by Greg Dragon
He walked slowly to the back, held his wound, and jumped out. Helga lifted the thopter out of the crater and turned it towards the mountain of rocks. They ended up being a little farther away than she had estimated, but upon approach, she saw that they were ruins from an old building.
“Thype me, this isn’t happening,” she whispered. “I thought that no one else had settled this moon. Now, this is troubling. What have we stumbled onto?” She flew a tight circle around the ruins, taking in the view. “Um, Lieutenant,” she said, touching her comms. “I thought you said that Abarion was the first settlement here.”
“That’s correct, Ate. What’s the situation?” he said, switching their comms so that they all could hear.
“This rock formation, where I’m trying to land…it’s actually an old human building. More than that, however, this entire area looks to have had several buildings at one point. These aren’t the Geralos style of architecture, Lieutenant. These are human built. I’m sure of it.”
Cilas was quiet, but she could feel his confusion, and it was Lamia Brafa who finally spoke. “Abarion was the first colony that was given permission to be here, Helga. There have been several groups in the past who jumped in to Louine and got turned away. Most didn’t have the fuel to return, so they set up communities on this moon.
“Without the Alliance and the Louines knowing they were here, they ran out of resources, and … many died off. The Geralos would have harvested them, but most would have died from extended exposure. It’s not something widely known, and I hope you all understand that we are to keep it this way.”
“That makes my blood boil. You knew about this and didn’t bother to share?” Wyatt said. “If you knew about it, then our leadership knows about it too. How many people were left to feed the lizards, Brafa?”
“Wyatt, am I going to have to tape that ass in your face shut?” Cage said. “You seem to have a permanent case of diarrhea, and I’m about tired of handing you wipes. We get it, Lamia; I don’t like it either. But we came here to do a job, and that’s what we aim to do. Nighthawks don’t gossip. We’re too busy winning the war. Aye?”
“Aye,” came the resounding agreement from the other men.
Helga rolled her eyes, frustrated. Who would she tell that would actually believe her, anyway? The cadet commander? Even she would not know what to do with the information. Gossip was the right word, since it would be treated as such, with all the important people cupping their ears.
“Just wanted to make you all aware,” she said. “I’m going to park the thopter and make my way back.” She closed the channel and placed her helmeted head inside her hands. There was something stinking about this mission, and she wasn’t thrilled to be left in the dark.
Landing without landing gear was more of a challenge than she anticipated, but she took her time and put it down. When she was out, she took a brief tour of her surroundings, using her rockets to stay off the ground.
There was evidence of a fight that had been largely one-sided. The settlers had been ambushed, and then put to the flame. There was old burned-out furniture buried under the rubble, and other things that told her that the people living there had been thriving before the ambush.
This is so sad, she thought. All these lives lost and forgotten, as if they never existed. She looked off towards Abarion. Is this the fate that awaits the settlers there now? This last thought spurred her on to make her way back towards the crater.
The PAS picked up on her need to move fast and the rockets in her boots came on. Soon she was zipping along the surface towards the dark expanse of the crater, watching as her fuel gauge throbbed below 50%. It took only fifteen minutes for her to make it back, and she saw that they had already set up camp.
As she grew close to them, Lamia Brafa waved her over, pointing to an area on his makeshift bench that he had apparently saved for her. “Come catch your breath, Ate,” he said, giving her a smile. She walked over and sat down but she kept her helmet on. The rest of the men were having an intense discussion that made her feel left out and suspicious.
Was Cilas’s last directive a ruse to get me away? she thought. She was so incensed that she almost missed what Lamia was saying.
“Don’t take it personally, Ate. You are here to help with this mission. But like me, you are an outsider. Not quite a Nighthawk. You have an important job, and they have to rely on you. Focus on that now, and not the betrayal you feel inside.”
She looked over at him, trying to read whether or not he was being genuine. She felt angry at herself for being hurt by the exclusion. What was she to expect? She’d been excluded here entire life. This feeling was one that she had been enduring since her Casanian mother died, and left her in the capable hands of the Rendron military. She would accept this reality, just like she’d accepted it back when she was a cadet, but for some reason it hurt just as badly as it did back then.
“You said that you’re half Casanian. Have your ever visited the planet, or talked to other Casanians about your heritage?” Lamia said.
“Nope,” Helga said, as she chewed on her bottom lip. It was her way of dealing with the pain and stopping the tears from coming. She would swallow her pride, push it down inside, and then tell a joke or two. Chewing her lip had always helped to make it easier, though she couldn’t bring herself to joke.
“How do you disappear the way you do, Lamia?” she said and the Jumper spy smiled as if he had anticipated her asking.
“I could tell you, Ate, but then my order would make me kill you. And then they’d kill me for sharing our secrets,” he said. “The most I can tell you is that it has little to do with technology. But that is all I’m allowed to say.”
Helga studied his face to see if he was lying, but he’d answered her as evenly as if she’d asked him about the weather. “Do your skills with that lizard sword come from the order as well?” she said.
“It does, and it is the preferred weapon of the Jumper network.”
“So how does one become a Jumper?” she said. “You single-handedly wrecked the lizards in our fights here. I’m wondering why the Alliance doesn’t just send a hundred of you all down to Geral to end the war.”
Lamia Brafa laughed. “That would be convenient, wouldn’t it?” he said. “If only there were twenty of us, let alone one hundred, to deploy. We make great sacrifices to become Jumpers, Helga Ate. You give up your past. All affiliations. Family, friends, lovers … all of it. You commit to the order and become reborn. This is why it isn’t a thing that you sign up for or get born into. They choose us carefully, and when called you have to go.”
“It sounds so sinister,” Helga whispered.
“I guess it does, doesn’t it? But then you get to disappear and wield las-swords,” he said, winking.
“They could recruit me. I only have one family member, and he wants nothing to do with me,” she said. “I could make a difference in the war. A real difference beyond this. Can you imagine all of the naughty things that you can do if you could disappear?” she said, laughing. “Well, of course you can, you probably did them already. I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.”
“It doesn’t work that way, but I can see where your imagination is going. Jumpers are extremely busy, Ate. There is hardly any time for us to play around with our gifts. Most of our work deals with assisting missions like this one, and we move around from starship to starship. Wherever they need our help.”
“Do you like it?” she said, noticing the change in his mood.
“Yes … well, sometimes, maybe?” he said, taking in a deep breath. “There are many spacers who envy our skills, Ate, but as I said before, it comes at a great cost. Remember our talk later on, if you are fortunate enough to—excuse me, will you?” He got up suddenly and walked towards the men.
It was an odd break in his speech, a glitch in the perfect coding that was the mind of one so free of error. Through the mask she’d seen his eyes go from wintery blue to a deep dark emerald. Even his speech had cha
nged when he had turned away. Now he was—Helga screamed when she saw what was happening.
Lamia Brafa, the wise Jumper that had spoken to her, had thrust his las-sword through the chest of the Master Chief, Cage Hem. Time stopped when it happened, and Helga couldn’t process it enough, especially when he spun around and cut off the head of Casein Varnes.
Brise dove out of the way of the las-sword, but Wyatt wasn’t fast enough and became Lamia’s third victim. Time moved slowly as she witnessed this, and she found herself frozen. An unwilling audience member to the betrayal, powerless to lift a finger.
But Cilas Mec grabbed Cage’s stargun and fired into Lamia Brafa, overloading his shields and filling him with holes. The time it took for all of this to happen was in the span of five seconds. Helga screamed and fought through the paralysis, but by the time she could move the carnage was over.
9
First came the smoke and then the blackout. It all occurred in a manner of seconds. As Helga ran to help Cilas and Brise, an explosion occurred in front of her, sending up a thick cloud of dust that forced her to stop and cover her face.
When her HUD went dark, it didn’t take long for her to realize what happened. They had been hit with a panic bomb. It rendered their PAS useless and disabled their shields. Without powered rockets in their boots, even walking became an effort.
Through the dust and smoke, Helga could make out the shadows of figures all around her. Large figures, armed and looming. She lifted her auto rifle and pulled the trigger, but with her system offline, the weapon would not respond.
Oh no, she thought, as hands restrained her arms and pulled away her auto rifle. She had trouble seeing past 50 cm in front of her, but she could tell that the shadows were Geralos.
A violent shove pushed her forward, forcing her to walk. They had restrained her hands and feet, restricting her movement to tiny steps. Without power to her PAS, it felt as if she was walking through mud, and with every step came another shove, causing her to stumble.
As they escorted her to a waiting thopter, Helga thought back on Lamia’s betrayal. How long had his brain been invaded? she wondered, trying to recall if he’d been different once the Geralos had attacked. Of all the minds to take, his was the deadliest. How would they have known so much in so short a time? Could Lamia had been corrupted all this time?
When they reached the thopter she was thrown in the back, where she landed on top of Brise Sol. He and Cilas were seated on the floor, and they adjusted themselves so she could sit next to them.
Cilas leaned over and touched his helmet to hers. “We’re in the schtill, Ate, but remember your training. No matter what they do to you, keep your mouth shut,” he said. “If we don’t get to talk again, I want you to know that you earned your place as a Nighthawk. Before they died, Cage, Wyatt and Varnes pulled me to the side in order to vouch for you. They wanted me to make you official, but…” His voice trailed off and then he stopped.
Helga’s tears were out before she could react, and she placed her helmeted head into her hands. All of the speculation she had about them could not have been more wrong. Now she felt a deep guilt to go along with the hurt. Besides that, she couldn’t help but wonder if the blame was hers. Maybe if she hadn’t been so focused on the buildings, she would have seen the Geralos hiding above the crater.
Everything she’d heard about the lizards had been confirmed on this mission. Even the absurdities that she had assumed to be rumors. They invaded minds, even those of master spies like Lamia, and that was enough to make her wonder how the humans had any chance against them.
There was also the rumor that they enjoyed human brains, particularly that of Vestalian women. She was part Vestalian, but it was probably enough. They would bite into her head and prove Wyatt right.
She wondered if her being a woman was the reason they’d captured her alive. Were she, Brise, and Cilas being taken to some sort of special Geralos lunch?
These questions grew heads and her heart began to race as she thought about the jagged teeth biting into her skull. Even if they managed to escape somehow, their minds could be invaded like Lamia’s.
What would she and Brise be able to do against a corrupted Cilas Mec? The thought turned her blood to ice as she contemplated their fate, not realizing that the thopter was now flying towards the settlement.
It was only when the glass domes were visible through the door that she saw where they were headed. We were too late, she thought. The colony is lost. She could make out a row of thopters parked just outside the settlement.
They landed in an open area, and several Geralos could be seen approaching the vessel. They dragged Helga out by her feet and forced her to stand with Cilas and Brise. They were within the fenced-in perimeter of the Abarion settlement and Helga counted at least 23 Geralos.
Behind their captors were the domed structures that had provided a livable atmosphere for the settlers. There were several squat houses inside of one, and a sprawling farm inside another. Behind these were three large buildings, each with their own individual domes. Running between the domes were glass-covered walkways, and a tall fence that stretched around the perimeter.
Helga scanned the property for a means of escape. The fence was electrified and the Geralos hadn’t bothered to power it down. She looked over at the thopters and a thought crossed her mind. If she could steal one of them—the same way she did before—and turn the cannons on the rest, this would leave the lizards stranded within the walls.
She began to grow excited over the prospect of getting out, but her plan did not account for her fellow Nighthawks. If she spoke to them now, the Geralos would know, and there was really no way for her to covertly signal the details of her plan.
The need to act grew stronger within her chest. It was either move now, or be lizard food—her vision went white as something struck her in the helmet, and she found herself staring at the ground. As she reeled from the blow, one of the Geralos grabbed her wrists, slapped on a new set of cuffs, and pulled her back up to her feet.
When he pulled off her helmet, Helga shut her eyes and mouth, afraid of what the atmosphere would do to her lungs. She felt the lizard’s hand on her back, violently urging her forward, and then there was a change in temperature as she stumbled over a threshold.
Taking a chance, she opened one eye and saw that they were now inside one of the glass domes. The Geralos that assaulted her was sealing the airlock, and another pair stood before them, guarding the entrance to a building.
When the dome was sealed, he walked over and stripped her out of her armor. The other two did the same to Cilas and Brise, stripping them down to their XO-suits. Helga still held her breath as they worked, but it was too much, so she sucked in some air. It stunk so badly that it was barely breathable, and it reduced her to a fit of coughs.
“What is that?” she said, suddenly. The smell was so bad that she could feel bile rising in her throat.
“Dead bodies. Probably the people they murdered,” Cilas said before one of the Geralos punched him in his face. A gargling grunt came from his attacker and was acknowledged by another, who punched Helga in the abdomen.
The smell and the sudden pain caused her to retch, but nothing came up as she gagged. One of her captors grabbed her hair and yanked her up, then forced her to walk into the building.
As they picked up the pace, Helga thought about the breathing, and how it was that they could survive in the same space as the Geralos. The air was due to an atmosphere generator, which they hadn’t bothered to stop.
This was confusing. Why leave it on? she thought. From what she knew, oxygen was poison to Geralos lungs. She noticed that each of them wore something at the corner of their mouths. That must be the device they use to make the settlement air breathable, she thought.
One of the Geralos turned to another and grunted something unintelligible. It must have been a joke because the other one laughed, then came up to her and placed his hands on her head.
If fear
had frozen her earlier in the crater, now it completely shut her down. She could feel his rough palms on her scalp and it sent painful shivers down her body. It was obvious that she was the main course that they were looking forward to eating. He licked her forehead, then shoved her ahead to fall in line behind Brise.
They marched down the hallway in a single file line, with a Geralos commando in between. Helga noticed a pistol in the small of his back, and thought about pulling it and liberating his mind.
If her attempt at escape failed, she didn’t think that they would kill her, not after the look of excitement she’d seen on their faces. She was an exotic morsel to their flesh-eating palates, so they’d forgive her attempt, even if she killed one of them.
This thought spurred her on and she reached for the pistol. But as much as she wanted to, her arms wouldn’t move. “Stasis handcuffs, of course,” she mumbled as the Geralos behind her shoved her along. She had missed her chance back at the crater, and now all she could do was observe.
As they pushed her along she saw bodies strewn about on the floor. Innocent victims of the Geralos invasion. She wondered if the Britz had survived the ambush, if they would have made it here in time. But some of the bodies were far gone, which answered her question. The Geralos had been here long before they’d made their jump.
After several hallways littered with bodies, they shoved her and her fellow Nighthawks into an even worse smelling room. There were people against the walls inside, their arms suspended above their heads. As Helga strained her neck to get a closer look, a Geralos threw her up against the wall. He lifted her arms above her head, and when he stepped away she was stuck.
Pain wracked her shoulders as she hung there suspended, using her feet to try and brace against the stretch. Her toes found an outlet that extended from the wall, and she rested her heels on top of it, hoping it would hold her weight.
Now that she was able to focus, she watched the Geralos leave and lock the door. All around her, hanging from hooks in the wall, were people just like them. Helga wondered if any of them were still alive, but their skin had a pallor that was grey. The woman to her direct right seemed frozen in a state of screaming. But when Helga twisted herself to look, she saw the hole in the back of her head.