by Jo Zebedee
The island was quiet, no Barath’na in sight. He shook his head, not sure what that meant, and took a step forward. A stench hit him, carried on the air, and he wrinkled his nose. The governor sniffed, loud in the quiet, and put his paw on John’s shoulder, making him wince.
In the rocks ahead figures stood up, dark against the black night. John watched as one came to its full, impressive height. The governor took a step back. The figures moved forward in formation, passing under a floodlight, and their armour gleamed, golden and alive.
John backed away. Zelo. How could they be here... why were they here? He gasped as the full consequences hit him. He was dead: they were here to make him pay.
“Governor Distryn,” said the biggest Zelo.
The governor barked an order at one of the Barath’na, who dropped to all fours and loped into the prison. The governor moved forward, growling. “What is the meaning of this?”
Barath’na formed up behind their leader. John took a quick count of the combined weaponry; if either side decided to shoot, he was in the middle of it. Not good. He moved behind a Barath’na; it might kill him, but at least it’d be only once.
The lead Zelo brought its gun up. “The prison is mine.”
The governor snarled and leapt at the shit-eater, whose gun discharged, knocking the governor back. It howled and fell against the rocks to lie still. The rest of the Barath’na surged forwards, their translator units ignored, the air filled with snarls and growls.
Bollocks to this. John ran. He reached the cubicle where Carter was. A bolt passed, arcing close to him. He yelled and dived to the side, breathing hard. He looked around for shelter and crawled into Carter’s cubicle, pulling the final glass door to, shutting them in. God, he hoped it was strong enough.
“The Zelo are here,” he said, and the policeman nodded, very slightly, but was too out of it to even ask why.
Another bolt fizzed past the cubicle and John ducked; a thud, and one hit the glass, but didn’t break through. Something sounded under him, a rumble that shook the building, spreading and denting the air. A Zelo-smart bomb – he’d know the sound anywhere. The Earth shook: the Zelo knew where to find the Barath’na; the bombs could destroy warrens as well as buildings.
“How can they be here?” yelled John.
“D-don’t know.” The cop was shuddering, mostly from shock, John decided. He pulled his t-shirt off, draping it over Carter’s shoulders, and backed against the glass as another bolt passed the cubicle. Lights passed them and shapes moved in the dim room.
Something crashed against the glass. Hands pulled at the door, wrenching at it. John reached out and grabbed the handhold, keeping the door closed. A flare illuminated the figure; it was the colonel, his hands hitting the glass, his mouth open in a scream. A Barath’na clung to him, its arm around his throat. John backed off cowering, as Downham was pulled away. He turned his head at the spurt of blood that hit the cubicle, obscuring one of the glass panels.
A light flashed on the wall. Red, like the blood: on and off, on and off. The gunfire slowed. He squinted against the darkness. The soldiers – both Barath’na and Zelo – were falling back. John pulled the door open, and a siren shrieked through the room. The smell of smoke assailed him and made him choke.
“Carter!” he yelled. “We need to go.”
Carter pulled against the clamps holding him. “Get them off!”
John clawed at them. They wouldn’t give. He coughed, the smoke curling into his throat. Carter stopped pulling and fell back. His eyes met John’s.
“Go,” said the policeman. “I can’t get out. Go.”
John coughed again. He looked at the door to the island. Forty-three steps; he could make that. Even the Zelo were preferable to being burned to death. He took a step forward, ignoring a cough from Carter.
He couldn’t go. He’d run from Taz, and from Jimmy, and was no better off. He backed into the cubicle and closed the door, slowing the smoke. He lifted his t-shirt from Carter and ripped it. He tied one part around his mouth, the other around Carter’s. The policeman was coughing steadily now. The first finger of flame licked the edge of the cargo door.
It was getting hot. John sank a little, Carter with him, so that the cop’s wrists were raised by the clamps. The heat was all around, making his skin tighten. Each breath hurt. He closed his eyes, taking shallow breaths, his strength gone.
The cubicle slammed open. Arms reached in – slippery from mucus, their smell just discernible under the smoke – and lifted John. He didn’t fight – he couldn’t have – and a breeze shifted the t-shirt on his face, bringing a chill wind. The Zelo carried him to the door, taking him outside. The sky whirled above him, like Earth was about to take off. The island was a crazy cacophony of fire and smoke. It roared in his ears; the stink of the Zelo filled him.
He was set on the ground, and shivered at the sudden cold. Carter was laid down beside him, breathing heavily. He sounded awful, crackling and harsh. John wrenched the t-shirt off his mouth and crawled to the policeman. Carter grabbed John’s arm, tried to say something, but nothing came out. The policeman’s chest jerked, as if shocked, and went still. The rasping breaths stopped.
“Carter!” John leaned over him, shaking the policeman, but there was no response. He looked up. “Do something! He’s dying.”
The policeman’s eyes rolled backwards and John rocked back onto his heels. This couldn’t be happening – they’d made it out of the prison, they’d been rescued. The policeman didn’t move.
“Carter, damn you, wake up!”
Carter gave a low groan and opened his eyes. John rolled him onto his side. Carter retched black bile, spattering the ground. He groaned and rolled back, before propping himself up on his elbows and looking at the Zelo. “Christ, it worked,” he croaked.
The Zelo ducked its head and said, the translated voice dull, “Inspector Henry Carter, you are free to go.”
It turned to John, making his stomach twist. This was it: they were going to claim him and take him back to their home-planet. He felt like he’d died a hundred deaths already – surely he’d paid their price. He swallowed his fear – they weren’t going to force him to show it, not after everything he’d been through. “The virus was Barath’naian, I can prove it.”
The Zelo said nothing, just nodded, and John waited for the guards to take him, his heart pounding. He wouldn’t beg. That’d be good, to hold his silence.
Neeta stepped forward, flanked by two Zelo. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her hair was lank, barely shifting in the breeze. She was lovely. Her eyes met John’s, relief shining from them. He tried to get up and go to her, but even without the Zelo guarding him, he was too tired to move.
She held up the vial, letting the lead Zelo take it. The alien raised the vial.
“The Barath’na will face our justice.” It cocked its head. “You did wrong; you must face judgement. That judgement will be your people’s to make.” The alien nodded at Carter. “Your bots did well: they relayed the viral compound to us. We have safeguarded our people against it. We have returned to see justice carried out on those truly behind our xenocide.”
Neeta rushed forward and crouched beside John. “We did it.”
Zelo troops swarmed into the nest-tunnels below. They knew where to find the Barath’na, all right. They must know, too, that their real enemy wasn’t a lad from the streets of Belfast too stupid and desperate to refuse a job. Please, let them know that.
He glanced at Carter and nodded. “Their cavalry’s better than yours,” he said.
“Aye.” The cop sounded like a shadow of himself. “But at least I did what I promised.” He gave a grim smile. “Josey’s alive – she’s in Belfast with Peters.”
She was alive. John had to pause to take that in. He’s been so sure he’d killed her. He ducked his head for a moment, determined not to be caught on camera with his eyes glassy, and swallowed the lump in his throat. Finally, he looked up Carter.
“Thanks. You did good.” He had at that. And so had John.
EPILOGUE
John sat in the dock, looking straight ahead and not at the empty chair beside him. Taz should be here. Today had brought it home to him that Taz wasn’t coming back. It was his fault. He knew that. He’d been the one who’d dared Taz to taste the drug. A bitter taste filled his mouth, of regret, of bile.
“It will be okay,” Josey whispered from the row behind him. He glanced round. Her hair was drawn back into a high ponytail that made her face pinched and hard. Older. God, they were both so much older. But she’d done a brilliant job, telling the judge all about how Gary McDowell captured her, the photo he’d taken and sent. John had listened, stunned. He’d always known she was tough – he hadn’t survived Belfast on his own – but her clear voice and steady description astounded him. She made what he’d done sound like nothing.
Next to her, Sean stood, his parents in the row behind, and beside them, her head up in her best fuck-you stance, Neeta. John half-smiled; he’d have to remind her it wasn’t her on trial.
Carter, too, had taken the stand. He’d told the judge about the whole conspiracy. How it had been carried out, and who was involved. He’d been so composed, so sure of his facts, it had been impossible for the opposition to sway him. It reminded John of the day, early on, when he’d stood up to Downham and refused to hand him and Taz over. Cojones, indeed.
Then it had been up to Catherine. She’d told John that he might not get off, that they might still think he was guilty because he’d known that he and Taz were doing something illegal. He’d been so nervous he reckoned he might chuck up, right there in front of the judge, but he’d managed to listen through what she had to say, and keep his head up. He’d done nothing wrong, except be poor and stupid and desperate. Catherine had hoped Carter’s testimony about the conditions they were living in, the house’s missing roof, might help to mitigate what he’d done. Stuart and Sophie, sitting either side of Peters, were proof of what John had been trying to protect. He listened to Catherine summing up, telling the judge that there had been no intention for John to kill anyone, that he was sorry for his actions. He’d zoned out, just wanting it to be over and to be told what was happening.
“Would the courtroom please stand.”
This was it. He got to his feet and the judge walked past him, his face impossible to read. John’s heart thumped, but he kept his eyes focused on the front of the room. Whatever happened, it was nothing more than he deserved. But, God, he hoped it would be okay, that he’d not have to be scared anymore, or worried about what lay ahead. And he definitely hoped that death at the hands of the Zelo wasn’t on the cards. He glanced back; Josey looked just as frightened. She met his eyes, and bit her lip. Beside her, Carter looked ahead, his face impassive. Josey grabbed the policeman’s arm, and he put his hand over hers, still looking forward.
“In the matter of John Dray, the charge of xenocide has been considered.” The judge’s voice was serious, and impossible to read. John looked at him, zoning everything else out. No matter what happened, don’t break down. Not here, in front of everyone.
“It has been accepted the defendant did not know the contents of the tin he was requested to empty.” John closed his eyes, and allowed the little spark of hope inside him to bloom. They knew he hadn’t meant it...
“Nonetheless, the defendant released the virus.”
The spark died. He opened his eyes, waiting, resigned to the worst.
“The circumstances were exceptional. The defendant carried out the crime as an act of desperation.” The judge pushed his glasses back. John held his breath. A crime; they were still calling it a crime. He was going to be sent back to prison, at the very least. The idea of seeing the inside of Inish Carraig again, even under human guards, sent a chill through him. He managed to breathe. Just about.
“Your actions since have given some mitigation for your actions. Without you, Earth’s sentient species would have been destroyed: a double xenocide. You are innocent of the charge of xenocide and are free to go.”
John’s legs were shaking. He wanted to sit, but stayed standing. Distantly he was aware of whoops and cheers and he looked up to see Stuart running down the steps, Sophie just behind him. Carter clapped Catherine’s shoulder and congratulated her, his eyes shining the way they always did around her, and then the dock opened and John stepped out and the kids were in his arms, Josey with them. The world shrank to just them and him. He glanced up at the ceiling, and gave a smile. “Well, Da, did I do okay?”
There was silence, but it was enough. If he hadn’t, his da would have told him somehow. And his ma definitely would. He grinned and pulled Josey against him. They’d all done okay. More than okay. They’d survived, and nothing else mattered except they were here and safe and together, through the war to the other side, where anything was possible.
THE END
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
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