Strikeforce

by Nick James

  Woodbury, Minnesota

  Copyright Information

  Skyship Academy: Strikeforce © 2013 by Nick James.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Flux, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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  Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the author’s copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover models used for illustrative purposes only and may not endorse or represent the book’s subject.

  First e-book edition © 2013

  E-book ISBN: 9780738737102

  Book design by Steffani Sawyer

  Cover design by Kevin R. Brown

  Cover illustration © Aaron Goodman Studio Inc.

  Cover images:

  © iStockphoto.com/18006045/Johan Swanepoel

  © iStockphoto.com/8574407/Jacom Stephens

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  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1

  My fingers burn. The bricks are hotter than I remembered— some supernatural heat that seems to seep out from deep inside. You could fry up dinner on these things. In fact, I bet if you were to crack an egg and watch the insides spill down the side of this building, the yolk would cook before it hit the ground.

  But I am not an egg. Right now, I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

  Cassius glowers down at me, the tips of his boots pressed into my knuckles. My fingers tense on the ledge, gripping onto that impossibly scalding brick with every last drop of energy I’ve got. I already know it won’t be enough. I’ve been here before, time and time again. Only one time was real, and it hadn’t ended well.

  Syracuse, New York.

  Fringe Town.

  I know this is a dream. I know if I concentrate hard enough I can control it. I could rip away the scenery and replace it with whatever I want. It doesn’t make it feel any less dangerous.

  I take a cautious glance below me. I see my feet first, dangling into thin air. I let them hang loose. Beyond that, twelve stories down, is the cracked pavement of the Fringe roadway. Utterly still. Hotter than a griddle.

  “Please!” I hear my voice choke on the word, but I don’t feel my mouth open or close. I’m going through the motions. It’s like I’m part of a movie. It’s playing out all around me.

  Cassius smiles. His dark bangs are perfectly combed, unnaturally tidy for the wasteland below us. I notice his navy Unified Party sport coat, the silver badge against his chest. He looks more adult than me, somehow, even though we’re both fifteen.

  This is the old Cassius. Perfectly confident. Dutiful to a fault. A real killing machine. I don’t see any of myself in him. It’s impossible to dig past the façade and uncover the truth. He’s my brother. My brother who’s trying to kill me.

  He sneers. “Where is the Pearl?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but end up with silence. It doesn’t matter anymore. The Pearl Wars are over. The old rivalries between the Unified Party and Skyship Community seem like child’s play. We have new problems. Red Pearls. Invasion. A looming extermination at the hands of an otherworldly power.

  I’m done with this. I’m past it. But my brain keeps wanting me to revisit this moment. Night after night I’m brought back to our first meeting, forced to endure Cassius’s cocky smile until I release my hold on the brick ledge and let myself fall. It’s exhausting, but I’ve learned not to fear it.

  I don’t have the patience for this.

  I begin to wriggle free from his heel. He barely tries to fight back.

  The world lights up around us.

  This is different.

  At first, it’s like a sunset. The sky goes dark, then red like someone’s poked a vein and let loose torrents of blood. The air grows thicker until it pushes up on me, like my feet are supported by invisible hands. I’m reminded of the Scarlet Bombings, all those years ago when the Authority first attacked us. Clouds of crimson. Death, all around, and a dismantling of the country’s biggest metropolitan centers. We’d been naïve, thinking that the bombings were of human origin.

  The syrupy atmosphere heats up. The frying pan bricks are nothing compared to this. I must be on fire.

  I look up at Cassius. Flames dance around him. They engulf his legs and crawl up his body, eating away at his flesh until all I can see is his silhouette through the smoke. Before I can do anything, the fire streams down at me. I hardly feel it course its way into my body. I’m completely numb.

  The sky drips red. The building begins to crumble under my fingers and I know this isn’t like the other times. It used to be, I’d wake with a start right about now and the nightmare would be over. Easy escape from my raging subconscious. Now, I’m not sure there’d be any street to hit if I let go.

  A laugh pierces the atmosphere. It comes from a distance, off in the sky somewhere, but feels so close that it could have started right inside my ears.

  Cassius is nothing but a charred corpse on the roof. Bones break and blow away as dark ashes, sucked up by the red cloud of energy circulating around us. Without his boot, there’s nothing keeping me upright. The bricks pulverize in violent explosions around me. I fall, engulfed in flames.

  The laughter follows me down. It’s not human.

  I wonder: If I keep on falling without an end, will I ever wake up?

  And then comes the real question. It’s not one I want to consider, but it’s there just the same, nagging at me:

  Do I even want to?

  2

  “This is not acceptable.”

  Madame reclines at the foot of the gleaming metal table. It’s unnecessarily long, just as the room around us is unnecessarily big. This is a place made for armies. We’re twenty-seven strong on our best days—a tight collection of my closest friends and a handful of alien Drifters from the Resistance. Only Madame, Cassius, and I are in the war room now.

  This bunker is our temporary home, and has been for just over a week. Northeast Nevada—a secret Unified Party stronghold a quarter of a mile below the ground.

  I glance across the table at Cassius, who chews on the remaining end of a stale nutria-bar. Madame’s gaze remains fixed on us. She’s intense. Hiding underground without the luxuries of the Surface hasn’t stopped her from dressing well, or keeping her dark hair expertly pinned at all moments. But it’s all a façade, and it’s crumbling day by day.

  I find it difficult to meet her eyes, even for a second. Could be because she’s tried to kidnap me on more than one
occasion. But even now that she’s pledged to fight on our side, she’s still mass intimidating. It’s like Captain Alkine times a hundred.

  It’s the next morning, after my dream. Turns out I did wake from it, albeit in a pool of sweat. That was three A.M. I haven’t slept since. It’s with the continued threat of yawns that I listen to Madame rattle on.

  “Communication is down all throughout the country.” She glares at Cassius like it’s his fault that the Unified Party is crumbling. “Even lines that should be secure are fractured and crisscrossed. I make an attempt to contact the office of the President and end up at the Department of Agriculture. And even then there’s nobody present to take my call. It’s maddening.”

  Cassius takes the last bite of his bar. “We don’t know exactly what’s happened on the Surface. Everything’s screwed up. Even if Pearl Power’s still functioning, the infrastructure is bound to be damaged.”

  I bite my lip. I don’t have much to add. Watching the two of them talk, I can imagine the conversations they used to have, back when I considered Cassius my enemy. From what he’s told me, he’s always been a gold-star student, capable of discussing military strategy and politics the same way most of us discuss our favorite program on TV. That’s not me. I act on instinct, or to be even more accurate, I react. I’m getting better, but none of this war-planning stuff is my element.

  Madame rubs her eyes. She looks more human now, under these subterranean lights without all the makeup she used to wear. I can see wrinkles. But beyond that, I see fear. A lack of control. I don’t even know her that well, but I can tell that being down here is killing her. She’s not the only one. The longer we stay, the more distant the Surface seems. A person could lose touch with reality down here. Physically, we may be safe. Mentally? The jury’s out.

  “I’ve been up all hours,” Madame continues. “Haven’t gotten more than a few bursts of sleep here and there. I fear that they’ve dismantled communications. I’m sure the President is hiding underground like we are, but that doesn’t do us any good if we can’t reach him.”

  Cassius stretches. “Does it even matter? What good will the President do anyway?”

  “We’re not doing this alone, Cassius. Regardless of how far you and Jesse have come, you’re in no position to topple an army. We need allies. We need the power of the Unified Party.”

  I glance at the ceiling. It’s pristine, just like the rest of the bunker. I’m not sure this place has ever been touched. If there are explosions going off on the Surface—if cities are falling—we’d never know it. We’re cut off completely. Sound, vision, smell. It’s all a mystery to us.

  “We don’t know how many of them there are.” My voice catches in my throat. I shouldn’t be nervous, not after all we’ve been through already. “In the Authority, I mean.”

  Cassius meets my eyes. “We all saw the red Pearls falling from the sky like a meteor shower. There were hundreds. Thousands, maybe. And that was just the beginning. Before Skyship Altair sank, when Theo held me prisoner, he made it sound like once the Authority started coming, they’d never stop.”

  I pull my bare wrist toward my waist. There used to be a bracelet fused to my skin. I still haven’t gotten used to the way my arm feels without it. Turns out that the bracelet, along with Cassius’s, was the only thing keeping our enemies at bay. Theo Rayne—the psychotic young prince in the Authority’s crazed dynasty—had removed them, thus breaking the barrier that had previously kept red Pearls from falling to Earth. These crimson Pearls don’t need my power to break them. They hit the ground, burst open, and attack.

  “Theo was always one for dramatics,” Madame says. “I wouldn’t necessarily take him at his word.”

  Cassius grits his teeth. “But we know the Surface is under attack. We need a plan.”

  I nod. Last night, our Drifter scouts—Talan and Sem—returned from their latest venture to the Surface. Our bunker is too far from a Chosen City to see much, but with the benefit of a good pair of specs, they witnessed enough.

  Billows of smoke in the distance. An explosion, rumbling through the Nevada Desert from god knows where. A fleet of Unified Party Cruisers flying low, with speed reserved only for battle. Glimpses. That’s all, but they paint a pretty lousy picture.

  And the longer we stay down here in hiding, the worse it’ll be when we go back up.

  Madame slams her fist on the table. “I don’t know what to do. I simply don’t.”

  Cassius’s eyes slit. “Feels terrible, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re relishing this,” she replies. “Do you consider this my punishment, for all I’ve done to you?”

  “I think it’s punishment for all of us,” he mutters. “No need to be selfish. Oh wait.” He smiles. “Selfish is all you know how—”

  “You should let me go.” I grip the edge of the table and lean my chair back. “I’m the Pearlbreaker. I should be doing something.”

  “No.” Madame frowns. “You don’t sacrifice your queen to attack an army of pawns.”

  My brows furrow. “Wait, did you just call me a—”

  “Chess, Fisher,” Cassius interrupts. “She’s talking about chess. Calm down.”

  “Look,” I say, “after what happened back at the Academy … being stuck in there like a prisoner … I’m not listening to any adults anymore, no matter who they are.” The words escape my lips before I realize who I’m talking to. Madame’s shoulders tense. I don’t think she expected something like that from me. I’m not sure if anybody, kid or adult, has challenged her and gotten away with it.

  I swallow. I could say more if I wanted, but that was ballsy enough. We may be safe from the Drifters in this bunker, but I’m certainly not safe from her. Only a few days ago, she’d been hunting me down. Even if we’re allies, it doesn’t mean I trust her.

  “The Drifters are getting restless,” Cassius says. “And remember what Theo told us. Matigo is already here. He’s gearing up.”

  A shiver runs down my spine. Matigo’s the Authority’s king, as well as Theo’s father. I haven’t had the misfortune of meeting him yet, but I know it’s inevitable. And given that his own son died bringing red Pearls to Earth, I can’t imagine the guy’s too pleased with us.

  Only a short while ago, Cassius and I had been given a glimpse of Matigo’s throne room on our home world of Haven—a peek at his plans via catalogued memories from the Resistance. He’d sent Theo as a herald, but he’d long since arrived on Earth himself. He’s hiding. He could be anywhere.

  Madame rubs her temple. “Perhaps this will all be taken care of before you have to.”

  “Don’t bet on it.” Cassius pushes back his chair and stands. “If there’s nothing else—”

  “There’s nothing.” Madame closes her eyes as if she’s trying to fend off a headache. “Absolutely nothing at all.”

  “Forty-eight hours,” he continues. “That’s how much longer I can stay down here. We’re going to have to fight eventually. Stalling just drains our spirits.”

  I glance up at him. “Where are you going?”

  “Around,” he answers, and it’s enough. I’ve learned not to follow him unless he asks. It doesn’t usually end up well.

  Of course, that doesn’t mean that I wanna be stuck here with Madame either.

  I stand.

  She chuckles. “You both can’t wait to get away from me. I suppose it’s natural, after the game we’ve played.”

  Cassius freezes. I can see him working it out in his head—to engage in verbal sparring with her or not. In the end, he can’t help it.

  “Game,” he repeats. “You’ve got a pretty screwed up vision of the world, don’t you?”

  “The world is obviously more screwed up than either you or I could have guessed, Cassius. I’m trying to help you. A little respect would—”

  “I’m done.” He turns and leaves.

  Madame’s lips purse. “Hotheaded,” she says to herself. “Always has been.”

  I stare at her, wondering if s
he’s making a joke or she’s seriously upset. There’s no way she can expect us to be all friendly after everything she’s done. If it weren’t for her connections with the Unified Party, we wouldn’t even be listening to her.

  She meets my eyes. “Talk some sense into him, please. I’m tired. This is emotionally draining.”

  I shake my head and move from my seat. “Nobody believes a word you say. You know that, right?”

  Before she can respond, I head for the door, keeping my face forward.

  If this is the help we have, how are we supposed to fight an entire war? We’re screwed.

  3

  Cassius keyed in the six-digit code and stepped back to allow the door to slide open before him. His hand trembled at his side. He made sure to steady it before moving into the room.

  It was one of the bunker’s larger living areas, outfitted with two dozen beds positioned up and down each side like an army barrack. A long gray rug ran down the middle, the only attempt to make the place look inviting.

  It was also the home of their Drifter allies, at least the few that they’d managed to find before heading underground. The Drifters preferred to be housed together like this, separate from the humans. Cassius supposed that if he was on an unfamiliar planet in the midst of a war, he’d want to be amongst similar types as well. And although he still didn’t feel it, stepping inside this room was doing exactly that.

  He tried to force Madame’s words from his head. Even looking at her infuriated him. There was a time, years ago, where her face had been the one he’d longed for most. He’d called her “Mother,” even if she hadn’t one hundred percent acknowledged it herself. But ever since she’d started lying to him, then hunting him, he couldn’t use the word anymore.

  He scanned the room. Some of the Drifters crouched on the beds. Others stood in groups, whispering in a language he didn’t have any hope of understanding. They all looked human enough, of varying ages and heights, but even if he couldn’t easily say why, there was something off about them. The residual glow from the Pearl energy had long since faded from their bodies. Instead, regardless of age, their skin was a pale, babylike complexion. Any wrinkles that were present were surface deep at best. No pockmarks or pimples. The sight of it reminded Cassius of the first time he’d burst into flames. It was as if the voyage from Haven to Earth had seared their bodies of any imperfections.