Invasion

by L. E. Thomas

  "How you plan on doing that?" Tank cried. "You think they just gonna put down their fancy weapons and let you approach? They’ll just as soon blast you when you show your face."

  "Enough," Rowe said in a firm but low voice. "Fear is what they instilled in our people when they toppled the government. We don't know what else has happened across the world, but we have to assume no governments remain. Our business could be all that's left."

  "All that's left to do what?" Tank asked. "You plan on fighting a war with these people?"

  "Yes," Rowe shot back. "We don't just lie down. They have us on the ropes, true, but that's when a fighter is most dangerous."

  "You can count my people out, then," Tank said, shaking his head until his red hair fell into his eyes. "I say we wait until dark and flee to the hills like Kad did."

  Taking a deep breath, Rowe leaned over the table, his eyes boring into Tank's. "Your people belong to me. I say whether you leave or not. Do we have a problem there?"

  Tank's eyes darted around the group, but the other men avoided eye contact. Finding no allies in his brief resistance, Tank shook his head and mumbled something inaudible.

  "Something else, boss," Jet said. "Jessie told me the military bases are on lockdown and anyone attending class at Greeva U has disappeared."

  "Disappeared?"

  "They must have been taken prisoners or something. I really don't know. And the Zahl dispatched a force to Riverside now, too."

  Rowe blinked. "The military academy? Why?"

  "She thinks they're rounding up would-be troublemakers all across the country. Hunting clubs, teams of any kind, yachtsmen—they'll be coming for anyone and anything that could mean trouble. These Zahl people are here for the long haul." Jet paused. "We don't have much time before the entire city is locked down."

  Nat swallowed, realizing Tressa's school had the largest group of junior cadets in Greeva. The Zahlian troops had landed there for a reason. If Kad hadn't acted as quickly as he did, they all could have been taken away.

  Rowe broke the awkward silence. "We're wasting time," he said, unrolling a map and spreading it across the table. "Tank and Genaro, I want your people meeting here at the loading docks. Use the underground tunnels leading to the factories to move our merchandise to safety. We don't know enough about the Zahl to begin any kind of fight, so we watch and learn for the moment and keep our weapons hidden. It's all about information right now. We need to learn and keep our people alive so we can fight later."

  "How much later?" Kad asked.

  Rowe looked at him. "You've known me a long time, Kad. I've never faced an enemy I couldn't defeat. Do you know why that is, Kad? Do you?"

  "No, sir."

  Looking at the others, Rowe continued, "I've never been defeated because I don't engage unless I know I can win. I don't engage until I find their weakness. Once I've found it, I hit where it hurts. Hard. Again and again. I don't know the Zahl's weakness, and I won't fight them full-on until I discover it. Any resistance is on hold until further notice. Understood?"

  The other men nodded, and the orders continued. Plans consisting of moving weapons and "merchandise" continued, the discussion moving at a swift pace. Nat's mind drifted away as Rowe detailed movements of people and resources as far north as Roark Beach. It was like listening to a sea captain batten down the hatches for a storm.

  Soola leaned close. "What does your father do again?"

  Nat shrugged. "He works in finance."

  "Is he a money launderer?"

  He shot her a glance. "Are you serious?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. Like one of those guys who cooks the books for people like Dedrick Rowe."

  "That's crazy. Da was born poor and put himself through the academy to ..."

  He trailed off, staring at the back of his father's head in a different light. He never questioned his parents' background—it just didn't occur to him to do so, but now questions flurried into his mind.

  Kad had been born in government housing on the outskirts of Greeva. Nat never knew his grandparents but had always been told Kad attended the academy on a full scholarship to learn the financial law. That was all he knew. But the scholarship ... who had paid for it? Was an academic scholarship? Art? Kad never played sports, did he?

  "Nat?" Soola whispered, her gentle fingers wrapping around his elbow. "Are you all right?"

  He shook his head once. "I don't ... I don't know."

  "I didn't mean anything by it, okay?"

  "Yeah, I know," he lied, now considering the same questions Soola had posted just a moment before.

  Perhaps Ma had never wanted Kad to be involved in a life of crime. It would explain why she wanted Jet and Jax to stay out of their lives forever. He remembered watching his father from his bedroom window as he took the trash out late into the night; he stared at the moon while speaking quietly into his wireless when he thought no one else could see him. Nat had always thought Kad was chatting with his buddies from work. Now, he wasn't so sure.

  He held onto Soola's hand, and they watched the men—the crime lords—making their plans. And his father was with them, chiming in with a few quiet words here and there.

  After a long while passed, Kad looked back at Nat with a sad expression. He glanced away several times as if he had been caught in an uncomfortable position he couldn't escape.

  Nat couldn't look away, his eyes drawn to the man he'd known his whole life who suddenly appeared like a stranger.

  And then the room exploded.

  Chapter Six

  Blood ran from his ears, the flash of light and sound assaulting him. No force of a blast hit him. Instead, he saw nothing but stars, heard nothing but a terrible ringing in his ears. Staggering back toward the wall, he felt Soola cowering near him. He grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close.

  And then laser fire filled the room, igniting as energy bolts sizzled through the air.

  Blinking, he tried to see through the starbursts blinding his eyes. It was like trying to see after looking at the sun, but he could dimly make out the scene before him.

  A thin layer of smoke hung in the air, filling the dank basement with the sharp smell of sulfur. Three Zahlian troops, their crimson armor glistening in the rays of sunlight beaming into the cellar, charged through the remains of the garage door now splintered with charred edges. They barked orders in their own language and dragged Tank into the alley, followed by two of the other men who had, only a moment before, been sitting at the table.

  Shaking his head and pushing his stringy black hair from his eyes, Dedrick Rowe stood from the smoldering table. Nat blinked, seeing the shotgun in his hands.

  "Wait!" he shouted, his voice muffled in his ears.

  But it was too late.

  Rowe fired into the Zahl soldiers, the shotgun unloading like a thunderclap in the basement's tight confines. An invader's helmet exploded, pieces of red mixing with a flurry of pink mist surrounding the soldier's head like a halo. For a long moment, the body with a shattered skull stood where the garage door had once been, and then the soldier fell out of sight.

  The Zahlian unleashed a fierce response. Their laser assault filled the basement, catching the wooden shelves and boxes afire in seconds. The three lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling burst, adding a brief flash of sparks and shards of glass to the chaos. Two blasts hit Rowe in the torso, but he didn't slow. Dropping the shotgun, he produced two handheld weapons and unleashed a torrent of laser fire into the alley. His men toppled the table, using it for cover as they fired at the enemy obscured by the smoke.

  Kad and Jet sprinted toward Nat, screaming. Nat couldn't hear him through his ringing ears after the initial blast. He looked stupidly at his father, knowing he should follow, but his muscles wouldn't respond. Kad shook him as Jet, who turned to fire back twice, hurried up the stairs. The enemy fire hit nearby, breaking Kad's connection with Nat.

  Looking back to the basement, Nat saw Rowe and three of his men pull back a burlap tarp from the
cement floor. Rowe heaved open a cellar door, beckoning his men to go down. The burly men hopped out of sight, disappearing into the ground. The heavy steel door lifted from the ground and moved to close.

  "Come on, Da!" Nat yelled, his ears still ringing and drowning out his voice.

  But Kad had disappeared up the smoky stairs, vanishing in the array of laser fire. He blinked, processing the fact his father had returned to the store floor.

  Without them.

  Nat turned to follow, but the enemy bolts forced him to remain behind cover. He looked to Soola and gasped. She stayed in the fetal position near his feet, a sizzling laser wound burning into her shoulder.

  He kneeled at her side. "Soola! Damn it! Are you okay?"

  She winced, shrieking in pain as she clutched her arm. He tried to help her stand.

  "The cellar door's closing!" he cried, pulling her arm over his neck to help her walk. "We need to follow—"

  A blue energy wave filled the basement, fierce and bright. A tingle went through his body. His muscles refused to comply with his commands. He fell to the floor with Soola, his legs twitching. He closed his eyes, praying his father would come to save him.

  When he looked again, he stared with tear-filled eyes at the cobwebs and boards of the store above them. Shadows played across the ceiling. The ringing in his ears lessened, replaced with the sounds of Zahlian soldiers conversing in their language and the sharp pop of their boots stepping on glass.

  This was the end, he thought. He was dying. His body wouldn't move. He heard Soola gasping next to him and wondered if she would soon be gone.

  But he didn't care about any of it at the moment. All he knew was that his father, apparently a criminal working for the infamous Dedrick Rowe, had abandoned him in the basement to die at the hands of the invader.

  He gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw muscles as he tried to regain control of his body. Was he, in fact, dying?

  An armored Zahl soldier appeared over him, a repeating laser with two red lights above the handle draped across his chest. He pointed a gloved hand down at Nat and Soola, growled a couple of remarks, and led more troopers carefully up the stairs with weapons trained on the basement door.

  A stream of armored troops marched past, all concealed by the crimson helmets. They were not looking in their direction. Perhaps if he could drag Soola to the cellar door, they could disappear into whatever underground passage Rowe had prepared and—

  A clicking sound interrupted his thoughts. For a moment, he wasn't sure if the clicking was mechanical. Then, he recognized it.

  His Ma used to make the sound with her tongue whenever she looked at his disappointing grade summary or caught him slipping an extra cookie bar into his bag.

  A man stood over him, shaking his head as he continued his clicking sound. He wore the same dark red uniform accented with shining black leather straps of the officer in the parade from earlier today. He had a small holstered pistol at his belt. The apparent officer studied Nat with his close-set ice blue eyes.

  And then he smiled.

  It was such an unexpected expression, Nat's brow furrowed.

  The officer kneeled, placing his cool leather-gloved hand on Nat's forehead. He spoke in a deep, soothing voice and tapped Nat's temple, gently putting a device into the ear. Nat braced himself.

  "Your dishonorable companions left you here," a robotic voice sparked into his ear, the device translating the officer's words into a rigid form of the Oshua language. "Such a pity."

  A chill rippled through his body. "I can't move."

  The officer slid his hand down Nat's cheek and rested it on his chest. "I apologize for that. We were trying to incapacitate the combatants. Not you. Today is a great day for young people like you. You should feel quite honored to be a part of the Zahlian Navy."

  Nat shook his head. "But I—"

  "Shhh." The officer placed one finger over his lips. "In time, you will learn the honor that has been bestowed on you this day. Right now, you and your female companion will come with us."

  He didn't wait for an answer. The officer ripped the device from Nat's ear and abruptly stood, stomping his boot on the floor and shouting toward the alley. Glancing down, he locked his eyes with Nat and nodded. Then, he marched out.

  "What's going on?" Soola whispered. "I can't move."

  "I can't either," he shot back. "They've hit us with some kind of electrical charge."

  Soola grunted. "What did he say?"

  Nat swallowed, the realization washing over him. He didn't want to say it out loud but knew the truth.

  "Nat?"

  "I think we're prisoners," he whispered. "They're taking us."

  "What?"

  Before he could respond, more soldiers rushed into the basement and lifted them onto hovering stretchers. His body ached and tingled with the movement as if every muscle had fallen asleep. The invaders brought them to separate vehicles. Nat caught one last look at Soola, her pink hair matted to her skull in sweat, as they placed her into the back of an armored vehicle. They set Nat in a similar craft. Dozens of other teenagers on stretchers lined the large bay of the car as doctors in white and red uniforms hovered over them, providing water and some kind of powdery ration bars. Someone slammed the doors shut. A moment later, the engines rumbled, and they were moving to who knew where.

  But all he could think about was the fact his Da had left him in the basement to be captured, and his Ma was out there in the city, probably dead.

  He felt like an orphan.

  He lifted his head, his neck tingling, and looked at the other people on the stretchers. Most had scrapes and bruises on their dirty faces, but they were otherwise unharmed. His head collapsed onto the cot, and he stared at the steel ceiling, wondering where the invaders were taking him.

  Somehow, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

  Chapter Seven

  One Year Later

  The Legion Trident ripped apart in a fiery explosion. One wing broke from the fuselage, spinning away like a boomerang.

  The three wingmen split, two to the right and one to the left. He instinctively banked to follow the loner, switching to guns as he closed. A growing concern buzzed in the back of his mind regarding leaving his wingman, but it was too late. He'd committed to the move. Better to finish the enemy quickly.

  He squeezed the trigger.

  The pulse cannons fired in a full burst. Laser bolts shot toward the target, pummeling the rear shields. The fighter banked and rolled, trying unsuccessfully to avoid his punishing fire. One bolt blasted through the shields, the ghostly aura around the Trident vanishing in an instant. The next bolt shattered the rear stabilizer, the impact forcing the nose up. Pulling back on the stick, he brought the crosshairs to bear on the enemy's nose. The cockpit exploded with his last bit of stored energy in the pulse lasers, coming apart in a brilliant flash of simulated fire before disappearing.

  "Nice shot, Angel Three," the radio sizzled and popped, "but you left your wingman."

  The simulation screen darkened. The control board shifted to the white light of standby. The latch popped, and the servos whined as the "canopy" lifted. The fluorescent training room lights forced him to squint.

  "You never leave your wingman," a stern voice growled.

  He allowed his vision to adjust and saw the disapproving glare of Captain Greer Tox.

  "I'm sorry, Captain."

  "Not good enough," he shot back. "Get out of there, Hodges."

  Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes at the command, Cadet Nat Hodges slipped off his headset and crawled out of the simulator. After two hours of "flying," his muscles ached, and his joints popped as he stood to face the Captain. A fresh layer of sweat covered his backside, and he wondered if the wetness had bled to the other side for the rest of the cadets to see. As he stared at Tox's mud-colored eyes under the lowered brow, he suddenly didn't care what the others had to say about his appearance.

  "Well?" Tox asked.

  Nat blink
ed. "Pardon, sir?"

  Tucking his tablet under his arm, Tox folded his arms over his chest. "That's the third time this month you went for the kill instead of staying in formation."

  "I'm sorry, sir."

  Tox leaned in. "Zahlian pilots fly in formation and follow protocol. You fight and win as one. We have no room for hotshots who get everyone else in their squadron killed. This isn't the Legion."

  Nat shook his head. "No, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I will try to do better."

  Glancing over his shoulder, Tox whispered, "Doing better isn't the problem. You're a hell of a pilot, going to be great in an Interceptor. Just work on following orders, and you'll be fine."

  Nat flashed a tight smile. "I will, sir."

  "Good," Tox said, slapping his shoulder and pulling out the tablet once again.

  As he marched away calling out those who performed well in the simulation and those who needed work, Nat thought of the mountain of homework awaiting him in his quarters. The best part of the day—the simulators—was over. Commander Gray Radman expected the paper on the formation of the Zahlian Empire by tomorrow, and he still had three chapters to read from the Imperial seminar. Still, he’d got to practice being a Zahlian pilot for a couple hours. That, at least, was something to smile about.

  "That was pretty impressive, Nat," Soola said as they passed into the crowded corridor of the Zahlian Academy in the capital on Yesro Vaun. "You keep getting better and better."

  He shrugged. "Thanks. How about you? I lost you out there."

  She smirked. "That happens when you leave the rest of us in the dust."

  "Easy."

  She laughed and released a long exhale. "I'm doing okay, I guess. I haven't taken to it the way you have, but that's what the simulators are for. I'll get there."

  "I know you will."

  "You know they say not all of us will make it as Interceptor pilots. Some of us will have to fly cargo shuttles or be inducted as officers on the capital ships."