Oblivion: The Complete Series (Books 1-9)

by Joshua James

  Washburn fell down to the floor, holding his throat. He pressed his hands against the gaping wound that bisected his Adam’s apple. Looking up from the ground, where he was dying, he saw one of the Shapeless standing over him. Its whole body was changing, transforming from a churning mass of random bone and flesh into none other than the spitting image of himself.

  Saito looked down at Washburn, bleeding out on the floor. He wanted to tell him that everything would be all right. He was reborn now, good as new. Better than new. A disease-free Washburn stood before him.

  “Has anyone figured out how to use this place’s intercom?” asked the new Washburn.

  “I worked over here,” answered one of the Shapeless, masquerading as a station staff member.

  He held up a bloody HUD disc. Saito’s human memories told him that these were implanted into the base of every human’s skull when they were children. This one looked to have been extracted rather crudely.

  “Very good. Thank you.” Saito took the HUD disc and placed it in his open palm. Wires formed out of his skin and plugged into the disc so he could gain access. “Fascinating. Primitive, but fascinating. Let’s see if this works.”

  The other Shapeless all watched Saito intently as he tapped into and prepared to use the station’s intercom.

  “Attention, any surviving residents of Sanctuary Station 33. This is Captain Lee Saito of the UEF Atlas.” Saito smiled. “I hope my message finds you well.”

  Fourteen

  “That can’t be.” Ada sat up in the apartment bed, which she shared with Francesca as they watched bad reality TV. Like everyone else in their shelter, the sound of Saito’s voice definitely caught their attention.

  “What? Who is that?” asked Francesca.

  Ada jumped out of the bed and hurried into the apartment’s shared space. Rollins, Tanisha, and Tomas all stood in the middle of the room, listening in various states of shock.

  “I come to you on behalf of your Mayor Washburn, who is indisposed at the moment,” Saito continued. “Now, I know you all must be scared, and probably hesitant to trust me or anyone else at this moment. It’s understandable. But I assure you that everything is fine…” Saito droned on.

  “How did he survive?” asked Tanisha. “I mean, he was, we all saw it, he walked out there, unarmed. There’s no way.”

  “I don’t know. The old man’s one tough son of a bitch. Did you see him on the Atlas? He did go toe-to-toe with those things.” Tomas, like Tanisha, had never talked to Saito; but unlike her, he’d fought alongside him.

  “So did Ada and Jake,” Tanisha said.

  “Ada? You okay?” asked Rollins.

  Everything from the tone of Saito’s voice to his cadence was completely off. It was obviously one of them.

  Ada shook with fury. It was bad enough when it was the men and women of the Atlas. Then, she’d watched them do it to some poor little girl; now, they’d done it to Saito. He’d had his faults, but she and the captain had stood side-by-side while they’d fought the damn things off. Maybe something had gone wrong with him in the end, but he still deserved better than this.

  “I’m fine,” answered Ada.

  “You know that’s not him, right?”

  Ada realized she was crying. She wiped away the tears. “I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m crying because I’m so goddamned angry,” she seethed. Ada’s fists were clenched so hard they drew blood from her palms.

  Over the speakers, the droning voice of imposter Saito seemed to be drawing to a conclusion. “… Finally, if you try and hide, we will find you, and you don’t want that. So if you would all be so kind as to meet me and my friends in the cafeteria, we’ll make your transition easy. Try and remember, death is nothing to be scared of. Just the opposite, in fact. Death is the beginning of something better: it’s freedom, it’s acceptance, it’s unity, it is happiness.”

  The station’s intercom went silent.

  Rollins placed a friendly hand on Ada’s back and rubbed it in an attempt to calm her down. It didn’t work.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked.

  “There’s nothing we can do, right?” Francesca said from the hallway. “We just got to wait here and pray for rescue, right? All we have to do is stay alive.”

  “Oh, there’s plenty we can do,” Tomas said.

  Ada glanced over at him and saw the same fury in his eyes that she felt. Her training told her to channel that anger. To be smart. To select the proper strategy.

  She told that part of her mind to screw off.

  “You heard ‘em. We can be so kind as to meet them in the cafeteria. We can make their transition easy for them,” Ada said. “We can give them freedom, unity, and goddamned happiness.”

  Fifteen

  “Those bastards! They took ‘em all!” Ace was beside himself. He checked under his seat in Lost’s cockpit. “They even took my little three-shooter!”

  “It’s part of the deal, Ace. We’re not in cuffs; in return, we help them find the Atlas,” Ben said as he checked the levels and instruments inside the ship.

  “Sounds like a terrible deal.”

  “Would you rather be back in the brig or have a pistol in your hand?”

  “I’d rather have the pistol,” Ace said.

  “Of course he’d rather have the pistol,” mumbled Morgan. “Look, we may not have any firearms, but the ship is still armed. There’s no way they found the pop guns.”

  Ace got strangely excited. “You think so?”

  “I know so. We got guns, we got our ship.”

  “What else do we need?” Ben said.

  “A way to actually find the ship,” said Morgan.

  “Ah, yup. There’s that.” Ben sat down in his captain’s chair. “Would you believe me if I told you I told them the truth?”

  “No, because I’m not an idiot,” replied Morgan. She conducted her own checks on the piloting instruments.

  Ben had to chuckle. “Fair enough.”

  “So you have a plan?” asked Morgan.

  “I do. And it doesn’t involve helping these pricks find anything.”

  “Is it as good as your last plan? Because that worked out great!” Ace said.

  “Better. I promise,” Ben said, although he suspected that Ace would call him a liar after it was all said and done. Then again, he was probably going to do that anyway.

  Morgan had only two more piloting procedures to go through before she was done. “You gonna share with the group?”

  “Well, for starters, I have another way to find the Atlas. Yes, I told them that I knew their fold engine signature and could track the trail of anti-matter left behind by it, which is true. But I gave them the wrong engine signature information.”

  “And you have the right one?” Ace asked.

  “I do, and I already prepared for this before we left Earth. Morgan, would you be so kind as to reach under your pilot console?” Ben, pleased with his own cleverness, leaned back in his captain’s chair.

  Morgan gave Ben a suspicious look. She did as he asked and pulled up a palm-sized oblong device.

  “What in the world is this?” asked Morgan as she examined the small grey box in her hand.

  “It’s something I had a student physicist back at Annapolis make for me,” answered Ben.

  “When?”

  “After things went to shit, but before they really went to shit.”

  “That narrows it down,” Ace said.

  “It doesn’t matter. What does is that it works—I think. Toss it over here,” Ben motioned for Morgan to throw him the little grey box, and she did.

  “You think?’ asked Ace.

  “Well, yeah. I haven’t like, tested it or anything, but she said its design was gonna let her graduate early. So, I mean, I’m confident.” Ben entered the Atlas’ fold jump engine signature. It was nothing more than a number, but he was good with numbers. “Annnnnnd there we go. We’re all set. Now we just gotta wait for—”

  Ben was interrupted af
ter attaching the grey box to his captain’s chair by the sound of someone walking up the Lost’s ramp. Everyone in the cockpit went silent, trying to appear like they weren’t up to anything devious. It had the opposite effect. Luckily, the AIC officer who popped his head into their cockpit was young, inexperienced, and a little nervous.

  “Is everything set here?” he asked.

  He looked around the cockpit quickly. Ben knew he was supposed to be looking for anything out of the ordinary; but seeing that he’d never been in anything like the Lost’s cockpit before, everything probably looked a little strange. So, if everything was strange, nothing was.

  “We’re all set for launch,” Ben said, all business. He had the grey box in his hands, but it was far too inconspicuous to raise an issue.

  Sure enough, the young officer just nodded. “Good. Good. I’ll inform the captain and you’ll be underway.”

  The Lost was on a circular landing/launch pad inside the Perseverance’s docking bay. It was activated, slowly turning the small ship in the right direction, out towards the plasma shield that separated the inside of the dreadnought from open space.

  “Crew of the Lost, this is Perseverance flight control. You have been cleared for launch. Commence launch in t-minus two minutes,” said a voice from flight control through the cockpit radio.

  “Okay, spin up those fold engines,” ordered Ben. His plan was a simple boosted launch, as they used to call it in the UEF Navy. Used when retreating from a dying dreadnought or spaceship carrier, a boosted launch meant that the ship quickly used traditional means to leave the docking bay and immediately fold jumped upon hitting space. It would be too fast for the Perseverance’s nearspace cannons to track them and shoot them down, which meant it was certainly too fast for fighters to intercept. In theory, they should’ve been home free. Plus, they could set their jump coordinates just outside where they’d tracked the Atlas’ engine signature to.

  “Crew of the Lost, this is flight control. Launch in five, four, three…”

  Morgan’s hand tightened on the flight stick. Ace put on his mag bracelets. Ben sweated and fidgeted nervously. Partly it was the boosted launch. It was a risk. Morgan was clearly quite capable, but it would require some quick adjustments.

  The bigger thing worrying Ben was simply what he was going to find on the other side.

  “Two, one, launch!” instructed flight control.

  “Launch,” echoed Ben.

  Morgan brought the Lost up off the landing/launch pad and slowly hovered out towards the plasma shield. Once they reached it, she accelerated her way out of the Perseverance. Seconds after emerging, the fold engines were activated, and the small ship disappeared.

  Ben made a point to always close his eyes through the whole bending-time-and-space portion of a fold jump. In fact, most people did. There were stories of pilots and officer crews looking out the observation windows and seeing the mind-twisting reality of manipulating reality, and losing it. That, combined with the oppressive g-forces, just made him nauseous.

  When he opened his eyes, he instantly regretted it. The Lost had made its fold jump.

  A wall of AIC fighters was lined up in a row, seemingly waiting for them to arrive.

  Sixteen

  “Any more clever plans, Capitán?” Ace said sarcastically.

  Ben resisted the urge to point how he’d yet to come up with anything remotely helpful since they’d left Earth.

  “I second that,” Morgan said. “Minus the douchiness. If you have an idea, now’s the time.” Her artificial eyes scanned the intimidating force before them.

  “What the hell is that?” Ben looked past the fighters to a large orb of living, churning liquid metal on the other side of the space station.

  “Not so much a plan as a question,” Ace said, but his voice trailed off. He too was mesmerized by it. “That’s…never seen anything like that before,” he said at last.

  “We’ve got bigger problems,” Morgan snapped. Ben assumed she was talking about the fighters, but she was pointing to the display from their rear cameras.

  A huge AIC dreadnought, surrounded by a pair of cruisers, folded into space directly behind them.

  The Perseverance had tracked them.

  Instantly, as if they’d been primed to launch on arrival, dozens of fighters spewed forth from the dreadnought.

  They initially converged on the Lost, which, Ben felt, justified his hunch that they must’ve put some kind of tracking device on the Lost while it was docked.

  And why not? Ben suddenly felt very, very dumb that he hadn’t thought of that. He would’ve done the same thing if their positions had been reversed.

  The fighters soon came to a halt in space, midway between the Perseverance and the Lost.

  Ben figured that LeFleur and the AIC were talking to the other AIC fighters. Beyond the row of fighters, and next to the churning liquid metal orb that drew so much attention, sat a large, asymmetrical space station. It must be the eponymous Sanctuary Station 33.

  “What’s going on? Why haven’t they blown us into space dust?” asked Ace.

  “I dunno,” answered Morgan.

  “Best-case scenario? They aren’t actually on the same side.”

  “In case you didn’t notice, they’re AIC fighters,” Ace said.

  “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe they’re stolen. Could be pirates,” Ben offered. He wasn’t sure if he believed himself, but the way that LeFleur had reacted earlier made him think she genuinely didn’t expect other AIC ships in action.

  “Best-case scenario, the two sides start fighting and we can slip away.” Ben tensely kept switching his attention back and forth from the windows in the cockpit to the rearview cameras, and back again.

  “And the worst-case scenario?” Ace asked.

  “Pretty much the same as the best-case scenario, but we die in the crossfire. All I know is, we need to be ready to move and move fast.”

  “Got it,” agreed Morgan.

  Suddenly a group of the fighter ships guarding the station sped past the Lost towards the Perseverance. That was met with aggression in response. In a matter of seconds, fire erupted between the two sides and the fight was on.

  “Get us outta this shit!” ordered Ben as spaceborne missiles and superheated plasma rounds flew by them. A couple of energy particles smashed the hull.

  “Way ahead of you, Cap,” Morgan said, instantly diving straight downwards, as if she was hoping to go under the fighting, then take refuge in the dark behind the space station.

  Morgan’s plan was sound, but the Lost’s attempted flight from the battle was noticed. Two AIC fighters broke out of the main engagement and dove after them. It was hard to tell which side they belonged to. In fact, Ben wondered how anyone in the intensifying space battle knew who was who.

  “I’m having a little trouble shaking them. Those fighters. They’re a lot faster and more agile than this piece of junk,” Morgan said as the ship’s shields took hit after hit. She was right. With nothing but open space between them and the station ahead of them, they were at a severe disadvantage.

  Then Ben had an idea. It was a crazy idea, a long shot, but it was better than nothing. “Don’t try to shake them.”

  “What?” Morgan asked.

  “Turn us around and fight.”

  “I like the sentiment,” Ace said from behind Ben, “but how’s that going to work?”

  “We only have the boom sticks,” Morgan said. Her apprehension was understandable. The only weapons the AIC hadn’t stripped in the Perseverance’s docking bay were flak guns. Firing high-speed superheated baseball-sized chunks of steel, they were very effective at close range, mostly used to breach lifeless ships. But they had their limits, and against the long-, mid-, and short-range capabilities of fighters, those limitations only became more pronounced.

  “Transfer power to the forward shields and get in close,” Ben said. “Then we shred those bastards.”

  “That’s it? That’s your plan?” Ace said.
>
  “I thought you were tired of running away.”

  “I’m good with fighting if you have an actual plan.”

  “Do it, Morgan,” Ben said.

  Morgan looked skeptical, but one hard turn later and the Lost barreled straight towards the two fighters that pursued it.

  “The shields…” Morgan kept track of the shields’ power meters as she piloted the Lost towards the fighters, who must’ve thought it was time to play space chicken and flew straight towards them. As shown by the rapidly descending numbers, their only protection was almost at its limit.

  Beyond the muzzle flashes from the oncoming fighters, Ben could see the battle raging above. The bright orange, yellow, and white streaks from bullets and missiles flew in every direction. Some hit, evidenced by little explosions. Most missed, or collided with shields. Thirty nearspace defensive cannons on the Perseverance did most of the heavy-duty fighting, targeting the mystery fighters protecting the space station and easily blowing them to bits. Slowly that huge orb of churning liquid metal, easily twice as big as the station and the dreadnought, moved closer.

  “Keep it steady. We’ll be okay.” Ben by no means thought that they’d be okay. The shields were almost depleted. His plan might take out one of the fighters, but taking out both of them would take superhuman piloting and/or a minor miracle.

  And the man with one arm and one leg didn’t put much stock in miracles.

  Seventeen

  “Cap?… Ben?” Morgan was nervous. Ben had never seen her nervous before.

  “A few more seconds. Keep her steady.” Ben wanted to wait until he was right on top of the fighters. The closer the better. Once they were maybe three or four seconds away from impact, he gave the order. “Fire!”

  Morgan opened up on the fighters. One of them barrel-rolled out of the way of the super-hot shrapnel being fired their way. The other took the brunt of the attack. Unfortunately for whomever or whatever was piloting it, there was genuine logic to Ben’s plan.