Critical Path (The Critical Series Book2) (32 page)

Mike couldn’t handle it a second time. Before they were fully leveled out, he passed out in his chair, the blur of the world on the displays the last thing he saw.

When he came around, the craft was cruising low over a dense patch of forest.

“You’re still alive?” Hagellan said.

“I guess so,” Mike said, squinting against the light and the throbbing in his head. For a brief moment he had forgotten where he was, but the display screens brought it all back.

Hagellan grunted and returned his attentions to the control, sending the craft down through a wide clearing in the trees until they were flying over Unity. Once they reached the edge of the dried-out lake basin, he spun the craft and lowered it.

But the landing didn’t go quite to plan. The craft seemed to lose its balance and rocked to and fro and finally hit the ground hard, sending up a shudder that jolted Mike’s spine and clattered his teeth together.

“Soft landing much?” he said, rubbing his jaw. “What the hell was that?”

A stream of data flowed down the central screen.

The two aliens approached Hagellan, and they all huddled around the tablet and scanned the screen.

“What’s wrong? Did the new parts fail?”

“Small calibration issue,” Hagellan said. “It will delay us, unfortunately.”

“We’ve still got time for that, though, right?”

Now Mike could definitely tell the alien was worried. There was no hiding that even on an unfamiliar face. Seeing concern in something so ancient and powerful brought a new kind of unease to Mike. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The jump gate,” Hagellan said. “We received a response.”

“And? Are your friends there? Are we too late?”

“Worse,” Hagellan said. “The gate is compromised. I only received emergency codes, which are sent automatically from the system.”

“Compromised? How exactly? What does this mean for the mission?”

“It means we have no time to waste. We have to go now. Get your friends; we leave within the hour.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

High on the east side of town, a cool wind nipped at the edges of Denver’s ears. He pulled up the collar of his coat and trudged through the field until he finally saw his father. Charlie was standing with his back to Denver. Maria and Layla flanked him, their heads bent low.

A small mound of dirt lay at their feet. Charlie leaned against a shovel, sweat creating a sheen on his stubbled face. He wore a tired expression like one of the many old buildings that had crumbled and become a gray artifact in the undergrowth.

“What happened?” Denver asked after a while, keeping his voice low so as not to break the somber mood.

Charlie grunt-sighed. “It’s Gregor.”

“Oh,” Denver said. A mix of emotions battled for supremacy. Relief, joy, justice, a hint of remorse. But mostly an acceptance that the world was lighter of one less psychopathic nut-job. “How’d it happen.”

Maria looked up at him with neutral eyes. “Charlie, in the arena,” she said, conveying little emotion. Layla had barely looked up at Denver. He wanted to go to her, but she seemed focused on Gregor’s shallow grave, her body tense and bent over.

Denver wondered if she did have more feelings for Gregor than she had previously let on. They certainly had history together on the farm, and before. Despite her misgivings of him, Denver could understand that she might, underneath it all, have some feelings of grief.

“You killed him?” Denver asked his father.

“Yeah. I had little choice. He wanted it.”

“And you didn’t? After everything he’s done. After what he did to—”

“He didn’t,” Charlie said, turning to his son. “I saw it in his eyes at the end. It wasn’t him. He used it to make me end him. His time was coming, whether it was from my hand or one of Aimee’s pets. He goaded me, but in that final moment, I saw the truth in him. He didn’t kill Pippa.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain.”

Denver looked down at the shallow grave with a new vision. All this time, Gregor had been like the bogeyman. All those years when Denver and Charlie were raiding against the farm and the croatoans, all that time surviving out in the wilderness, Denver had pictured Gregor as this great evil. Charlie’s nemesis.

Denver’s nemesis.

And yet, now, he was just another body in the ground. Another victim of the new world, the new struggle.

“We were more alike than I realized,” Charlie said.

“No,” Layla interjected, her first words since Denver had arrived. “You two were nothing alike. So what, he wasn’t your great enemy that you thought, but he had few redeeming qualities, and he won’t be missed.”

“He did help us take down the mother ship,” Charlie reminded her.

“And he also perpetuated enslaving humans on the farm for cattle,” Maria shot back.

“As did I,” Layla said. “What this shows us is that none of us are perfect. We’re a terribly flawed species, our own worst enemy. If there’s one thing the croatoans have shown us, it’s that we’re not terribly different to them. We’re all just animals doing our best to survive.”

The group fell silent. Denver tried to pay at least some respect to Gregor for the good things he did, but knew deep down, he was different, he was not a friend of humanity, despite him helping out against the aliens toward the end. One good deed doesn’t make up for a lifetime of evil.

“We need to go,” Denver said after a few minutes. “I’ve come to deliver a message from Mike. We’re leaving within the hour. There’s something wrong at the jump gate on Tredeya. Hagellan isn’t receiving the right kind of return message, and he’s lost track of the destroyer.”

“The old ship is ready to go?” Charlie asked, his voice grave.

“Yeah, you didn’t see it?”

“I did, looks good. I just hope it’s as good as it looks.”

“Time will tell,” Denver said. “And if not… there’s always the bomb.”

Maria made a small choking noise at that and looked up at Denver.

They shared a brief but intense expression before Layla caught Denver’s eye. He felt like a boy being caught stealing. He looked away from Maria and tried to smile, but Layla was already turning away.

She had seen the truth of it.

Denver wanted to go to her, assure her that he still felt the same for her, despite never really communicating what he did feel; that wasn’t something he’d ever really had the words for. He found it all so unnecessary, especially at this time, in these circumstances. It was a complication, too, for him when he didn’t understand what he felt or how to act on it. He was always just his own man, surviving in the wilderness, hunting with his father.

A part of him wished he could go back to that time. Go back to stalking deer or rabbits with his dog, eating by the fire at night, planning their next sabotage on the harvesters. Their life was simple then, their goals clear.

He knew he should go after Layla, but he remained where he stood, and that was really all he needed to know where his feelings lay.

“We shouldn’t wait around,” she said over her shoulder. “The mission’s too important for trivialities.”

Denver knew she was talking about him and Maria and cringed inside. He stepped over to the younger woman and reached out for her arm. “I’m sorry,” Denver said, “I didn’t mean for there to be any animosity between you two,” knowing that he was the target of some of that animosity now also.

Maria locked eyes with him and smiled gently. “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out when you come back.”

“If I come back,” Denver said.

“When, son,” Charlie added. “When. We’ll find a way. Now come on, there’s a job to be done. Maria, I’d like you to keep an eye on Mike and Mai while we’re gone. Make sure they don’t get up to anything stupid. Mike’s got that old glint in his eye again with all this new tech. I don’t want the old fool blowing himself up.”

“I’ll watch out for him,” Maria said with a smile. They turned their back on Gregor’s grave, having paid him the respects he probably didn’t deserve, and headed down the great steps of the basin towards the waiting dart of a ship, its pointed nose peeking out from behind a falling down old hut.

Charlie let Maria go ahead and he turned to Denver. “You know, as odd as it sounds, in some ways, I’m going to miss the crazy bastard,” he said, nodding his head back toward the grave.

“I understand,” Denver said. “But we’ve got new enemies now.”

“Talking of which, apparently Augustus has done a runner and skipped town. Hopefully that’ll be the last we see of him.”

“Just the croatoans to deal with now, and we’ll finally be able to retire in peace,” Denver said, watching Maria in front of him walk carefully down the steps. An image of him and her sharing a life bloomed very briefly in his mind until the sight of Hagellan’s repaired ship looming up as they rounded the hut extinguished it with the realities of the situation.

Mike and two small engineers were loading equipment onto the ship. Denver noticed the case containing the bomb in Mike’s hand. Hagellan was standing at the top of a loading ramp within the craft, directing operations. He saw Charlie and Denver arrive, and raised one of his ancient, gnarled hands in greeting.

He almost looked like an ally. But Denver wasn’t ruling anything out.

“I’ll go ahead and get settled,” Charlie said. “You say your goodbyes.” He inclined his head quickly in Maria’s direction before heading off to join Mike and the others loading the ship.

“So,” Maria said, standing by the side of the ramp, shadowed by the large dart-shaped hull. “This is it.”

“Yeah,” Denver said, moving from one foot to the other and trying to decide what to do with his hands. “I’m not good at this kind of thing,” he finally said.

“It’s okay. I understand. I wanted to thank you for listening to me earlier and not judging me. But I want you to remember it.” She hushed her voice. “He can’t be trusted.” Her eyes shifted up to look at Hagellan at the top of the ramp.

“I know, I’ll keep a close eye on him and will do whatever’s necessary.”

“I can trust you on that,” she said, moving closer to him. She stood just a few inches away now. He could smell her perfume, a bottle she had found back at the farm. It had a light, almost fruity scent. With her body close to his, she reached into a pocket of her jacket and pulled out a leather pouch the size of her palm. She placed it into his coat pocket.

“Just in case you need it, for injuries or something,” she said.

“What is it?” Denver asked, almost whispering now, sharing the conspiratorial moment.

“Refined root from the farm. It’s stronger than the usual stuff. Something I’ve been working on. If things get difficult or you get hurt, it’ll help.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it, though I hope not to use it.”

“Me too.”

They both stood there, inches from each other, wanting but not giving in. Until Denver leaned down and took her into a hug, pulling her in tight. “I will see you again,” he said close to her ear. “I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she replied with a smile in her voice.

“Okay, I ought to go,” Denver said, reluctantly releasing her from his embrace. “I’m not good at goodbyes.”

“Then don’t say it,” she said. “Let’s leave it at ‘see you later.’”

“Okay.” Denver hesitated and finally turned away and headed for the ramp. Layla stood at the top, her face reddened. She must have been watching the entire thing. She turned away and headed inside. Denver shook his head. That’s all he needed. This was why he’d always kept his emotions to himself.

Ignoring her ire, he reached the top of the ramp and turned to wave to Maria, but she was already gone, her form now small at the end of a narrow road. He watched her as she disappeared into the town and vowed that whatever happened, he’d return.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Charlie paused at the ship’s graphite-colored ramp. He considered whether this could be a trap. The moment they took off, Denver, Layla and he would be choked to death as the inside of the ship transformed to a croatoan-friendly atmosphere.

Mike edged out of the entrance, wearing a faded lime and brown striped sweater. He smoothed his shaggy gray hair away from his face. “You looked troubled, buddy?”

“You sure we’re okay on this thing?” Charlie said and looked along the length of the twenty-meter-long, cobalt blue vessel.

“I can’t give you one-hundred-percent confirmation, but I survived the test flight. Hagellan knows what he’s doing. Just make sure you keep an eye on him.”

Charlie had seen plenty of supply shuttles and croatoan fighters, but not one like this until it blasted over Unity earlier today. “What do they use these for?”

“High-level reconnaissance, like a spy plane. Hagellan told me they didn’t deploy many here. They’re mainly used for more densely populated planets.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “More densely populated than here?”

“Indeed. The mind boggles.” Mike held out a small black rectangle with an antennae protruding from the top. “The bomb is radio controlled. Hit the left switch to prime it, the right to let it rip. It’s got a mile range. If you have problems, there’s a manual detonation switch behind a guard on the casing.”

“I hope we don’t need the last option. Where’s the bomb?”

“Follow me. I’ll show you.”

Mike waddled back up the ramp and turned left after entering.

Charlie followed him into the gloom and up a ladder into the cockpit. A row of four basic-looking stools, with harnesses dangling above them, wrapped around the back of the cockpit. Two larger chairs, most likely for the pilots, were positioned in the middle of the cockpit. The windows were all shielded, but a light blue strip of lighting ran around the upper part of the area, providing ambient light. The thick air carried a croatoan fishy odor.

“Looks pretty basic in here,” Charlie said.

Mike smiled. “Just wait ’til you get going, amigo. You’ll be blown away.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Mike stooped and grunted. He reached under the stool on the far right and patted a black case. “Make sure you take this seat. You’ll be right on top of it.”

“How long have I got after flicking the switches?”