Emergence

by Ken Lozito

  He spotted the perimeter fencing in the distance and knelt down to the ground. Using his implants to enhance his vision, he zoomed in to have a closer look, wishing he’d thought to bring recon drones. They would’ve been useful and could have taken some of the guesswork out of sneaking into the camp.

  The perimeter fencing was dark gray with only slight gaps between the slats, which made it difficult to see through. The fence was about seven meters tall, angling toward the camp at the top.

  Noah gestured for Dash to lean toward him. “We’ll circle around, note the entrances, and get a feel for the layout.”

  Dash nodded, and they kept moving. The camp was even bigger than they’d initially thought, probably a thousand meters across. There were a number of rovers parked near two armed Hellcats. Three troop carriers were at an offshoot landing area that was away from the camp proper. Those troop carriers definitely had the capacity to transport NEIIS stasis pods. Noah counted over forty temporary housing units, as well as what looked like larger, hangar-size units, but they couldn’t see inside any of them from where they were. He noticed that several guard towers weren’t manned, and of the towers that were, the guards seemed preoccupied with focusing their attention on the interior of the camp.

  “I need to get inside there,” Noah said and considered for a moment. “You should wait out here.”

  Dash shook his head. “I’m not letting you go in there by yourself.”

  Noah thought about trying to talk him out of it, but instead, he worked his way closer to one of the entrances. There was a small access area, and Noah checked to see if there was any type of security monitoring. There wasn’t anything, so they went through to the inside of the camp. Whoever was in charge likely didn’t expect anyone to find them there.

  He didn’t have an accurate count of the population. The people he could see wore civilian field clothing that ranged from Field Ops green to khaki. There were no insignias, and he couldn’t tell who these people were, but they moved and interacted like soldiers.

  Noah stayed near the perimeter, close to the temporary housing units, and headed toward the large storage warehouse. He figured if there was anything worth finding, it would be there. He caught snippets of conversations as they made their way through the camp, but not much of it made any sense. They continued on, and Noah stopped them at a seam where two sections of the walls were joined together. He leaned toward the gray wall and tried to hear if anyone was on the other side.

  “How are we going to get inside?” Dash asked.

  Noah ran his fingers along the seam and felt around the bottom for the release handle. He pulled it, and a section of the lower panel separated from its neighbor. He tugged it open enough for them to slip through and gestured for Dash to go first. They entered the enclosure, and Noah pulled the panel closed.

  Inside was a row of prefab rooms arranged in what Noah expected would be a grid formation if he’d been able to see it from above. Heavy thumps sounded, as if they were coming from the far side of the storage area. They carried a certain cadence. Thump…Thump…Thump…Thump… Then there was a long pause, only to begin again. Noah raised a finger to his lips and Dash nodded. They crept along as quietly as they could.

  Noah heard shouting coming from one of the rooms ahead of them. It was muffled, so he wasn’t sure which place it had come from. The rooms weren’t connected, and there was just enough space between them for Noah to walk. There were windows on the sides, and he crept along until he was just outside one of them. He leaned over and looked inside.

  There were several men in the room, but they all had their backs to him so he couldn’t see their faces. A couple of them just stood there while the others seemed to be pacing. Noah squatted down and crawled below the window, coming up on the other side of it. The thumping sounds from farther away quickened in tempo, and Noah’s heart rate rose in response.

  This time when he looked inside the window, he froze. Strapped to a chair was a NEIIS! It wore the compression suit they had used for stasis, only now it was dirty and torn. The alien had gray, pebbled skin akin to that of a reptile, and its thick brows went all the way to the back of its head. Pointy protrusions stemmed from the creature’s shoulders, and its long arms were tied to the arms of the chair it sat in. Two men stood on either side with stun batons in hand. A woman stood in front of the NEIIS and there was a holoscreen above her wrist computer. Noah could barely see what was on the screen, but it looked like NEIIS symbols.

  One of the men jabbed the NEIIS in the side with a stun baton, and it leaned away. The muscles in its neck went rigid, and its wide mouth formed a grim line as it uttered a guttural yowl. A man came to stand behind the NEIIS and gestured toward the man with the stun baton to stop. He looked at his captive, asking a question that Noah couldn’t hear. Then he glanced toward the window. Noah’s eyes widened.

  Lars!

  Then Noah dropped to the ground. As he hurriedly crawled away, he almost collided with Dash. A heavy door squealed open. Noah heard a man yelling orders and turned to run, but someone was blocking their path. He was armed and had his weapon pointed at Noah.

  “By all means, move,” the man said, glaring at them.

  Noah raised his hands and Dash did the same. The armed man yelled for his companions.

  36

  Carl Flint leaned on the metallic door and screwed up his eyes, trying to peer through the narrow slit. A similar door was on the other side, and it was open. He heard Rollins scream, followed by sounds of a brief struggle. Then tall, armored soldiers filled the doorway, blocking Carl’s view. He clenched his teeth. Rollins never knew when to keep his mouth shut.

  Carl looked away as the soldiers dragged Rollins from the room.

  “Are they coming?” Isla Summers asked.

  Carl shook his head and looked at the others. Charlotte Lane clutched her arms in front of her chest, and her tears left streak marks down her cheeks. He wanted to tell her that they would be alright, that others would be trying to rescue them at any moment, but he couldn’t lie to her. They’d all seen the base. There were hundreds of soldiers here and weapons systems that he couldn’t begin to figure out. Even if he could get a message to Connor, it would only tell him to keep the others away. Rescue was impossible. Given the multitude of prison cells, they were hardly the first beings to have ever been captured, but they were the first humans. Carl had glimpsed some of the other prisoners—not enough for him to see them clearly other than to note that they weren’t human.

  He heard the pounding of heavy footfalls, thinking for the hundredth time that he had no idea what their captors looked like. They were more than a head taller than he was and definitely stronger. He’d learned that the hard way, but that could have been a function of the armor they wore. Even CDF combat suits augmented the strength of the wearer.

  When their submarine had been pulled onto the beach, Carl thought they were being rescued by Field Ops. They’d gone outside, and at the last second, Rollins tried to push Carl back inside. That was when everything had gone to hell. They’d unloaded their weapons and returned fire with the enemy, and they thought they’d driven them off. He’d distributed weapons to Isla and the rest of her crew on the submarine, but once they were off the sub, their attackers had come back in force. Miller and Smith were the first to die. The enemy’s weapons tore through their MPSs like they were brittle paper. Outmatched and clearly outnumbered, Carl did the only thing he could do. He threw down his weapon, and they surrendered. They would’ve all been killed otherwise.

  Heavy armored boots rumbled through the corridor as the soldiers came closer to their door.

  “They’re coming for us,” Lane gasped.

  Carl heard Isla try to comfort her. Their captors seemed to come for them randomly, and Carl believed it was to get inside their heads. Every time those heavy footfalls sounded outside their door, they clammed up in fear. Carl heard the door to the next cell open. Jaden and Foxwell bellowed as they tried to fight off their captors. S
omeone grunted loudly, as if he were trying to overpower them. Both men were broad-shouldered and thickly muscled. Someone was slammed into the wall, and Lane jumped. Carl clenched his fists. Foxwell cried out, shouting his defiance. It sounded like he was in pain and was being dragged away from them.

  The muscles in Carl’s back went rigid, and he clenched his teeth. Sooner or later they were going to come to his cell, and he tried to think of something he could do to stop them—something the others hadn’t already tried. He didn’t know the submarine crew that well. They seemed like decent people, but none of them were fighters. Their captors returned to the cells and took them one at a time. No one came back. No matter how hard anyone fought, their captors took the prisoner they’d come for. He’d heard McPherson beg to be taken first, but their captors hadn’t listened. They’d dragged Taylor from the cell across the way, the same cell they’d taken Rollins from earlier. Now all Carl could hear was faint whimpering as McPherson waited, alone in his cell. It was enough to shear away anyone’s resolve.

  If Carl had known what was going to happen, he wouldn’t have surrendered his weapon. He was a CDF infantryman, and he’d fought the Vemus on the ground to defend Sierra. He’d been part of the last soldiers to flee the city as they lured the Vemus to their own destruction. Then, after the city was destroyed and his home was gone, he continued to fight remnant Vemus forces. And he’d fight when they came to this cell. He could do that. He’d rather die on his feet than cowering before anybody or anything.

  The minutes dripped slowly by. They didn’t talk. What was there to say? Lane stifled a gasp and Isla wrapped her arm around the young woman’s shoulders, trying to comfort her. Carl glanced down at them. They were both terrified and coping with the situation as best they could. He wasn’t any less terrified, but he’d seen the ugliness of war, and it had hardened him. It didn’t take the fear away, but he wasn’t as focused on it.

  He crossed to the other side of the cell and squatted down to the floor. Charlotte leaned against his arm, and he sat the rest of the way down. Warmth blossomed along his arm where her shoulder touched him. It was such a small thing, and yet he felt a twinge deep in his chest. A memory from a roundtable session at the Recovery Institute came to him. The counselor’s voice sounded muffled in his mind, as if Carl were listening through time with his hands pressed against his ears, but he could make out that the counselor was saying how sometimes even the tiniest of gestures could grant a moment’s solace. He reached across his body and gently rubbed Charlotte’s arm. She sighed, and her breath shuddered. But the respite passed and Carl glared at the door, waiting for the inevitable.

  Heavy stomps thundered through the corridor and came to a stop outside their door. There was a pause, and then the door hissed open. They stood up. Carl wanted to step in front of the two women in a futile gesture of protection from the four towering soldiers standing outside the doorway. Their powered armor had lines of amber that patterned across their chests and down their arms and legs. The glowing amber lines made them look sinister in the dim light, but Carl could see details as if it were the middle of the day because his combat implants enhanced his vision. Their captors wore helmets and faceplates that glowed dimly, but he couldn’t see what they looked like underneath. He wanted to rip off their helmets and look into their eyes.

  One of them stepped through the doorway, holding a shaft in its hand. The soldier then clicked a button on the side and the shaft extended to over a meter in length, and the tip glowed orange. The soldier pointed the tip at Charlotte Lane, and she backed up against the wall. She clung to Carl’s arm, and he took a step forward. The soldier swung the glowing tip, pointing it at his face. Carl raised his hands in front of his chest and stepped aside. Charlotte tried to cling to his arm, and he pulled away roughly, not looking at her. He imagined her eyes were wide with shock and betrayal.

  I’m sorry, Carl thought to himself.

  The soldier pointed the glowing tip back at Charlotte and gestured with its other hand. At that precise moment, Carl lunged forward, slamming his fist down on the soldier’s arm like a sledgehammer. He grabbed the armored wrist and twisted the weapon toward the captor’s face, pushing. The glowing tip pressed against the soldier’s armored neck, and there was a release of energy. Carl growled as he pushed the startled soldier through the door. The soldier stumbled backward and went down, and Carl landed on top of it. He pressed the tip against the soldier’s neck, trying to pierce the armor. The soldier howled in pain, and Carl sneered as strong hands pulled him off. He was slammed into the wall and his feet dangled as he braced for a blow that never came. The soldier just held him there. Carl slammed his fists against the powerful armored hands that held him, but they wouldn’t budge. He lashed out at the armored head and pain blossomed from his knuckles. He might as well have been punching a boulder, and his blood smeared across the glowing faceplate. Screams came from inside the cell, and another soldier came out, dragging Charlotte behind him.

  Carl tried to break free, but an armored hand reached up and grabbed his throat. The soldier forced him to look at Charlotte as she was taken down the corridor.

  “Damn you!” Carl growled.

  The soldier Carl had surprised climbed to its feet. There was a dark mark on its neck. It tilted its head to the side, and then gestured for Carl to be taken as well. The soldier who had him pinned to the wall let him go, and he dropped to the ground. They quickly slapped restraints over his wrists and he was taken down the corridor. Charlotte saw him and muttered an apology. A dispassionate part of Carl’s brain wondered what she could possibly be sorry about. She hadn’t caused this. He glanced at the soldier he’d hurt with grim satisfaction.

  They reached the end of the corridor and turned to the left. There was a steady decline until they came to another set of doors. The soldier in front of them opened the doors and Charlotte was pulled over to the side as they shoved him through the doorway. He stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance. The large room was empty, but he saw crimson streaks on the floor. There were no windows and no other exits.

  Carl walked to the middle of the room. The ground beneath his feet began to glow, illuminating the area. He turned around and faced the door. The soldier he’d gotten the jump on stepped into the room, and the door closed behind it. The soldier held two shafts in its hands and dropped them to the floor. It then walked away from the weapons, but Carl doubted the soldier was unarmed.

  As the soldier circled around, Carl went in the opposite direction, heading toward the weapons on the floor. His back was to the door. The soldier came to a stop in the center of the room, and Carl’s gaze flicked toward the weapons on the floor. He’d seen those soldiers move in that armor. They were fast. Even if he could pick one of the weapons up, he didn’t think the fight would last long. He looked down at the restraints on his wrists, and there was an audible click as they fell to the floor. Carl breathed in sharply. His muscles tensed as he prepared to lunge forward. He’d give them a fight.

  The soldier raised its arms slowly, and there was a mechanical whirr as the armor split down the middle and opened, seeming to retract away from the wearer. Carl peered inside the armor, eager to see his captor. He’d seen the vids of Connor’s encounter with NEIIS soldiers. They were heavily muscled, with severe brows that extended to the backs of their heads. The creature in front of him looked like a distant cousin of the NEIIS, but its pale skin looked almost artificial, as if it had never been in the sun.

  The soldier stepped out of its armored shell, and it fell to the floor with a powerful thump. The NEIIS, or whatever the hell this thing was, glared at Carl. It reached for a shaft that hung on its armored belt and extended it to a glowing point. Carl slowly squatted down and picked up the shaft in front of him. The other one was still a few feet away.

  The door hissed open behind him, and he glanced back as Charlotte was shoved through the door. She stumbled forward and landed on her knees, then looked up, nearly wild-eyed. The metal shaft was right in
front of her.

  The door hissed shut behind them.

  “What is this? What’s happening?” Charlotte asked.

  Carl kept his eyes on their opponent. “Pick it up,” he said, and pointed at the weapon in front of her. “Pick it up.”

  The room was empty except for the three of them, but Carl felt as if there were hundreds of eyes watching them. He felt as if their every action was being weighed and measured, as if he was in some kind of contest and didn’t know the rules. He lifted his gaze toward the soldier and blocked out all other thoughts. If whoever was watching wanted a show, he’d give them a show.

  “Stay behind me,” Carl told her.

  They could at least make the bastard work for it.

  37

  The Spec Ops teams didn’t take as long to find them as Connor had thought they would. They’d hiked back up the trail until they were a kilometer away and then set up a temporary camp off the trail. Connor and Diaz used low-yield charges to clear away enough of the dying trees so the heavy combat shuttles would have a place to land.

  Captain Chad Boseman was the platoon leader for the Spec Ops team, and Dean Stonehill was his second in command. The two heavy combat shuttles were blackbird class, which was part of a newly designed, multifunctional ship class that could pack quite a punch, as well as ferry troops around.

  Connor reviewed the armament and nodded appreciatively. They’d need every ounce of it if they were going to succeed. Captain Boseman had his platoon’s medic check Connor and the others, and they were given food and water.

  “I still don’t understand how we’re going to locate the hostages,” Gordon said.