Critical Strike (The Critical Series Book 3) (25 page)

Thick black smoke puffed into the sky from multiple locations, creating a dark gray cloud above the city. It drifted away on the gentle evening breeze, creating a signal to any remote observer that things were changing.

In the distance, lines of scruffy citizens were being harried through the open gates of the arena. Augustus decided to check his ludus to give the army time to clear the town before assaulting the main prize, Aimee’s residence. He thrust higher in the sky to get a bird’s-eye view of the area.

A long line of his soldiers headed up the basin from the west, only around two hundred deployed from the two thousand, which was more than he thought would survive. Twenty unarmed humans and aliens walked thirty meters ahead of them at gunpoint. It was wise not to give them a chance of reform. They’d already taken up arms against him. Augustus couldn’t risk an early rebellion brewing. They would make for good entertainment when he recommenced the gladiatorial games.

The ludus still appeared intact. A croatoan soldier left his former office and peered into each of the cells in the square courtyard outside. He didn’t mind the terrible wooden buildings in the city being burned to the ground, but wanted to keep the better parts of the infrastructure.

A plume of fire shot in the air, followed by a hollow boom. Smoke rose from the front of Aimee’s residence. When it cleared, both front gates were inwardly hanging. Soldiers poured through the gap.

Augustus licked his lips, turned and headed for them. Smoke invaded his nostrils and his eyes watered, but they were minor distractions compared to clinching the moment of victory. He drifted to the muddy ground outside the high stone walls and the bike squelched to a rest.

Soldiers from both ends of the basin met around residence walls. A few broke away to help escort struggling prisoners to the arena. Augustus walked through the gates and glanced around.

Five aliens in hybrid clothing lay on the floor and ramparts. The skeleton crew left behind after most left to join the defense. A croatoan soldier appeared from the dark doorway. “Clear inside, sir.”

Augustus frowned. “She isn’t here?”

“Only staff. We’re taking them to the arena.”

Six people dressed in filthy jeans, robes, and sweaters filed around the reporting croatoan and were led at sword point out of the gates.

Augustus wanted to see for himself and wasn’t in the mood for taking chances. He raised his rifle and entered the main building.

Aimee couldn’t be allowed to become a myth. Alleged historians speculated about the mystery and false stories about his own demise. They were all wrong, and he didn’t want the same thing building up for her.

Future scribes would describe Aimee as a treacherous witch whose head went on display after losing against his freedom fighters.

Torches lighting the stone corridor had reduced to little more than a flicker. Last time he came here the place felt warm, lived in, decadent. Today it was much darker, and a cold draft brushed against him as he proceeded to Aimee’s chamber, or throne room, as she would have people believe.

The thought of her sitting smugly on her wooden Glastonbury chair made Augustus spit at the ground. Saliva dangled from the mouth hole in his mask. He wiped it away with his forearm.

Swinging his rifle into the chamber, Augustus glanced inside.

The eight torches placed around the walls, like the ones in the corridor, were also on their last legs. Small flames created dancing shadows across the ceiling and cast a weak glow around the room—a nice metaphor for Aimee’s time as Unity’s ruler. She was about to be extinguished if she wasn’t already.

A Persian rug stretched across the raised stone platform. Aimee’s wooden chair, with a green velvet cushion on top, sat in the middle of it.

This was the place where she judged so many people, under the protection of brutish hunters. Augustus wondered if she ever once looked in a mirror and judged herself. He had self-awareness. The man born to lead Earth needed it to remain humble.

Unable to control himself, Augustus ran to the chair, grabbed it by the front legs and smashed it against the wall. It buckled and the backrest splintered.

Augustus smashed it again and again until the structure collapsed and he was left holding two pieces of wood. The right piece had a sharpened end where it split away from the seat. He knelt down and stabbed it into the cushion.

Aimee still had to be located. He unclipped his radio. “All stations. Have you sighted Aimee Rivery yet?”

Nobody responded.

“All stations. Have you seen Rivery?”

The radio crackled. “No sign yet. I’ll send two of my men back to check the bodies at the western end.”

“Thank you. Out.”

It remained possible that she was hiding, watching proceedings from a safe distance and planning revenge. Augustus switched his radio to the shuttle channel. “Bring Maria down to the central residence.”

***

A croatoan pilot shoved Maria through the gates, her wrists still secured by the alien restraints. She peered at the Unity casualties littered around the courtyard, caught sight of Augustus and froze.

The pilot shoved her in the back and she staggered forward.

“It’s time to see if any of these people really care about you,” Augustus said and grabbed her forearm. “This way, please.”

Augustus dragged her to a set of stone stairs that led up the rampart. She tripped on the second and fell to her knees.

“You’ve won,” she said, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. “What do you want from me?”

Tightening his grip on her trembling arm, Augustus pulled her up. “I haven’t won until Aimee’s headless corpse hangs above the gates. Get moving.”

A croatoan slumped at the top of the twenty steps. Augustus leaned down and ripped the two tubes out of his nose to make sure. The alien’s skin crinkled and sucked against his enlarged cheekbones and bulbous eyes. Nobody would be taking him by surprise on this battlefield.

Maria hopped over the dead alien. Augustus pushed her against the waist-high wall. From this area of the rampart they had a good view of the burning city and the forests to the north and south.

Augustus ripped Maria’s hair back, slid a dagger out of his belt and held it across her throat. She gasped and struggled but was far too weak for a warrior like him. He glared around the surrounding area.

“Aimee Rivery,” Augustus shouted above the crackling fires in the city. “I have one of your little bitches here. If you don’t show yourself in two minutes, I’ll slit her throat.”

A trickle of blood ran down Maria’s neck as he increased the pressure of the blade against it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Mike cradled Mai in his arms. Her breathing was shallow and her complexion had taken on a waxy quality. Why did this have to happen to her?

Why now?

Of all the times, this was when he needed her the most. He couldn’t lose her now, not while Unity was falling. The fighting was just above them now, the screams, the gunfire… all of it not a good sign. He heard Ryan’s voice yelling orders to the main defense, but Mike knew they had suffered badly.

The radio sat on the bench, broadcasting the news from those up on the surface. “I don’t know what to do,” Mike said to Mai.

Her weak hand gripped his wrist and squeezed. She spoke with words lacking energy. Breathy, almost incorporeal, she said, “You must finish the job.”

“I have to get you to safety,” Mike replied. “To the medical center.”

“It’s too late for me.”

“No, it’s never too late!”

The radio squelched with static before Ryan’s voice cut through. “Fall back. We’re overrun. Augustus has attacked from the opposite side; we’re finished. Aimee’s dead! Run! Run for safety.”

More static crackled after the sounds of gunfire in the background.

Mike slumped back against the bench’s leg. “It’s over,” he said, dropping his head to his chest. “Augustus has won…”

“No,” Mai said, shaking him by the shoulder. “Leave me here. Take the device. It’s almost done.”

Before Mike had a chance to protest, Augustus’ gloating voice bellowed out over the city’s PA system. Every word made Mike cringe and boil inside with rage.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Mike said.

He stood, pulling Mai up with him, cradling her in his arms, even though his damaged elbow screamed with agony. He didn’t care how much it hurt, it wouldn’t be comparable to the pain of losing Mai if he stayed around here to get shot like the others. Unity had fallen, despite his best attempts. Like all the other places, there came a time when you had to leave, find somewhere else to stay safe for a while.

“Where are we going?” Mai said. Her voice had become so faint he could barely make out the words.

“I don’t know,” Mike replied, “somewhere safe… far from here.”

He turned toward the exit and stepped through.

Ryan sped around the corner of the narrow hallway and nearly barged into them. Mike took a step back as Ryan squeezed into the main chamber. His face and torso were covered in dark blood staining his green shirt until it looked black.

“The weapon!” he said, panting, his eyes desperate. “Did you fix it? Please, we’ve no more time, they’re… oh my god, they’re already here. I’m so sorry, I—”

Sounds of heavy footsteps filled the cavern. Two armored croatoans and two men carrying rifles entered the hallway and gunned down Ryan with twin blasts of their guns. Ryan’s body shuddered half a dozen times before slumping to the ground like a slab of meat.

Mai moaned in Mike’s arms. He stepped back on shaking legs as the croatoans entered the room. They pointed their rifles at Mike. He closed his eyes, waiting for the sound of gunfire, all the while holding onto Mai and picturing the first time they had met, how beautiful she was and how smart. And that smile… that laugh.

“I love you,” Mike whispered.

“Put the woman down,” one of the human guards said. “You’re coming with us, whether that’s dead or alive is up to you.”

Mike opened his eyes and tried to remain calm. The human was just a young man, but his face was spattered with blood, giving him a cruel aspect. Augustus had clearly done a great job of brainwashing this one.

But, seeing a chance to live for a moment longer, he carefully placed Mai down on a stool. “She’s ill,” he said. “She needs help. It’s her heart…”

“Shut the fuck up and move,” the man said. “You say another word and you’ll both die right here, you understand?”

Mike nodded.

“You can say goodbye to your wife; then you’re coming with us.” The man nodded to the croatoans to leave the room. Their thick shadows covered the ground of the workshop as the lights from the hallway continued to flicker.

Mike and Mai had nowhere to go. He turned to her, trying to think of the words, but none would come. How could he say goodbye to someone he’d been with for so long? She was his life.

The croatoans sped off to search other areas of the underground system, leaving the human guard. He gazed around the workshop and shook his head.

“Don’t speak,” Mai whispered. She winced as she reached over and grabbed the device, then handed it to Mike as she kept an eye on the guard.

Mike took it and folded it in the excess of his baggy sweater. He bent down and kissed her tenderly. “You’re my everything,” he said. “I will come back for you.”

“Use the weapon,” she whispered into his ear. “It has one charge in the capacitor.”

“That’s it,” the man barked, switching his focus back on them and grabbing Mike by the shoulder. He pulled the older man out of the cavern. Mike kept looking at Mai. She just smiled at him and mouthed the words ‘Use it.’

The guards dragged Mike up to the surface and through the burning wreckage of the town. All around him houses burned, people lay in the street, their limbs or faces bloodied and bruised, many of them not moving. He didn’t doubt he would join them soon.

Somewhere among the dead was Aimee. Mike felt a twinge of regret for her. Another one, like Augustus, who was taken out of their time and put into stasis by the croatoans, used as a pawn as though Earth was nothing more than a global game of chess, only the difference was, at least chess had the option for a noble win.

Augustus was so far from nobility that Mike palled at the idea that Augustus was once a Roman Emperor. What hell that must have been to live through, he thought, as the guards continued to drag him through the streets toward the arena.

Around two hundred of the surviving Unity residents clustered together on the fighting surface. Mostly women and children, with a few younger men amongst them. Hundreds of croatoans in the charcoal guard and hunter uniforms lined the viewing steps above them. Humans too, mostly dressed in the dark blue farm coveralls. All carried standard-issue alien rifles and aimed down at the crowd.

Mike felt a lump in his throat after glancing at tear-drenched faces and hearing the wails of desperation. This wasn’t supposed to be how it all ended.

On a sectioned-off part of the viewing steps, in an area designed to hold dignitaries alongside Aimee, Mike saw Augustus standing with his hands held high, shouting orders at twenty croatoans directly below him. They turned and began the process of shackling the survivors as though they were nothing more than cattle. The scene gave Mike a horrific flashback to when he first saw an alien farm in operation.

But then that was the croatoan way, after all. Augustus hadn’t fallen far from that tree. He had learned more from Hagellan than he would perhaps liked to have admitted. The human guard shoved Mike to the front of the citizens and left to join a small group of soldiers by the entrance gate.

Two croatoan guards held Mike by the shoulders. He still had use of one hand and placed it under his sweater, palming the cubed device. He felt along the top of it until his thumb rested on the switch. This time, the device only had one. With the power stored in the single capacitor, the whole operation was now much simpler. With no dish to use or battery supply to send the signal all the way across the battlefield, it had become more of a close combat weapon.

After a few moments, Augustus exited through a gate to the fighting surface and approached Mike with the swagger of someone who knew he had got his way. Mike spat at his feet, making him draw up short.