Darkest Days

by N. W. Harris

  “You must know they have to die,” was Jules’ answer to their flabbergasted gazes.

  The conviction in the tall girl’s face swayed him from trying to talk sense into her. Steve appeared too stunned to think, as did Maurice. Tracy’s eyes had pain in them. She seemed to know what had to be done. Still, he could tell she dreaded what he would say. He needed her, perhaps more than any of his friends. They all needed her. He hoped she wouldn’t hate him.

  “Jules,” Shane said, his voice wavering. “You’ll have to be restrained.”

  “Restrained?” Pelros demanded. He kneeled by the fire, his hands bound behind him. “She should be executed immediately.”

  “Silence,” Jones growled at him. “Or you’ll be gagged.”

  “If we don’t kill them, then we’ll be killed with them,” Jules pleaded, looking at everyone except the captain. “You have to believe me.”

  “Why do we have to believe you?” Maurice asked, his voice gentle.

  “Because I know it,” she replied. “I know it like Kelly knows all the weird shit she knows. You can’t ignore this.”

  “We can’t just start killing people because your gut tells you they need to die,” Tracy replied, the sadness in her voice tearing at Shane’s heart.

  “You don’t understand.” Jules’ brow wrinkled, her frustration evident. “I don’t want to kill them. I’m doing it for you. I’m doing it for all of us.”

  “Maurice,” Shane said as calmly as he could. “Can you please get some rope?”

  “For what?” Tracy objected, her eyes wide.

  “Jules needs to be restrained,” he repeated, hoping she hadn’t thought he’d decided to hang her. “We can’t trust her not to do this again.”

  Tracy nodded, appearing somewhat relieved though still more distraught than he’d seen her in a long while. Maurice returned with a rope, and Shane helped tie Jules’ hands behind her, being sure not to cut off her circulation.

  “Take her back to the fire,” he said to Steve once he was satisfied she couldn’t get loose.

  He watched the linebacker lead Jules away, his stunned friends following them. Alone with the rebels and the Anunnaki prisoner, he turned to Jones. The captain’s usual stoic expression was gone, replaced by sorrow and anger.

  “They were my children,” Jones said quietly, standing over the dead clones.

  “My sympathies, Captain,” Shane said sincerely, worried he’d want revenge against Jules.

  “It’s not your fault. Or hers.” Jones’ shoulders slumped in defeat. “We brought this upon ourselves.”

  Jones looked at Pelros. The prisoner held his gaze for a moment, seeming to formulate some comeback. Then his eyes fell to the dead clones.

  “It won’t happen again,” Shane promised, trying to muster an expression of empathy. He didn’t want to belittle Jones’ loss, but it took effort to react to the dead clones laying on the grass, their tan faces aglow in the firelight.

  Returning to his campfire, he stopped in front of a patch of tall fescue. Trampled by the kids when they set up camp, most of the grass in the field lay on its side. Just the few blades survived, their dry stalks holding seed-heavy heads three feet above the ground. Sort of like the humans, he thought, so few remained.

  Even above the snoring of hundreds of kids, he could hear the songs of the field crickets, not yet killed off by the first frost. Tilting his head back, he looked up at the night sky. Only stars up there, no alien spaceship orbiting with Kelly imprisoned in it. Now she was here, but he still didn’t have her back, and he bore some of the blame. He’d condemned her to this fate when he agreed to let Lily activate her slave persona.

  At least she was still alive, and Kelly’s memory loss didn’t seem to affect her ability to empathize and be kind. Her little sister was a stranger to her, but Kelly had made a point to hike the second half of the day next to Nat. The little girl seemed to benefit greatly from her big sister’s attention.

  He stepped around the clump of grass, hoping it survived until they left.

  “I’m going to grab some firewood,” Tracy said with a quiver in her voice that frightened him.

  She took a last look at Jules with a mix of frustration, terror, and heartache in her eyes, and then turned and walked toward the forest.

  They didn’t need more wood. He didn’t know what time it was, but he guessed the sun would be up in an hour or so, and then they’d be on their way. Shane glanced at Maurice and Steve, who were sitting on either side of Jules. Maurice nodded toward Tracy, indicating Shane should go and make sure she was all right.

  “I’m going to help,” Shane said and walked after Tracy.

  She slowed to a stop after she got past the last squad of sleeping kids. Her chin dropped to her chest, her shoulders heaved once, and then she stood motionless, staring at the ground.

  Shane stopped a respectful distance away, gazing into the shadows the firelight made dance upon the trees.

  “This is such horseshit,” Tracy said with a hushed voice. “I mean, haven’t we done everything right? We’ve fought this thing every step of the way, trying to set it straight. But we keep getting crapped on.”

  “Sure seems that way, doesn’t it?” Shane replied.

  Tracy crossed her arms and stared into the forest. Even in the dark, he could see her expression seethed with rage. He half expected the trees to catch fire under her gaze and was grateful she wasn’t looking at him. Keeping quiet, he stood nearby. She’d scooped him up a time or two, and he was ready to return the favor.

  “I can’t stand the uncertainty,” she said. “At least before, we knew who we were, and who the enemy was. I’ve got a bad feeling about this green thing. Look what it’s done to Jules and Kelly.”

  “We don’t know it did this to them,” he said. “It could’ve been caused by what they went through with the Anunnaki.”

  “My gut tells me it’s Greenie,” Tracy replied, her voice calmer.

  “You gonna be all right?” He studied her, concerned.

  “You know I will,” she said, glancing at him. “I’m just pissed off, that’s all.”

  The footfall of a person behind them drew his attention. One of the new kids, a skinny boy who was taller than Shane, walked by them. He stepped into the forest to relieve himself, by the sound of it. When he came out, the firelight glinted off the watch on his wrist.

  “That wouldn’t happen to be a windup watch, would it?” Shane asked, doubtful. He had made it a habit to ask everyone still wearing a watch the same question. Unfortunately, they’d all run on batteries and didn’t work anymore.

  “Yeah, it is,” the boy replied, sounding groggy. He looked down at the timepiece, then at Tracy and Shane. His right hand slid over the watch, concealing it from view like he worried they might try to take it from him. “My great-grandfather gave it to me.”

  “Does it work?” Shane asked. “What time is it?”

  “Seven thirty,” the boy replied, then hurried past them back to his campfire.

  “Must be wrong,” Tracy mused. “Sun would be rising by now.”

  “I wouldn’t tell him that,” Shane said. “He seemed awfully proud of it.”

  Tracy nodded, then looked back at the forest.

  “Can I buy you breakfast?” Shane asked, hoping to lighten her mood.

  “Sure,” she replied, shrugging. “It’s not like I’m going to get anymore sleep tonight.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Athos dropped off the last step onto the ground, Earth’s intense gravity sending a shockwave through every bone in his body. When they’d touched down in Egypt, they were forced to take off before he had a chance to exit the ship. His legs ached with fatigue like he had never known, but he still felt a thrill from setting foot on this legendary planet.

  Although the infinite reaches of space dwarfed it, the Anunnaki empire covered an area spanning several galaxies. He’d personally been on more habitable planets than he could count, but it still gave him a thrill each time
to set foot on a new planet, especially on Earth, a planet that had captivated the Anunnakis’ imagination for millennia. Breathing in the cool, oxygen-rich air, he surveyed the starry sky. Anu was closer to the center of the galaxy, he reflected. She had more starlight, if she was still there.

  He stepped aside to make room for his entourage. Exhaustion showed in his Shock Troop soldiers’ eyes, though they kept their expressions stoic and their shoulders back, pride and duty giving them strength. A glimmer of the excitement he felt flashed across their faces when their feet lighted upon the concrete, though they seemed to do their best to hide that as well.

  The loyal humans slouched or sat down on the bottom step, looking nearly as tired as he felt. He knew they’d all need a break before heading out into the city. The Pegasus towered above everything. A primitive commercial aircraft, probably one of the larger ones the humans flew, lay flattened under the massive ship’s base. The round fuselage had been sheared off near the aircraft’s aft end, leaving only the tail intact on the ground next to the ship.

  The solid corners of the Pegasus’ outer hull remained, her golden skin stripped away. They rose from the ground to above the ship’s city, meeting at a sharp point somewhere high in the darkness. Beholding it made him angry. The green alien had killed his people, likely destroyed his entire home planet. He wanted revenge, though it was also hard not to feel intimidated.

  He had his resolve, but without the muscle-enhancing armor to shore up his strength, he felt as weak as a child. This wasn’t an ideal place to rest, down among the humans, but he didn’t see how they had a choice. His soldiers wouldn’t make it very far if he didn’t give them a break.

  “We camp here, until daybreak,” he said, hiding his exhaustion the best he could.

  A relieved sigh came from one of the younger Shock Troop soldiers, earning him a warning glance from Athos.

  “Find some empty dwellings that are easy to defend.” The general pointed at the lower levels of the ship. “Get some rest.”

  The bottom parts of the Pegasus housed sailors and soldiers who lived aboard the ship with their families in modest apartments while on deployment. Since landing on the planet, all Anunnaki had been moved to the upper levels. Loyal humans and Anunnaki soldiers who were on duty had taken up residence in these lower homes.

  It felt safer on the ground than he expected. The loyal humans who had been aboard the Pegasus still wore their white shipboard uniforms. They carried out their commanders’ orders with zeal, just as well as if they were still enslaved. After being told the green entity was what had killed their parents, they’d worked tirelessly in the effort to fight back.

  A wide area surrounding the Pegasus had been fortified. The humans pushed vehicles and aircraft into place to form the foundation of the perimeter wall, and random bits of debris piled on top gave it height.

  “Report,” Athos said to the Anunnaki soldier who was organizing a growing supply store at the bottom of the steps.

  A chain of humans moved weapons and other supplies up to the Pegasus’ city. The soldier looked over her shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and she snapped to attention and delivered a salute.

  “We’ve found quite a few of the humans’ projectile-firing guns,” the soldier said. “They don’t use electricity to operate and worked perfectly when tested.”

  “How many have been accumulated?” Athos picked up one of the clunky weapons. It was heavier than he expected and not very well balanced.

  “A few hundred,” the soldier replied.

  “Hundreds?” Athos was not impressed. “We need thousands if we are to create an army. Every citizen must have one of these weapons, and sufficient ammunition.” He pointed at the top of the Pegasus. “And every human who is loyal to us will need a weapon as well.”

  “Yes, sir,” the soldier replied.

  “This is a life-or-death situation here, for all of us,” he said, speaking loudly enough to be heard by the humans working nearby. “Our effort must be absolute.”

  He walked toward the apartments, then turned around and watched once shadows concealed him. The humans who’d heard him moved supplies faster. His gaze drifted up the line. Torches had been mounted along the sides of the staircase and around the perimeter of the city at the top. The flames gave enough light to work, and they added primitive majesty to the ship.

  He’d seen video feeds of Earth pyramids, recorded when humans still believed the Anunnaki were gods. Willing to sacrifice their children to appease his ancestors, the earlier version of humans gladly offered up a bloody cornucopia of entertainment and affirmed their inborn desire to serve. Some of his favorite human wars were those early ones, where most battles were fought with hand-to-hand combat.

  The Pegasus looked like the mother of all pyramids. Humans were designed to obey all along, and the skeleton of a recruit ship lit up by torches struck that primal cord. It reminded them of their purpose.

  His legs aching, the general made his way to the apartment to the left of the stairs, which had been converted into a command center.

  An officer greeted him at the door. “A room has been prepared for you, sir.” Carrying a candle to light the way, he led the general into the apartment and to a bedroom.

  “Wake me at daybreak,” Athos ordered.

  “Yes, sir.”

  After thanking the officer, he entered the dark room and pulled the door shut. He felt his way to the bed and collapsed onto it, sighing at the pleasure he felt from being off his feet. The sun would rise shortly, and they’d have to get moving. For now, he just needed a couple of hours of rest.

  The pall of sleep gave way to a dream. Athos sat at the Central Coliseum in the capital city on Anu. It was the largest in the empire, with an arena that had seen entire armies battle in it. The roar of citizens cheering deafened him. Far below in the arena, he could see hundreds of human slaves. Dressed in the white shipboard uniforms with the black stripe down their torsos, they stood in parade ranks.

  The ornate gates along the walls of the arena opened, and all kinds of beasts and slave soldiers stepped onto the sand. Stilapian wolves exited from one door and starving Valian lions from another. A myriad of armed slave soldiers from different planets across the empire lumbered out with primitive weapons from each of their worlds. Outnumbered ten to one, the humans did not sway in their ranks. They appeared unconcerned about the storm of death building around them.

  “How can they fight so many?” a small voice beside him asked.

  Athos glanced down at a young version of Pelros. The child clung to the general’s hand with an expression of concern on his face. Anunnaki children usually weren’t allowed to attend the coliseum until they were older and their bloodlust began to develop. He regretted bringing the boy to the games on a day when the aristocrats had clearly decided they wanted to see these slaves’ white uniforms turned crimson by their blood.

  “They’ll do fine,” he said to Pelros.

  He turned to usher the boy out before the battle started, but the spectators rose to their feet and blocked him in. Citizens without seat assignments crowded into the walkways, pushing each other to see. Athos was in the front row, and young Pelros had a direct view of the arena floor. He couldn’t make a scene by trying to cover the boy’s eyes. There was no other option but to let him watch.

  Super predators from every planet and the largest, strongest slave soldiers Athos had encountered charged the humans’ ranks. In beautifully synchronized movements, the human slaves formed a circle, their short swords pointed outward.

  Athos strained his eyes, watching to see if any humans perished as the first beasts collided with their ranks. Waiting until the last possible moment so the massive creatures would not be able to slow or change their course, they parted to absorb the animals, and then drove their swords into the creatures’ sides.

  Using the distraction to their advantage, slave soldiers from different planets attacked the humans just after the predators. The humans were waitin
g for them, slaughtering their should-be executioners with only a handful of casualties among their own.

  Within moments, only humans still breathed on the coliseum floor. The white sand turned black, a rainbow of different-colored bloods intermingling. Athos watched, stunned by the lethal precision he’d witnessed. His heart pounded in his chest. A lust to see these soldiers on a battlefield consumed him, and the cheering of millions of his fellow citizens fueled the fire.

  The human slaves regrouped, bringing their ranks back to the defensive circle broken by the carcasses of animals and bodies of the other aliens. The slaves stood motionless, and the cheers of the Anunnaki spectators diminished to silence. Athos glanced at his nephew, whose eyes were filled with joy. His heroes had survived. Athos reminded himself to have a talk with the boy later about how the humans belonged to the Anunnaki, and how it was important not to grow attached to them. Someday, he hoped this boy could take his place and be a leader in the military. He’d have to send slave soldiers to their deaths, and he needed to understand they were simply tools to be used to accomplish the mission of bringing order to the universe.

  Pelros backed away, and fear washed over his soft features. Athos followed his gaze to the arena floor. Humans charged the perimeter wall, their eyes lit up with a green light. They shouted angry insults, waving their weapons at the spectators above them as they ran. Citizens booed in response, shouting disappointment at the slaves’ behavior. The humans concentrated their rage at the podium, at Athos and the other military commanders.

  “Do not worry, child,” Athos said to his nephew. “They cannot climb the walls.”

  “Look, Uncle!” Pelros said, pointing.

  Hands came over the safety railing in front of them. Then heads popped up with green light shining from the eyes. Athos leaned forward and punched the closest slave in the face. The human’s nose crunched under Athos’ fist, but its glowing eyes remained focused. He grabbed the slave’s wrist and pushed him off his precarious stoop, sending him plummeting to the arena floor.