted, stalked, that must take its toll.

  “How?” Ben said. “If they can track us …”

  “Jammers,” Charlie said, lowering Denver’s arm. “It’ll scramble the signal but won’t hold up to a close inspection. GPS means Global Positioning System. You have a chip embedded near your collarbone that transmits a signal. These fuckers pick it up and use it to trace you.”

  Ben opened his mouth to ask a question, but Charlie’s face told him that wasn’t a good option. He turned and sat with Maria and Ethan as Charlie said, “Look, I know this is all a lot to take in right now. Once we’re safe for a moment, I’ll explain everything in finer detail, but right now, we need to be quiet and calm.”

  Even though Ben was eager for answers and determined to get to the bottom of this, even if it was just to pay tribute to Jimmy and Erika, he knew not to push it. He sat down with his colleagues and waited.

  “Have you seen that?” Ethan said, pointing to the end of the room into a dark nook that had been dug out of the dirt.

  “I don’t like it here,” Maria said, keeping her voice low so Denver and Charlie couldn’t hear. “They’re going to get us killed—or worse.”

  Ben narrowed his eyes to see what Ethan was pointing at. His vision eventually adjusted to the low light, and it came into focus. One of the small aliens, like the one Denver killed back at the harvester, was pinned up against a wooden board.

  It was cut open from sternum to groin, the pale-grey skin pinned back to reveal its inner biology. A number of wires and what looked like probes or electrodes were stuck into its organs. Its wide-set eyes were rolled back to reveal black orbs.

  On the either side of the room was another nook, this time holding a series of shelves, on which, collected together, were a number of foil-packed rations.

  A number of square, gray boxes that he guessed were batteries were on the next shelf. Wires travelled up the dirt walls and across the boarded ceiling like the alien’s exposed arteries.

  “I don’t trust them,” Ethan whispered. “We need to find a way to get loose.”

  “I agree,” Maria said. “I think we should give ourselves up, go back with the aliens. Perhaps they’ll understand.”

  Ben scowled and shook his head. With a harsh whisper, he berated his colleagues, unable to understand their reasoning. “Are you forgetting what they,” he pointed to the aliens still patrolling through the forest as shown on the screen, “did to Jimmy and Erika?”

  Maria leaned in closer. “What if they attacked us because of Charlie and Denver?”

  Denver’s dog stood up from her bed: an old box with a blanket hanging o
ver the edges. Pip growled and pointed her nose to the entrance hole.

  “What is it girl?” Denver said, kneeling to the hound and running his hand across the dog’s neck. The dog continued to growl.

  Fragments of dirt fell from the ceiling and the boards that supported it shook.

  “Fuck, they’re here. Must be a second squad out of view,” Denver said in a hushed voice.

  “How are you even seeing all this?” Ben said, also keeping his voice low.

  “We’ve got a number of cameras rigged up outside,” Denver said. “Got to have eyes all over the place in order to stay alive in this world.”

  “Have you always lived like this?” Ethan asked.

  “Shhh,” Charlie said as he apparently moved the cameras to cover different angles.

  Ben counted six of the aliens now. Four wore the gray-mesh armor like the harvester guard while two looked like the smaller ones, wearing thinner material and gold-tinted visors.

  “Shit,” Charlie said, “They’re running radar.”

  Ben saw the two smaller ones put a pair of poles into the ground and then refer to a clear, tablet-like device. It resembled the control tablets they had used back in the harvester.

  The idea that it wasn’t actually a generation ship would take some getting used to, Ben thought. All his life, he’d thought of it as a ship in space—such an elaborate ruse just to use him as nothing more than a worker drone. And now here were Charlie and Denver. Although clearly human, he felt as alien to them as he did the croatoans.

  “It’s time,” Charlie said to Denver. “They’ll find us within minutes if we don’t.”

  “It’s a one-shot deal, Dad. Are you sure?”

  Charlie looked to Ben and the others. “We don’t have any choice.”

  Maria stood and stretched her arms. She looked scared, on edge. “Can you tell us what you’re talking about? I’m scared and just want to return to the ship.” Her eyes welled with tears.

  Ethan got up from the tree trunk and hugged her. “There is no ship, Maria; that was all a lie. We have to stick together, okay?”

  Charlie ignored them and moved through the shelter until he reached the shelf of batteries. He pulled out a metal box, its surface mottled and worn. Old green paint was chipped away to reveal a dull grey beneath. On top of the box was a red dome the size of his palm. It shined glossily in the low light, the crown of the dome polished through what Ben presumed was lots of use.

  A wire trailed from the box to the battery and up into the dirt ceiling.

  “Everyone sit down and place your hands over your ears,” Charlie said.

  Denver ushered Ben, Maria, and Ethan to the far end of the room. “Seriously, do as he says for your own sake.”

  Placing his hands over his ears, Ben nodded to Maria and Ethan to follow. Denver crouched beside his dog, covering her ears and holding her close into his body. She licked his face before facing Charlie.

  Everyone was looking at him now.

  Charlie watched the monitor with the metal box in his hands.

  Ben also watched.

  The two smaller aliens were now just outside of the crumbled wall. Ben could see its edge, rounded with time, and covered in green foliage. Beyond, into the thicker greenery of the forest, the two aliens drove their metal poles into the ground.

  Three heavier-armed croatoans stood in front and behind them, their weapons raised to their wide chests. Their heads hidden within helmets turned in wide sweeping angles. It was then that Ben managed to get a good look at them.

  Their knees seemed to work the other way compared to humans, and their legs were twice as thick.

  They didn’t just look powerful: they looked agile too. Given the way the one back at the harvester had so easily dispatched Erika and stalked the others, Ben was relieved he didn’t have to run away from one. He imagined being caught would be a trivial matter for the croatoans.

  “Now,” Denver said.

  Charlie hit the dome with his palm. The metal on metal made a short, clapping sound. At first, Ben didn’t think anything had happened. And then a sound like the harvester crashing erupted, sending dirt falling down from the ceiling.

  The rumble vibrated through the walls and floor and up into his spine.

  On the monitor, the two surveyors flew up into the air. The heavier aliens fell backwards as a cloud of dirt and debris blasted up, followed by a large flame.

  Two further blasts came from further away.

  Charlie wore a discreet but satisfied smile as he placed the metal box on the shelf and strode across the room to stand in front of the monitor. Everyone waited for a few minutes. Denver joined his father and nodded with satisfaction.

  “I think it got them all,” Denver said.

  “Looks that way, but we’re compromised nonetheless. Our cover is blown, literally.”

  “My God,” Ethan said. “You killed them all? How?”

  Charlie turned to face Ben and the others. He pulled a knife from his belt scabbard. “Explosives,” Charlie said. “We don’t have long. I’m sorry I don’t have anything for the pain. We’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.” He walked forward until he was standing in front of Ben, Maria, and Ethan.

  Denver joined him.

  “You,” Charlie pointed to Ben. “You’re first. Open your shirt and bite down on this.” Charlie handed him a piece of wood from his pocket.

  “Why?” Ben said, unable to take his eye of the wicked-looking knife. Its blade was at least ten inches long, and the tip curved backwards. “What do you think you’re doing? What the hell is this about?”

  Charlie leaned in, grasping Ben by the shoulder, and with his knife he pointed to the blue bead around his own neck. “You’ve got one of these inside you. It’s how they track you. I’m sorry, but there’s no way out of it. It has to come out. I’ll be as quick and painless as I can. I’m not new to this.”

  Ben swallowed his fear. Turned to the others. Maria and Ethan stared at him wide-eyed like scared rabbits. Not wanting to let his crew down and show weakness, he turned to face Charlie.

  “Is this the only way?”

  “No,” Denver added. “There’s one other option.”

  Maria looked up. Hopeful. “What the other option?”

  Without emoting, Denver replied, “Death.”

  Maria’s hope vanished as she slumped on the log.

  “If you take these beads out,” Ethan said, “what then? Where do we go? Are there others?”

  “You survive,” Denver added. “Fight back. Or you don’t and you die. Those are your choices. I wish it were different, but that’s how it is now.”

  “He’s right,” Charlie said. “And we’re running out of time. We need to get this done now and get on the move. Get to a town. They’ll send another scout group. We can’t be here when that happens. Your choice, kid.”

  “Do it,” Ben said, unbuttoning his grey overall top and exposing his collarbone. He took the piece of wood from Charlie, placing it in his mouth, wondering how many other people were in this same situation.

  Denver took a box, metal and painted green with a white triangular icon on its front. It looked like an older version of the ship’s first aid kit. At least they were going to see to his wound.

  “This will hurt,” Charlie said as he pressed his thumb into Ben’s collarbone, locating the bead. “A lot.”

  Instinctively, he bit down into the wood as he nodded and closed his eyes when he felt the cold tip of the knife touch his skin.

  As Charlie increased the pressure and the knife’s edge split through his skin, Ben gripped the loose material around his legs and let out a long, pain-filled scream, all the while driving his teeth into the soft wood.

  Sweat poured from him, and his eyes filled with
tears.

  Charlie dug his fingers into his shoulder, holding him into place as he twisted the knife slowly, seeking that damned alien bead. Ben fought the urge to vomit and breathed heavily though his nose.

  “I’ve got it,” Charlie said.

  Warm blood flowed down Ben’s chest, pooling into the grey cloth of his uniform. Denver stepped to the side and placed a wadded cloth against his chest to soak up the rest.

  “Hold on, kid, we’re nearly done here,” Charlie said, prizing the tip of the knife against the bead.

  Ben could feel the resistance. Feel the hard, stubborn alien tech press into his bone. And then there was the sensation of something popping, coming lose, and the knife blade retreating.

  Denver moved the wadding to the wound and pressed it down.

  When Ben looked down, he saw that the material was coated in an orange substance. A tingling sensation occurred within his wound, deep into the tissue, and then it burned. He shut his eyes and held his breath. It felt like someone had lit a match and pressed it into his flesh, but as he thought he would never stop, the burning reversed, turning cold.

  He fell forward and breathed in a deep breath.

  When he sat back up, Denver removed the material, and to Ben’s astonishment, the blood had already clotted around the wound. The orange substance formed a sticky patch over the cut. The pain was still there, but it was manageable, no worse than a headache.

  Removing the wood from his mouth, Ben looked up.

  Charlie stood beneath the overhead lamp, holding the now-cleaned bead up to the light. It was light blue and shimmered. “Here, catch,” Charlie said, dropping it into Ben’s hands.