by Toby Minton
Elias looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“Yeah, it’s a lot cooler and more clever sounding if you’re a nine-year-old,” she said. “But we used it so much it stuck. So even when we got older and realized it was corny, we couldn’t stop using it.”
“What about Michael?” he said after a pause. “Does he feel the same way?”
“Oh, he thinks it’s dumb too. But he was the nerd who came up with it, so—”
“I mean about not wanting to know,” Elias said.
Nikki looked over at the ship again before she answered. When she looked back, Elias was watching her as intently as he had been the warehouse. He was an intense sort of guy, it seemed, heavy on the broody and serious at times. “Michael might care, but if you and creepy know, I’d rather you not tell him.
“Look, my brother tends to get obsessed with these kinds of things,” she answered the obvious question in his eyes. “I’d rather not spend what’s left of my teen years hunting for people who had a fling with a beaker.”
“Copy.”
“Did you just copy me?”
“Fall back to your ride,” Elias said, and Nikki realized the finger to his ear wasn’t scratching an itch, and the ‘copy’ hadn’t been for her. “All teams get ready to move.”
Elias looked at her then and the serious mask slipped for an almost smile that deepened the wrinkles around his pale eyes. “Copy to you too. I’ll let it lie unless he comes to me. Deal?”
“Good enough, I guess. We rolling out?” She hopped off the warm metal, but Elias was shaking his head before she finished slapping the crud off the back of her jeans.
“Ground teams just got the transmitters in place on the two cargo haulers down there. Now we wait.”
“We—so what we were doing wasn’t waiting? We were just waiting to wait?”
He actually laughed a little. He should do that more. Elias was a handsome guy for his age, when he wasn’t so serious. She bet he’d had to fend off quite a few soldier groupies in his day. “Now we wait more. Once they take off, we follow.”
“Surveillance sucks,” she said, hopping back up on the metal thingy and setting to work rubbing the grime off her bright pink sneakers. They’d gotten pretty grungy recently, what with the falling off the train and all. “How can you stand the boredom?”
“You don’t get bored if you do it right,” he replied, watching the warehouse again but with a slight smile this time. “It actually takes a lot of focus to keep an eye on your target without drawing attention to yourself. Takes a lot of forethought too, especially the inconspicuous part,” he said, giving her pink sneakers and purple top a significant glance.
“Are you kidding me? My middle name should be inconspicuous. You, on the other hand…”
Elias looked at her like he was trying to figure her out, but he had that small smile still. “OK. What do you think somebody would say if they saw you up here right now?”
“Easy. They’d say, ‘there’s another teenager up there hiding from her life, thinking about where to find her next meal, waiting out a hangover.’ Something like that. The last thing they’d say would be ‘that chick is scoping out that warehouse.’”
“On that we agree.” His smile grew a little. “And me?”
“They’d say, ‘damn, that cop is watching the crap out of that warehouse.’”
“Maybe,” he said with a nod of his head. “And if they saw us together like we are now?”
Nikki laughed. “They’d say, ‘check out that fed and his smoking hot informant. That warehouse must be a training center for assassin-models. She looks like three kinds of badass.’”
He laughed at her, but she could tell he was impressed.
“You’re right. Maybe inconspicuous should be your middle name,” he said. “But that’s only half the job. The real trick is keeping an eye on what you’re watching at the same time.”
“You mean like spotting those haulers taking off?” she said, her eyes never leaving his as she pointed her thumb toward the warehouse.
His finger went to his ear as he glanced over. Apparently he was getting the news from one of the other teams. He didn’t look as embarrassed as Nikki had hoped, but she could see a hint of battling emotions on his face as he answered. “Copy that, One. You take the lead first. Two and I will follow at a distance.”
“Well played, Miss Flux,” he said, extending a hand to help her off her perch. “Well played. Now we’re ‘rolling out.’”
Chapter 18
Nikki
Before the shit hit the fan, following the haulers was just a hair shy of being as boring as surveillance. The view helped though. Nikki was flying, after all.
The four of them were crammed in the cockpit of the transport, Coop and Elias in the pilot and co-pilot seats, Nikki and Michael standing in the narrow gaps behind them. This struck Nikki as funny considering there were twenty-odd jump seats in the cargo area down the few steep steps behind them. But there were no decent windows back there.
From behind Elias’s chair—Michael had insisted on standing behind Coop for some reason—Nikki could see the countryside passing below them. It alternated between forested, rocky hills near the coast to huge rolling hills near the mountains farther inland, much like the terrain in her concussion dream. Every now and then she even saw a few dots down there that could have been cows. It was eerie, really.
Then they’d increase altitude to take over the lead spot and all eyes would turn to the two haulers in the light air traffic ahead of them. After a few minutes, they’d drop back and let one of the other two vehicles—one with Ace and Sam, the other with Mos and Impact—take the lead.
It was a weird cycle, one Nikki didn’t mind criticizing the next time they were the lead vessel.
“Not that I’m complaining, what with the view and all, but wouldn’t it be easier to just track the transmitters from the ol’ doomsday fort?”
“Not enough range on those puppies,” Coop replied. “We gotta stay within a couple klicks or we lose the signal.”
“Couldn’t Kate have boosted their signals?” Michael asked.
“She could have,” Elias replied. “But the stronger the signal, the more likely they detect it.”
“So instead of sittin’ around at base, we get to play the shell game,” Coop said. “Speaking of which, boss, we got Spook One crawlin’ up our six.”
“Drop to the back,” Elias said. “Let One take—”
“They’re splitting up,” Michael cut in, pointing over Coop’s shoulder.
Sure enough, one of the haulers seemed to be pulling away toward the west. A quick check of their tracking indicators on the console confirmed it.
“Son of a bitch,” Coop hissed. “What do you want to do, boss?”
Elias took his time thinking it over as they watched the second hauler angling away toward the afternoon sun. He hit the com switch. “Spook One, stay on the leader as long as you can without getting made. Spook Two and I will take the stray. Two, take the lead, but give them plenty of breathing room.” He released the switch.
“Damn,” Elias cursed.
“What’s the problem?” Nikki asked. “We have three vehicles; they have two. We’re still good, right?”
“No,” Elias answered, his gaze shifting between the indicators on the console and the diverging ships in the sky in front of them. “We’re in a standard shipping lane right now. So we can blend with the traffic, light as it is, especially with three of us to swap out tailing them. That one,” he pointed to the one curving west, “is heading off into empty sky. Either one of them could spot us turning to follow.”
“So why not just send one ship after him?” Michael asked.
“Or just let him go?” Nikki threw out.
“Because I don’t want to lose either of them,” Elias answered. “And if they’re splitting up because they spotted the tail, I’m hoping they’ll think we took the bait and left the leader alone. Make the turn, Coop.”
Nikki had to hold on to Elias’s seatback as the transport banked and dipped down to skim closer to the ground. When they leveled out, she had a great view of the countryside again. At this point it was the steeper foothills of the mountain range looming ahead.
As they crested the mountains, the outskirts of a city came into view, or what was left of them. Outskirts, much like boyfriends in Nikki’s opinion, tended to hang around long past their time. When their cities failed, the outskirts clung to the carcasses like sprawling parasites until they’d drained every last resource, becoming more unattractive and uncivilized by the day, exactly like boyfriends.
The outskirts of this city were the rule, not an exception. They cruised over abandoned subdivisions, the small yards overgrown, the windows of the houses either long since boarded up or gaping open with only jagged fingers of glass clinging to the weathered frames.
The few office buildings still standing had fared no better. Refugees had flocked to the bigger buildings, where they stood a better chance of finding room to shelter, when they’d poured into the major cities in the years after the Event. But once everything in an overcrowded city started to fail, the mobs targeted office buildings as symbols of hoarded wealth, vandalizing them or burning them to the ground. The few left standing until the last of the refugees moved on were gutted husks stripped of everything that had once made them even slightly attractive.
“Great place for a secret lab,” Michael said.
“Maybe,” Elias said. “Even better spot for an ambush. Ease back, Two,” he said into the com. “Just keep them in sight.”
“Copy, Lead,” Ace’s voice came over the com. “We’re picking up more traffic ahead and to the north. Looking good.”
“We’re just south of the east/west San Fran shipping lanes, boss,” Coop said. “That oughta help. Looks like they’re heading into old San Jose.”
“Don’t lose them, Two…” Elias continued to give instructions, but they’d lost Nikki at ‘San Fran.’ She’d been there a couple times. Serious party town with one of the nicest free zones she’d seen, nothing like the dingy squalor of Vegas. She could do with another stopover in San Fran.
“They’re setting down, Lead,” Ace’s voice crackled over the com, a layer of static steadily increasing in volume, making her harder to make out. “…stadium…central…”
“Say again, Two,” Coop sent back. “You’re breaking up.”
Ace’s response was even worse than before. The only word Nikki could make out other than ‘stadium’ was ‘closer,’ which didn’t sit well with Elias.
“Negative, Two,” Elias said. “Break off. Repeat. Break off.”
There was no response, but they had Spook Two in view now as they closed in on the heart of the nearly abandoned city. The small craft was banking in a slow curve toward a steep-sided stadium just south of the crumbling skyscrapers of what must have been a thriving downtown at one time.
Elias was messing with the com system trying to clear up the static, and actually making some progress it seemed, when they saw the flash.
The back of Spook Two’s small aircraft disintegrated into a ball of flame and a spreading shower of debris. It listed sharply, what was left of the tiny craft pouring black smoke as it arced toward the stadium like a falling dart.
“…waiting for us…single anti-aircraft in the stadium,” Sam’s voice said too calmly over the com. “Do not follow. Repeat. Do not—”
“Hold on!” Ace’s voice broke in over Sam’s as the ship fell out of sight inside the stadium. Then the com went dead.
Sam, Nikki thought, a hollow coldness spreading through her middle as everyone around her started talking at once. She didn’t hear a word of it. All she could think was, they can’t be dead.
She’d lost people she’d known before, even people she’d cared about, but never like this. Never right in front of her. Never so fast.
They can’t be dead. He can’t be.
Chapter 19
Elias
“They’ll be OK,” Coop was saying. “They were low. If the restraint system was still working and Ace brought her in right, they’ll be banged up a bit, but they’ll be OK.”
Elias didn’t know whom Coop was trying to convince, but he didn’t sound too sure himself. Elias knew it didn’t matter. If Ace and Padre had survived the crash, they were still trapped in that stadium with whatever forces had been lying in wait. And with an unarmed and unarmored transport, there was nothing he could do to pull them out.
“Swing wide, Coop,” he said. “Look for a place to set down where we can keep an eye on the stadium.”
“What are you doing?” Michael asked, the accusation in his voice stabbing Elias’s already raw guilt over having to abandon his people.
“The only thing we can do,” he replied as evenly as he could. “I’ll scout in on foot. See if there’s anything I can do. The rest of you stay onboard and be ready to follow if they lift off.”
“Why aren’t we taking this thing in after them?” Michael asked.
“Got no guns on this transport, kid,” Coop said, angling the ship toward the remains of some housing units nearby. “We wouldn’t stand a chance against an AA nest.”
Elias looked over at Michael, who was gripping the back of Coop’s seat more than necessary to steady himself. “We’re not leaving them, but I don’t have anything on this boat that can take out that gun.”
“Yes, you do,” Michael said, just as Nikki shouted, “The hell you don’t!”
He saw a look in Michael’s eyes that he knew well. Elias had seen it in the mirror every morning in the weeks leading up to Sky City. The boy had a goal fixed in his mind, and nothing would stop him from achieving it.
They stared at each other for a second, understanding passing between them without a word.
“Once we take out that gun, you’ll know it,” Michael said. “Don’t keep us waiting.” He looked at his sister behind Elias. “Nik—”
“Yeah, yeah. Your turn,” Nikki said. “Argue next time.”
Her stiff jab snapped Michael’s head back, pushing him into Coop’s chair.
“Whoa!” Coop shouted, fumbling with the controls.
Michael struck back. Then the two teenagers disappeared down the steps to the cargo area, raining blows on each other faster than Elias could follow.
“What is happening?!” Coop shouted as he struggled to right the transport. “Has everybody gone crazy?”
“Maybe so,” Elias grunted, hardly believing he was about to put the twins in danger again. “Head for the stadium, but stay low.”
Elias unfastened his harness and started down the steps. “Get as close to the rim as you can without going over, and then spin this thing around,” he called over his shoulder as he slapped the button to lower the rear door.
Padre
The air was thick and hard to breathe, getting more so by the second. Padre couldn’t see more than a few centimeters in front of his face. He couldn’t tell up from down. His ears felt as clogged as his breathing, and his exposed skin was sticky and tingly cold.
They’d gone down. He was feeling, and trying to breathe and see through, the restraint gel breaking down into a gas. It should be venting. It was supposed to vent.
He’d trained for this. Many times. One step at a time, soldier.
He felt for his first point of reference. The seat. He was still in the seat, and it was still attached to the frame. Next reference. He slid his hand up what should be the door until he felt the smooth curve of the window. It was still intact.
He slid his other hand to his pistol, brought it up and pressed the muzzle against the window, then backed it off a few centimeters. The clear polymer was flexible enough to withstand the warping of a crash, most of the time, but it couldn’t stand up to—
The cracks of the two shots left his ears ringing, but blessedly clear air rushed in as the dark gas hissed out. As daylight gradually replaced the thick cloud in the cockpit, Padre saw Ace was still beside hi
m, but she wasn’t moving. A quick check of her vitals told him she was alive and breathing at least. He’d have to do more for her later. For now, he didn’t have time. They were about to have company.
Through Ace’s side window, which was at ground level with the ship’s nose half buried in the soft ground inside the stadium, he could see half a dozen soldiers walking toward them across the field. From his angle, he could see only their legs, but he knew they had to have weapons at the ready.
The M4s behind the seats were crushed in a tangle of metal. That left his pistol. Fourteen shots left. He could deal with the few he could see, if he was fast enough, but Ace was right in their line of fire. If any of them got a shot off, and they would…
Surrender was his best bet. Ace might get some treatment at least before the interrogation started, if they were lucky.
The soldiers’ feet stopped a good twenty meters out. They just stood there waiting for some—
A clawed metal foot thudded into the ground right outside the window. Thick metal talons punched through the windshield, gripped, and peeled back the roof with a squeal of shearing metal.
The Hunter. Not just an AA cannon and a squad of Savior’s mercs. An AA cannon, a squad of mercs, and the Hunter. What little hope Padre was holding onto for some kind of escape trickled away.
With the roof peeled halfway back, Padre could see full tableau. Past the Hunter, half the squad of troops had fanned out facing him. Beyond them, the rest of the squad was milling around and inside a heavy lander. The lander had its braces planted in the turf, the AA cannon on top pivoting to cover the cloudless sky as the hauler that had led them into this trap rose up out of the stadium on the right.
At least the others would be able to pick it up again. Here’s hoping this was worth it, he thought. Here’s hoping that thing leads them right to Savior’s doorstep.