Blackout

by Edward W. Robertson

  "But it's the only place we can help."

  "And you think two more people would make a lick of difference?"

  Randy glanced back at him, sunlight flashing from his glasses. "It only took two people to bring down the first ship."

  Lowell chuckled. "Got me there. But if they think that trick will work a second time, they're walking dead men."

  "And we're not?"

  "That ship's enough to smash the city. But it's not enough to scour the planet. We could live in the Rockies for a thousand years before they found us."

  Randy nodded. Unconvinced. But he said nothing more. By the time they got down into the houses, Lowell still hadn't seen any jets. Most of the garages were open. Tools and disassembled machinery strewed the driveways. Some had barely started to rust. The signs of inhabitation were from Anson's former people—he'd kept a scavenger colony nearby—but Lowell kept his pistol in hand anyway.

  It took a full hour to find two bikes. The tires were flaccid and the chains looked like they might snap halfway to Barstow, so Lowell spent another forty minutes poking around for equipment. He cursed himself as he went from garage to garage. Should have had bikes and gear ready to go at the cabin. After the fall of Anson, he'd gotten lax.

  He lucked out, finding an air pump, spare chains, and a bike trailer big enough to carry both their packs and then some. Despite the lost time, it was hardly noon before they were loaded up and ready.

  "Well," Lowell said, straddling his bike. "You ready?"

  Randy gazed south, though with the mountains in the way, there was nothing to see. "Have you been there before?"

  "Yeah. Long winters. Cold like you can't imagine. But we'll be all right."

  The boy drummed his fingers on his handlebars, then lifted his shoe from the asphalt and pedaled. Lowell matched him. While he'd worked on the bikes, he'd checked his map and revised the plan. Rather than I-5, they'd take the 14 northeast through the mountains to Palmdale. A better route, but something like fifty miles, and too much of it uphill. He doubted they'd make it by day's end. Tomorrow morning, though. There was a lake outside Palmdale they could take water from. Ensure they had enough supplies to cross the Mojave.

  Their wheels swished through the deserted streets. Lowell slowed, hooking out of a neighborhood of family homes and connecting with an avenue.

  Movement ahead. Before he registered what he was seeing, blue heat slashed past his ear. Sixty feet up the street, a squadron of aliens scattered, drawing weapons and scrambling for cover.

  2

  Raina ran into the Dunemarket. It was early morning and the sun had yet to crawl over the eastern ridge of the tiny valley. People lay within blankets on the street, sleeping off the excesses of four straight nights of the Angels Day feast, the celebration of Raina's unification of the city. Mauser lay on the shoulder of the road, eyes closed, hands clasped behind his head like a cartoon.

  She shoved him awake. He blinked, eyes clouded with anger. "What the hell, Raina? What part of 'sleeping it off' don't you understand?"

  "The aliens," she said. "They've brought a new ship."

  "Please tell me this is one of your inscrutable jokes."

  "Be at the Seat in fifteen minutes. After that, I start making decisions without you."

  She jogged up the western hills, leaving Mauser squinting into the daylight. The warming air smelled like dust and the grease of last night's cooking. Palms and pine trees scattered the slopes. She knew they must prepare for a fight, but she didn't have any idea what shape that fight would take.

  However, while she searched for a strategy, there was much that could be set in motion in the meantime. Her people numbered in the hundreds. Spread out between San Pedro, Beverly Hills, Catalina Island, and everywhere in between, it would take days to mobilize them. Not a second could be spared.

  She crested the ridge and looked down on the Seat, a patch of small dry hills with houses dug into their sides. An orange grove stood to one side of the park, watered by a spring. Several of her warriors gathered there. She was pleased to see Bryson was among them. He didn't look like a great warrior—long, stringy hair; gangly limbs that couldn't flex much strength—but he was an expert rifleman. Even better, though he griped as freely as a crow, in his heart, he carried a determination to fight that never bowed, no matter how vicious the forces brought against him.

  "Raina!" He trotted toward her. A twist of tobacco smoked in his hand. "You've heard?"

  "And seen," she said. "We need scouts on a line toward the coast. Equip them with fireflowers and tell them to fire them off if the aliens come this way."

  "Roger. The crabs can't hear, right? I'll see if we've got any fireworks that make a bang without the pretty lights."

  He relayed the orders to his people. Four warriors exited the grove at a sprint, rushing to spread the word to other scouts.

  As he watched them go, Bryson puffed on his hand-rolled, which was down to the size of a knuckle. "Serious question: what the fuck do we do?"

  "We prepare for war."

  "Against a mothership?"

  "What else should we do? Paint a target across the Dunemarket and lie down in the bullseye?"

  He inhaled, blowing the foul smoke out in a huff. "That don't sound any sillier than trying to take out a motorized alien army with a few rifles and horses."

  "I don't yet know how we'll do this," Raina said. "But our first act must be to get our people out of danger. That means evacuating Catalina. And the northern territories that were once Anson's. We must prepare to leave the Dunemarket, too."

  "That sounds less like fighting and more like running."

  "Fighting well means providing yourself with the option to run. Take a boat to Catalina. Tell them to prepare to leave over the course of the next three nights. Once you're done with that, come back here and get all of our supplies together: weapons, food, and water."

  "I can do that. What'll you be up to?"

  "I'll be here." Raina rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Deciding how we fight back."

  Bryson took a final drag, licked his fingers, and pinched off the ember, tucking the tiny stub in his pocket. He ran north into the trees, bellowing a knot of warriors to his cause. Raina sat on a camp chair by the spring. The winter rains had caused some of the orange trees to blossom and the air was heavy with their fragrance.

  Minutes later, Mauser strolled through the trees, dressed in jeans and a ratty green t-shirt bearing three golden triangles stacked into a larger triangle. His eyes were bloodshot and there was less bounce in his step than normal, but he hit her with a wry smile.

  "So," he said. "We're meeting here to decide what to do about being totally screwed. And our Algonquin Round Table consists of myself and you?"

  She stood, standing before him. "That's all it took us to defeat Karslaw. And for the moment, it's all we have."

  She ran him through the brief list of tasks she'd assigned so far. He got out a note pad and jotted them down.

  He eyed his list. "These all seem to be about getting out of here. Are you sure you gave these orders?"

  "I'm making us flexible. Eliminating any easy targets. My first duty is to get our people to safety. Once they're out of harm's way, then we turn to the eradication of the threat."

  "The eradication of the threat. Shall I put our air force on high alert, then? Put our people to work folding origami warplanes?"

  "I'm not a fool, Mauser. I know how hard this will be. But if they're here to fight, we can't walk away. That will only prove we deserve to lose."

  Mauser's eyes moved past her shoulder. A sure sign he was about to say something twisted. "Far be it for me to contradict your flawless knowledge of the law of the jungle. But running might also be a sign that staying to fight would be suicide."

  "If they're here to kill us, they will hunt us wherever we go. It's not a matter of whether to make a stand. But where."

  "You may be onto something." He chuckled, shaking his head. "I can't believe we're discus
sing this like it's just another day at the office. It's ID4 Part 2 out there."

  "We need to learn why they're here. Your mind is wise in the ways of sneakiness. Ask if it thinks think they're here to destroy us."

  "I think it's safest to assume that until proven otherwise. There's deductive evidence for it, too. It's only been seven years since the initial attack. The nearest star system is what, five light-years away? Therefore, this ship was already en route. Right?"

  "What is a light-year?"

  "The distance that light can cross in one year's time."

  "What are you talking about? Light doesn't take time to get somewhere. When the sun rises, its rays touch you instantly."

  "Note to self: declare new Director of Education posthaste. Look, light is so fast that, in the context of human day-to-day experience, it might as well be instantaneous. However, the sages of yore proved that it isn't. And as far as they knew, nothing can travel faster than light. So even if these new Swimmers were living in the closest star system to Earth, it would have taken five years for them to receive any message from the original invaders—and at least another five years to get here. Since they got here in fewer than seven, we can conclude the second ship was already on the way."

  Raina frowned. "Or that they can move faster than light."

  "Sure, but that's too terrifying to comprehend. Anyway, if they were coordinating with the first wave, it's a pretty safe assumption they're here as reinforcements—or colonists." Mauser's mouth fell open. "That's it. The crashed Swimmers knew a second wave was on the way. That's why they allied with Anson—they needed his protection to ensure they'd survive to see their reinforcements."

  "And that's why Anson allied with them. He knew it was coming, too. He thought the only way to save his people from the coming swarm was to swear himself to the aliens."

  They gazed at each other in equal parts awe and horror. So much of the last year now made sense. Raina said, "There was only one reason for him to attack us before the aliens came."

  "The newcomers demanded he pacify the region. To ensure it was safe for their arrival."

  She nodded. "And they won't be happy that we eliminated him."

  Mauser paced through the sun-dappled grove. "That could be good. It might mean they're not trained or equipped for war. That they're colonists."

  "Careful, Mauser. You're starting to see the bright side."

  "Let's not get carried away. For one thing, even if it's not a warship, a vessel of that size is going to have some defenses. They could eradicate us with a handful of bombs."

  "We will evacuate Catalina. Bring down those from the north. Those of us here will scatter throughout San Pedro. Once our outlying people have arrived, we'll send all who can't fight to Better San Diego. Georgia will take care of them. And those who can fight? We will prey on the Swimmer invasion from all sides."

  Mauser rubbed his jaw. "By the time we're ready, they'll likely have made their intentions clear. We're going to have problems, though. Especially with food. Most of our reserves were tapped out fighting Anson. Catalina's got some pretty good farms going, but orderly fields will be targets to any jet that makes a flyover. If this turns into an occupation, we may have to supply our troops for months, if not years."

  "Then we'll bring food from Catalina, too. And assign everyone here to forage everything we can in the meantime. Georgia's land is productive. The people we send to San Diego can be put to work fishing and growing crops."

  As they worked on logistics, they sent runners to inform the populace of what was happening. Warriors, messengers, and citizens swirled everywhere. Raina and Mauser were joined by Mia, Wendy, and a former member of Anson's Sworn named Red. Wendy had remained in the Dunemarket during Anson's conquest of it and knew the place better than any. Red was a capable sergeant who had insider knowledge of the profusion of Anson's small colonies across the northern reaches of the city. Between the five of them, they hammered out a division of the work to come.

  Within hours, the locals were combing the neighborhoods for food that could be preserved over the next few days. Others prepared ships to sail to Catalina under cover of night. The scouts reported the alien vessel had taken position over the one crashed in the bay, but so far, it had dispatched no aircraft of any kind.

  Even so, its menace could be seen etched in the faces of all those who passed through the Seat.

  Late that morning, Bryson sprinted down the hills. He arrived wild-eyed, sweaty from the run. "There's an alien submarine. Right here in our harbor."

  Raina gripped the hilt of her sword. "Gather our warriors. If the aliens want our land, they can shed their blood to get it."

  "You don't under—"

  "If we can't destroy a single boat, then we have no hope against their army!"

  "It ain't that we can't beat them," Bryson said. "But the boat's got humans on it—and it's friendly."

  * * *

  Along with Bryson, Mauser, and Mia, she met the submariners on the dock beside the ancient American battleship. She had spoken to two of them before: Tristan, the warrior, and Ness, the short and spindly man whose eyes darted like frightened fish.

  This time, they had brought two others with them. Sam was obviously a warrior as well; a few years older than Tristan and Ness, she had a quiet way about her that reminded Raina of a sheathed knife. By contrast, Sprite was younger and talkative and couldn't seem to stay still, his peg leg drumming across the submarine's deck. Ness and Tristan were white people. Sprite was Asian and Sam looked as though she might be, too.

  Raina allowed them to introduce themselves. When Tristan tried to step down to the dock, Raina walked forward and held up her hand. "Why have you come here?"

  Tristan raised an eyebrow. She looked battle-tested, but the gesture had an unmistakable refinement to it. Whatever she'd become, she still held on to pieces of her old life.

  "To help out," Tristan said. "Is that a problem?"

  Ness flushed. "Hang on a sec. We spoke to you not two weeks ago. You know we're on the up and up."

  "I thought you were allies." Raina glanced between them. "But you said the aliens would come at us from the land. You said nothing about a second ship."

  "We knew the aliens from the first invasion were all headed for L.A. We didn't know a damn thing about a second ship. But that's obviously why they were assembling here. They knew help was on the way."

  "You said you are friends with one of the aliens. He didn't know of their plans, either?"

  Ness flapped his arms. "Does every soldier in your army know your plans? Sebastian was just a lower-ranked officer. They weren't gonna fill him in on the big scheme."

  Raina hesitated. Mauser leaned in beside her, murmuring. "Consider the submarine. Now, consider the island of people and supplies we're going to have great difficulty reaching safely."

  She tapped her elbow. "Your alien friend. Is he here?"

  "Belowdecks," Ness said. "Figured it wasn't the best day for a Swimmer to be parading around town."

  "Invite him to join us. Surely he'll have deeper insight into his people than any of us humans."

  The man glanced at Tristan. For support? Or permission? When she nodded, Ness turned back to Raina. "He'll be happy to talk with us, but we'll need some safety measures. When your people see him, they're liable to shoot first and ask questions later."

  "We'll speak right there." She pointed to the museum and gift shop beside the pier berthing the battleship. "No one else will be allowed inside."

  Ness bit his lip and nodded. He climbed the sub's tower and disappeared. Tristan kept her eyes on Raina. Sam's gaze shifted between the small contingent on the pier and the buildings inland. A minute later, Ness reemerged from the tower.

  And behind him came a monster.

  The alien exited the hatch like a spider climbing from a drain, chitinous limbs unfolding, tentacles waving. Its long head swiveled, taking them in, eyes bulging. Mauser moaned, swearing under his breath. Mia thrust out her jaw, hand mov
ing for the gun on her belt. The hair stood up on Raina's neck and limbs. But the creature was nothing more than flesh and blood. She stepped forward.

  "This," Ness said, moving his hands in an intricate pattern, "is Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Raina."

  Raina nodded. The alien nodded back. It lifted a rectangular pad emblazoned with the word "HELLO"

  Mauser made a choking sound. "That thing speaks our language?"

  Ness gave him a dark look. "First, Sebastian's not a thing, he's a he. Second, he knows English, but he can't hear or speak. We got our own sign language. I can translate anything you say."

  Which meant that Ness would control everything the alien was told. Keeping her expression neutral, Raina led the way into the former gift shop, which wore a thick coat of dust and marine grime. They seated themselves around a table. Bryson stood by the door, keeping one eye on the outside. The alien didn't have a rear end capable of making use of a high-backed chair, so it lowered itself on a nest of soft tentacles and hard limbs.

  "If you wish to help," Raina said, "then I'll know who you are. Where you came from and what you're doing."

  The four people exchanged looks. Tristan was first to speak. "This group started with Ness and Sebastian. Back then, they had an entire crew of aliens. They'd gone rogue. Fighting back against the invaders."

  Ness leaned forward. "Couple years ago, we were following the Swimmers around Macau. Over in China. That's where we picked up Sprite here. Over the course of things, we wound up in the Philippines. Freed a group of human slaves from a Swimmer colony. But in the process, we lost our first sub and all of our crew.

  "So that sucked pretty bad. We picked up some intel, though. About another Swimmer installation on Maui. When we got over there, we found they had a lab. Experimenting on people. Weird shit. In the course of checking it out, we added Tristan and Sam here. And figured out the aliens were working on a second plague."

  Mauser sat up straight. "A second plague? As in a new Panhandler?"