by M. R. Forbes
"They're willing to leave the people on Earth to die. What's the difference?"
Gabriel didn't have an answer for that.
"Who do you think is involved?" he asked.
"The Larones, of course," Reza replied. "Councilwoman Rouse. Councilman Giorno. Maybe a few others on the Council. Definitely some of the lead scientists beyond Guy. The head nerds are like an exclusive club, and they stick together."
"What about in the Space Force?"
"I'm not sure. I don't think so."
"It would be a major betrayal to go against one of your own," Gabriel said.
"Yes. The question is, how do we prove what they're planning?"
"Why did you say we?"
"The power of suggestion? I don't know how without the original, unaltered slipstream calculations, and I can't get them without you."
"You said they're locked away on a server on Gamma."
"They are."
"So how am I supposed to get them, assuming that I'm willing to help you?"
"You're a Space Force officer. You're legally allowed to request access to any file you want to see."
"I am?" Gabriel asked. He had never heard of that before.
"Yes. Since Space Force is also responsible for policing the settlements, you have rights to view any non-private document within the NEA. Obviously, most pilots don't know about this, or if they do they don't care. It would be ripe for abuse if it weren't for the fact that, as you said, the worst offenses we have around here are usually food fights."
He shook his head, staring down at the floor.
"Unfortunately, not this time," he said.
THIRTY-NINE
"We aren't far now," Donovan said, pushing through the heavy brush.
It had taken the three of them nearly ten hours to make their way from the Dread starship to Chicoloapan, a suburb of Mexico City that had been leveled in the initial invasion. Like the capital, it was a ruined mess of destroyed buildings and dead vegetation, littered with debris and corpses picked clean by local wildlife.
"How can you keep your base so close, and remain undiscovered?" Ehri asked.
She had been incredibly inquisitive for the entirety of the journey, constantly asking questions of both Donovan and Diaz. Her energy level remained the same despite the trek while Donovan was just about ready to collapse.
"You'll see when we get there," Donovan said. Most of the answers he had given had been along the same lines. The bek'hai scientist was like a curious, impatient child.
They ambled along an empty street, with Diaz in constant motion, on full alert and scanning the sky for signs of enemy scouts, her captured plasma rifle held in a ready position. They had avoided a number of the machines getting away, with most of them tracking closer to the Dread colony. Ehri said it was because the pur'dahm in charge of the search wouldn't believe that they had managed to slip away. Apparently, arrogance wasn't a uniquely human trait.
There hadn't been any other sign of scouts in the last few hours, though there had been one flyover by a larger Dread ship, a starfighter. They had stopped and hid when they heard the whine of its engines approaching, watching it pass by pressed against the side of a rubble pile.
"How's your shoulder?" Diaz asked, checking in on him.
She had been much more attentive to him than she had ever been in the past, asking him how he was feeling every so often, her face strained with concern. It was a side of her he had never seen before, and while part of him liked it, another part wanted his cool as ice Lieutenant back. The whole episode had left him feeling all kinds of things he hadn't felt before, and he attributed it to loss of blood and lack of food and rest.
He expected that once both of them had slept the episode off they would go back to their professional respect and personal indifference.
"It hurts," he replied. "I need Doc Iwu to clean it out and make sure there isn't any shrapnel stuck in there. I bet there is."
"How do you manage such pain?" Ehri asked.
"The bek'hai don't feel pain?" Diaz said.
"Of course they can feel pain. We have medicines to remove it. Why suffer from something so unnecessary?"
"Pain teaches you to respect the fact that you're alive," Donovan said.
"In what way?"
"Because you never know how long you have. How many days or weeks or years before you get sick, or shot, or something."
"The bek'hai do not consider such things. We are each allotted the equivalent of one hundred of your years."
"Allotted?" Diaz said. "You mean you kill yourselves on purpose?"
"The bek'hai body cannot survive much longer than that because of the weakened genetic chain. Typically by that time we are ready to die. Perhaps once the integration has been perfected this procedure will change."
"I can't imagine surrendering my life," Diaz said.
"I cannot imagine wanting to survive in a body that no longer functions." Ehri said.
Donovan was about to chime in when he noticed a flash of light from a nearby rooftop. He glanced over at Diaz, whose eyes shifted, acknowledging that she had seen it, too.
"Ehri, whatever happens next, stay calm, okay?" he said. "I won't let them kill you."
"What?" Ehri said.
A dozen armed men and women poured out of the debris around them. They were ragged people in the same green cloth Donovan had been wearing earlier, except they had tattered boots covering their feet.
"Don't move," one of them said.
"Captain Reyes," Donovan said. He could imagine what the resistance soldiers were thinking, seeing him dressed in the enemy's cloth. "Major Donovan Peters. Identification code alpha-echo-foxtrot-four-seven-nine."
"Lieutenant Renata Diaz," Diaz said. "Identification code foxtrot-hotel-zulu-six-four-eight."
Captain Reyes froze along with the rest of the soldiers. He stared at Donovan, his eyes squinting despite the darkness.
"Donnie? Is that you?"
"I gave you my codes, Captain."
"The Dread take people. They make copies. How do I know you aren't one of those?"
"A copy wouldn't have the code. That's the whole point of using them. Besides, we've only been gone one day."
Reyes didn't lower his rifle. He pointed it at Ehri instead. "Who is this?" he asked.
"Captain, stand down," Donovan said.
Reyes stepped forward, his hands shaking slightly as he got closer to Ehri. "Who is this, Donnie?"
"We need to meet with General Rodriguez," Diaz said. "It's important."
"Is that a Dread plasma rifle?" one of the other soldiers, Corporal Wade, asked.
"Yes," Donovan replied. "But it's better than that, Miguel. It isn't secured."
A surprised murmur raced across the squad.
"Quiet," Captain Reyes said, still pointing the gun at Ehri.
She continued to follow Donovan's instructions, remaining completely calm, her hands at her sides, palms facing out. She reminded Donovan of a statue of the Madonna he had seen once.
"Who. Is. This?" Reyes asked again, his voice balancing fear and anger.
Donovan stepped toward him. Reyes backed up, pointing the gun at him again. "Don't. Just stay there, Donnie."
"That's Major to you, Captain," Donovan said. "Lower your weapon. That's an order."
"I don't think so. You walk in here dressed in whatever that leotard thing is, carrying an alien weapon with a freaking alien clone in tow, and you think I'm going to listen to you?"
"Julian," Diaz said.
"No. Shut up," Reyes said. "We haven't stayed hidden all these years by being stupid."
"You're being stupid right now. We're carrying active Dread plasma rifles. We could have already blasted you all to mush if that was what we wanted."
"Then you wouldn't know where the base is."
"I already know where the base is, jackass. I'll take you there if you stop pointing your gun at our prisoner."
"Prisoner?"
Ehri looked over at Diaz,
unhappy with the title.
"Yes, prisoner," Donovan said. "We captured a Dread scientist. We need to bring her to General Rodriguez."
Reyes looked at Ehri again, his face twisting, losing its fear and turning to pure anger. "Dirty alien piece of-" He swung the gun toward her again.
Donovan stepped toward him, grabbing the rifle and yanking it up as Reyes pulled the trigger. The shot echoed across the landscape. Donovan wrenched the weapon from Reyes' hands, and then hit him in the face with the stock.
"You idiot," Diaz hissed. "They'll hear that for sure."
"You broke my nose," Reyes said, laying on the ground.
Donovan didn't care. His shoulder was throbbing, the wound pulled open by the motion. Reyes had always been too impetuous to be a good soldier, but beggars couldn't be picky. He was young and healthy and wanted to fight. Those were the only requirements, and even the young and healthy part could be overlooked.
"We need to get out of here," Donovan said. "Form up and let's go. That's an order, soldiers. You too, Reyes. Doc Iwu can fix your dumbass nose."
Reyes scowled, rolling over and getting to his feet. The group ran along the street, turning left after half a kilometer. Diaz took the rear, keeping a constant eye on the skies for signs of scouts.
They continued another eight hundred meters, to the edge of a collapsed building. A small space was visible at the bottom, barely large enough for a person to crawl out of.
"Let's go, people," Donovan said, stopping at the opening and waving the soldiers in. One by one they dropped onto their stomachs, rifles on their backs, crawling hand over hand into the small hole.
"No wonder they cannot find it," Ehri said.
"It gets better," Donovan replied. "You understand how much trust I'm putting in you right now?"
"Yes, Major. My touch is my bond."
"Right."
The rest of the soldiers went in ahead of them. Reyes glared at Ehri as he dropped to his knees. "She doesn't look like a prisoner to me," he said. "She isn't even bound."
"You have your own troubles to worry about, Captain," Donovan said. "Don't think I'm not going to report you for discharging your weapon in the open near the base like this."
Reyes was fuming, but he dropped to his stomach and disappeared a moment later.
"Anything?" Donovan asked when Diaz reached the hole.
She nodded. "Not drones. Something huge to the north, near the tree line. It's still a few kilometers away, but it definitely picked up the noise and is coming this way."
"A mechanized tactical armor," Ehri said. "You don't want to be out here when it arrives. I hope your base is well shielded from sensors."
Donovan smiled. "Don't worry. It is."
FORTY
The collapsed space they had to crawl under continued for ten meters at a slightly downward angle. For Donovan, it seemed more like a thousand meters, as every motion of his arm going forward to pull himself along like a snake sent waves of pain up his back, and they didn't have time for him to take it slow and easy.
There was a drop at the end of the tunnel that usually meant reaching out hands-first and rolling to the ground. Fortunately, Diaz waited with Corporal Wade and they helped him down. Ehri stood off to the side, turning in a circle to examine the space.
"What is this?" she asked.
There wasn't much to see just yet. The floor and ceiling were both thick lead with a small crease in the center, and there was a second lead-shielded door to their right. It was open for now.
"You'll see," Diaz said.
They made their way to the door, ducking through and into a narrow, winding stairwell that dropped over one hundred meters. Corporal Wade stopped and pulled the door closed behind them, spinning the central mechanism to lock it. Then they started to descend.
The ground shook above them as the Dread's mechanized armor neared the position.
"Are we out of range?" Ehri asked.
"We should be," Donovan said. "The space we crawled through is a reinforced and lined air vent, and the part of the ceiling that isn't collapsed is the same. The sensors shouldn't be able to penetrate it. That's how we've been able to stay so close without being found."
The vibrations above them stopped.
"We've heard them pass over before," Diaz said. "It won't find us."
They continued the descent, winding a spiral on the stairs. There was another reinforced door at the bottom that was also still open.
"Oh," Ehri said. Donovan looked at her. She was smiling. "I finally figured out what this is. A missile silo, right? For nuclear warheads."
"Yup," Donovan replied. "Sans missile. It was launched at one of the Dread ships during the invasion. I'm sure you know how that turned out."
"Clever. Very clever. It was designed to stay hidden from sensors. The perfect hiding place."
"It is for as long as your kind don't know it's here."
"How did you know it was here?"
"We found a schematic while we were looting a military base a hundred klicks from here, after we had to abandon our last hideout. We weren't sure we could make it without being spotted, but once we did, we've been safe here for quite a while."
They reached the bottom of the steps and approached the door. A figure swung around in front of them, blocking the path. He had a gun in his hand, and like Captain Reyes, he raised it and pointed it at Ehri's head.
"Prisoner, Major?" General Christian Rodriguez said. "Then why are you telling her your whole life story?"
Donovan stepped between Rodriguez and Ehri without thinking. "General Rodriguez, sir. Please. I can explain."
The General smiled. "I'm sure you can, Donnie. We're going to have to lock it in the fridge until you do."
"The fridge?" Ehri said.
"Don't worry. It's an old industrial refrigerator. It was used to store the rations for the crew that worked down here, in case of emergency. The cooling pumps blew out years ago. It's cold, but not that cold."
"Unless you have superhuman strength, you aren't getting out of it," Rodriguez said.
"There's no need to point the weapon at me, General," Ehri said. "I will go willingly."
"Diaz, Wade, bring her down. Donovan, you come with me."
"Yes, sir," Diaz and Wade said. They walked on either side of Ehri, through a small control center and down a long corridor leading to the living area.
"Yes, sir," Donovan said. "I need to see Doctor Iwu at your convenience, sir."
"Are you hurt?"
Donovan nodded, turning to show the General his back. Even though the material couldn't be cut, a large stain of blood covered the area around the injury.
"Ouch. Five minutes, and then you can see Iwu."
"Yes, sir."
Donovan followed Rodriguez through the base along the same path Diaz and Ehri had taken a few seconds earlier. The three of them were already well ahead, walking at a much brisker pace. Ehri glanced back at him once. There was no hint of fear on her face. Only the same look of intense interest and curiosity.
"Did Cameron and Sanchez make it back?" Donovan asked as they walked.
"Si. They told me you were separated when the mech showed up. That you and Diaz drew it away so they could escape."
"Yes, sir."
"It was a brave thing to do."
"I would expect anyone else to have done the same for me in that situation, sir. It was the right thing to do."
"You're braver than most, Donovan. That's probably why you're still alive."
"I wouldn't be if it weren't for Renata. I sent her away as a decoy. She came back for us."
"Disobeying orders?"
"It worked out for the best, sir."
"Yes, I suppose it did."
The connecting tunnel ended at another heavy door, which was hanging open. A guard stood to one side of it, ready to close it in an emergency. On the other side sat an open supply room, a special room the resistance called the Collection. The accumulated non-essential possessions of the res
istance were piled inside, loosely separated as though bringing them together in such a way could knit back a history of humankind. It had seemed almost quaint at the time, but the twenty-third-century resurgence of physical nostalgia - photographs, books, handmade arts and crafts and the like - had been a Godsend to the wanderers of the present. It was a solid, tangible connection to the past, to all they had once had, and a memory of what they had lost.
They crossed a series of corridors and doorways from there until they reached General Rodriguez's office. Donovan did his best to ignore the stares he was receiving on the way through the base. He knew how out of place he must look. How alien. He was self-conscious of it, and at the same time proud. They had brought a treasure back with them.
The office was located in the corner of the first floor; a simple, barren, and rarely used space with an older desk sat in the center flanked by a pair of chairs.
"Close the door," Rodriguez said, moving to the other side of the desk. He remained standing.
"Yes, sir. Am I in trouble sir?"
He spoke as soon as it had shut. "In trouble? Are you joking with me, Donnie? Let me see it."
"What?"
"The weapon, Major."
Donovan had forgotten he was still holding the alien plasma rifle. He held it out across the desk. Rodriguez took it, holding the grip and pointing it at the wall while staring at the active display.
"Wow," he said, shaking his head. He looked at Donovan. "Fifty years, Donnie. Fifty freaking years, amigo. How many of these things have we picked up, and they've been completely worthless? How many have we taken apart but couldn't get them to turn on?"
"It's better than that, sir," Donovan said. "We always wondered why they have that toggle on the side. Activating it changes the bolts somehow. They're able to pierce the Dread armor."
Rodriguez's eyes snapped from the gun to him. "You know this for certain?"
"Diaz used the other one to kill an armored Dread warrior."
"Seriously? You killed one of them? Do you have any idea what this means?"
"I have some idea."
"You don't know the half of it." He paused, wiping at the corner of his eyes. "I brought you in here because I didn't want the others to see me cry. I'm supposed to be the tough old General. Where did you get this? And those clothes you're wearing? That isn't cotton. Oh, and that woman you brought with you, the clone?"