The implant had also noted plenty of branching tunnels, but Lisa had continued to follow the Gatherers—or at least, the signs that they were still on a Gatherer path.
They didn’t actually see any more Gatherers, which had been her intention. Catching up to the robots ahead would be just as bad as letting the ones behind catch up to them.
But the Gatherers always left little signs of their passage behind—mineral fragments they’d dropped along the way, scrapes along the rock that marked their paths, and so on.
We’re on the right track. We have to be.
They were passing another branching tunnel when Tessa suddenly disappeared inside it, as though jerked sideways by some invisible force.
“Tessa?” Lisa yelled, panic filling her voice. She pointed her assault rifle into the side tunnel, which also angled the flashlight she’d mounted on her SL-17 in that direction.
The beam found Tessa suspended in the air before the dark silhouette of a four-legged beast.
A profound sense of déjà vu struck Lisa, then, from a time back on Alex, when they’d been manipulated by a similarly invisible force, using the metals in their pressure suits.
Quatro.
Something yanked her assault rifle out of her grasp, and the beam of light it projected rotated wildly, illuminating parts of the cave at random.
Lisa lost sight of Tessa.
Then, something slammed her against the rock from behind, and everything went black—even blacker than it had already been.
Chapter 29
Cascade Error
To investigate what had gone wrong with Comet Four’s airlocks, Jake needed to travel to Hub’s control center—the “hub” for which the city-settlement was named. It was made from a comet much smaller than the others.
After hours of trial and error, he was finally able to engage the Lockdown Mode for Comet Four’s landing bay. He wasn’t sure why the emergency safeguard hadn’t kicked in, except that something had caused a cascade error in the system.
Luckily, the comet’s computer systems were all isolated from each other, and so the error hadn’t spread to other systems, such as Life Support, which kicked in with massive zirconia electrolyzers as soon as it detected that comet integrity had been achieved.
His job done, he departed Hub’s control center, which thankfully had not been attacked. Its airlock functioned flawlessly, and so Jake had been able to access the computers while outside of his alien mech. Doing so with the giant mech’s appendages would have proved tedious.
It would take the better part of a week for the electrolyzers to fill the entire comet with oxygen, but a lot of the residences had much smaller electrolyzers of their own, and by late afternoon on the day Jake engaged Lockdown Mode, a lot of residents were able to don pressure suits and leave the emergency shelter for their homes.
As thanks to Jake, Councilman Ryan Pichenko had lent his house to Brianne and Sue Anne Price indefinitely.
“I’ll sleep in the Council Chambers,” Pichenko said. “There are plenty of synthleather couches there that are more than comfortable enough for me to catch some shuteye.”
“Thank you, Councilman,” Jake said, giving Pichenko’s hand a squeeze as they shook. “It means more than I can say.”
“So does making the comet livable again. That means a lot to all of us. I’m far from repaying the debt we all owe you, Jake.”
“No debt needs to be paid,” Jake said. “This is my home, too.” At least, it was. “I plan to check the other comets for survivors next.”
Now, he sat with his mother in Pichenko’s kitchen, with bowls of canned tomato soup sitting on the table in front of them. Outside the kitchen window, Jake’s mech sat, inert, waiting for him to come and take command of it.
He didn’t trust the thing. Not so long ago, he’d been locked in desperate combat with it, while it did its best to end his life. Now, it sat there like an obedient dog, waiting for its master to come and give it its next command.
Who would build a thing like that? And what’s its purpose?
Did humanity have a guardian angel somewhere in the cosmos, designing unrivaled weapons for human use against their enemies?
Or did the alien mechs have another purpose?
“Where did you get that thing?” Brianne asked, following his gaze outside to the alien mech, a spoonful of soup halfway to her lips.
“It’s an experimental Darkstream design,” Jake lied.
It felt awful to deceive his mother, but Brianne had enough problems without worrying about alien invaders, or about the worrying effect Jake knew the alien mech was having on his psyche.
Unfortunately, Brianne wasn’t buying it.
“There’s no way humanity has technology that begins to approach that thing,” she said. “Not even Darkstream. Besides, it looks exactly like photos of the one you and your father found on that comet. Don’t lie to me, Jake. Is this mech the one you found?”
Jake shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. “Someone else has that one.”
“Where did you find this one, then?”
Jake hesitated, unsure whether he was supposed to divulge that information. At last, he said, “Dad didn’t tell you he found a second mech?”
Instead of eating the soup in her spoon, Brianne lowered it back to the bowl, and her eyes found the tabletop. “Your father and I don’t talk much, anymore, I’m afraid.”
“Seriously?” This was news to Jake. “Why not?”
“I want him to come home, to be with Sue Anne, during her…” Brianne swallowed. “Peter thinks it’s his duty to continue working, no matter what happens, to give Sue Anne the best possible chance, but it’s…” Again, his mother couldn’t finish.
It’s only a matter of time, Jake finished for her, though he wouldn’t dare to do so out loud.
Chapter 30
DuGalle
Before Roach turned on them, Oneiri had been wreaking havoc on the Quatro attacking Peppertree. Of the original fifty-six—a count that included the quads—a mere nineteen remained, by Ash’s estimation, which she confirmed by instructing an AI to review the battle recordings from each MIMAS’ point of view.
We were winning. And now this.
They buried Richaud Lafontaine at the edge of the glade that contained the village, beneath one of the taller trees, whose cascading branches formed a protective canopy over the grave.
Most of the villagers turned out for the funeral, probably out of gratitude for Oneiri saving their hides.
It really is the least they could do.
Ash was still too shell-shocked from Roach’s bizarre betrayal and the loss of Richaud to say anything at the service they held.
Beth rose to the occasion once more, though, and the eulogy she gave ended up reminding Ash of the one at Tommy’s funeral.
Mostly because we neglected to give Richaud a nickname before he died, too.
He’d been the last one not to receive one, and Ash had even been working some over in her mind, trying to decide between them.
At Tommy’s funeral, they’d granted him a nickname posthumously, but they didn’t do that at Richaud’s. Ash suspected that Beth felt too ashamed on all of Oneiri’s behalf, and Ash shared that sentiment.
It’s too late. We lost him, and we clearly didn’t appreciate him while he was here.
Marco and Henrietta had remained inside their mechs for the service, and Beth’s and Ash’s hadn’t been far. Once Beth finished speaking, Henrietta stepped forward to plant the cross Beth had fashioned, driving it firmly into the ground with large, metal fists.
With that done, Ash and Beth got back inside their mechs, and Oneiri trudged back to the village.
“I’m going to kill Roach,” Henrietta said as they passed the outer buildings. “If we see him, stay away from him. He’s mine.”
“The kill belongs to whoever manages to take him down, Razor,” Ash said. The others already seemed to look at her as their leader, and she was doing her best to rise to the
task, though her self-doubt ran deep. “We’ll be lucky if we can manage it at all.”
“Why did he do it?” Beth said. “How could he?” Her voice hitched as she asked the question none of them could answer. “Has he been with the enemy from the start?”
Marco shook his MIMAS’ head. “We can’t understand Roach’s thinking any longer. He’s more machine than man, now—much more. Maybe some hidden subroutine told him that killing Richaud was a logical step.”
“A step toward what?” Henrietta said.
No one answered.
Darkstream had classified every Red Company fighter as enemy combatants, but in the confusion and distress following the engagement, no one from Oneiri had thought to make prisoners of the mercenaries that survived.
Doesn’t seem like it’s necessary, anyway.
The Red Company fighters appeared totally dejected, avoiding eye contact with everyone as they wandered aimlessly—especially with the villagers, who they’d convinced to let Red Company protect them, and who they’d utterly failed.
Now, Ash began to question the members of Red Company, to see who they had here, and also what they knew.
“You’ll want to talk to DuGalle,” said the bedraggled woman Ash asked first, who sat in the middle of what looked like someone’s flower garden.
“Who’s that?”
“The leader of Red Company, as near as we can tell. Our command structure has been almost totally wiped out, and everyone above DuGalle has been either confirmed or presumed dead. Saul was the last one to rank higher than him, but now that Saul’s dead, DuGalle leads Red Company.”
“Saul…” The name certainly rang a bell. Ash racked her brain, and finally she hit on it: he’d been the one in charge of the mercenaries at New Gower, back when Oneiri had first encountered Red Company. “He died? How?”
The woman raised her eyebrows. “As far as I know, you killed him. Outside Ingress. He was the one piloting the MIMAS we took off you.”
So that’s who that bastard was. Saul was the one who took Tommy’s mech.
“Where’s DuGalle, then?”
“Village green, last I knew.”
“Thanks.” Ash turned to stroll in that direction. Inside the MIMAS, even a stroll meant moving at a fair clip, and she took care to ensure she did no harm, either to property or to humans.
Without turning back, Ash said, “Saul deserved to die.”
A brief pause. “Probably true,” the woman called after her.
DuGalle was leaning against a fence, staring into space, looking just as lost as the rest of his comrades. A faded jean jacket hung over his thin frame, too large for him, and he had a thick French accent.
“How can I do for you, mech?” he asked, not bothering to look up at her.
The way he’d phrased his question threw Ash off for a second. “Let me start by letting you know that Darkstream owns Peppertree’s contract again. Are we going to have any problems over that?” Ash gestured with her right hand as she spoke, which was pretty significant coming from a MIMAS. It certainly drew DuGalle’s gaze.
“No problems,” he said. “Red Company is done, now, anyway. I don’t see how we can recover.”
“Done? You’re giving up?”
“It’s not a matter of giving up. Call it what it is: defeat. We overplayed our hand. Saul is dead, I’m in charge, and I can see that we’re done. Quatro in their own mechs, the Quatro in general, rumors of Gatherers turning against the very villagers they made prosperous—if anyone can protect people from all that, it isn’t us. Maybe Darkstream can.”
“I see.” Ash tilted her head back slightly, and the servomotors in her neck emitted a soft whine. “Well, I want you to know that I agree completely. You’re totally ineffective, and I support you in acknowledging your uselessness.”
She turned to leave, about to open a coms channel with Bronson to tell him the good news about Red Company.
“Darkstream overplayed its hand too, you know,” DuGalle said. He hadn’t bothered to raise his voice, but the MIMAS’ enhanced hearing had automatically jacked up the volume for her benefit.
She stopped, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“You—how do you say—bit off more than you can chew. Much more.”
Sighing, Ash turned and walked back to DuGalle, on the verge of plucking him from the fence he reclined against and shaking him till his teeth rattled out of his skull. “If you don’t start saying something relevant within the next five seconds, you’re going to seriously regret wasting my time.”
“Certainly, mech. Darkstream deliberately started this war. Okay? Does this do anything for you?”
“The war started when Quatro attacked Northshire. That’s the village I’m from, mercenary. They killed my family, and Darkstream has been working ever since to make sure they can never do something like that again.”
DuGalle held up a finger. “First of all, you too are a mercenary, are you not?” A second finger went up. “Second, you are a very naive mech. Darkstream is not the noble victim in this conflict. As I said, they began this war themselves, on purpose. How do I know this, you should probably be asking? I’ll tell you: Darkstream paid Red Company to put on company uniforms and attack the Quatro in their homes. After almost two decades of peace, give or take, Darkstream hired us to stir things back up again. To anger the aliens—by killing their families, and prompting them to seek revenge against all humans.”
“Ridiculous,” Ash said, though the dream had begun to pulse with her quickening heartbeat. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“Why, it makes perfect sense. Have Darkstream contracts not flourished? Have company profits not soared? They are back to their own tricks, is Darkstream—the tricks they first began to learn in the Milky Way. They’ve mastered them, by now. Would you like to know what Darkstream hired Red Company to do next?” DuGalle snickered. “Probably you would rather not know, because of how it will hurt your stupid head. But I’ll tell you all the same. Once the Quatro were nice and pissed off, Darkstream paid us to go to the Quatro again—but not in company uniform, this time, and not to attack them. Instead, Darkstream gave us crates and crates of weapons. All kinds of weapons: medium machine guns, heavy guns, rocket and grenade launchers—all kinds! And what did Darkstream tell us to do with all that? They said, ‘Give these to the Quatro and let’s see what they do with them.’”
“I thought you said Red Company was over,” Ash said, her tone indignant even as her voice wavered with uncertainty. “Yet here you are, trying to sway me with your propaganda.”
Something pinged on Ash’s HUD—a file transfer.
“Here is everything to back up what I’m saying. Copies of our orders from Darkstream, which the company demanded we destroy. Footage of conversations with company executives. And footage of the encounters with the Quatro; both the attack and the giving them the weapons. Why do I have all this neatly packaged together? Because Red Company’s next step was to leak these documents, to delegitimize the company forever, in the eyes of everyone. But it is too late for us to do anything now. So here it is, for you to do with what you will.”
As Ash stared at the transfer, afraid to open it, DuGalle pushed off the fence and began to walk away.
“Where are you going?”
He turned, a sneer twisting his mouth. “I am leaving this place. Feel free to stop me—imprison me or kill me. It doesn’t matter. This planet goes to shit right now, mech, and my money rests on everyone who remains dying within the year.”
Chapter 31
One-Note Dirge
The landing bay of the next comet over had engaged Lockdown Mode when the Ravagers had breached it, and Jake ordered the outer airlock open using the Hub-wide security clearance Pichenko had given him.
As he exited the airlock into the landing bay, his eyes fell on something that made him draw up short and stare, with the minor violin note rising again, keening shrilly until he wanted to claw at his ears.
Several reside
nts of this comet, Comet Three, had attempted to reach a shuttle to escape. That shuttle had been blown apart, with a jagged hole yawning in its hull.
As for the people who attempted to flee…
Jake tried not to look at them as he walked by their ripped clothing and torn bodies, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t recognize any of them as people he’d known growing up, but he wasn’t sure he would’ve, even if they had been. Most of their faces had been pulped beyond recognition.
He progressed to the inner airlock, ordering it open to admit his mech.
This airlock was smaller than the outer one, which had been designed to admit small spacecraft. The inner airlock was meant mainly for people, as well as the occasional speeder or farm equipment that would have been brought through. As such, Jake would need to crawl through it, ignoring the voice that whispered for him to just blow a hole through it instead.
You’re strong enough, the voice said. Aren’t you? Don’t let them make you bow like this. Show them your might.
Jake got to his knees and shimmied through the opening, trying to picture how ridiculous he must look: this huge, badass mech wiggling through a puny airlock.
It made him smile, and he needed that.
Even though this comet’s integrity had remained intact, meaning it retained both atmospheric pressure and oxygen, its condition was far worse than Jake’s home comet.
Here, every copse of trees had been put to the torch, and no structure had been left standing. Where the Council Chambers had once been, a crater stood in the ground.
From where Jake stood, the former site of the Chambers hung over his head, and the hole looked so deep that it seemed a miracle that whatever had created it hadn’t blasted through the ice beyond.
Most of the homes hadn’t received quite so thorough a treatment, though no matter where Jake looked—right, left, ahead, or up at the fields that served as his sky—he couldn’t find a single one intact. The comet dwellings tended to take the shape of domes, but now they reminded him of cracked eggs.
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