Critical Path (The Critical Series Book2) (28 page)

He wasn’t doing this just for the immediate threat, but to help ensure the safety of the next generation.

Turning his attention back to the obstacle, Mike scanned the surface and found a number of foot and handholds where railings and other pieces of infrastructure had been ripped off this particular bulkhead or whatever purpose it had served in its original location.

He climbed until his head poked up into the darkness.

Muscles screaming, he reached a hand into the darkness in order to find something to pull himself up with but found nothing and began to slip. “Shit, shit…”

The two engineers peered above again, each one grabbing his hand.

Despite being tiny, they had enough strength to stop him from falling and helped to drag him up.

They managed to crouch in the narrow gap, but Mike had to stay on his arms and knees and shuffle through the darkness as they led, their screens bathing the tight passage with blue light.

Another twenty or so meters later and Mike found himself dropping out of the passage into the center of the maintenance room.

Clean, off-white, smooth surfaces surrounded the three-meter-square room. The walls must have been strengthened, as the ceiling, just a few centimeters above Mike’s head, hadn’t collapsed.

Blinky showed Mike the screen.

A diagram showed that the part they needed was behind one of the wall panels. Mike located it and reached forward with his arm to open the panel, but quickly pulled it back as something touched his skin and sizzled with a burn.

“Jesus, what the…”

A sizzling noise came from all around him. He looked up.

Through holes in the ceiling, a clear, acidic liquid dripped into pools on the floor. The two aliens backed off. “Oh, this is just great.”

The liquid, fuel or some kind of coolant, Mike guessed, was burning through the metal. The spot on his skin continued to burn.

Just great. If it wasn’t hard enough to get here, he now had to extricate a delicate part while avoiding multiple streams of acid.

“Well, best I get on with it, then, eh? Don’t look like you two care to help out much…” He shook his head and pulled the sling around his chest. He fished out a flat-tipped screwdriver and leaned carefully forward to the panel.

A stray drip bounced off the edge of his shoe, instantly melting through the leather and making him wince.

“Goddammit.”

Making himself as small as possible, he pried the panel open.

“Is this it?” Mike called out, pointing to a glowing green cylinder the size of a soda can. Wires and tubes connected to a lid on its top.

Blinky clicked his affirmation.

There didn’t appear to be any obvious way of removing it without damaging the metal cap that took the wires and tubes.

Taking a small multimeter, Mike checked it. The voltage and current were off the scale. Have to be careful with this baby, he thought.

As Mike thought how best to remove the device without breaking it, a terrible crack boomed from above him. He managed to duck out of the way as a crossbeam gave way and fell down. It struck Grumpy on the head, knocking him to the ground.

Mike couldn’t move away in time, frightened of stepping into the acid stream. The beam fell onto his ankle, trapping him in place.

The new hole above, with metal sheeting pointing down, funneled more acid into the tight room.

Mike looked away as a pool of it splashed onto the unmoving form of Grumpy.

He hated that he felt something for the poor bastard, but…

“Hey, where are you going?” Blinky had climbed the beam and disappeared back out of the passage into the gloom. “Come back here, you little…”

Damn this bullshit!

Mike tried his leg, but the beam was too heavy across his foot and ankle. It had probably broken it, if the pain was anything to go by.

With the acid filling the room with bitter, sharp fumes, Mike had no other option but to get to work. If he couldn’t get out of here and someone came for him after he had died, at least he’d get the part out of the system for them.

Fishing through his sling of tools, Mike took a shallow breath and set to work, all the while the sizzling of the dead croatoan’s body reminded him what awaited him if he didn’t get free.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Mike yelled with triumph; the part came free and he hadn’t shocked himself with the full power of a piece of alien tech. Score one for Mike, but the sizzling of the acid had grown in volume.

The stench of hot metal and liquidized alien corpse made him want to retch.

Keeping his cool, Mike placed the part safely into a fabric wrap in the sling around his chest. Job one done; now how the hell to get out? He tried his ankle, but any movement sent a piercing stab of pain up his leg, and it remained well and truly stuck beneath the metal beam.

Looking over his shoulder, Mike saw that the acid had pooled in the far corner. He doubted it’d be long before whatever it was had filled to such an extent that it’d cover the entire floor and burn through his leg.

Might be one way out, he thought grimly.

He bent down carefully and tried to heave the beam up, gripping it by the edges, but it was too heavy for him to move. Then it occurred to him… of course, the radio! He pulled it free of the belt pouch and pressed the transmitter button, bringing the receiver to his lips… nothing. No squelch, no sound, not even static. He shook it and heard parts rattle inside. The case had cracked when he got trapped earlier.

“Seriously? Can I catch at least one damned break today?”

The mother ship rattled as something struck the hull, sending a loud booming noise throughout. It came again, this time making him reach out to grab the panel in order to keep his balance.

Two more booms and the shaking of the hull and he realized what it was: gunfire. There must have been reinforcements turn up.

Debris and fragments of metal sheeting fell through the hole above as the onslaught continued. Mike gritted his teeth and heaved again, trying to free his left leg. The pain gripped his throat. His body tried to shut down in order to deal with the agony. But still the beam wouldn’t budge.

“Help!” Mike yelled at the top of his voice, hoping someone would hear, but with the sound of another battle going on outside, he doubted it, and if that damned alien hadn’t betrayed him and ran off, he might be able to help.

Seeing his friend crushed with the beam was probably the last straw.

This was why no one should trust the aliens—even the ones that appeared friendly. Integrated into Unity or not, this proved they cared not one bit about humanity.

Slumping against the wall, he resigned himself once again that this was perhaps his last action.

But like last time, the shadows from the access point shifted, and there was Blinky, crawling out of the narrow space and carrying… what was that? A pole.

“Hey,” Mike said, pointing to his leg. “Help me? I have the part. We need to go before the ceiling caves in.”

Blinky blinked, taking in the scene. A sad expression came over his face when he looked upon his fallen friend. But as quickly as the look came, it faded away, replaced by one that Mike thought was determination.

The little alien scrambled off the ledge, being careful not to stand in a pool of acid or walk into one of the falling streams. He dragged a piece of debris, a meter cubed or so, and used it as a pivot for the two-meter-long pole. Jamming it into a space beneath the beam, the alien heaved.

At first it didn’t budge.

Mike secured the part, bent down, and helped to lift the beam as Blinky pushed down on the lever. The beam shifted. A rush of hope and relief flooded Mike as he pulled his leg out. He shouted with triumph, but it was clear the ankle was badly sprained, if not broken. He could barely put his weight on it.

“Go,” Blinky said, pointing to the exit. “We go.”

“Yeah, we do, thanks, little guy.”

Using the pole as a walking stick to take the weight off his leg, Mike and Blinky made their way back through the maze of the wreckage. This time, Mike didn’t take much notice of the alien tech, the materials, or even the dead.

With the ship creaking and groaning, pieces falling, and fires raging, all that mattered was getting out alive.

Together, they helped each other through tight corridors and up and over obstacles. A good fifteen minutes later, Mike saw an exit point to the outside. The sounds of gunfire had stopped.

Walking out of the shipwreck, Mike squinted against the noon sun. Maria and Charlie rushed over to him, propping him up. The little alien just scampered for the harvester. At least they managed to bring it over and he wouldn’t have to walk back through the forest. Mike noticed three croatoan fighters tied up outside of the shipwreck. Denver stood over them, pointing his alien rifle down.

“Bit of extra resistance?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, something like that,” Charlie said. “What happened to your leg?”

“Ankle got trapped under a beam. Grumpy didn’t make it, but Blinky, surprisingly, saved the day. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be standing here now.”

Charlie looked back at the alien climbing inside the harvester.

“Gives us some hope, eh?” Mike added as Charlie and Maria helped him toward the vehicle.

“What do you mean?” Maria asked.

“That they could potentially be trusted.”

Denver overheard and shook his head. “Like these, you mean?”

“I don’t know, buddy, all I know is that Blinky saved my ass. He didn’t have to. He could have taken the part from me and left me to die in there like his pal.”

“You got the part okay?” Charlie asked.

Mike nodded to the sling around his chest. “It was right where Hagellan said it was. But man, inside that place… if I had some time… Mai would have a field day with the tech in there.”

“Not enough time,” Charlie said. “We’re heading back right away.”

Denver backed away from the three croatoan fighters as Maria and Charlie helped Mike into the back of the harvester. Once inside, Mike took a seat and Maria fetched a first-aid box from a locker within the vehicle. She moved about the place with ease, having grown up in one very similar. She attended to his wounds and wrapped his ankle with a bandage.

“Thanks,” Mike said.

“The painkillers should kick in, in a few minutes. It’s badly swollen, but it doesn’t feel broken.”

“I have him to thank for that.” Mike nodded in the direction of Blinky. The alien sat on his own in a dark corner of the harvester’s mess area. He stared out of a small porthole toward the three fighters.

“What about them?” Mike said. “Shouldn’t we take them with us? Let Unity deal with them?”

“No,” Charlie said. “They stay with the wreck.”

Mike saw that rigid determination in his eye again. There was no talking him out of it. And Mike had to remember just what these aliens did. Sure, Blinky helped him out, but they were still the race that nearly wiped out all of humanity. One small gesture of kindness could never make up for that.

But still—with so little left, for both sides, and a common threat, at some point a line in the sand had to be drawn. But Mike knew Charlie—and Denver—could never do that in their hearts. They’d been too damaged. Suffered too much.

The harvester’s engines came online, and the great vehicle shuddered and shook. They headed back toward Unity, their bounty safely secured.

“Light them up,” Charlie said.

He and Denver stood at the rear of the vehicle, watching out of a window.

Maria squeezed Mike’s hand and gave him an expression of wanting him to do something or say something for those croatoans left behind. Mike shook his head. It was too late for them now.

Denver pressed the button on the remote trigger.

Two explosions roared out, sending a huge ball of flame into the sky. Pieces of shipwreck rained down among the black smoke. Within the smoke, a huge fire burned.

Maria looked away, unable to watch the croatoans.

A tense silence developed in the mess area. Denver and Charlie joined the others.

“It had to be done,” Charlie said.

Maria turned her back and said nothing.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Augustus feared the worst as he approached a third farm on the western side of the continent. Smoke belched from a breeding warehouse, and flames licked the edges of its roof. His search for a functioning operation had so far been unsuccessful. The previous two were ransacked and deserted, although this one was still surrounded by flourishing fields of root.

He slowed the hover-bike, drifted over a fenced paddock toward the back of a meat processing unit, and cupped his hand over his nose. Human bodies in an advanced state of decomposition scattered around the grassed area, mostly livestock.

A gust of wind blew from east to west. Something moved on the ground in front of him. He abruptly brought the bike to a halt and hung over a building.

Smoke cleared from the central main square. Two croatoans stood next to six hover-bikes parked in a formal line along the middle. One raised its rifle toward Augustus. Another one bounced out of a barracks building.

He held up and arm and waved, accidentally nudging the bike into a tilt with his other hand. Feeling unsteady, Augustus quickly gripped the handlebars, steadied the bike, and twisted it toward them. He never did like these weird machines. Life was so much simpler during his time as emperor, more streamlined, although he could take the credit for that.

The croatoan lowered its weapon, and all three creatures watched Augustus make his descent. He lowered to the dirt square and peered around. The barracks, production, engineering and surveying buildings looked intact.

The surveyor building’s door creaked open. A gray-haired woman, dressed in a dark blue jumpsuit, squinted through the light smoke toward him. Zoe. The performance improvement manager he’d recruited thirty years ago in one of the ubiquitous concrete jungles spread along the eastern coast. A reliable worker who never questioned his authority.

She took two paces forward. “Is that you, Augustus?”

He turned and shielded his face with his robe. Half because the smoke stung his eyes, half because he still felt embarrassed about losing his mask. “It’s me. What the hell happened here?”