Necropolis (22 page)

“
On the way,” Billings replied.

The four of them stood and left the mess hall.

* * * * *

They spent the rest of the day preforming a series of tasks as assigned by Powell. Kyra was put to work immediately on the navigational systems, something she was apparently apt at doing. Kauffman, it seemed, had a bit of knowledge on engines, so he was set to work on those, as they had taken some damage and some parts needed replacement. Powell locked himself away in the cockpit, doing the heavy lifting of the repairs. Greg and Billings were tasked with doing the real heavy lifting, as well as performing a scavenger hunt. They were each given a list of parts and tools and sent off to the storage rooms.

Greg vaguely resented it, but decided it was an important task. If he was honest with himself, part of him was happy to be doing something again. He suspected that Powell just might have it right. There
was
something deeply satisfying about checking things off a list, whatever it was those things might be.

The sun went down.

Time passed and Greg delivered the last thing on the list, and decided he needed break. He stepped outside and stared up into the sky. It was flat and gray. Lightning split his vision and distant thunder boomed.

Greg wondered what was next. They had no plan. Just hang out here? Hope Dark Ops gave up the chase? It seemed a hopeless notion. Even if they could somehow hide here for days, weeks, months...then what? Greg realized he was fucked. When a secret government agency had you on their shit-list, chances were, the only way out was death. How could he possibly hope to live a normal life now?

His thoughts were interrupted as his radio crackled to life.

“
Powell, how close is that ship to completion?”
It was Cage.

“
Maybe two hours,”
Powell replied.

“
Will it be space-worthy?”

“
...yes. But with that blockade in orbit-”

Cage cut him off.
“It doesn't matter anymore. Dark Ops is preparing to destroy the entire planet.”

Chapter 24

–
Countdown
–

Greg’s entire body went cold.

Could they even
do
that? He thought about Dark Ops, of Starck and her cold, detached nature, and of Williams and his empty smile. Yes, he suspected they could. There was a babble of voices on the comms, but Greg felt at a loss.

Cage's voice cut in.
“We need to at least get off the planet. We will die for certain if we stay here.”

“
Why would they risk killing Greg?”
Kyra’s voice came over the radio.

“
I don't know. Maybe they found another Patient Zero or maybe they figure it's worth the risk. Or maybe they found us. I haven't heard any chatter on it, but it's possible. My point is, finish up, pack the ship, and get ready. We're leaving ASAP.”

The steel in Cage's voice gave Greg some of his own grit back. He turned and headed for the living quarters.

“What's actually left on the jump ship to do to make it space-worthy? We need to trim that two hours if at all possible. Dark Ops aren't giving a definite timeline yet, but from the way they're booking ass for orbit, I can't imagine it's very long.”
Cage normally icy voice held the edge of panic.

“
We need to put new power cells in the engine, I need to finish up in the cockpit and the navigational array needs to be completed.”
Powell sounded agitated.

“
I'm almost done,”
Kyra promised.

“
I'm going to pack food from the mess hall, then I'll round up whatever weapons and ammo I can find and bring them to the ship,” Greg said.

“
I'll come help.”
Kauffman’s voice held little huffs after each word like he was running.

“
I'll grab power cells,”
Billings added.

They scrambled to work. As midnight approached, the base descended into a frenzy of last-minute chores. Greg hurried to the mess hall, passing Cage on the way, off on his own task. He hurried back into the kitchen area, found a pair of cold storage units and began packing as much as he possibly could into them. He put in only the freeze-dried stuff and canteens of water, as well as a few stacks of MREs for good measure.

Ten minutes passed before he had them secured, sealed, and powered. He lifted one and hustled it across the base, making for the landing pad. Occasionally, he'd heard a quick report from someone else as they made an update. Greg dropped off the crate, ran back, grabbed the other one and dropped it off as well.

“
Finished!” Kyra called as he completed his own task.

“
Go help with supplies,” Powell replied.

As Kyra came down the ramp to join Greg, Billings came in with Cage, hauling a crate full of power cells. Greg and Kyra hurried back over to the living quarters. As they passed outside, Greg hunted the dark skies for signs of life, anything that might tip him off to a conflict of some kind. He couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't getting off this world without a fight. And even so...how could they hope to escape the blockade?

Greg shook the thoughts from his mind. It didn't matter right now. The planet-killer had the shortest fuse. They'd cross the other bridge when they came to it. He and Kyra began rushing through the living quarters, collecting up whatever weapons they could find. Greg regretted not doing a real inventory when he had the chance.

Lazy, they had gotten lazy. Let their guard down. Another twenty minutes passed while they gathered up supplies. In the meantime, Kauffman was hard at work in the local infirmary, gathering up medical supplies.

By the time the three of them regrouped at the landing pad, having cleared out the living quarters side of the station, nearly an hour had transpired. Cage loaded a quartet of fresh fuel cells in the exterior of the ship.

Greg's heart pounded. He, Kyra, and Kauffman secured the containers of food and medical supplies in the exterior cargo holds. The crush of time, of some invisible countdown, pressed down on him. How long did they have? It drove him crazy. They might have all the time in the world or four seconds. There was no way to tell.

After securing the exterior cargo, they placed the spare weapons, ammo, and grenades in the interior weapons lockers. Greg snapped it shut right as he heard Kauffman curse. His heart nearly exploded in terror, fearing the worst. As he and Kyra hurried back out into the landing bay, they saw nothing.

“
What is it?” Greg asked.

“
I forgot the fucking Cures. We secured them back in the infirmary.”

“
Come on, then, we'll go get them. Powell, how soon?”

“
I'm almost finished. Just a few more minutes,” Powell replied from within the cockpit.

“
I'm done here,” Cage said. “I'll join you.”

“
Hurry back,” Kyra called as the three of them left.

They hurried back through the starkly lit corridors. Greg paused. He thought he heard something.

“What's the hold up?” Kauffman whispered.

“
Just...thought I heard something. Never mind.”

They came back out into the cool night air. Greg expected spotlights to flare into being, bullets to come raining down on him from above, undead things and black-armored men. Nothing waited for them.

They crossed the canyon at a brisk pace.

“
Cage...how could they destroy an entire planet?” Greg asked as they slipped into the living quarters, making for the infirmary.

“
There are a number of ways, if the rumors are true. It sounds like they're using a black hole bomb. Basically, they send an artificial black hole to the core and light the fuse. Sucks everything in and then just pops out of existence. It's a nasty piece of work. Heard them going on about it over the radio.”

“
Jesus,” Greg whispered.

They slipped quickly into the infirmary and found the containers. Each of them took two. Greg ached to be out of there. After securing the containers, they headed back, reporting that they were on their way.

“I've finished up here. Running pre-flight warm up routine now. We should be space-worthy in just two minutes,”
Powell said.

“
What are we going to do once we get up there?” Greg asked.

“
Not sure...maybe the bomb will have them all at a distance. Maybe we can slip by, unnoticed. I know that Dis has a moon...there are a series of asteroid-based mining operations deeper in the system. Who knows? Maybe we can make it there, find refuge, make a stand of some kind.” Cage didn't sound optimistic at all.

As they stepped outside, Greg again checked for signs of life, but there was nothing. Although he sensed something on the air, some new tension, as though something had changed somehow since they had last been here. Kauffman and Cage seemed to notice it as well. They tensed and looked around.

When nothing happened, they entered into the corridor. This time, as they made their way around the garages, Greg was positive he heard something. He paused by one of the doors that looked quickly into the nearest garage and froze. A contingent of black-armored soldiers slowly rose from the ground.

They’d overridden the lockout Powell had placed on the lifts.

“Shit.” Greg let out a strained whisper.

“
I have eyes on target,” one of the soldiers shouted, noticing him.

“
Go!” Cage roared.

They bolted to the end of the corridor, turned left and ran the length of the next, sprinting for the door that led to the transitional room before the landing pad. They just barely made it before the squad of Dark Ops troops spilled into the corridor behind them. Chaos broke out around them. There were gunshots, and then something wet sprayed Greg's face.

Someone screamed.

Kauffman.

The young Marine tripped, stumbled, crashed to the ground. Cage snapped around and returned fire with several well-aimed shots while Greg knelt and helped Kauffman. He was still alive. The shot had taken him in the neck.

While blood pumped from the wound, Greg helped Kauffman the rest of the way as Cage provided cover fire.

“Get that fucking ship ready!” Greg screamed as they stumbled into the landing bay. Billings and Kyra rushed over as Cage shut and locked the door behind them. Billings helped support Kauffman's weight.

“
What happened?” he snapped.

“
Dark Ops,” Greg shot back.

They managed to get to the ship as Dark Ops troops banged on the door, trying to get it open. Powell was in the cockpit, the ship ready to go. As they stumbled into the ship, Cage closed the cargo ramp. Greg and Billings laid Kauffman out on the floor while Kyra ripped a medical kit off the wall and pried it open. Greg stared at Kauffman, backing away while Kyra dropped to her knees and administered trauma care. Kauffman was white as a sheet now, bleeding out, his eyes not tracking properly. He groaned.

The ship rumbled as it took off, rising out of the shaft. Kyra worked fast, pouring something into the wound that made Kauffman hiss in pain. Billings, Cage and Greg sat down as the turbulence began kicking in, watching Kyra and Kauffman intently.

“
Oh shit, guys. Looks like they got impatient.” Powell’s voice strained against the rumble of the ship.

The turbulence intensified. Greg's heart hammered in his chest, his adrenaline peaked. He felt sick with anticipation, his muscles so tight they seemed to be made of tempered steel. He clenched his fists so hard his nails were digging into his skin.

“Are we going to make it?” Billings’s voice was tight with fear.

“
We'll make it,” Powell assured them.

Greg watched Kyra continue to work. She finished cleansing the wound and was now patching it up.

“Fuck, he needs more blood, he's lost too much...” she muttered.

Kauffman suddenly reached up and grabbed her shoulder. Greg saw his fingers digging in. Then, abruptly, Kauffman stopped moving, his arm slumping away. His breath left him in a one long, slow exhale and his eyes became still, staring beyond her, beyond the roof of the cabin. He became perfectly still save for the rumbling of the ship.

“Fuck!”

Kyra sat back, her hands stained with blood. The shuddering continued. She reached forward and closed his eyes, then got up and stumbled over to Greg and into his arms where she hid her face against his chest. He realized she was crying.

“We made it,” Powell reported, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the engines and the last of the turbulence as they escaped the gravity of the planet. Greg caught sight of space out the nearest window, but he didn't want to think about that just now. Kauffman was dead. That was two...at least out of people he knew. How many had died, just now, down there on the surface? How many more would be dead before the end?

Part of him knew he should be looking out the back windows, watching the no doubt amazing spectacle of a planet being sucked into itself by a man-made bomb. But he couldn't. He was too exhausted, to empty, to even consider it.

“Oh shit,” Powell’s voice held uncharacteristic fear.

Greg roused himself and shifted Kyra out of his grasp. He moved forward to get a look out the cockpit windows. He gasped at what he saw: a small fleet of ships looming ahead of them. He began to speak, unsure of what he would say, when all of their radios crackled to life as a new channel overrode their frequency.

“Did you honestly think you could escape my grasp?”

Williams's voice cut across their comms.

“They have us outnumbered, outgunned...” Powell informed them.

Greg looked back into the cabin. Billings was pale, silent. Kyra sat still, at a loss for words. Even Cage looked stymied, uncertain of what to do.

“What do we do?” Greg whispered.

“
I suggest you prepare yourselves for capture,”
Williams replied.