Critical Strike (The Critical Series Book 3) (27 page)

Denver looked at the small readout on his visor’s HUD. “About five TUs.”

“That should be fine. It’ll take one and a half to reach the capital city. We’ll be able to restock your suits there… if the supplies haven’t been taken or looted.”

“What do you mean?” Denver asked. “Are you suggesting there are humans here who would be needing those supplies?”

Vingo blinked his eyes, a gesture Denver had learned from the croatoans that meant ‘yes.’

“You better not be talking about slaves,” Charlie said from behind them, his voice thick with the croak of tiredness.

“No, not slaves. I’ll explain more later. Let’s not waste your air arguing over something that won’t help us stay alive. We need to move now. Once in the outskirts of the city, we’ll find transport and head for the vaults. If fortune is on our side, it’ll work out as we intend.”

“I can’t say fortune has favored us much so far,” Charlie said. “I’ll put my faith in guns. Which reminds me, how are we doing for ammo?”

“I lost my rifle,” Denver said. “I just have a knife.”

“I have two magazines on me,” Vingo said.

“Three here, grabbed from the others back at the prison,” Charlie said. “Rifle’s taken a few knocks, though, so I don’t know how useful it’ll be.”

“Layla?” Denver said. “Are you awake?”

She groaned and rolled over in the darkness. “Just a few more minutes,” she mumbled, sounding like a small child pleading with her parents to let her stay in the warm embrace of slumber for a while longer.

Charlie moved over to her and checked her suit. “Two here,” Charlie said.

“If we go now and be careful, we might not even need the weapons,” Vingo said.

“We’ll see about that,” Charlie replied.

“Layla, come on. We’ve got to,” Denver said, placing his gauntlet on her shoulder, shaking her gently and rousing her from sleep. Her face looked so peaceful behind her visor. He just stared at her for a while, words he couldn’t express refusing to come to him.

“Den?” Layla said, finally opening her eyes to look up at him. “What time is it?”

“Time to move.”

“Where are we?”

She sat up and saw Vingo staring at her from the entrance. She grimaced as the realization set in. “God,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought we were… well, not here.”

Helping her to her feet, Denver put his arm around her shoulder and led her out of the shelter, saying, “We’ll get home. There’s always a way. We always win… somehow.”

“Come,” Vingo said, leading them out of the shelter and onto the dark shoreline. “If we’re quick and quiet, we’ll be at the vaults with plenty of time to spare.”

***

In just over a TU and a half, they crested the hill and looked down at the capital city. Illuminated by a moon and starlight, Denver saw that half of the city was cut into a low mountain overlooking a dark lake. The rest was a sprawl of squat buildings, indicating the vast network underground.

In the distance, a number of scion mechs hovered through the streets and valleys, firing their lasers with surgical precision at specific targets. Strewn throughout the wide streets and surrounding areas, smoking, flaming hulks of croatoan and tredeyan military vehicles lay dying.

Denver spotted half a dozen destroyed scion craft among the wreckage. It was clearly a bitter-fought battle that even now seemed to be ongoing, albeit in a more controlled, inevitable fashion.

“Get down,” Vingo said, indicating to a stone wall at the top of the hill.

Denver and the others did as they were told and ducked down into the shadows. Vingo raised slowly and peered down into the city with the rifle scope.

“Most of it is deserted,” he said. “They got out.”

“Who?” Layla asked.

“The government officials and the higher ranking citizens. There, see?”

Denver and the others crept up to peer over the edge of the wall.

From two of the large mansion-like buildings cut into the mountain, a pair of ships took off and headed west, directly away from the city, their engines kicking in as soon as they were at the right altitude.

“What are they?” Charlie said.

“Escape craft. Only the most privileged have them.”

“Why don’t we take one?” Denver said.

“We won’t need it. See that scion ship on the horizon? We’re going there. Besides, it’s not likely any will be available. They would have left as soon as they could. Those that didn’t leave in time are probably dead.”

“That’s just great,” Charlie said.

“Over there.” Vingo pointed to a dark structure in front of the lake. “A supply station. It looks mostly intact.”

Only it wasn’t intact.

They reached the single-story building that resembled a concrete bunker. It lay on the edge of the lake with a dozen others, seemingly rising out of the ground like square gravestones. Vingo approached the first door and pushed it open. It wouldn’t budge. They all gave it a push and realized it had been blasted off one of its hinges and dug into the hard surface of the floor. Through a gap Denver managed to peer inside and saw that it was empty, the shelves bare.

“Fuck,” he said. “That was a waste of air.”

Vingo had moved onto another part of the building, testing the door. This one opened and Denver’s hopes rose. Charlie and Layla entered the room with Vingo, and by the time Denver joined them, he heard Charlie’s disappointment over the comms.

“Great, suffocation it is, then,” he said.

“We still have time,” Vingo said.

“Where to next?”

“There’s a building down there with a ground vehicle in the port. We can use that to get closer to the capital’s vault. It’ll provide protection and speed, and it might have a supply of air in it for the previous owner’s drivers.

“They used humans as drivers?” Charlie said.

“Among other tasks,” Vingo replied. “Come, before the scion are finished and decide to sweep the area.”

The sounds of war seem to increase beyond the ridge of mountains, and Denver wondered what would be waiting for them once they secured a vehicle. Whatever it was, he preferred to be working toward some plan rather than waiting around until death claimed them. If he had to die, he’d rather die fighting.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Mike couldn’t help but feel as though there were something poetic about the way the dawn light bathed Unity in a red hue. So much blood on both sides had been shed during the brief but brutal fight.

As he lurched through the streets, stepping around individuals helping to clear the bodies or nurse the injured, he winced with every bump of his elbow, but continued on toward the field hospital that had been hastily erected to help the injured as best they could. Mai was there, but he didn’t know if she had survived the night.

After the battle was over, he had heard about Maria’s heroics in defeating Augustus. He had made his way back to the workshop to check on Mai, to tell her that the modifications to the device had worked, and that it was all over. He found the place empty.

Ryan’s body had been taken too.

From asking around in somewhat of a panic, he had learned Mai was taken to the temporary hospital, but the person whom he had asked couldn’t tell him if she were alive or dead.

He helped a pair of elderly women into a house as they carried a young man, his arm in a sling and packed with root. “Did you see Mai?” Mike asked the young man, explaining who she was, but he didn’t need to; everyone in Unity knew who Mai was, especially after the success of the weapon.

“She’s there,” he said. “I saw her being brought in on a stretcher. Go down the road and turn at the remains of the tavern, you’ll see the hospital tent. Good luck. I hope she’s okay,” the boy said, sweat from the pain of his injuries glistening on his face.

Mike thanked him and followed the directions.

Unity still smelled of smoke and burning flesh, despite the fires being put out many hours ago. He suspected the stench would cling to the place for some time to come yet, a reminder of their struggles and their losses.

As he reached the tavern, its remains still smoldering and cracking as timbers beneath the pile of wreckage retained the heat of the fire, he did indeed spot the tall tent of the hospital. It reminded him of a circus tent from his childhood.

He pushed that old memory aside and stepped forward.

A line of human and croatoan traffic crossed his path, making him pull up to a stop. The remaining survivors of Augustus’ army were shackled and chained and led across the street toward the ludus.

“What’s to happen to them?” Mike asked the lead man, a member of the Unity council he recognized but whose name he couldn’t recall.

The old man with white hair turned to face Mike and bowed. “Jail until we’ve decided. We’re having a council meeting later today to help organize the aftermath.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry about Mai,” he said. “We owe both of you a debt of gratitude for what you did. Without your help…” He looked around at the utter destruction of Unity’s buildings and then back to the line of dejected-looking men and women. “Without your help, it would have been us in chains.”

“Thank you… have you seen her?”

The white-haired man shook his head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t. I just heard… well, pay no mind to rumors.”

“What rumors?” Mike asked, his heart now thudding against his chest. It was all sounding as if Mai had died given the way he was speaking, but a part of Mike couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

“It’s not really my place to say. I know this is difficult, but I just don’t know the facts and I don’t believe in spreading gossip. I’ll get this lot out of your way and you can head over to the hospital. I hope it all works out for you.”

Clutching his elbow as the painkillers continued to wear off, Mike opened his mouth to speak, but he was too late, the man was already moving, taking the line of farm workers with him. A few of them looked up at Mike with what looked like pity in their faces. Others were full of sorrow and regret.

He couldn’t entirely blame them. He doubted they had much choice but to do what Augustus had wanted of them. He was as cruel as anyone or anything Mike had seen, but still, despite that, he looked on these people with a boiling hate inside him.

If it wasn’t for them, he and Mai wouldn’t have been under pressure to get the weapon working and she wouldn’t have…

No, he thought, he couldn’t say it, wouldn’t believe it until he saw her for himself.

All the time he didn’t know for sure, he had hope within him.

It took just a few more minutes to reach the hospital. He waited outside for a moment before finally gaining the strength to open the flap door and enter. The place was larger than it looked on the outside. Hundreds of makeshift beds were created from canvas and other materials stretched across crude frames made from wood and metal poles, all parts of salvage Unity had stockpiled from their scavenging expeditions.

One of the human nurses, bent over a croatoan engineer, looked up and saw Mike. He finished bandaging the small alien and approached Mike. “How are you?” the man said, looking at Mike’s elbow.

“It’s okay, just hurts a bit.”

“I just wanted to thank you for what you and Mai did. We all do, we’ve spoken about nothing else since your heroics.”

It seemed like everyone within the hospital tent looked his way then, all sharing the same expression of gratitude.

“Um… thanks, it’s the least we could do,” he said, flustered and not sure how to cope with the focus on him. He lowered his voice to the nurse. “Where is Mai?”

“This way,” the man said, his face now solemn.

The expression hit Mike, made his legs feel weak, but he remained as strong as he could and followed the young man through the tent and beyond a second set of fabric doors.

“She’s over there,” the man said, pointing to a bed on the right.

A sheet lay over her frail body. Mike couldn’t see any movement. His throat went dry and he heard voices and sounds as though he were in a fishbowl filled with cotton wool. Like a zombie, his limbs seemingly moving by their own volition, he moved to Mai’s bed, his good arm reaching out to grab the sheet.

His hand shook, but he pressed on, pulling the sheet back to Mai’s shoulders.

She was lying on her side, her face away from him.

Mike fell to his knees and slumped against the low bed, his hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice finally cracking as the tears started to well up. “I didn’t want to leave you. I wanted to be with you until… I’m sorry, Mai. I love you so much, I hope you knew that before…”

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, resting his forehead against her shoulder, unable to continue on. A wave of grief welled up inside him and he fought to keep it down, afraid it would come out in an unending torrent of anguish.

“You silly old fool,” a voice said, making him open his eyes and lean back. He looked around, thinking one of the nurses or assistants were speaking to him, but the voice came again.

“I’m not dead yet. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Mai?” Mike asked, bringing his attention back to her body.

Mai shuffled her body over until she was facing him, a pained grin on her face.

“It was only a minor heart attack. I’m tougher than that.”

“Oh god, I thought you were… oh Mai, I’m so relieved… no one would tell me what happened. I thought I had left you to die.”

“Nope, still around and still kicking. You’ll get my foot up your ass soon too if you don’t stop blubbing. Get a grip, my love, I’m fine. I just need to take things easy for a while. I’ll be up and about in no time.”

Mike laughed, letting out the built-up tension in great guffaws. He leaned down and hugged her, her weak arms clasping around his neck.

“We did it,” she whispered in his ear. “We beat that bastard.”

“It was all you,” Mike said. “Those last modifications were genius. You saved us, Mai.”

They just continued to hug, not wanting to let each other go until Mike sensed a hush come over the hospital. He heard the footsteps of a few people approaching. He let Mai go and they both turned toward the door.

The flaps opened and four men entered, carrying a stretcher between them. Aimee’s body, burned and bloodied, lay on top. Everyone watched in silence as her body was taken through to the rear and placed on the floor, next to a long line of sixty linen body bags filled with Unity corpses that hadn’t been buried yet. A group of men and croatoans, who were tagging the bags, nodded at those who left Aimee with them.