by Jack Halls
There was no immediate need to keep up the pretense, so Gideon shifted and sat up. Gavin looked down at him, then back at his father.
The admiral put a finger to his lips as he lowered Gavin to the ground. “It’s good to see you, Gavin, at least I hope it is.”
Once Gavin’s feet were back on the ground, he blinked, then hurried to salute the admiral. “Good to see you too, sir. Everyone thought you were dead.” He looked down at Gideon. “And you. We’ve all wondered what became of you and the others after you left.”
Gavin looked back at the admiral and cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir, what do you mean you hope it’s good to see me?”
The admiral looked back at Gideon, who stood to stand next to him. “I think we can trust him, Dad. The night before we left camp, Vincent put Gavin in charge of guarding one of the shuttles. Devereux wasn’t happy about it, and wanted someone else to watch it, but Vincent insisted.”
Gavin snorted. “Yeah, and when you left, he really wasn’t happy to find I’d left my post. The bastard had me strung up in the middle of camp and gave me ten lashings in front of everybody.” Gavin turned and lifted his shirt to reveal several painful red stripes across his back. “Said he had to make an example out of me. That’s not legal, is it, sir?” he said as he turned back around and looked at the admiral.
Gideon grimaced. “Sorry, Gavin. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
Gavin smiled. “Not your fault, Gid. I was all too happy to go get some sleep, but you should probably know they’re looking for you. Devereux says you and the others betrayed us, that you somehow knew about the aliens and called them down on us, and you ran away because you were trying to make contact with them. Course, most of us don’t believe that, but no one’s had the guts to say anything to Devereux about it. He’s a different man than the one I knew from the Leviathan.”
“Where’s Devereux now?” the admiral asked.
“Probably hanging about in the big command tent.” Gavin’s face suddenly melted into a look of dread. “I’m sorry if I was out of line insulting the commander. You aren’t going to tell him, are you?”
“I’m more likely to kill him,” said the admiral. Gavin looked relived, if not a little confused. “Do you have an idea of how many people in camp are wearing armor?”
Gavin nodded. “Easy. Besides Devereux, there’s David Adams, Jennifer Miles, Klaus Daimler, Don Rich, Lu Nguyen, and one more, let’s see... Brock Houghs,” he said as he counted them off on his fingers. “Devereux keeps the rest of the suits under guard. Says they’re faulty and need maintenance, but nobody really buys that.”
Gideon’s palm came up and smacked his forehead. “Dad, I can’t believe I forgot. Devereux sabotaged the Sentinel Armor. As soon as he realizes who you are, he’ll shut your suit down.”
“Not mine,” said the admiral. “No one but me has ever had access to my armor. Its hardware is air gapped and only accessible by me. It’s impossible that Devereux could have tampered with it. Probably drove him crazy, now that I think about it.”
Gavin looked back and forth between Gideon and Admiral Killdeer. “Should I know what you’re talking about?”
“All you need to know is that Devereux’s a traitor, and anyone besides me wearing Sentinel Armor is, too.” The admiral scratched his chin. “I’d always assumed there’d be more than that, but I suppose some of them would have been killed in the attack.”
“So what now?” asked Gideon.
Admiral Killdeer pointed to the radio attached to Gavin’s belt. “Call in and let them know somebody’s found one of the traitors, and they’re bringing them into the middle of camp. And make sure it’s over a common band. I want every soul in the camp to beat us there.”
Gavin nodded and raised his radio to his mouth. Within seconds, the radio channels were frenzied with traffic. Gavin switched off the radio and grinned at the admiral. “You certainly know how to stir up a hornet’s nest.”
They waited for a few minutes, allowing the tension in the camp to build. When they were ready, Admiral Killdeer lowered his visor, picked up Gideon, and threw him over his shoulder once again, then turned and walked toward camp with Gavin right behind.
Gideon fought to keep his eyes closed as they stepped into the clearing. He could hear an excited chorus of voices build, then move toward them. By the time they’d reached the center of the camp, there was a crowd gathering around them. Admiral Killdeer stopped, and Gideon heard a familiar voice. “Who’s this? What’s going on here?”
It was David Adams, sounding as arrogant as always. Before David could ask any more questions, Admiral Killdeer dumped Gideon off of his shoulder. He hit the ground and rolled, and didn’t have to pretend to grunt in pain. To his relief, he didn’t accidentally activate the Koramoa Armor.
Gideon allowed his eyes to slowly open, trying to look like he was barely conscious. Before he could do anything else, his father’s boot shoved against his hip, spinning him over onto his back. There was a collective gasp from the crowd, followed by whispers of Gideon’s name. For the first time, he could see his surroundings. He looked up at faces of people he had once thought of as friends and mentors, but now had to assume were his enemies.
He lay in the middle of a circle of bodies. On one side stood his father, still clad from head to toe in his armor. On the other side stood David in Sentinel Armor up to his neck. Next to him stood Jennifer Miles, dressed in similar fashion. Gideon couldn’t see any other henchmen in Sentinel Armor, and he definitely did not see Morgan Devereux.
He didn’t have to wonder where he was for long. Devereux’s unmistakable voice boomed over the crowd. “What’s going on?” he yelled. The crowd parted, and he burst into the middle, flanked by Don Rich and Klaus Daimler, both senior officers, and all three clad in Sentinel Armor up to the neck. Gideon was relieved to see none of them had helmets on. That would be to their advantage. He didn’t try to hide his loathing for Devereux as he glared up at him.
“Ah ha,” said Devereux. He could barely conceal the grin spreading across his face as he looked down at Gideon. “What did you do with my shuttle? And where are your friends? Abandoned you, I expect.”
Gideon pushed himself up onto his feet, doing his best to feign exhaustion. He lifted his head to glare at his foe, feeling the golden band seething on his wrist. He clenched his jaw and said nothing.
“What’s this?” said Devereux. “Finally run out of things to say, Killdeer? That’s all right. I’ll get it out of you one way or another.” He looked at the admiral, fully covered in Sentinel Armor, noticing him for the first time. Devereux opened his mouth to speak, then looked around at the two wearing armor by his side, then at David and Jennifer, then back at the admiral with a puzzled expression. “Is that you, Brock? Take off your helmet, you’re in the middle of camp.”
Ethan Killdeer turned his head to look directly at Devereux. He stepped forward until he was right in front of him. Then, slowly, he lifted his hand to his visor. When it slid open, Devereux’s eyes went as wide as cue balls, and he shrank back. There was another collective gasp from the crowd, followed by a wave of whispers spreading the admiral’s name across the camp.
“You’ve been busy, Morgan,” growled Gideon’s father, punctuating each word as the crowd fell completely silent. “Where shall I begin?” he asked, projecting so that no one could mistake his authoritative voice. “How many people have you murdered? Let’s start with Alexia Uritumbo, who you executed yourself just yesterday.”
A murmured roar rose from the crew members. Devereux tried to shout over them, claiming it was a lie, but it was Admiral Killdeer’s voice that silenced them. “And let’s not forget the explosion that killed Byron Marcus... and my wife.”
Devereux and his cronies stepped back as the crowd turned on them, shouting obscenities their way. “Enough!” yelled Devereux as they closed in. “You’re all fools if you believe a word Killdeer says. For two centuries, he’s known we were heading into a
trap, thinking the aliens that attacked us were benevolent, practically worshiping them. You took orders from Killdeer, while he took orders from an alien race bent on domination.”
The mob quieted and slowed down as they looked back at Admiral Killdeer. “I wasn’t finished naming your charges, Devereux. Yes, I knew there were aliens out in the Void, and I knew there was plenty of danger for us all. That’s why we trained and armed ourselves as best we could, but once again, you played the saboteur and hacked into our Sentinel Armor, rendering it useless just before we needed it the most.”
The admiral turned in a circle to address the crew. “How many are dead because we weren’t properly armed? How many are lost because Devereux blew up our satellites? And for what? So that he could be a little King of Valkyrie? Even now, he leaves you exposed, hiding perfectly good suits of armor away so that you have no choice but to follow him.”
At this point, the mob was in a frenzy, and they closed in on Devereux and his followers, but so far, no one dared to make the first move against the well-armed traitors.
“Behind you, Admiral,” called Gavin McLeod. Both Gideon and his father turned to see that Lu Nguyen and Brock HartHoughs had joined the circle behind them. They, too, had armor and weapons.
Gideon turned back in time to see that Devereux had begun to raise his rifle at the admiral. Gideon lunged forward, and Devereux sneered, turning to aim his weapon at him.
Gideon smiled, and the Koramoa Armor unfurled in a golden cascade from his wrist. The crowd screamed and fell back. Devereux froze as his face contorted in shock. Gideon reached him as the armor formed a terrifying mask around his face. He roared, taking full advantage of the alien distortion caused by the mask. In the same instant, he leaned back and aimed a kick in the center of Devereux’s chest.
Without Sentinel Armor, the kick would have instantly killed Devereux. Instead, the traitor was blasted backward through the crowd and crashed into one of the distant tents ten meters away. The mob scattered, and Gideon turned to find David and Jennifer petrified now that the tide had turned so abruptly. They spun around and leapt over the fleeing crowd.
Gideon was going to pursue, but the rest of Devereux’s thugs had chosen to fight, and he couldn’t leave his father to fend for himself. He turned and saw the armored body of Brock Houghs on the ground with his skull smashed in, and the admiral facing off against the other three, holding them off with a bloody stone in his fist.
Gideon was momentarily stunned by the grisly scene of the dead man before him. He looked at the three men who were moving to surround him and his father. None of them wore helmets, and Gideon could see their faces. These were men Gideon had known his whole life. He’d seen them on the bridge, in the biosphere; Don Rich and Klaus Daimler had even been guests in his home. But now, as he looked into their eyes, he saw nothing but hatred there. They had made their choice, and would not stop until he and his father were dead.
The heat of battle coursed through him, and the Koramoa Armor flexed and grew in strength.
Gideon’s eyes locked on to Lu Nguyen, and he lunged at him, swinging his arm like a club. It came down at the base of the man’s neck, snapping bone and tearing flesh. Lu’s eyes glazed over, and he collapsed to the ground.
Something struck Gideon in the back and knocked him forward. He spun around as Don Rich swung a metal bar at him. It struck Gideon on the arm, and he tripped, falling onto his back. Don gripped the bar in both hands and leapt high into the air, coming down on top of Gideon. Gideon caught the bar mid-swing, simultaneously kicking the other man’s legs out from under him.
Don hit the ground, and in an instant, Gideon was on top of him. He pulled his arm back and let out a bloodcurdling roar. The armor reacted to his instinct and morphed into a blade as Gideon drove it down. Don’s body tensed, then went limp.
Gideon turned to see his father and Klaus Daimler circling each other in a slow dance. Gavin McLeod lay unconscious or dead on the ground nearby, blood seeping from his forehead. Although Gideon was sure his father could handle himself, it was time to finish this and go after Devereux.
Without him knowing it, the armor had changed back into the shape of a hand, so he bent down and picked up a fist-sized stone. He aimed directly at the other man’s head and let the stone fly. What happened next was not pretty, but it got the job done. Ethan Killdeer dropped his fists to his sides and turned to Gideon. “I had it covered, son.”
“Yeah, I know. Where’s Devereux?” said Gideon, panting more from the rush of adrenaline than fatigue.
They spun around to the sound of rockets firing. The last three shuttles lifted above the trees and sped off into the distance. Gideon didn’t stop to think about what to do next as he sprinted forward, leaping over bodies and terrified onlookers. He quickly picked up speed, gaining on the closest shuttle. With a huge leap, he soared through the air toward the open hatch.
Terrified people looked back at him from the open rear hatch. The shuttle was packed with people, but the only one Gideon noticed was David, cowering in fear. Just as Gideon was about to land on the back of the shuttle, Devereux appeared in the opening with a rifle. He lifted the weapon and fired at Gideon. The bullets ricocheted off the Koramoa Armor harmlessly, but the impact was enough to slow his momentum. He fell short of the shuttle and came crashing down into the woods below. The three shuttles sped off into the night. Gideon ran after them, but it soon became clear that they were too far ahead now even for the Koramoa Armor. He watched them disappear over the distant hills, then turned and walked back to the camp.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
A New Path
GIDEON AWOKE ON the ground inside a tent. Through the translucent material, he could tell that he had slept well into the morning. Shivering against the cold, he threw off his blankets and groaned as he stood. He didn’t remember climbing into this tent, or pulling on the covers. The last thing he remembered was watching while they took the Sentinel Armor off the dead soldiers. The image of their bloody faces were burned into his mind, no matter how hard he tried to forget.
Reminding himself that they were traitors, that they had watched as Devereux murder Alexia, and they would have killed him if he hadn’t killed them first, didn’t help him forget their faces. He had done his duty and protected his people from a tyrant, yet he still felt like a hole had been burned into his soul. Under the influence of hate and rage, he had done something that could never be undone, and he would have to live with that forever.
His hand clasped around the stone hanging from his neck. It was warm to his touch, and somehow soothing. As he stood alone in the tent, he wondered about what he’d gotten himself into. Up until now, he hadn’t had time to think about the burden carried by a Koramoa warrior. He looked at the stone, again mesmerized by the twisting smoke that seemed to fool the senses. How could something so small be so important? How many had been killed fighting over this little stone? It was too much to think about this early in the morning, so he got dressed and ready to go look for breakfast.
Once outside, he looked up to see that it wasn’t morning at all, but midday. His stomach grumbled, and he headed toward the large central tent set up for dining. People stopped to look at him as he passed, but no one said a word, at least not to him. He tried to ignore the stares and the whispers.
Someone had taken the bodies from the middle of the camp. He was glad he hadn’t been assigned that task. At that moment, he realized there was a large fire burning in the distance. A pang of guilt rose from deep within, but he forced it back down. Those men had lit their own funeral pyres; he refused to let that guilt take root in him.
He stepped into the dining tent. There was a crowd talking and eating, but the conversation died down as every head turned to look at him. He pretended not to notice and put his head down as he made his way toward the serving line. He was almost there when a voice yelled his name from across the tent.
“Gideon!” He looked up to see Gavin McLeod hobbling toward him, grinning from ear
to ear, a white bandage wrapped around his head. “Good to see you’re awake.”
“Good to see you’re alive, Gavin,” said Gideon as he smiled and gave Gavin a hug. “How’s the head?”
Gavin tapped the bandage gingerly, then looked at the brace on his leg and shrugged. “Don’t even notice. Doctor says I just got knocked out, and my leg injury is acting up from all the activity. I’m only hobbling around to get sympathy.”
Gavin looked back up at Gideon with a grin, then pointed at the golden band around Gideon’s wrist. “That’s a neat trick you pulled last night. I never saw it coming. Neither did Devereux. I’ll never forget the look on his face.” Gavin laughed, but then his smile disappeared. “It’s bad luck they found you in the end. Sorry about Alexia and the others, Gideon, I really am.”
Gideon stared at nothing in particular. He dropped his head and nodded. “I’m going to go find them, you know.”
Gavin gave him a smile and gripped his shoulder. “Well, for now, let’s get you something to eat.” He had Gideon wait while he brought him a heaping plate of hot food. There was more food than he could possibly eat, but he did his best. Some of it was unfamiliar to him, but Gavin assured him they’d all tried it and it was safe to eat. When he could eat no more, he excused himself as best he could. He knew exactly where he wanted to go from there, and he made his way directly to the command tent. Two armored guards stood outside the tent, but they let him pass without a word. He stepped inside.
Admiral Killdeer was still wearing his armor, though now his head was uncovered. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were bloodshot, but he spoke to his officers with as much vigor and authority as Gideon had ever seen. They stood around a table littered with maps, both digital and hand-drawn.
“Gideon, you’re awake,” said Admiral Killdeer. “Did you get something to eat?”
“Yes, thank you, sir.” The setting called for the formality.