by Wearmouth
Sunlight turned to darkness as they entered the mouth of a large cave and the catamaran bumped to the ground, skidding to a stop on the soft sandy surface. Waves crashed against a shoreline to his right.
Metal gates screeched open and the croatoan clicked a few times. A tredeyan replied and footsteps closed in. Charlie could only see the ceiling and Vingo, still unconscious or dead.
Two tredeyans, without helmets, climbed onto the back of the craft and stood over him. They were both dressed in faded purple robes with black belts fastened around the waist. One slipped a knife out of his belt and worked on the cables strapped around Charlie’s suit. The other leaned toward him, positioning his semitranslucent face six inches from his helmet. His breath condensed on the exterior of the visor, joining the dried smears of the priest’s saliva.
After freeing the cables, they rolled him off the side. He bumped visor-first to the ground. The landing felt heavy, but the internal shell protected him from an impact injury.
They raised both of his legs and dragged him across the sand for several meters, scraping onto solid rock. The feeling of uselessness grated on him, building into an impotent fury. He tried to calm himself, keep his breathing ordered and his mind alert. That he was still alive told him he would be presented with a chance at some point.
A number of hands grabbed the side of his suit and flipped him onto his back. Two solid metal poles rose immediately to his right. One of the tredeyans wiped Charlie’s visor, peering in at him with no emotion present.
They lifted him to a standing position and he tilted back a few inches. He guessed they had him on something similar to a luggage trolley. The tredeyan gripped both poles on either side of him with its greasy-looking hands. The croatoan priest and another scruffily dressed tredeyan pushed Vingo off the side of the catamaran and pulled him out of view.
The trolley wheels squeaked and juddered along uneven stone as they headed toward a dull gray metal barrier deeper inside the cave. A solid door screamed on its hinges and swung open, revealing a slim seven-foot-tall alien in angular dark green body armor. It waved the tredeyans along with its leathery mitten. Charlie hadn’t seen the square helmet with a midnight blue visor before.
Spotlights beamed down from the top of the roughly carved tunnel. He squinted against their glare and tried to recognize the route they were taking. If he did manage to escape, and it seemed unlikely, he didn’t want to run into a clusp down a dark passage. The tredeyan guard behind the metal door would be enough to cope with.
Vingo’s trolley wheeled past him. The priest grunted and shoved, picking up speed down a slight incline. The ceiling opened up to a large cavern and the area filled with wails, cries, and mixed alien chatter.
Two clusps guarded either side of the entrance. Both jumped forward and chains around their necks twanged rigid. The one on the left lashed out a tentacle that flicked the edge of Charlie’s chest plate. The tredeyan shouted at them and they both retreated to a pile of unrecognizable organic matter.
Dark gray metal bars ran around the edge of the wide space divided into forty cells. Only half were occupied, mostly with naked tredeyans. Some sat on the spartan stone with their heads down, seemingly resigned to their fate. Others pushed their faces between the bars and shouted at a group of blue-robed tredeyans who surrounded a wooden table in the middle of the cavern. A hunter-sized croatoan in graphite armor stood amongst them and turned to glare at Charlie.
A tredeyan from the central group approached and held a raspy conversation with Charlie’s chaperone. It fingered a tablet, peered around the cavern and pointed to a cell at the far end.
Charlie was wheeled past the group and the central table. They drank transparent beakers of root wine and pointed to different locations on a holographic cube. It wasn’t just a map of Tredeya. The croatoan ran his gloved finger between two planets.
A bar dropped from the HUD filter measurement. The tredeyan tipped Charlie out of his trolley and his suit crashed against the back of the cell wall. The priest dumped Vingo in the sitting position, slammed the cell door shut and peered at Charlie through the bars.
She returned to the table, and another croatoan handed her two full sacks.
“Vingo,” Charlie said, keeping his voice low.
His helmet twitched.
“Vingo. Wake up.”
A small cream-colored alien with deep blue eyes, dressed in sackcloth, waddled across and croaked something through the bars of the adjacent cell. It poked its three spindly fingers through toward Charlie.
Footsteps slapped across the cavern. A croatoan from the central table must have seen it. The little alien shot back into the opposite corner of its cell. The croatoan ripped open the door and thrust its heavy boot into the smaller alien’s chest. It dropped to the dirt and whined.
“Typical croatoan behavior,” Charlie said, unable to conceal his contempt.
The croatoan ignored him and returned to the conversation around the table.
A thought struck him. It was the first time he felt sympathy for an alien. Charlie never experienced it killing or watching harvester drivers or surveyors dying on Earth. They would often be tormented and kicked around by the guards or hunters. Back then they were all just the same—an invading force that murdered and oppressed humanity.
Vingo raised his helmet. “Charlie, I’m sorry.”
“Can you move?”
Vingo got to his feet and glanced around the cavern before turning to Charlie. “They have my villagers too. It’s all over.”
Charlie struggled to move again, but it was no use. “What’s all over? Who are they?”
“Slavers. If we’re lucky, we’ll spend the rest of our lives on a mining planet. Our quest on Tredeya ends here.”
“It doesn’t end until I say so,” Charlie said. He wasn’t ready to give up and let the slavers ship him off to a distant planet. Death was preferable over a life as an alien slave. Rage bubbled inside. If he was going down, some of them were going with him. “Can you remove this thing on my arm? We’re not surrendering to anyone.”
“If the croatoan sees me do it, he’ll kill me. He has a different motivation for capturing us.”
“Which is?”
“He works for the croatoan council and tracks betrayers and terrorists.”
“Is he hunting me or you?” Charlie said, curious about Vingo’s choice of words. “You don’t seem like the terrorist type.”
“I am trying to secure information to gather allies. The situation is complex, but my work makes me a target.”
“Are you telling me you’re a traitor?”
“Would you class yourself as a traitor if the work involved ridding Earth of the croatoans? Galactic politics are beyond your comprehension.”
Charlie suspected Vingo was up to something, but it didn’t matter at the moment. The immediate priority was to engineer a chance to escape. “Whatever. Just do as I say and we have a chance.”
Vingo’s eyelids fluttered over his black beady eyes. “We will die.”
“If we die, we die trying. Now take it off.”
A tredeyan approached their cell, holding forward a rod. Electricity crackled between the two prongs at the end of it.
Charlie bucked in his suit. “Vingo, take the damned thing off my arm.”
The cell door swung open.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Gunfire crackled outside. Augustus bolted up, threw his bearskin blanket to one side and reached across for his radio.
A loud explosion shook the rafters in his bedroom. The camp was under attack. Augustus jumped off his bed, hastily dressed, and ran through the compound until he burst out of the doors into the night.
Contorted bodies of the dead and injured lay around the square. Fires blazed and crackled in three different locations, lighting up the night sky. Croatoans and humans dashed around like headless chickens. One pointlessly carried half a bucket of water toward a flaming charred shuttle.
Augustus balled his fists and seethed. Unity had g
otten the jump on him. It had to be them, which meant his scout who reported their lackadaisical state earlier today was wrong. The scout had been compromised.
He took a deep breath and considered his options as all around him panic and chaos ensued. Now was the time to keep his cool. Show his neophyte soldiers his leadership. This attack would be a good lesson to them. They needed hardening to allow courage to grow.
Zoe staggered toward him with a blackened face. She hunched down, placing her hands on her knees, and took a few deep breaths. He remained silent, waiting for her to take the initiative.
“There were two of them, sir,” Zoe eventually said, wheezing between every few words. “One human, one croatoan. They attacked two hover-bikes, our guards and bombed a shuttle.”
Augustus clenched his teeth. Two, against his army! “Show me.”
Maria peered around the breeding lab door. He gestured her over. The information she provided earlier on Mike was next to useless, but being flanked by two women while carrying out an inspection of the damage would foster the right kind of image: one of power and control.
Maria scurried over and bowed her head. “What do you want, Augustus?”
“What do I want?” Augustus let out a sarcastic laugh. She couldn’t comprehend what he desired. The height of her ambition was to be ruled. How could he expect her to understand he wanted the world. “I would like you to accompany me while I survey the damage.”
“Um, okay, sure,” Maria said and shuffled to his side.
Zoe glanced across and narrowed her eyes. He enjoyed her jealous streak, but would keep an eye on her to make sure it didn’t turn physical. Maria was a useful pawn in his game of chess. The Jacksons were finished, but he wondered how Mike and Mai would react when he had her on her knees outside Unity, with a knife against her delicate throat.
“If you’ll follow me, sir,” Zoe said. “They took us by surprise.”
“Who was responsible for posting the sentinels?” Augustus said.
“Excuse me?”
“Guards, sentries, don’t you know anything?”
Zoe looked back toward the square and fidgeted with the buttons on her camouflage jacket.
“I saw Zoe placing them earlier,” Maria said.
Zoe snapped her head back and grimaced at Maria.
Augustus liked both responses, but it wasn’t time to humiliate his senior officer. “Who is your second in command?”
“It’s a croatoan called Triplan. He’s placing out fresh guards to give us better protection.”
He thought for a moment. “Have Triplan and the scout arrested, and erect two crucifixes in front of the surveyors’ warehouse.”
“Are you sure?” Zoe said. “Triplan’s one of the better croatoans.”
Augustus stepped toward her and leaned down, placing his mask inches from her face. “Am I sure?”
“Yes… of course… right away,” she stuttered.
“Good.”
Augustus thrust his elbow out toward Maria in invitation. She glanced at him with fear in her eyes and gently linked arms, wrapping her dainty fingers around his wrist. This would be punishment enough for Zoe. Triplan would pay for her incompetence. She would answer later.
Zoe approached the site of the first fire. Croatoans had beaten it out with blankets from the storeroom and stood around the charred remains of the two hover-bikes.
Losing transport was a blow, but as long as he still had some, it only meant that more of the army would have to travel on foot. That would teach them to be on their guard all of the time. Augustus learned this the hard way at the battle of Adrianople, when the Visigoth cavalry made a surprise arrival and split his ranks, leading to the ultimate defeat of his army.
“What about the other two fires?” Augustus said. “I saw a man carrying some water toward the shuttle bay. You’re not telling me we’ve lost them?”
“Not all of them,” Zoe said and led them to the open hangar.
Augustus quickened his pace and yanked Maria along. She stumbled in the dirt. “Careful, my dear. We don’t need any more casualties tonight.”
She remained silent and wiped her hair away from her face.
Fire licked around the roof of the closest shuttle. Electric sparks shot from the cockpit and engine. Relief washed over Augustus when he saw that the raid only managed to damage a single craft. They still needed them for rapid troop transport, high-level reconnaissance of Unity, and his transport.
“Do we have any other losses?” he said.
“We’ve just started treating the casualties in the middle of the square,” Zoe said. “There’s plenty of supplies here, so we’re doing the best we can to save them.”
Medicine had made wondrous advancements during Augustus’ time on the mother ship. What used to kill a person could now be treated with tablets, to an extent.
Despite how clever the modern humans thought they were, just before the invasion, they still hadn’t found a cure for a metaphorical knife in the back. Aimee gave him that, and he would cure the pain by returning the compliment with a physical version.
One of Zoe’s commanders approached them. Augustus gave her a stern look. The man carried a strange white pistol with a silver disc around the front.
“Do you have something to report?” Zoe said.
“I found this in the old workshop. I didn’t think anything of it, until I pulled the trigger.”
The response piqued Augustus’ interest. He thought it was nothing more than a child’s toy. “What happened?”
“The alien next to me… He just dropped to the floor, clutching his support system.”
Zoe squinted at the pistol. “Is he dead?”
“Showed all the signs of suffocation. I couldn’t do anything for him.”
Augustus leaned forward and snatched it out of his hand. “Thank you. Get back to your duties.”
The man looked at Zoe, who nodded. He jogged away.
“That’s one of Mike’s prototypes,” Maria said.
Augustus crushed her arm between his bicep and forearm. “Is it now? You never told me about his exotic guns.”
She winced and tried to pull away. “It’s the only one he had. I think he called it a directed energy weapon. It targets the life support control system. That’s all I know.”
“It’s a little more than you told me earlier.” Augustus turned to Zoe. “Take me to see the casualties.”
Zoe returned to the square. Open medical packs were littered around four humans and eight croatoans, each receiving individual assistance from a member of their own species. It made sense to Augustus, but at some point in the future, they’d have to learn how to patch each other up in the field.
He walked to the nearest croatoan. A shuttle pilot crouched by his leg and wrapped a bandage around a calf wound. Augustus tapped her on the shoulder. “Stand to one side.”
The pilot glanced up, her face barely visible through her tinted visor, and clicked a few times.
“She says she hasn’t finished treating him,” Zoe said.
“Tell her to move to one side,” Augustus said. “I need to carry out a test.”
Zoe’s eyes widened. “You’re not thinking about using—”
“Just think of it as putting down a wounded animal,” Augustus said, and waved her to one side with the pistol. “I need to see it working myself, as part of my assessment. I can’t take the word of a grunt.”
She lowered her head, took a deep breath and turned away. The depth of feeling she displayed for the wounded croatoan didn’t surprise Augustus. Zoe had no concept of strategy. If this gun worked, the chances were that Mike and Mai had built more and would use them against his army. This brought a new dimension.
After securing a bandage, the pilot headed back toward the shuttle bay. Augustus aimed at the injured croatoan’s helmet. It clicked and scrambled a couple of meters, unable to stand. He took a stride forward and pulled the trigger.
The pistol kicked back in his hand and made a yawni
ng noise. He held it in position for a few seconds, just to make sure, then dropped to one knee and closely observed. The croatoan reached around and gloved the back of its own helmet. Its skin crinkled and condensation built on the inside of its visor. Seconds later its body went limp. Maria gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth.
A shot of adrenalin surged through Augustus. He couldn’t believe how easily and effectively the thing worked. He kicked the croatoan’s leg to make sure it was dead.
Zoe looked from the croatoan to Augustus. “Do you need to test it again, sir?”
“No. Arrest Triplan and Kevin. Erect two crucifixes in the square and nail them down. Call a parade in thirty minutes. I expect them ready to be hoisted after my speech.”
He let go of Maria’s arm. “You can help her. It seems like you both get along.”
Zoe crossed the square, followed by Maria. She called out to a group of aliens around the hover-bikes, and they grabbed their rifles.
Augustus had a lot to consider after firing the weapon, and needed the quiet of his office to decide on the best way to proceed.
***
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori—a Roman phrase which when translated into English meant it is sweet and right to die for your country. Augustus always thought the translation lost the true meaning. It would be sweet and right for the army to die for him, and that’s exactly what a lot of them would do when they invaded Unity, but it was all a question of timing.
Two options were available. Wait, and train his incompetent force into a more deadly killing machine. That would risk Unity building up its defenses, leaving Mike and Mai time to create more of the pistols. They would be aware of his location after their raiding party returned to base, and would ramp up their operations.
The second option would be to attack as soon as possible. This would only give Unity a short space of time to react to the news of their impending doom. Thinking back to how Aimee ran the place like a backwater slum, they wouldn’t get a lot done in the time it would take to reach the outskirts of the godforsaken place. His army wouldn’t be well trained, and the casualties might be heavy, but ten thousand to two thousand made it a ratio of five to one. Augustus could afford to lose six thousand and still rule the place with good numbers.