Colony B Box Set

by Michael Campling

  Mac nodded. “I’ve got people too. Lots of people. They’ll be looking for me.” He looked Phoebe in the eye, and his expression hardened. “Maybe you’re the one who should be running. Maybe you should go right now while you’ve got the chance.”

  Phoebe shook her head firmly. “If anyone comes near, or so much as fires a shot in this direction, I’ll take you out. We’ll see how your friends behave without their leader.”

  Mac smiled, and for just a fraction of a second, his eyes went to the table. Phoebe followed his gaze, and her heart lurched in her chest. The comms unit lay on the table, and on its side, a single red light pulsed.

  She brandished her rifle at Mac. “What the hell have you done?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve issued an invitation.” Mac paused to leer at her. “The guests will be here presently. In fact, they might be outside right now.”

  “Goddammit!” Phoebe adjusted her aim, pointing her rifle at Mac’s chest. She’d incapacitate him for the time being, then check out the front and see if Mac’s troops were on the way. She pulled the trigger, but Mac roared and lunged sideways, diving behind the table and escaping Phoebe’s shot by the skin of his teeth. She dashed around the table to renew her aim, but Mac had rolled onto his back and drawn a sonic pistol. He fired, his shot grazing the side of Phoebe’s head, and she staggered back, pain searing through her skull, her vision blurred. Phoebe’s breath caught in her throat, and she gagged, struggling for air. Somehow, she managed to hold up her rifle, though the room was lost in indistinct shadows.

  A shape rose in front of her, and she let loose four shots, sweeping her rifle from left to right, spreading her field of fire. Mac yelled in pain, then suddenly he was barging into her, pushing her aside. Phoebe stumbled back but stayed on her feet, fighting to keep her balance despite the waves of agony swirling through her skull. Something on the floor glowed brightly, and she squinted, trying to make it out. Just his flashlight, she realized. Mac must’ve dropped it.

  Phoebe blinked, fighting against the blinding pain, and slowly the room swam back into focus. All was still, and a dark shape lay stretched on the floor. I got him, she thought. Yes! But when she scooped up the flashlight and trained it on the floor, her elation vanished in an instant. The dark shape was nothing more than a rolled-up rug.

  “Oh no!” she hissed. “But I hit him. He can’t have got away.” But the front door still stood wide open, and Mac was nowhere to be seen.

  ***

  Calum crept through the ferns to where some of the patrol team volunteers were keeping a lookout. In the starlight, he saw them turn to watch him approach, and one of them, Owen, held up his hand and waved Calum back. “I told you to stay put, Calum.”

  “But we heard shooting,” Calum protested. “Phoebe must be in trouble. Isn’t anybody going to help?”

  Owen stared at him. “Yes. Some of us are going. But I’m staying with you and the others. We need to fall back and keep everyone safe.”

  “I know a place we can go,” Calum said. “We call it the tower. You can see over the settlement from there, and there’s a ridge we could use for cover.”

  “Thanks, but we’ve got a plan. We’ll stay in the ferns and head away from the houses. It’ll be safer that way.”

  Calum pursed his lips. His plan was better, but the adults had clearly made up their minds. They wouldn’t listen to him.

  “We’ll get moving,” Owen said. “Help me round up the others. I’ll lead the way.”

  It took only a minute to get the dwindling group underway, then they moved in silence, following Owen through the dense foliage. Alan walked at Calum’s side, and both had their sonic pistols in their hands.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” Alan whispered. “We should head for the high ground.”

  “That’s what I said,” Calum replied.

  Owen stopped walking and turned on them. “Quiet, you two. You’re making enough noise to wake the dead.”

  “There’s nobody out here,” Alan argued. “Everyone’s back in the settlement—where we should be.”

  Owen shook his head. “When this is over, you can go back home. Until then, you’ll do as you’re told. Now follow me and keep quiet.”

  “Fine,” Alan snapped.

  Calum threw his friend a sharp look. “Sorry, Owen. We’ll be quiet.”

  “Good.” Owen turned away and started walking, picking his way through the tall ferns. He hesitated, turning his head from left to right. Then he was gone, slammed aside by an unseen force, a shockwave sizzling through the darkness.

  Calum stumbled to a halt, but Alan grabbed his arm and yelled, “Fire!”

  With no target in sight, Calum let fly with his pistol until some of the adults barged past him. “Stop shooting!” someone growled at them. “Stay there.”

  Calum lowered his weapon, and Alan followed suit while one of the adults fussed over Owen, helping him up to his feet.

  “Somebody’s out there,” Owen mumbled. “Heard somebody.”

  A volley of shots rang out, coming from just a few yards ahead. “Come on!” Alan urged.

  “We’re meant to stay—” Calum began, but Alan was already running into the ferns. “Oh hell!” Calum set off after his friend, dashing to catch up, the ferns whipping at his face as he ran.

  “This way!” Alan yelled, then he sprinted downhill and out of sight.

  “Wait!” Calum called. He picked up his pace, but Alan was nowhere to be seen. He stood, listening, the dark foliage pressing in on him from every side, the tall fronds whispering in the cool breeze.

  What was that? He’d heard something. Out there on the hillside, something was moving. Calum swallowed hard and readied his pistol. The sound was probably just Alan coming back to find him. Or perhaps it was one of the volunteers. Either way, he should probably call out to avoid being shot by mistake. But when he opened his mouth, no words would come. Because there, right in front of him, an unmistakable figure emerged from the shivering ferns: a man creeping forward in a half crouch, evidently unaware of Calum’s presence. Mac.

  Calum raised his pistol, his arm almost steady. “Mac! Stay there.”

  Mac turned, straightening his back. “Huh. I might’ve known you’d turn up to get in my way.”

  “Shut up!” Calum snapped. “I’ll shoot.”

  But Mac took a step closer, dragging his right leg along the ground with difficulty, and that was when Calum saw the pistol in Mac’s left hand. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to stand very still,” Mac growled, his voice little more than a guttural whisper, hoarse and tight with pain. “Because unlike you, I have the balls to use this thing.” He limped forward, his eyes glittering with fury. “Put the gun down, Calum. You hardly know what you’re doing with it in the first place.”

  Calum stepped back. “No closer. I’ll kill you. I swear to God.”

  “Oh dear,” Mac wheezed. “What a terrible thing to hear from one so young. What would your daddy say if he could see you now, eh?”

  “Shut up!” Calum waved his pistol in the air, his finger, slick with sweat, tightening on the trigger.

  But still, Mac lurched forward, forcing Calum to back away. “Not that your dear old dad will ever know about it, eh? Because I fixed him, young Calum. I fixed your dad real good, and no matter what you do, he’s never coming back. You’ll never see him again. Never. Do you hear me?”

  Calum’s arm wavered. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Shut your goddamned mouth! Right now!” He pointed his gun at Mac’s head, aiming between the man’s demonic eyes.

  “That’s it,” Mac hissed from between clenched teeth. “Go for the kill. Blow my brains out. Go on!”

  Calum’s blood sang in his ears. A rush of anger surged through him, flooding his mind. But he lowered his weapon until it was level with Mac’s stomach.

  “You people are all the same,” Mac sneered. “Bleeding hearts and high ideals but no guts. You’re pathetic.”

  “No,” Calum said calmly. “I wa
s just remembering something my sister taught me.” And he fired, his shot thumping into Mac’s left arm with enough force to spin the man around. Mac’s pistol flew from his grip, and he cried out in pain and fury.

  “Disarm,” Calum said, “and disable.” He fired again, taking Mac’s good leg from under him. Mac fell face down, his body crashing through the ferns and meeting the ground with a hollow thump. There was a sharp snap of cracking bone, and Mac writhed in pain, his arms wrapped tight around his chest, deep, low sobs tumbling from his open mouth.

  “Everybody!” Calum called. “Over here! I got him. I got Mac!” He kept his gun on Mac, holding it steady even when Alan appeared beside him, closely followed by Owen and some of the other volunteers.

  “My God!” Alan breathed. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Calum replied. “I’m fine.” He glanced at Owen. “How about you?”

  Owen gave him a brief smile. “I’m good. But listen, it’s not over, Calum. We need to deal with Mac’s friends. But you’ve played your part. Take it easy for a while. Let us finish the job.”

  Calum held out his gun, handing it to Owen. “Sure. Take this. I don’t need it.” He looked Owen in the eye. “But I think you’re wrong. It’s over already. Mac had a way of making people listen to him. Without him, they’ll go back to normal soon enough.”

  “I hope so,” Owen replied. “I really do.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The Hill

  Calum crossed the square and dropped his armful of dead branches onto the bonfire’s incandescent embers. The fire had been much bigger than usual, but even though its flames had dwindled long ago, the party was still in full swing and no one wanted it to end. Calum, along with Alan and a few of his other friends, had vowed to keep the fire going as long as they could, and while he watched, fresh flames sprang up to claim his offering.

  “Hey, Cal, look!” Alan was lumbering toward him, dragging a huge bundle of dead vines with some difficulty. “What do you think of this?”

  “Awesome.” Calum waited while his friend swung the vines onto the flames. “Where’d you find all that firewood?”

  Alan smirked. “Mac’s garden.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Damned right. I figured, why not? He’s not even allowed outdoors, so I helped myself. What’s he going to do about it? Nothing.” Alan let out a cackle of glee and Calum joined in, laughing loud and long for the sheer joy of it.

  “Oh man,” Alan said. “This is great.”

  “Yeah. It’s nice to have something to celebrate.” Calum stood for a moment, staring into the flames, thinking of the last fire they’d had in the square: the party that had marked a birth, but also the beginning of so much else besides.

  “You wish your dad was here,” Alan stated.

  Calum looked up. “And Siobhan too.”

  “They’ll be back.” Alan thumped him on the shoulder. “Don’t pay any attention to that garbage Mac told you. He was just trying to mess with your mind.”

  “I know,” Calum said. “Even so, it feels like Siobhan’s been away a long time.” He glanced over to where his mom sat on a rug. She was helping out, as usual, fussing over other people’s children. But sometimes, when she looked at him, Calum saw the pain in her eyes, and a need he couldn’t fulfill. It tore him apart, but there was nothing he could do about it. Not one thing.

  “Come on,” Alan said. “Let’s go get some more wood. There’s a whole mess of this stuff around Mac’s house. We can build the fire right up—get it going properly.”

  “All right,” Calum replied. “Why not?”

  CHAPTER 17

  The Rover

  Connor leaned forward and peered past Parry to study the rover’s control panel. “How are we doing? Back on course?”

  Parry shook his head. “Sorry, but it’s not good. What do you think, Cate?”

  Cate glanced across from her position in the driving seat. “We were doing okay until it got dark. Since then…” She shrugged. “Maybe we should stop until morning.”

  Connor twisted around in his seat to talk to Siobhan and Ben. They’d been poring over the displays at the workstation for a while, their heads together, talking in conspiratorial whispers. “All okay back there? Is Milo all right?”

  “He’s resting on the cot,” Siobhan replied. “And yeah, we’re doing all right, but the trail has been getting patchy for hours. It’s pretty much non-existent.”

  “The grunge has grown back,” Ben added. “I’m getting some tire tracks from the rover now and then, but not much else.”

  Connor sighed. “All right, let’s call it a day. Damn! I thought we’d make it back today.”

  “We could keep going if we slow down,” Ben suggested. “The computer stored all the nav data from our trip out, and with a bit of tweaking, I can get it to show the route on the control panel.”

  “That’s great,” Connor said, his eyebrows raised. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

  “Because it’s not perfect,” Ben admitted. “The program isn’t really designed to be used that way. It’s just an idea I’ve been working on…with Siobhan.”

  Connor studied Ben’s expression. He hadn’t missed the way the young man had said his daughter’s name. And when he looked at Siobhan, there was a softness in her gaze he hadn’t seen for a long time. Oh boy, he thought. Still, Ben had gone up in his estimation over the last few days, and he was only a few years older than Siobhan; she could do worse.

  Connor cleared his throat. “Okay, when you say not perfect, what degree of error are we talking about?”

  Ben shared a look with Siobhan. “About twenty percent either way. It’s hard to be more specific until we test it properly, and that’s—”

  “Hard to do in the dark,” Connor interrupted.

  Ben nodded. “No landmarks. No magnetic field we can rely on. No satellite data. No reference points.”

  “Let’s give it a try,” Parry called back to them. He gave Connor a smile that said, Give the youngsters a chance.

  “All right,” Connor said. “Do your stuff guys, and patch it through to Cate.”

  “Doing it already,” Siobhan said. “It should be coming through now.”

  Cate frowned, adjusting her steering then referring back to the control panel. “It’s slow to respond.”

  “Best I can do,” Ben replied. “If we take it easy, it’ll be better.”

  As if to prove his point, Cate twisted the yoke and sent the rover into a hard turn. “I see what you mean,” she said with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Slowing now.”

  The noise level in the cabin dropped as Cate reduced the rover’s speed, and the ride was suddenly smoother. Connor relaxed in his seat and let his eyes drift closed. It had been one hell of a day, and it wasn’t done yet. He thought of Helen and Calum and wondered what they were doing. They’re probably eating a home-cooked meal, he thought. Or maybe they’re getting ready to turn in for the night.

  “What’s that?” Ben asked, raising his voice.

  Connor’s eyes snapped open. He turned around. “What’ve you got?”

  “I don’t know,” Ben replied. “Shiv, this panel here. What’s it showing?”

  “It’s the one you set up before. You said something about a heat trail from the trucks. I was just playing around with the settings and…oh! I see what you mean.” She turned to face Connor. “There’s a heat source. And I think…yes, it’s up high. Like it’s on…I mean, I’m not sure but it could be…”

  “On a hill?” Connor suggested.

  Siobhan glanced at Ben, then together, they said, “Yes.”

  Parry let out a hoot of triumph. “A fire! They’re having a goddamned party!”

  Connor chortled in disbelief. “A party? Seriously?”

  “What else can it be?” Parry asked. “A heat source on the high ground—it has to be a fire. A big one.”

  Connor nodded slowly. “All right. Ben, can you use it for reference?”

 
“Way ahead of you, Dad,” Siobhan replied. “Way ahead.”

  “That figures,” Connor said, and he gave her a smile before slumping back in his seat, the weight of the last few days lifting from his shoulders. This is really happening, he told himself. We’ll all be together again.

  “We’re on our way!” Parry yelled, and this time, when Parry lifted his head to whoop with joy, Connor joined in, throwing back his head and hollering at the ceiling. Finally, he was going home.

  EPILOGUE

  Truck One

  Lyndsey was sitting on the edge of her narrow bed when someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” she called out, and David Brandt opened the door a little and appeared in the gap, his face slightly flushed. “Sorry to bother you, but I think you’ll want to see this straight away. You’ve got inbound comms traffic from Earth. They must’ve sent you a message.”

  She frowned. “About what?”

  “I don’t know, it’s encrypted. Shall I patch it through to the cockpit?”

  “Yes,” Lyndsey said, and then she remembered that Kyrksen was taking a shift in the pilot’s seat. “Wait, I’ll come out and pick it up from my workstation. I’ll be right there.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  Lyndsey stared into space for a moment, deep in thought, and when she looked up to say thank you to David, he’d already gone, shutting the door behind him. “Thanks,” she murmured to the empty room, then she ran her hands over her face, massaging her eyes. This had better be good news, she thought. It’s about time we caught a break. She allowed herself a small sigh, then she stood and let herself out, making her way into the main compartment at her usual brisk pace.

  David glanced up from his work, but he didn’t say anything, and when Lyndsey took her seat, she found that her workstation had been made ready for her. All she had to do was log in and access her message. “Thanks, David,” she called over her shoulder. “Efficient as always.”

  “We try,” David replied.

  Lyndsey logged in, entering her passcode quickly, then she sat back and watched as her comms panel came alive. And her eyes went wide. For years, she’d seen nothing but outgoing messages: endless reports and updates that she’d dutifully filed and sent on their way back to Earth. The short list of incoming messages had remained unchanged for so long, she could hardly remember when she’d last read something new. But all that was changing, right in front of her. The column of incoming traffic filled rapidly then scrolled upward as more and more messages appeared. There were dozens of them, and the list was growing all the time. She half turned in her seat. “David, has there been some sort of glitch in the comms system or something?”