Invasion

by L. E. Thomas

  Nat closed his eyes, his sister's face flashing in his mind. She had been wearing a bright red prisoner's outfit. The wrinkles around her eyes made it look like it'd been decades since they'd been together in the cabin immediately following the invasion.

  And she was soon going to be shipping off-world to Atheron. Once the pride of all countries on Tarrafa and proof humans could expand to the rest of the star system, the colony had been turned by the Zahl into a prison while the original planet was converted to Yesro Vraun.

  "What did she do?" Nat asked, lowering his shoulders. "Why's she in custody?"

  Jet pursed his lips, glancing at the other rebels in the tight confines. "She's been, ah, working for us. I'm, uh, hesitant to say too much, but the resistance is bigger than most people realize. Join us. Help us reclaim our world. We need you."

  He gestured toward Cal's body. "You have a funny way of inspiring loyalty."

  "Forget about him," Jet said in a tone as if he was discussing the swatting of a fly. "We have greater issues to discuss. First, we have to get you away from here. We're waiting for dark to get you back to the city. Tressa wasn't able to say much, but she said you were the key to all of this."

  "All of what?"

  "She wouldn't tell us everything, said it was too dangerous. The resistance has been working for months to create a unified rebellion and—"

  "Worthless."

  Jet blinked. "What?"

  Nat stared at him. "You cannot defeat the Zahl. No one can. We have to join them. Don't you understand? What you're doing is suicide."

  Jet considered this for a moment. "So, you won't even collaborate for a chance to save your sister?" He shook his head. "Your father would be very disappointed."

  Nat's heart fluttered. "My ... Da? Kad?"

  Jet moved in for the kill. "You come with us, and I'll promise to reunite you. He wanted to be here, but his skills called him away. He's been waiting for you, Nat. He's been waiting for you since the day we were separated in the basement. If I loosen the restraints around your ankles, will you at least hear him out? If you won't come with us for Kad, will you at least hear us out about your sister? Her freighter is leaving at the end of the week. We don't have much time."

  He took in the new information, his mind racing and his muscles twitching.

  Kad Hodges was alive.

  It was all he could think, the realization flashing through his mind. After all this time, his father had survived. And his sister was now a prisoner about to be shipped off for hard labor.

  But they were fighting the Zahl, the very people he swore an oath to join.

  Clearing his throat, Nat said, "I can't help you."

  "What?" Jet asked, his hands falling to his side.

  "I cannot do what you ask of me. I swore an oath. I am a Zahlian cadet—an officer in training. I'm going to be a pilot. You cannot defeat them."

  Snorting, Jet crouched in front of him again. Nat couldn't hold his eye contact and looked at the rocks. He stared for what seemed like an hour.

  "You know you'll never be nothing to them, right?" Jet asked, his tone lowering and becoming more sinister. "You'll be nothing but a native punk—a cog in their machine. You won't advance. You won't prosper. They'll grind up your bones and leave nothing left. I oughta kill you right now to save you the suffering."

  Nat's eyes bulged, and a cold sweat covered his neck. For a pair of heartbeats, he thought Jet might pull out the pistol at his belt and execute him the same as Cal.

  But he didn't.

  "I wouldn't do that to your old man," Jet said, kicking Nat's feet as he stood. He looked at his watch again. "He's coming with us. We've got to move before the sun comes up."

  Chapter Eleven

  Jet's people gathered their equipment, leaving Cal and their dead in the passageway. Instead of heading back into the open like Nat expected, they marched deeper into the mountain. The passage narrowed, winding down as they bisected the entire range. Although they only carried lanterns and a couple torches for light, he saw discarded mining tools and broken carts along the way.

  The restraints rubbed his ankles raw, his skin burning as sweat rolled down his legs. But the pain inside consumed his attention as he replayed the conversation with Jet. His family—at least his father and sister—were alive and fighting with the Tarrafa rebels. His stomach ached as his imagination went into overdrive, thinking of the choice he had made to stay true to the Zahlian Empire. He knew it was the right decision. Wasn't it? Otherwise, he would have been thrust into a re-education camp for a lengthy period or vanished in the reservations.

  Jet had said the Zahl would never view him as anything but a "cog" in their machine. They’d said he would never advance, but Captain Tox had allowed him time in the simulators to learn the basics of flight. Soon, he would proceed to classes on space combat. Tox had mentioned the rigors of the flight academy, the difficulty in learning the art of piloting a space fighter. He said the odds were slim for even true-borns, but Nat knew he could do it. All he'd ever wanted was to fly an Oshua copter for the military and make his friends and family proud. Perhaps he would be able to operate the Interceptor in a couple years.

  The passage came to an abrupt end in a pile of boulders and old mining equipment. Jet didn't slow, turning right and ducking into a tighter crawlspace leading off to the side. The group followed, each person ducking to avoid smashing their head into the rock. Nat was next, bending down carefully as he shuffled forward. With his hands still bound, he reached both to one side and slid his fingers over the rock.

  In the dim flickering light, he could see the passage was newer than the one they had just left. The rocks still had a powdery residue, the ground beneath their feet strewn with pebbles. Apparently, the rebels had added to the existing mines crisscrossing the mountains north of the capital.

  So that's how they've avoided detection all the time, he thought as an involuntary grin moved across his face. Those who had survived the initial invasion were gathering underground.

  A coldness gripped his heart as the passage opened and he was able to stand at his full height again.

  They would never let him survive capture, not after seeing all these tunnels and their hidden routes through the mountains. Jet would probably have him killed if he refused to join the rebels. If his Da were indeed alive, would he allow his only son to be executed?

  He took a deep breath of the stale air, wondering if he'd made a massive mistake telling Jet he had no intention of joining him.

  The thought plagued him for the next hour as they weaved around the rocks and through the passages, digging into his subconscious like a bloodsucking tick.

  "All right," Jet said, breaking through the silence as he addressed his people. "We're only two marks from the rendezvous. Get a blindfold on our prisoner."

  Before Nat could say anything, a sack smelling of spoiled meat was thrust over his face and pulled tight around his neck. His heart raced as he was pushed forward.

  "Where are we going?" he asked. "I thought you said we were going to meet Da."

  He heard Jet snort. "We got a long way to go before that happens, boy. Need to move while it's still night."

  Strong hands led him forward, guiding him through a labyrinth of stone he couldn't see. His toes stubbed rocks, and his shoulders scraped the jagged edges of the tunnel.

  He heard it before he smelled the fresh air: A rushing river.

  Even through the rank sack over his head, he relished the cool breeze filtering through the tunnel. He heard the chorus of nocturnal forest animals, knew their path had cut through the mountain and emerged on the other side. He wondered what river he heard, pondered the location closet to The Beast they had conquered yesterday.

  He shook his head. Yesterday.

  Since Tox had screamed at them on the way up the steep mountain, Nat had been in a firefight, captured, and forced at gunpoint through a mining tunnel after watching one of his comrades executed.

  "What are we doing?" he whi
spered.

  "Quiet," a deep voice barked from behind him.

  He paused, his racing heart causing a ringing in his ears, louder than the rushing river roaring through the tunnel.

  A sudden memory clicked. Could they be near Jet and Jax's cabin? Would they be using the old log structure as some kind of base? He remembered crossing the rope bridge back when all this had started, so long ago he'd nearly forgotten about the early days of the invasion.

  Wait a minute, he thought, his mouth going dry. If Tox knew he had been captured—knew of Nat's history on this planet before the occupation—could he find out about his family's background, too?

  "Are we going to Jet's cabin?" he asked, fear rising through his throat.

  There was a pause, and he sensed a sudden hesitation surrounding him.

  "Are we?" he asked again, knowing silence meant he was on the right path. "This is a bad idea." He swallowed. "They know."

  "Shut up."

  It was Jet this time.

  Nat swiveled his covered head around toward the voice. "The Zahl know everything. They have all the records and know everyone's past. That's what they do. They—"

  "Shut your mouth, or we'll do it for you."

  "You have to listen to me!" He took a deep breath. "They know who our families are and they'll know you took me. They probably know about you and my father. They could know about your cabin!"

  "He might be right, boss," a different voice offered.

  Jet cleared his throat. "You can't trust him. He's been turned."

  "I'm telling you the truth," Nat said, wondering if his Da was at the cabin. "You have to believe me!"

  Hands pulled him to his feet and yanked him forward. He felt breath on the side of the fabric over his head, the heat sweeping onto his cheek.

  "You had your chance, traitor," Jet whispered, pressing a knife at his side just under his ribs. "You make another sound to give away our position, and I'll gut you like a pig. Your father will understand, too. Probably be glad I did it for him since his son is a blasted turncoat. You get me, boy?"

  Nat tensed, the blade still at his side. "You're risking your life," he whispered, "and the lives of all your people."

  Jet pressed close. "We've been doing that since day one. Move! And keep it quiet!"

  They thrust him forward. He heard Jet order his rebels to kill Nat if he tried to flee.

  Tox was no fool, Nat knew that much. Terror seeped into his core, his back slithering in a cold sweat. He braced himself, the open air now feeling dangerous and ominous as the group grew silent around him.

  "Let's go!" Jet whispered.

  They shoved Nat into the open air. Someone gripped his elbow, leading him through the trees. Branches and thorns tore at his exposed arms, but he kept being driven forward.

  His lungs burned as they ran, the sound of a bird cackling through the treetops.

  And then he was free, the hand leaving his elbow.

  He took two more steps and fell to the dirt, his face crashing into another branch as he fell. Rolling over on his back, he heard a person fall to the forest floor nearby.

  What had—

  "AMBUSH!"

  The air caught fire as the sound of energy bolts slicing through oxygen surrounded him. Bullet-firing weapons joined the fray, filling his nose with the smell of sulfur. Remaining low, Nat yanked the sack off his head and looked around. In the moonlight, he saw the rebel who had been escorting him motionless at his side, a clean laser burn melting through the left side of his forehead. He grabbed the man's knife and tried to cut through his restraints.

  "They've got night vision gog—"

  A nearby rebel lit up, a flurry of bolts exploding into his chest. He spun around like a firework, arms and legs flailing.

  The fire raged as errant shots ignited the dry forest, creating a blaze in seconds as the rebels and their enemy battled. Nat knew he'd been right, recognizing the Zahl had anticipated this location based on his capture and the proximity to The Beast.

  Pressing low to the ground, Nat worked on the restraints until he had cut through the wire. Rubbing his wrists, he crawled over and grabbed the dead rebel's gun just as a ship roared by overhead. It came to a stop over the river, hovering twenty feet over the water.

  It was a Zahlian Modular Utility Dropship or MUD.

  Nat watched as it rotated, one side of the blocky vessel dropping as it did so. A mounted dual-cannon MC-77 appeared in the doorway with a Marine at the controls. He hugged the ground, making himself as small a target as possible.

  And then the Marine unleashed a fierce barrage exploding into the forest. Bolts incinerated flesh, wood, and rocks. Nat winced, pressing into the soil as if he could blend into the ground. Trees fell, collapsing and buckling with mighty concussions.

  The skirmish was over in seconds but felt like hours.

  Nat was afraid to rise. For a long moment, all he heard was the 77's burning fire echoing in his mind. Soon, the sounds of crackling fire and the idling engines of the MUD came to him.

  He rose to one knee, wiping dirt and sweat from his face. In one thirty-yard swathe, the forest was a hellish scene of burned corpses and fiery trees. Bright embers twirled and fell from the sky.

  Zahlian Marines in full armor, fires reflecting from their faceplates, emerged from the riverbank. They strolled through the battlefield, kicking the bodies of rebels.

  "We've got one!"

  Nat spun around to his right. A Marine passed through the brush, a laser-sighted beam under the barrel of an MC-17 sweeping through the smoky air and falling onto Nat's chest.

  He wanted to say something, wanted to plead for the Marine not to fire. But no words came as he raised his hands.

  The Marine halted three strides from Nat's position, the rifle still raised and ready to fire.

  "He's one of ours," the Marine said, the helm nodding as he took one hand off the weapon and offered it to Nat. "Can you walk?"

  "I think so," Nat said, taking the gloved hand and standing. He swayed, feeling dizzy in the swirl of heat. "I ... don't feel too good."

  "Get back to the river," the Marine said, his attention on burning forest. "There's a medic there. You sure you can walk?"

  Nat nodded, and the Marine moved away, his boots crunching through the smoking debris.

  Confused, he struggled to walk in a straight line, hugging blackened trees on his way to the river. Fatigue from the recent events and lack of sleep threatened to overtake him as his boots sank into the soggy riverbank. The dropship had landed nearby, serving as a command center for the operation. A medic forced him to sit, applying bandages to the burns on his forehead. Nat stared unfocused into the rushing water.

  "Good to see you again, Cadet."

  Blinking slowly, Nat turned toward the voice. Still wearing his fatigues and black beret, Captain Tox stood on the riverbank with his hands on his hips.

  "You too, sir," Nat said, his throat dry. "I ... didn’t—"

  "Shh," Tox said, gripping his shoulder gently. "No reason to talk. We'll have you checked out in the infirmary and back with your class by tomorrow. Just rest."

  Movement caught his eye to his left, and three rebels emerged from the inferno, watchful Marines following closely with their guns raised. As the tallest captive came into view, Nat winced.

  Jet.

  The three rebels were marched out onto the riverbank and forced to kneel with Jet in front of the others. He glared at the Marines, but his expression softened as he looked over at Nat and smiled.

  Nat nodded, unsure how to respond.

  "You were right, Nat!" Jet screamed. "They haven't taken your soul, yet! You tried to warn us! And I didn't listen! Your father would have been proud, Nat! You hear me? Proud!"

  Tox gestured to an officer, who yanked a laser pistol from its holster. The young officer waltzed toward Jet as if he was strolling through the market.

  "You honored yourself today, Nat!" Jet continued, his voice rising. "Don't ever forget your heritage! Your p
eople! I should have listened to you! Don't let them take—"

  Nat jolted as the laser bolt crackled, blasting through Jet's face in a horrific instant. His head thrust back, and his limp body fell into the sand.

  The officer nodded to the Marines, who escorted the other two rebels onto the MUD.

  Jet's words burned in Nat's ears as Tox stared down at him.

  "What was all that about?" Tox asked.

  His chin trembled as he looked back at Jet's lifeless body in the black sand. "I don't know."

  Tox hesitated for a moment. "I know it's hard, cadet. He was friends with your family. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

  Nat shook his head. "No, sir. He deserved what—"

  Emotion took him, his voice cracking as he placed his hand over his mouth. He closed his eyes, but the image of Jet's body had been etched into his mind. Wincing, he fought the urge to cry in front of Tox.

  "It's been a terrible ordeal for you, Cadet Hodges," Tox said, helping him stand. "Let's get you back to the Academy. We can talk later."

  "And then what happened?"

  Tox's voice echoed in the compact and sterile chamber inside the Academy. Nat stared at the pristine white table. His body ached from the ordeal, and his heart hurt.

  Since they arrived back in Molah, Nat had received essential medical treatment. Tox informed him most of the rebels had been killed on the banks of the river, including Jet Gretson. The Zahlian forces were now conducting a search of the network of tunnels beneath the mountain, hunting down the rebel cell while dealing with booby traps.

  But Nat's mind only fixated on one thing: his sister's shuttle departing for Atheron.

  Tressa.

  Memories had surged back on the MUD's return trip to the capital, scenes from his childhood he thought he'd suppressed into the dark recesses of his mind. Tressa blowing out candles on her birthday. Tressa swinging in the backyard, seeing how high she could fly, her face lost in the bright sunlight of the late summer afternoons. Tressa picking him up from school in Da's car when Ma was having surgery. He'd been so proud of his older sister. Some of his friends said she looked hot, and he gave an outward show of how angry this had made him, but he was actually very proud of her.