Relapse (Breakers Book 7)

by Edward W. Robertson

  Georgia restructured the housing, moving many of the knights out of the palace and into the smaller buildings scattered around the walled-in grounds. Farmers were brought in to replace the displaced knights. Georgia took some of the women from upstairs as advisors. Some decided to try working in the fields. Others were knighted. While others showed them the use of guns and bows, Raina threw herself into training them with blades.

  It was good work. Many of the trainees were thin and bony, wasted by the sickness that had only just left San Diego. At first, they tired fast, but day by day, Raina watched them regain their strength. The rains came, damp and dour. Still, the combatants refused to leave the practice ring until their muscles failed them.

  When they were not training, the recruits were put on sentry duty, sweeping the city in the company of the experienced knights, sharp-eyed for any hint that Cinder might try to rally the exiles. They saw a single banished knight, however. According to gossip, he had been filthy, half starved.

  Yet Georgia honored her word. He had been shot and left in the street.

  December came. The days were overcast. Rains blew in from the sea, hammering the windows, puddling the grounds. The knights fueled the building's fireplaces with lumber hacked from empty homes. At night, Raina could see her breath. She often gazed to the northwest, but Los Angeles was too far away see.

  Since the revolution, Georgia had called on Raina for advice on a regular basis. Raina was not surprised when the woman summoned her in from the training yards. But she was taken aback by the look on Georgia's face: the particular confidence of one who understands the burden of command but knows that she is fit for the challenge.

  "San Pedro," Georgia said. "Do you still want it back?"

  "What do you think?"

  She laughed to herself. "You look like you're having so much fun drilling the new knights I thought I'd better ask."

  "You've reached a decision."

  "At first, I didn't think we could afford to help you. With the upheavals, we've already lost so many people. And the People of the Stars have made no further moves against us. Not even after we killed their envoys on the road."

  Georgia stood and paced across the room. "But that's the strange thing. We haven't heard anything from them at all. Are they biding their time? Or are they weaker than we think?"

  "I won't lie to you," Raina said. "They're not weak. Even after our battle at San Pedro, if they came for you in force, you would be no match for them."

  "But if you bring Catalina to the field, we could defeat them together."

  "I can't promise you the island. They threw me out. I don't know what will happen if I return."

  "It's time we find out." Georgia's mouth spread in a grin. "You made my dream real. Now, I will fulfill yours."

  Raina bowed her head, but she felt taller than she had since before the war. She could feel the click of the gears. The shift of the seasons. As the days of gold had passed, so too would the days of silver.

  Only one element remained.

  III:

  DAYS OF STEEL

  23

  "A second war?" Ness signed to Sebastian. "How do they think they're going to pull that off?"

  "IT IS NOT SAID"

  "We already beat them once. And that was when they had a huge-ass ship, a fleet of fighter jets, and thousands of soldiers. These days, all they've got going for them is they're willing to hide in places too gross for people to want."

  "THIS IS WHY THEY HIDE," Sebastian gestured. "TO SAVE THEIR STRENGTH FOR THIS NEW FIGHT"

  "That would explain why we've seen so few of them lately. Biding their time for their latest insane scheme."

  "THEY ARE TOLD TO GATHER IN LOS ANGELES FOR THE END"

  "Los Angeles?" Ness signed. "Why can't they hold their new war in Fiji?"

  Sebastian spun his claws in excitement. "DO YOU SEE? THIS IS WHY THEY WANT THE SUB. TO TAKE THEM TO ACROSS THE OCEAN AND TO BATTLE"

  "Is there any indication how many of them are left?"

  "THIS IS ALSO NOT SAID"

  "Okay," Tristan said from beside Ness in the galley booth. Beneath the table, their legs were still touching. "How much longer do I have to sit here like the girl watching her friend flirt with a hot guy?"

  "This is nuts," Ness said out loud. "The tablet I stole from the Swimmers—Sebastian's been reading it. The aliens have marching orders to pile into Los Angeles for a new war."

  "I see. And what exactly do they intend to fight with? The dead bodies of their peers? Or the equally dead hull of their mothership?"

  "I don't have a clue. You seem awfully confident there's no fight left in them, though."

  Tristan leaned forward over the table, rubbing her bare upper arms. "Maybe we should let them take L.A. Wait until they've gathered their survivors there, then nuke the place."

  "Oh yeah? You got any leads on an ICBM?"

  "So what's the plan? Knock out the Swimmers in Sydney, then head to L.A. for the battle royale?"

  "We've got to drop off Lionel and company first," Ness said. "Maybe we'll be able to convince a few of their people to fight for us. As it stands, I don't like our odds."

  He was decently drunk and the exhaustion that had been stalking him all day crashed into him like a hammer. Meanwhile, whatever moment had existed between him and Tristan had been blown out the door by the revelation of the Swimmers' new scheme. Ness said goodnight, chugged a glass of water, and went to sleep.

  When he woke up to go to the bathroom, the clock told him it was 8:37. He knew that couldn't possibly be right—that would mean he'd only been asleep for four hours—but he was so groggy that he was on his way back to bed before he realized it was PM.

  He went up top for some fresh air. They were well out to sea and it was December, but that meant it was late spring, and the air was humid and a little warm. When he returned to the interior for some breakfast or dinner—or whatever you'd call your first meal of the day, consisting of kelp and vat-grown protein, eaten at nine at night—he learned the others had been informed of the Swimmers' new war. They were onboard with dropping off their passengers, then swinging back to Sydney.

  He spent a while hanging around the galley, seeing if Tristan would show up. When she didn't show, he went back outside to watch the stars.

  * * *

  They spotted land the following afternoon. It was very green. As they got nearer to the coastline, what appeared to be solid land cohered into a chain of islands stretched across the bay, ranging from a mile in length to nubs of rock jutting from the water. The land was a patchwork of grass and trees. The shallows were nearly as vividly pale blue as they'd been in Sydney.

  Having instructed Sebastian as to their exact destination, Lionel joined Ness up top.

  "Well this place is gorgeous," Ness said.

  Lionel grinned, hair ruffled by the wind. "Wait'll you see the fishing. You'll have to come back around once you've dealt with Sydney's crab problem."

  The sub cruised past the islands and swung into a meandering inlet of teal water and green points of land. Ahead, a low bridge spanned a five hundred-foot gap between the north and south points enclosing another inlet. A small town encrusted the banks. Lionel waved his hands over his head and yelled. On the shore, a fisherman straightened and hollered back.

  They docked at the end of a pier on the north side of the settlement. A handful of people gathered to meet them. As the sub's passengers and crew debarked, a tall, sandy blond man strode down the dock. His freckled face was as tan as his teeth were white.

  "Lionel!" The man threw his thick arms around Lionel, clapping his back. "Love your new ride. Everyone safe and sound?"

  Lionel's face fell. "We were attacked on the way over. Pirates. Me and Emma were the only ones who made it. We'd have all been dead if these people hadn't intervened."

  "Oh hell. So many? Did you at least find the doctor?"

  Lionel introduced Dr. Gohel. "How's Kia?"

  "Hanging in there," the blond man said. "Reckon
she'll be happy to see you're back."

  Lionel hustled off with the doctor. The blond man hugged Emma, then greeted the sub's crew.

  He smiled at Tristan, brows flicking up. After they shook hands, he maintained his hold on her for a beat longer than was necessary. "My name's Clarke. I'm what passes for head of security around here."

  "Tristan," she said. "And if you're heading up security, we've got a lot to talk about."

  Clarke led the sub crew to shore. He explained they hadn't been expecting guests, but showed them to an empty house near the shore that could house them. He asked them to sit tight a minute, then walked outside to talk to Tristan and Emma. Ness was done unpacking his things in five minutes. Clarke walked back inside five minutes after that.

  "From what Emma says, I need to make dinner for you people." He shook Ness' hand. "Welcome to Te Karuwha."

  "How long have you been here?" Ness said.

  "Coming up on our fifth anniversary. And it sounds like you've seen more adventure in the last week than we've seen in those five years."

  "You've managed to stay out of trouble, then?"

  "By and large. Emma, would you like to show them around? Don't wander away from her, yeah? Everyone knows each other. They see a stranger around, they're apt to call me in to rough you up." He winked and turned to Tristan. "Shall we get down to brass tacks?"

  Emma took them on a walking tour of the area. It was as pretty as the land around it—palm trees, little seaside homes, hardy coastal trees whose branches stretched over the sand in search of sun—but Ness didn't absorb much of it. As they headed back to the house, Lionel intercepted them and asked for their help clearing out a space for Dr. Gohel. This was a tidy trailer set next to a creek. For the rest of the day, Ness was absorbed with hauling old junk out back and scrubbing the place down.

  With the sun going down, he washed off the grime. Clarke showed up with Tristan and invited them all to a cookout on the beach, serving them grilled tuna, oysters, King George whiting, potatoes, and greens. It was great and all, but Ness was happier once they got back to the house. There, Sam called it an early night and Sprite left on a walk.

  "How'd it go today?" Ness said.

  "Aggravating," Tristan said. "But we made progress."

  "What'd you guys spend so much time talking about?"

  "How many people they can afford to send with us to fight the Swimmers."

  "Oh yeah? What kind of army have you secured for us?"

  She looked away. "Three people."

  "Three people? Do you think we'll have room on the sub?"

  "Hey, I'm doing pretty well here. His initial proposal was zero."

  "Zero?" Ness laughed. "This Clarke guy's so stingy I'm surprised he didn't charge us for dinner."

  Tristan scowled at him. "They already lost several people bringing Dr. Gohel here. They've only got 68 residents now. Twenty of those are kids under eighteen. Another ten are too old or disabled. That's half the population right there. And most of the other half are parents of the aforementioned kids or are currently pregnant. Committing any people at all represents a sizable portion of their fighting force."

  "So what are we doing here? We'll go take out the Swimmers on our own. We've done it before."

  "Not outnumbered ten times over. When are the aliens supposed to depart for L.A.?"

  "Sebastian didn't find a hard deadline, but from what he gleaned, they're supposed to be there within two months. They were after our sub, so assuming they'll have to sail, they're going to need to leave by the end of the year."

  "But not tomorrow," Tristan said with a note of triumph. "Meaning we can afford to spend a few more days here trying to get a few more soldiers."

  Ness went to bed. The next day, he was asked to help finish cleaning the trailer, then to fit it out with equipment and furniture. He thought it was kind of rude of Lionel to ask for his help after Ness had already saved his life and brought back the doctor who might save his wife and unborn child's life, but refusing would have made him look like a dick.

  Besides, it was a decent-sized community. Lots of kids and shit around, too. They could use a good doctor.

  Early that afternoon, Lionel brought him and Sprite a carafe of reddish fruit juice and told them to catch a break. They went to the side yard to sit beneath a pollen-spewing tree flush with yellow flowers.

  "Nice here, isn't it?" Sprite said.

  Ness took a sip of juice. It was so sweet it hurt his throat. "The world's full of nice places. Don't see how this one's special."

  "Well, it's the one we're in now."

  "Maui's nicer."

  Sprite made a skeptical noise. They sipped their juice. Over on the road, Tristan and Clarke walked south toward the bridge, talking animatedly. Sprite waved. Tristan glanced over and waved back, smiling. Ness nodded at them.

  "Wait a second," Sprite said. "That's what's up your ass, isn't it? You're jealous of Commando Surfer over there!"

  "Why would I be jealous?" Ness said. "They just met."

  "Yeah, and he looks like he just walked out of Naked Calendar 2017. I think he's Mr. July." He chuckled, rubbing his hands together. "I've got a pool going with Sam and Sebastian. I'm the only one who bet you'd make a move."

  "Sebastian bet against me?"

  "You know you don't get to be jealous, right? We've been together for over a year now. If you're into her, why not do something about it? What is this, sixth grade?"

  "The fact it's been a year should prove there's probably nothing there."

  "So what's the harm in finding out for sure? Oh, if only there were a way to know!" Sprite snapped his fingers. "Got it. You could ask her!"

  "If she said no, or we were together and then broke up, it'd make things on the sub super weird."

  "So what? You'd get over it."

  Ness' face was getting hot. He glanced away at the trailer, where a horrifically large, barbed cricket was climbing up the siding. "Okay, even if things worked out for a while, we're not exactly in the world's safest profession. What if one of us dies?"

  "Then you'd be in pain. But you're in pain already, dummy! Nothing is certain anymore. We might not have a tomorrow. Isn't that what this entire badass boat trip is about? So why not go for it?"

  "It's Tristan, man. You know damn well that if she were into me, she'd have clubbed me over the head and dragged me into her cave."

  Sprite screwed up his face. "I think she was messed up for a while after Ke died. Besides, there's something different about you lately. All this helping other people out business, it's like you care more. Chicks dig that."

  "Shut up."

  "What? It's true. Makes you look like more of a leader. Tristan isn't going to be into anybody who can't kick as much ass as she does. If you're showing a new side—"

  "No—shut up." Ness stood and wandered toward the monstrous bug on the side of the trailer. "I know how we can take out the Swimmers."

  * * *

  He arranged a meeting with Tristan, Sam, Clarke, Dr. Gohel, and Lionel. They gathered at Clarke's place, a seaside home with a low triangular roof Ness thought looked vaguely Polynesian. There, Clarke brought them to the "war room," which had clearly once been a living room and was now filled with a big tree-slab table and prodigious quantities of maps and charts.

  "When I was growing up, I lived in this trailer in Idaho," Ness said. "It was up in the mountains and the winters could be brutal. One December, it didn't get above freezing for the entire month. The insulation on the trailer was awful and when it got that cold, all the nearby vermin—and the trailer park was on the edge of town with open fields all around—would sneak inside the house to stay warm. One year, it was mice. Another year, it was spiders."

  "Gross," Sprite said.

  "The mice weren't so bad. We put down traps and stuff. My brother shot some with a pellet gun. The spiders, though, they were out of control. Got to the point where none of us wanted to fall asleep. Solution wound up pretty easy, though: we sealed up the cracks, mo
ved into a motel, and bug-bombed the hell out of the trailer. When we came back two days later, it was nothing but corpses."

  Tristan's mouth fell open. "The Deutsche Bank building. You want to flood the lower levels with gas. Kill them all without firing a shot."

  "That's the idea. Thought I'd bring the doctor in and see if he thought it could work."

  Dr. Gohel rubbed his finger across his upper lip. "The principle is sound. It's not difficult to produce toxic gas or vapor—something as simple as ammonia and bleach can be quite lethal. There are many questions, however. For instance, the aliens, do they breathe?"

  "Yep," Ness said.

  Clarke leaned forward over the table. "How can you be so sure? You spend a lot of time around the bugs, do you?"

  The others laughed. The man glanced around in confusion. Ness said, "Sure. My best friend is an alien."

  "If we are sure they breathe," Dr. Gohel said, "then the question becomes, what is toxic to them? If they require oxygen, the answer could be as simple as flooding the sub-levels with carbon dioxide. It is heavier than air. We would need a great deal of it, however. We may be better off pursuing a nerve agent—but the problem there is that we don't know what they're vulnerable to."

  Ness bit his lip. "If you had a test subject, could you figure that out?"

  The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Any tests would be far more conclusive if we did not care about the survival of the subject."

  "Non-lethal testing only."

  "Then our best choice is to go with a widely toxic compound." The doctor shrugged. "Or saturate the garage to hell and gone with everything we can find."

  "You're talking about an alien species," Clarke said. "From outer space. There's no guarantee that anything will work. If the gas doesn't take them out, it's a few of you against a hell of a lot of them. Why not leave them be? Or at least wait to gather up a proper army?"

  "Because we don't have time," Tristan said. "And this is what we do."