by Jack Robuck
Hours later, she saw Matthew standing by Jimmy's bed. She hadn't noticed him come in. Walking down the long room past the rows of beds, she felt the moment of distraction when his gaze drifted up to her, and she smiled inwardly when the glance became a stare. She stepped silently up to him, the narrow bed between them. Jimmy was asleep.
“Hi.”
“Hello,” she said.
Matthew turned his head, looking at her sideways. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn't mean to upset you.”
Ella held up a hand. “No, it’s not your fault.” She felt a fist of anxiety in her chest. She looked up at Matthew's furrowed brow. She reached up with two fingers, and rubbed them across his forehead to smooth it out. She pursed her lips at him, and closed her eyes for a long blink. “I took you there because I wanted to, because I like you, and I wanted to feel close to you in that way.”
Matthew said, “I...like you too.”
Ella pulled in her bottom lip, and forced herself to speak. “You didn't know you were saying the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time. I'm strange, remember? But that's not your fault. So I forgive you.” She winked at him, and watched his face grow slightly red. She put her hand on his shoulder, feeling the coarse texture of his linen shirt. He reached up awkwardly, sliding his hand across her shoulder, the tops of his fingers caressing her clavicle, and up her neck to her jaw. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Friends?”
Ella laughed, and moved her hand from his shoulder down to his hand, and squeezed it. “Friends.”
They both lowered their chins at the same moment and eyed each other. She chuckled and leaned forward. He put a hand on the bed, leaning over it toward her, and their lips met. Their eyes closed, kissing, and neither of them saw Jimmy wake up.
“Guys that is really gross. I feel violated.”
They laughed and broke away, looking down at him. His eyebrows rose to his forehead and he said, “Then again, I'm high, so I'm down for whatever. Fuck it. You guys need some help later, you can call on old Jimmy.”
Matthew shook his head and laughed. “Dude. No. Just no.”
Ella narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought the doctor took you off your pain meds.”
“She's not the only one holding in this place.” Jimmy smiled. “Don't worry, I'm easing myself off it.”
Ella watched Matthew's reaction. He looked troubled. “You better. Trague has the tower. We got our bell rung out there.”
Jimmy struggled to sit up. “What happened?”
Matthew put a hand on his shoulder. “Nothing we couldn't handle. Or survive, anyway. But we need you back on your feet. While we were gone, Anderson's reinforcements came into radio range. They're arriving at first light.”
Jimmy pursed his lips. “So they're actually coming.” He patted his stomach lightly over the quilted white blanket. “Where are they landing? Sneaking into the city didn't do us much good.”
Matthew said, “No, Anderson has them landing in the square out front. Wants to make a show to the locals.”
Jimmy looked worried. “That's fucking danger close, man.”
Matthew's voice rose as his eyes passed over Ella. “Yep. I know.”
Ella turned and looked back over the infirmary, white smocked nurses tending patients mostly sleeping.
Chapter 20
In the cool morning hours, the telltale skitter of a scarab mech came clicking, echoing off the buildings. Anderson stood, watching the empty square through binoculars. Matthew's team and Anderson's soldiers lay waiting as it approached. There was no stopping it, and when its desert-grey bulbous nose poked around the corner of the dusty town square, no one even flinched.
Does it click on purpose? To scare us? Or does it have some weapon, some function that we don't know about and aren't ready for? How did they know we were here?
He patted Anderson on the leg, and gestured for him to lean down. He whispered, “We have to move the drop. This location's blown!”
Anderson stood back up, the muscles rippled in his jaw, and Matthew wasn't sure if he was pissed at having his authority questioned, or if he was about to do something stupid.
Matthew tapped him again. “Did you hear me?”
Anderson muttered, shaking his head. “It’s too late.”
Right on time, four transport ships whirred over the jutting, blocky city, and hovered over the square. For a long silent moment, nothing happened.
Matthew whispered. “Get them on the ground!”
Anderson held up his radio. He opened his mouth. He paused. He looked back at his men. He looked up at the transports. Matthew looked at Sean, who simply shook his head. The transports hovered in the sky, whirring away, big, noisy targets begging for a missile lock.
Just then, the scarab cleared the narrow street. It stopped and opened its huge domed back, split into two panels that extended on hydraulic arms thicker than an iguana's neck, and the panels flip-hinged, slamming into the dirt of the street.
Richard Glazier waved from his scout position in the open shutters of a church belfry on the north-west corner of the square. His voice came over the radio. “Ten units. Two hundred men.”
Two assault craft shot laterally across Matthew's field of vision through the broken concrete wall, their turbines rippling the air with their noxious exhaust. They fired on the transports. One exploded in flame. Another accelerated away from the square, over the city. He saw it take a missile hit, and spiral away behind a residential tower.
The two remaining transports dropped abruptly to the ground, hitting thrusters almost simultaneously, and landing hard but fast, their big doors already pivoting to the ground. Rebel soldiers, some in uniforms like Anderson's, poured from the crack and jumped as soon as there was space, and when the doors hit earth, they all fanned out away from the transports like professionals.
It didn't matter. The scarab's wings ground into the earth as it advanced, and from behind its head, where the shell had opened, its single artillery barrel rose into view. It belched fire, and a transport exploded. Matthew and Anderson raised their arms at the same time, and shielded their faces.
Anderson grabbed the shattered concrete wall and screamed, “No!” as the soldiers in the open square dropped to their knees and began to return fire. The assault ships circled around and spun up their chain guns, and big chunks of dirt plowed up from the square toward the rebel soldiers. A second scarab had arrived; it fired and the soldiers fell.
Anderson rushed forward, drawing his pistol, and his men followed him over the top of the wall and through window gaps, and they rushed out shooting. Stephen raised his rifle into the air and stood up, throwing a leg over the wall. Charlie jumped up behind him and pulled him down, throwing all his weight on top of him. He yelled, “Everybody stay in cover!”
Matthew put his forehead on the short concrete wall. His radio beeped. He couldn't hear over the explosive noise of the battle. He looked up to Glazier's position. The doctor was gesturing, drawing a circle in the air with a single finger.
Sunjumpers. We're going to die here.
Sean was sighting over the wall, firing next to him. Matthew asked Glazier for confirmation. “Two hundred Suns?”
Glazier nodded. The tromp of booted feet behind the scarab's blast shields echoed through the square, over the gunfire. Suddenly, the frenzied clicking again, echoing unknown off the buildings. Matt looked up to Glazier. Glazier spun around and his face dropped. He made eye contact with Matt and brought his radio up to his face before the white stream of a rocket blistered through the air and the bell-tower exploded in an orange ball of flame. Matt shielded his face, and he could see the open square full of fallen soldiers, some crawling, and some in pieces.
The radio crackled. Matt's hand tingled again. He dropped his assault rifle and looked down at his palm. The LED grid lit up, spiraling away. In a flash of clarity, he knew why it had been tingling since he'd arrived in Gate City. He had a signal here.
He didn't notice the clickety whir of the chain gun
s spinning up, only the spiral of light under the skin of his hand. In a monotone he whispered, "Show colonist data: Richard Glazier."
His hand lit up with the profile data: Richard Glazier. Iota-Green member. Deceased.
Sean hit him like a scorpion strike just before the chain gun fire ripped through the air, destroying the plaster wall behind him.
He tossed Matthew over his shoulder, screaming, "We have to run!"
Matthew looked at his hand and yelled, "Display colonist data: Amanda Allen!"
He was slammed against the wooden lathing in the shattered wall Sean carried him through and they landed on a carpet in the next room. The assault craft were circling, and Sean ran back, grabbing their packs and weapons.
Matthew picked himself up and stared at his hand, yelling, "Display colonist data: Amanda Allen!" His palm screen spiraled away as Sean shoved his rifle and pack into his hands; he had to take them, and Sean pushed him down the hallway toward the staircase.
He was grabbing Matthew by the shoulder, shouting, "We have to get everybody out! There's too many of them!"
They could hear the thunderous slam of another scarab's blast shields hitting the granite slabs of the street. Somewhere overhead, the high-pitched grind of chain guns called out a warning, and they all dove for the stairs before the ceiling exploded, then the wall. A portrait on the staircase disintegrated, tiny slivers of glass sandblasted Matthew's face, and he whipped his head away. They ran down the stairs, down to the basement level, through the infirmary, screaming, “Move!”
Sean threw down his gun, shouldered two patients in a double fireman's carry and screamed, "Everybody out! The tunnel! Now!"
The doctor and nurses helped up the patients that could stumble along, and grabbed whatever medical supplies lay within arm’s reach.
Matthew saw Ella at the far end of the hallway. She pulled a patient and his mattress off the bed. She was trying to drag it down the narrow alley between the wall and the beds. As he passed her, Matthew grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away. He helped her shove some bandages and antiseptics into a satchel, thrust a big water jug into her arms, and pushed her ahead, down the hallway, down the stairs toward the tunnel.
The streets were quiet. The distant sound of battle faded so quickly that only the worst could be true. The last shot had been a round from a scarab mech. There was no return fire from Anderson's ragged crew. The man had panicked and fled cover for the open field of battle.
There was no more fire from the reinforcements. The transports were gone, and no more were coming. Richard Glazier was dead, and Matthew was alone on this insane planet. He looked back at Jimmy, staggering along under Natalie's arm, and he looked ahead into the whispering street. He had to figure out where they were going. He had to get them to safety before Trague could find them. He had to.
He stopped in the street. His rifle hung from his elbow by its sling. They gathered around him, Ella holding the big water jug, ducked her head to catch his eye, but he looked down at his hand. Stephen pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Natalie helped Jimmy over to the side of the street where he vomited onto a pile of debris. Sean and Charlie just looked at him as he stared at his hand.
“Display colonist data: Amanda Allen.”
The display swirled and blinked green in the gathering darkness.
Amanda Allen. Iota-Green member. Deceased.
In the suffering quiet, they waited, and he stood there, some protected part of his mind processing this information, but the rest of it blocking it out hard like a scarab wing. His conscious self was more embarrassed to have these people here, staring at him, at his hand.
“Display colonist data: Commander Cullen.”
Charles Cullen. Waverly Command Staff. Deceased.
“Display colonist data: Angela Harper.”
Angela Harper. Epsilon-Blue member. Deceased.
Charlie put a meaty hand on his shoulder. They stood there for a moment before Matthew pushed forward through their murmured condolences. He shuffled to a jog, and they fell in behind him, moving quickly, quietly through the streets. He led them away from the hospital, through the alleys to the old temple where the congress of the Salt People had met. Through its open front doors, and into its sanctuary open to the sky under the shattered dome from some rocket blast. Timbers and stone shingles littered the room. The temple was empty. Still, they barred the doors behind them.
They lay out the wounded on what remained of the carved wooden pews. Ella and the hospital staff that had survived began trying to treat them.
Matthew checked the profiles of every colonist he could recall from The Waverly.
Deceased. Deceased. Deceased.
When he could remember no more, a cold anger began to grow inside him, and he tried to reach out in his mind for more names; his second year teacher, the Chief Botanist's son.
He seethed there in the dirt, the fear and the rage building until he kicked out at a wooden wall panel and began to weep. Ella came over from the patient she had been tending and put her arms around his shoulders, pulling his head into her embrace. He cried for some time there, and was ashamed.
After a while, he hugged her back, then he stood up and wiped his eyes. “I'm sorry I fell apart. I just...My mother and everyone I ever knew before we came here is dead.”
Sean gave him a solemn nod. “It’s okay to grieve, Matthew. We have all lost. It’s okay to cry.”
In the corner of his eye, Matthew could see Jimmy looking at him. He didn't want to meet Jimmy's eyes, but Jimmy reached out, and tugged on his arm. “Hey. Matthew.”
Matthew looked up. Jimmy's eyes were clear, and his brow was knit in guilt. Wet tracks lined his face down from the corners of his eyes. “I'm sorry. I did this to you. It’s all my fault.”
Matthew looked away, at the dirt, the deep jointed brick walls, the stone arched doorways. Finally, he looked down at his feet. “No. If you hadn't done it, the Fleet would have used The Waverly to kill you all. The fusion reactor had another hundred years' charge on it. And I'd be up there, cheering them on as the good guys. Our arrival here was doomed to this before we ever left Earth.”
He looked at Jimmy again. “It’s not your fault.”
Jimmy just nodded once and looked down at his crossed legs on the floor.
Matthew leaned back against the wall. “We should never have gotten involved with Anderson. We should have gone straight for the tower before Trague took control.”
Stephen stepped into the ray of sunlight streaming through the open roof. “We can get out of here. Go somewhere else. Back to Luna. Live to fight again.”
Natalie agreed. “We can go to Trifecta. Anderson's radio men said some of the ships fell out there, around what used to be Noon. What's left of the Fleet is having a hell of a war with the crime lords. We can survive out there. Do what we have to.”
Charlie and Stephen were sharing his cigarette, and Charlie gestured up to the sky, leaving a trail of smoke. “To what end?”
“Charlie's right. We're here,” Matthew said.
“We can't defeat them. The Sunjumpers are too strong,” Sean added.
“I know. But we didn't come here for that, did we?” Matthew looked at Jimmy, who raised his head.
“Even if we get in, we can't hold the tower against Trague. He's too powerful.”
Matthew nodded. “I know. We can't hold the tower. We can't destroy Trague's little army. But we have to stop him from controlling The Core.”
Jimmy stood up. “Let’s go to the tower. Maybe we can destroy the control console. Rip out the cables and blast the whole room.
Matthew squeezed his shoulder. “If you think that could work.”
Jimmy nodded.
“We'll need a distraction to draw Trague's attention away from the tower.”
“We didn't see him at the hospital,” Natalie chimed in.
Sean shook his head. “That's over anyway. We need something bigger.”
“I've got it. It’s a tough choice, but I
think it’s our only option. Jimmy, you take Stephen and Natalie. They're little and quiet.”
Charlie raised his eyebrows. “I don't appreciate what you're trying to say.”
Matthew laughed. “Charlie, Sean, I'll need you guys with me.
Sean smiled. “What about Ella?”
Ella stood with her feet crossed, her fingers clutching her pendant. Matthew looked at her. “She's coming with us. I said I would take her to the ocean.”
They all looked at him. Ella smiled and shook her head, confused.
Matthew said, “There's only one target in Gate City that we can attack and be sure to divert Trague's attention from the tower.”
Natalie's eyes widened. “The water facility.”
Matthew nodded. “That's right. If we can't save the city, we'll leave it burning. With any luck, we'll accomplish both missions, and Trague can die of thirst in that fucking tower long after we're gone.”
Ella spoke up. “You’re going to attack the Salt People?”
Sean put a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t have much of a choice. It’s an easy target that could totally trump Trague’s control of the city.”
Jimmy nodded. “If it was guarded and fortified by the Fleet, we wouldn’t stand a chance.” He grabbed a pack off the floor, looking like a man renewed. He looked to Natalie and Stephen. “We'll use the ship we came in. We'll make the trek back to that garage, and by then”—He looked at Matthew—“you should be in position.”
Sean nodded. “We'll strike hard, no mercy. Hopefully they’ll run. Trague will have no choice but to engage us with his whole force once he realizes what’s going on.”
Charlie let out a low, coagulate chuckle. “Fantastic.”
Sean put his massive hand on Matthew's shoulder. “Are you sure you're up for this right now?”