Sixth Cycle

by Darren Wearmouth

  She led the way through the mansion’s front doors and headed straight for Finch’s study. Ross followed, mumbling to himself about the craziness of what he just heard.

  Skye knocked twice on the office door.

  “What? Can’t I get any peace today,” Finch shouted.

  “It’s Skye. We need to talk.”

  “Come in. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  She took a deep breath and entered. Finch slumped behind his desk in a brown paisley robe. His hair stuck up on one side, as if he’d just gotten out of bed. A quarter-full whiskey bottle and empty glass sat on the desk in front of him.

  He glared at her and drummed his fingers on the table as she approached.

  “The flutterby has returned,” he slurred. “Maybe Ross was right about you. Perhaps I need to pull off your wings?”

  “We need a serious talk, Alexander.”

  “You don’t get to call me that today. The convoy told me you’ve been with the Trader. Why?”

  “I went to Kappa with him and Jake Phillips.”

  “I specifically asked for you to return straight after your mission and debrief me. Are you turning into a Cloudless Sulphur Caterpillar?”

  “A what?”

  “They kill and eat their own. What did the toad want?”

  “If you mean Trader, he intercepted the convoy and asked me to join his, as he has some concerns over recent events. I went because I do too.”

  Ross, standing behind Skye, cleared his throat. “May I offer an opinion?”

  “No, you may not,” Finch said while keeping his focus on Skye. “What are your concerns?”

  “About the mission you sent me on. Rhodes specifically.”

  Finch’s lips curled into a snarl. “What exactly is it I’m supposed to have done? The ridiculous ramblings of Governor Harrison got to you? He tried to accuse me of assisting a rebellion inside his walls. I simply made a trade with good citizens asking for weapons to defend themselves against roaming outlaws. Weapons their own people wouldn’t provide. How was I supposed to know they were planning on using them to oppose his rule?”

  This was the first mention of weapons. Skye wondered how he would react if another governor armed people of Omega behind his back. He also didn’t seem his normal self today, if any of his behavior could be classed as normal.

  “I was told someone from Omega contacted Rhodes to warn him about his arrest. Was it you?”

  “No I didn’t. Who are you to question me, even if I did?”

  Normally his comment would be correct. The politics and coups of strongholds were none of her business, but the looming threat and wastelander attacks on Omega, the outlaw camp and bunker, coupled with his connection to Rhodes made it Skye’s business. She decided to reveal more of what she knew and observe his reaction.

  “Thousands of wastelanders are heading for Omega.”

  Finch clenched his fists and rested them on the table. “Who told you that pack of lies?”

  “Trader. One of his scouts has seen them. They could be here by tomorrow evening.”

  “I’ve scouted the area myself and found no evidence. Has it crossed your mind that he might be lying to you? It’s in his interest to build up a threat so he can line his pockets based on false fear. Don’t tell me he’s caught you on his sticky tongue and sucked you in?”

  He shook his head, twisted off the bottle’s cap, and poured himself a whiskey.

  “I don’t believe you,” Skye said.

  She never thought those words would come out of her mouth, but believed every one of them. Finch threw his glass across the room. Skye dodged to her right and it shattered against the wall behind her. He looked at the damp patch on his right arm, picked up the bottle, and unsteadily moved toward her.

  Skye braced herself. She wasn’t going to stand there and let him hit her with it.

  “How dare you call me a liar?” Finch said. “I’ve done everything for you, and this is how you repay me? Listening to that greedy toad over your own father!”

  “My father was Thomas Reed. An honest and good person. Murdered by Sky Man. Did you know about the wastelander attack on the outlaw camp? Because if you did—”

  Finch’s face reddened and he crossed his palm over his chest. Skye took a step back. His breath hissed through gaps in his gritted teeth.

  “Captain Ross, has this bitch spread any of these lies since arriving back in Omega?”

  Skye turned to Ross and hoped he’d seen enough to realize that Finch was increasingly unhinged and up to something. They hadn’t established what, but his evasive and aggressive answers showed more than they told.

  “I don’t know, Governor,” Ross said. “She accosted me when I walked out of the front doors.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Ross. I’ve had quite my fill of that today.”

  Ross edged away from Skye. “She told the guard to blow the outer steps in preparation for a wastelander attack, sir.”

  “Was it that little turd, Bennett?”

  Skye didn’t answer. She should have guessed that Ross would be a coward.

  Finch nodded. “Inform Bennett to cease any such activities. Have him come to the mansion to speak with me. Her lies can’t be allowed to spread. She’s obviously in league with the Trader, in a scam to take over Omega.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do it right away.”

  “Ross, listen to me, he’s lying to you. He’s lying to all of us. I saw the attack on the outlaw camp with my own eyes in the hills. Someone is bringing them north. Arrest Finch, and we’ll find out the truth together.”

  Ross looked at her and back at Finch.

  “Cuff her,” Finch said.

  Skye ran for the door. Ross reached out and grabbed the back of her jacket. She turned to strike him, but Finch dived at her and forced her against the wall. Both of them pulled her hands behind her back and she felt the cuffs tightly crunch around her wrists.

  Ross spun Skye around. Finch grabbed the chain around her neck, ripped her tags off, and dangled them in front of her eyes. “She won’t be needing these. Captain Ross, please take her to the cells. That’s an order.”

  Ross grabbed the back of Skye’s arm and opened the door.

  “Wait a moment,” Finch said. He moved to an inch of Skye’s face. “You’ll never be clever enough to get the better of me.”

  He pressed his tongue against the bottom of her cheek and slowly licked up, then turned to Ross and nodded. He led Skye from the office to her future as an outlaw.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A light dust storm brushed across the convoy as it crunched along a gravel road toward the distant forest. Shafts of late afternoon sunlight poked through the clouds, creating a strange amber atmosphere. Jake wound up his window. Trader’s smoking was more bearable than grit in his eyes.

  If Epsilon were worried about Jake’s escape denting their population clock, they were about to receive a larger and more immediate threat to their numbers.

  “If the comms console doesn’t work, what’s the plan?” Jake said.

  “We warn everyone tonight. If the strongholds are prepared to move, they can’t afford to be caught in the open tomorrow evening.”

  “A hundred miles is a long way on foot. That’s fifty miles a day if they get here by then.”

  “Wastelanders are human, but they’re being purposefully driven. I’d be surprised if they took their time getting here. Thank God for Carlos.”

  Jake glanced over his shoulder at Carlos sleeping on the backseat. “How do you think Epsilon will react?”

  “I’m guessing they’ll initially resist. You’re going to help me convince them. It’s your plan. We don’t have any experience with battles, only skirmishes.”

  “Not being funny, Trader, but I was their exhibit for forty years. Why would they listen to me?”

  “We’re going to need a single voice to lead. They know me as a Trader, a middleman. Strongholds won’t take orders from each other. You’re an Allied officer with militar
y experience. Can you think of a better candidate? We start selling you now.”

  They approached a rickety wooden signpost at a fork in the road. Left pointed to Epsilon, right to Omega. Trader steered left and cut through the forest. Driving through countryside wasn’t an option as the stronghold lay in the middle of it. Jake remembered that much from his escape.

  Feeling slightly more comfortable in Trader’s company, and not knowing a thing about the man’s history, Jake took the opportunity to probe. If he was to take the role forward, he wanted to know whose shoes he filled.

  “I don’t know anything about you,” Jake said. “Tell me a bit about yourself?”

  “There’s nothing much to say.”

  “Let me be the judge of that. How did you get the job in the first place?”

  Trader groaned and flicked his cigarette out of the window. “The old Trader took me under his wing, a little like what I’m doing with you.”

  “But you didn’t come out of a stasis pod in the middle of a stronghold.”

  “That’s true, but I wasn’t really part of any society. I used to scout for Sigma, and he took over those duties, so I ended up in his team by default. I rode with him and learned how he operated. You can’t say there isn’t any value to how things are set up.”

  “I’m not saying there isn’t value, but the day you stop reviewing potential ways to improve things is the day that a decline starts. Do you have a wife? Kids?”

  “I’m married to this job. The team are my kids.”

  “I know that feeling.”

  Jake joined the Fleet Academy as soon as he could. When the threat of war escalated, he grew deeper into his training as part of an Orbital Bomber crew. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave a family looking at the sky and missing him.

  Dust thinned due to the protection of the trees, and the surface allowed them to increase their speed. Jake checked his watch. Half past four in the afternoon probably gave them twenty-four hours to organize a robust defense, although they didn’t have a minute to waste.

  “I was thinking about how I woke—”

  Trader hit the brakes. The SUV’s wheels locked and scraped against the road surface. Carlos bolted up.

  A spear arced through the air toward the windshield.

  Jake pressed himself against the door, out of the trajectory line. The spear’s point hit the center of the glass a second later, causing a chip with small shatter lines around it. It fell, clanked against the hood, and rolled off the side.

  He kicked the passenger door open, shouldered his rifle, and scanned the area. Trader blasted the horn, and vehicle engines roared in the distance.

  A figure darted from behind a rock to a nearby tree. Jake focused his sights on it. Another moved forward in the gloomy undergrowth, creeping through a group of ferns. He switched his aim and fired three rounds. A gurgled scream echoed through the forest.

  The vehicles rumbled up behind. The trucks’ breaks hissed. Trader’s team piled out and surrounded their own vehicles. Jake gave a crisp hand signal toward the area he saw the first figure move.

  A muzzle flashed in the forest. Rounds peppered the SUV behind them. Each impact created a hollow tinkle. One of Trader’s team fell clutching their thigh.

  Something whistled through the air. Jake heard a small clink. A metal dart with red flights stuck in the SUV door next to him.

  The area cracked with gunfire as the team returned fire. Rounds whizzed through the forest. Bark chipped off trees. The figure behind the trunk fell to all fours and tried to crawl away. A rifle hung around their shoulder. Jake placed the wastelander’s head in his front sight, let out a deep breath, and fired. The figure collapsed.

  If more were armed in hidden positions, the team were sitting ducks. Two men scrambled behind the SUV with Trader.

  Jake jumped to his feet. “Give me covering fire.”

  He sprinted across the road for the tree line and crouched behind the first pine he reached. Rounds from the team zipped through the forest. The enemy casualty was dressed in a clean Allied overall. This wasn’t a colleague. The man had grimy hands and cheeks, tangled greasy hair and red welts on his face. It gave Jake a sense of satisfaction that he gained a little bit of justice, but he wanted a lot more.

  Footsteps thudded on the damp forest ground. Another wastelander, in a badly fitting Allied uniform, hobbled away carrying a thin metal tube.

  Jake quickly surveyed the immediate area. Without detecting further signs of movement, he held out a hand to stop the team’s fire. He wanted to stamp out the risk of blue on blue while giving chase.

  The team stopped firing. He gestured them to the casualty and headed deeper into the forest. The female wastelander, with long mousy hair, wasn’t attempting to hide and held her blood-soaked left arm as she staggered through the trees.

  Jake crouched and aimed. Something inside stopped him pulling the trigger. She was still a human, albeit a dangerous one. Trader wheezed up behind him, leaned against a trunk and fired. The woman flopped to the ground.

  “Don’t even think about having sympathy, Jake. She’d skin you alive given half a chance.”

  “Did you notice the uniforms?”

  “Couldn’t miss them. They must’ve been part of the bunker raid. Sky Man’s wastelanders in the local area.”

  “Which means we could be facing more rifles and rocket launchers. I suggest we get out of here before the cavalry arrives.”

  Trader peered through the trees. “We could wait and ambush them. I’ll get the launchers from the truck.”

  “No. Save them for tomorrow. That’s when we’re going to need them.”

  “Epsilon it is.”

  Jake found it slightly odd how they were prepared to go with his decisions so quickly. He accepted strongholds hadn’t been involved in battles yet, but they had experienced skirmishes. Regardless of how his increasing authority came about, he enjoyed leading by example and knew they had a fight on their hands. If they accepted him to lead the battle against a wastelander invasion, so be it. It would give him influence after victory, to organize a better society without clocks.

  It also gave him a chance to face down a former fellow officer who was now a cowardly traitor.

  * * *

  Trader took a less cautious approach for the last twenty-five minutes of the journey. He pushed the SUV’s suspension to its limit, bumping through potholes and crashing through pools of water. Jake maintained a vigilant watch on the forest to either side until they reached the gates of Epsilon. It felt like a week had passed since he last saw the walls, not a day and a half.

  The gates opened with a loud mechanical click. Four guards stood inside the entrance and glared into the SUV as Trader drove past. Jake leaned down and covered his face with his hand.

  “Seriously, Jake, you’ve got nothing to worry about. They like you.”

  “It didn’t seem like that when I escaped.”

  “The last thing they would’ve wanted is for you to get butchered by wastelanders in the forest. I’ll take you straight to Barry and Beth. We’ll need their permission to access the ship.”

  “The governors?”

  “They don’t use titles here. Just names.”

  Trader drove along a smooth paved road between the brick-built foundry and the hundreds of tightly packed houses. All were twentieth-century style with hipped roofs and narrow alleys running between them. It looked more like an old-fashioned industrial town than any of the other strongholds.

  A noise like a foghorn blasted from the factory.

  “Home time, better get out of the way,” Trader said.

  He sped up toward the woodland cloaking the ship, and stopped next to the end house. It had a neatly trimmed lawn at the front, surrounded by a colorful flower bed.

  “One thing I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jake said. “I hardly see any people around in the strongholds. Where do they all go?”

  “Most places have curfews after work. Before you say anything, it’s f
or the good of the people. If a wastelander manages to get in, the guard need a clean shot, and we don’t want to put the workers at risk.”

  “What about the bar in Omega?”

  “You can go directly between buildings. We can’t have people wandering close to the walls. We have to preserve what we have in the best possible way.”

  Jake thought about questioning the supposed best way, but decided better of it. At the moment, they had a bigger and more immediate concern. Being an effective leader wasn’t all about fighting, it was choosing battles wisely and avoiding them if they had no chance of a positive outcome. The restrictive ways of the strongholds were irrelevant if they couldn’t overcome Sky Man and his plans.

  He followed Trader down a garden path and stood outside a red-painted front door with the gold letters B&B screwed onto it.

  “Don’t let their friendly appearance fool you,” Trader said. “Anyone who runs a stronghold has to be tough.”

  Jake smiled. “I’m starting to like your early warnings. Are you going to introduce me to anyone who doesn’t require a caveat?”

  Trader shook his head and straightened his gray bushy beard. He gave the door three sharp knocks and stepped back.

  “Give me a minute,” a woman called from inside.

  Jake turned and watched men and women stream out of the factory in their blue coveralls and head for their houses. Some went to a large building next to the factory and returned outside with children. A few glanced across at Jake and Trader before disappearing through their doors or along alleyways.

  The door opened and a man and woman stood in the hallway. Both were slim with gray hair and dressed in the same coveralls as the workers.

  The man squinted at Jake and smiled. “You’ve returned, Captain Phillips. I’m Barry, and this is my wife, Beth.”

  Jake shook his bony, liver-spot-peppered hand. “Nice to meet you both. We’ve come here on on important business.”

  Beth stepped forward and rested her hand on his shoulder. Jake’s instinct told him to flinch away, but he maintained his position in front of the threshold.

  “We were your guardians for forty years, Captain,” she said. “You have nothing to fear in Epsilon.”