When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars) (61 page)

His daughter, on the other hand, was doing just fine. Kids were resilient, able to deal with concepts like intergalactic war in a way adults wouldn't fathom. While Timothy and his neighbors argued over what to do, Mary was content to color in her books or watch cartoons. The looming threat of intergalactic war meant little in the scheme of her world.

Timothy arrived at the school just as kids began to pour out. Parents lined up on the sidewalk, grabbing their children and throwing them into waiting cars, or just dragging them quickly back home. No one wanted to linger long outdoors. Mary arrived with the second wave, pigtails bouncing as she skipped down the stairs. Tim scooped her up into a big hug, kissing her cheeks.

"How was your day, sweetie?"

Mary squirmed until her father set her down. "Lena Carter says they're going to close down the school because of the aliens." She started walking back toward the apartment, pulling Timothy by the hand. "Mrs. Potter says that's silly, but Lena's dad is with the army and she says he told her they were shutting down lots of places."

She continued her story, but Tim was no longer paying attention. The sky had darkened suddenly, and when he looked up the clouds were thick and black, with angry red veins flowing within. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Mary was still talking when he heard the first scream.

Down the street a woman howled in pain and clawed desperately at her skin. Her nails had torn strips of flesh from her arm and blood sprayed the ground as she writhed in agony. As Tim stared, confusion overpowering his fear, two more bystanders fell to the sidewalk. Something was raining down from the clouds, affected anyone it touched. As the downpour drew closer, more and more people cried out and threw themselves around trying to escape the invisible attackers. There was no time to run to the apartment.

Burt pulled his daughter's backpack from her shoulders and dumped it onto the sidewalk. Mary protested, trying to gather her belongings into a pile as her father sorted through the mess. He grabbed her lunchbox, popped it open and pulled out her thermos. It was metal, designed to keep her soup hot throughout the day, and had a solid heft. Holding the cylinder in his right hand, Tim ran to the closest store and smashed the window again and again. Glass cracked and splintered, sending slivers flying through the air.

The storm closed in around them, and now the screams of children joined the adults. Some cried out of fear, others from unimaginable pain. Tim punched he window harder, his hands cut to ribbons from the sharp edges. Finally, with a tremendous blow, the glass shattered and fell away. Tim grabbed his daughter, ignoring the searing lacerations on his arms, and carried her into the dark store.

Outside, the deadly rain consumed the small town. Bodies filled the streets and the cries of the dying echoed from building to building. As father and daughter watched from the broken window, a silence fell. The voices stopped pleading for help, replaced by the sound of wind blowing the disease down toward the next city. Tim chanced a peek down the road and immediately regretted it. His friends and neighbors lay dead in the street, bloodied and broken. Worse still were the smaller forms, little hands curled into fists, backpacks spilt to the side.

Tim was about to turn away when he saw something move. About twenty feet from his store, face-down on the street, a woman groaned and squirmed. He ducked back inside, searching the room for some form of protection. In his haste he'd broken into a pharmacy. The racks were mostly filled with vitamins or over-the-counter medications, nothing that could be of much use. He almost gave up when he saw an overcoat hanging over a chair by the register. Tim grabbed the jacket and ran to his daughter.

"Mary, I need you to stay here while I check outside."

Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and her cheeks were still wet. We pulled at his sleeves. "Daddy, don't go. Please don't leave me."

Tim brought her close, held her head against his chest. Her sobs came in waves and she shook in his arms. "I'll come back. I promise. Just stay inside. Stay safe, and I'll be back before you know it." He kissed her forehead and stood, donning the overcoat. He zipped it up until it covered his chin. Wondering the aisles he found a mask, goggles and latex gloves. Completely covered, he stepped out through the window into the falling poison.

Black and red spores floated in the air, drifting lazily to the ground. It was only five but the sky was pitch black. Street lights wouldn't come on for another few hours and the path was lost in darkness. Tim's shoes crunched with each step. A fine layer of powder covered the pavement. He inched closer and closer to the woman on the ground. She was still moving, still moaning. Her face was turned away, but he could see thick black veins bulging from her hands and neck. Her fingernails were raw and red from scratching.

"Miss? Are you OK?" He took another step closer. Each breath fogged the glasses, blinding him for a few feet until the cold air cleared them again. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing in his ears. "Can you hear me?"

The woman shuddered suddenly, her body convulsing. Her limbs flailed as though possessed, and Tim thought he hear bones breaking. He pushed his fear aside and dropped down to his knees, grabbing ahold of the injured woman by her shoulders. He tried to roll her over, taking care not to get near her mouth. Some part of him remembered hearing that epileptics could bite off their tongues, and he did
n’
t want to add his own digits to the menu.

As she flopped onto her back, it was all Tim could do to keep his lunch down. Her face was a spiderweb of black veins bulging and throbbing in time with her racing pulse. Masses roiled underneath the skin, inching their way around her neck and cheeks. But her eyes were the worst: oil black and wide open, with thin red lines streaking up from the lids. She gurgled and pink foam bubbled out between her lips.

“
Jesus
,”
Tim moaned
.“
What is happening
?”
He moved to sit up, to drag her out of the street and into his half hazard shelter, when her hand clamped down like a vice on his wrist. He yelped in surprise and pain, dropping down onto his ass hard enough to send shocks up his spine.

The woman turned her head to face him, bones popping and grinding beneath the mottled flesh. Blood and saliva poured from her slackened mouth, dribbling between teeth that had grown longer and sharper than normal. She squeezed harder and Tim felt her nails biting into his arm. If he had
n’
t worn the overcoat, she might have torn right through the skin. She growled, a rumbling terrible sound that hit him in the stomach. Then, without warning, she was on him.

Fists came down like hammers, pounding at his face and chest. She clawed and bit, never finding much of a target in the heavily bundled man. Tim cried out, his arms crossed over his head trying to ward off the worst of the blows. She caught him across the jaw and stars exploded in front of his eyes. Nails dug into his neck as she brought her drooling mouth down toward his face to take a bite. Tim squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the end.

Suddenly the weight lifted. He heard a wet crack, like a melon hitting the ground. When he opened his eyes the woman lay face down in the street, black blood pooling from her head. Standing over him, victorious, was Mary. She had wrapped herself in layers of gauze and tape to protect her skin, and held a brick in her right hand. As Tim leapt up and grabbed his daughter, he heard the screeches echoing through the town. More and more people were rising from where the
y’
d fallen, driven by some unknown force.

Back inside the shop, Mary and Tim barricaded the doors and windows as best they could. The dreadful silence had been replaced with something worse. Screams sounded every few minutes as the horde of infected found another victim. For now, the two survivors settled in for the night, praying they might make it through this living nightmare.

Outside, the thralls brayed and hissed and began their hunt.

*              *              *              *              *

              Hiro could only watch the horror unfold on his screen. As the spores fell from the skies, they burrowed into the flesh of any hapless fools left outside. Most died quickly, after suffering through minutes of unimaginable agony. Some, however, refused to go so quietly. The parasitic cloud infected their bodies, mutating and deranging them. As his crew watched the scene unfold, bodies began to rise and run at the survivors, clawing and biting and hitting. It was a nightmare. And, looking at his weary shipmates, Hiro knew it was only beginning.

             
“The
y’
re pulling back
!”
The voice cracked over the net, breaking up in bursts of static. Hir
o’
s crew jumped on the signal, amplifying until they had a solid lock
.“
This is
Jerusalem
, calling all stations. The Boxti forces are pulling back
.
”

             
Hiro could
n’
t speak. He looked over to the right, to where his executive officer stood. Earl had taken a beating during the worst of the fight, dislocating his shoulder. The war-weary captain smiled at his commander
.“
We made it
,”
he said.

             
“Commodore
,”
the communications officer called out
.“
I
t’
s the Boxti. The
y’
re sending another message
.
”

             
Hiro eased himself into his chair, careful not to show any visible signs of pain
.“
Get Domin Shodon on the line to translate
.
”

             
“No need, sir. I
t’
s in English
.
”

             
What in Go
d’
s name?
Hiro motioned for the young officer to play the audio. The voice that came next was anything but human. I
t’
s inflection was all wrong, and it sounded like metal spikes grinding in dirt. But the words were terrifyingly clear.

             
“Now that we have your attention..
.
”

Chapter Six

Learn to Fly

“
When the history books are written, they will mock us. Our children will lament our mistakes as they will be the ones who pay for them. For when our species needed us the most, we were too busy fighting one another to face our true enemy. That is, of course, if we survive to write them
.
”

                                                       
Gordon Holst

             
                                          Professor of History,

             
                                          London University

             
                                          2240
             

-                           
I                            -

February 15, 2237

              Josh woke up suspended in mid-air. Wind roared in his ears as he plummeted down toward the ground at terminal velocity. Something small and cold tapped against his wrist in time with his heartbeat. He tried to look down, but the force of the air around his head kept it locked in place. Squinting against the blazing sun, Josh watched the brown swamp below race at him like a freight train. A shrill whistle sounded, growing louder and louder with each passing moment.

             
He sat up in his bed, drenched in sweat, heart pounding so loud it felt as though it shook the room. The empty sky had vanished, replaced with the cool blank walls of the barracks. Rows of bunks lined up along the wall alongside lockers and storage chests. Aside from a few posters and the bulletin board, no decorations gave life to the space.

             
Like all Army facilities, the barracks were unisex. With such a small group there was little risk for any of the usual sexual issues that plagued the rest of the military. Peer monitoring, combined with more than a few visible cameras, kept the hormones in check. Fraternization amongst the troops was an inevitability, one the military had taken centuries to accept. Surprisingly, this has led to units working better in the field rather than worse.

             
Josh swung his legs out from beneath his sheets and let his feet find the slippers under the bed. He stood and stretched out his sore arms and legs. Physical training had never been this hard. Even with the billions of tiny machines working his muscles and tissues, he hurt every day. Dr. Markov said this was normal and that the pain would continue to ebb over the coming months. So far h
e’
d been right about the recovery process. Once he'd started walking again, his body had healed almost immediately. He imagined he could feel the nano bots flowing through his veins, checking his vitals and keeping him in shape.

             
The days had run together. Laying in bed for months had
n’
t done any favors for Jos
h’
s internal clock. Following that with weeks of the most strenuous physical therapy and strength training h
e’
d ever performed left the young soldier in a constant state of recovery. Not that he would complain, nor any of his soldiers. Along with the new and unique regiment came the realization that they no longer fit into the usual mold of Army grunts.

             
Jos
h’
s first few days had gone predictably terrible. His legs did
n’
t respond to his commands, seeming to act of their own accord. Walking was nearly impossible, let alone conducting a simple two-mile jog. Dax had the most trouble adapting and spent his first training sessions with some of the lab coats in a water tank. However, after many a miserable hour on the field, the soldier
s’
bodies began to comply. In fact, they each noticed improvements. Liane had been the fastest runner in the battalion before the operation, but now sprinted flat out without ever showing signs of fatigue. Dax could move a truck without aid before, and now seemed able to move a tank.

             
As Dr. Markov explained it, the nanomachines in their bodies amplified natural abilities. Liane was running faster, but also moved at near perfect efficiency through the space around her. Though each of the soldiers shot with uncanny accuracy, Alex
a’
s talents outshone the entire squad. In every way, the experiment was proving a success. And since the nanomachines worked as extensions to their own neurology, the learning curve was thankfully low.

             
In order to capitalize on the technology, Dr. Markov and Sasha put the soldiers through rigorous physical and mental training. Each learned to be masters with small arms, heavy weapons and explosives. They trained in hand-to-hand combat, practicing Shi-Ze-Nah Karate with Grandmaster Morris three days a week. Sasha even had them learn Kendo and advanced sword-fighting techniques, though few could understand why. Whenever they questioned the archaic weapons, the Mars veteran would put on his angry fac
e—
indistinguishable from his other expression
s—
and remind them that swords never had to be reloaded. They left each class bruised and exhausted, with more than a few welts.

             
The classroom was as difficult as the training field, and Jos
h’
s team went through university-level courses in physics, chemistry, anatomy and biology. They learned how to use advanced quantum computers and the ins and outs of classified Naval technology. Sasha often remarked that it was like spraying a fire hose at a sponge and hoping it stuck, but the soldiers succeeded at every turn. In the short two weeks since the training resumed, the program was already making strides forward. Pierre in particular took to xenobiology like a fish to water.

There were downsides. The Master Control Unit was the most unusual part of the transition. Acting as a liaison between the soldier and the machines, the MCU had an infused Artificial Intelligence that allowed it to make choices independently of the host. Josh found this somewhat troubling, as its first call had been to build a diamond shell for his bones and a carbon weave for his skin. Nothing felt particularly out of place, but it unnerved him.

              Josh left the barracks and stepped out into the cool night air. He still had another few hours if he wanted more sleep, but his body felt refreshed. An unseen side effect of the operation was the near incurable insomnia, but it did
n’
t faze him any more. He checked his phone and saw a new message from Cameron. Markov insisted on a media blackout, including all contact with outside sources. That rule had been broken early and often. Josh tapped the icon on his phone and the video played.

             
Camero
n’
s face popped up on the screen
.“
Hey there, buddy. I figure yo
u’
ll be opening this at some ungodly hour, so
I’
ll skip the pleasantries.
I’
m already missing Irwin Cove, but the war needs me out here. Primus was hurting for a good ace, and a hero has to oblige the people
.”
He laughed. The camera shifted as the pilot moved to a different vantage by a window. Behind him, small motes of yellow light flashed in the distance near a gold and blue planet
.“
Tha
t’
s the clean-up. We have to blast most of the derelicts out of the sky. The Boxti let their broken ships drift around and they're falling over population centers. I
t’
s like they do
n’
t care at all about survivors. We spend most of our days in recovery, but i
t’
s been two weeks. We all know w
e’
re in a body count now. At least the fighting is stopped, but who knows how long this little cease-fire is going to last.

             
“
I’
ve done a few bombing runs down there, trying to buy the troops more time. I'm not even targeting the aliens, it's mostly the monsters they made
.”
He looked worn out. Dark circles hung under his eyes
.“
It's been hell out there. So much flak left from the fighting. If you don't watch your path you'll shred your ship.
I’
ve watched a lot of good people die, Josh. A lot of friends. I
t’
s hard to climb into that cockpit anymore. I feel like
I’
m just waiting to punch my ticket out. If it were
n’
t for Kaileen, I do
n’
t know how
I’
d do it
.”
His face brightened at the thought
.“
She tells me to focus on the positive
.
”

             
“Hi, Josh
,”
Kaileen said offscreen. She popped her head in, smiling wryly. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and she wore her flight uniform. The blue jumpsuit was only half-on, the sleeves from the top wrapped around her waist. A tight gray tank top clung to her torso
.“
Guess wh
o’
s back on duty
?
”             

             
Cameron smiled genuinely
.“
I do
n’
t know who she had to sleep with to get back in a Seed, but sh
e’
s on the line. I know, Lord have mercy, right
?”
Kaileen leaned in and punched Cameron hard on the shoulder
.“
Ow, this is abuse, woman
!
”

             
Josh laughed, his breath fogging in the cool morning air.

             
“Listen
,”
Cameron said
.“I’
m about to head back out into it. Command keeps talking about a parlay with the aliens, and w
e’
re needed to make a safe area
.”
He paused suddenly, taking on a conspiratorial look
.“
Speaking of aliens, have you seen any grays down on Eden? There are a a dozen ships out here with us, and the
y’
ve started acting strange. Yesterday I saw two cruisers flashing their weapons back and forth, like a show of force. Weird, right?

             
“Anyway, drop me a line when yo
u’
re free. Let me know if that spore cloud has reached you guys yet. Yo
u’
ve been lucky so far, so le
t’
s hope it skips you altogether. Stay safe, Josh
.”
A tone sounded, signaling the end of the transmission. Josh tucked the phone back into his pocket. He regretted the lies he told his friend almost as much as he worried about his comrades on New Eden. The planet held one of the largest military bases in Terran space, but it had been remarkably vulnerable to attack. Against an enemy like the Boxti, it was hard to imagine the Army was making any headway.

             
“Ca
n’
t sleep
?
”

             
Josh turned around and smiled as Dax emerged from the building, donning a long-sleeved shirt and pulling a thick jacket around his shoulders. He was a native of warmer climates and did
n’
t enjoy the bitter winter of Omega. As he looked at his friend, a digital display appeared to his left. Da
x’
s military folder, as well as a recent picture, displayed in mid-air by the hulking soldier. Josh found it disconcerting, but was slowly getting used to the automated features of a mechanically enhanced brain. He thought hard for a moment and the images disappeared.

             
“
I’
m getting better
,”
Josh said.

             
Dax laughed, rubbing his arms against the cold
.“
I am sore today. I swear, this is worse than any PT we did back on Kronos
.
”

             
“It was warmer there
.
”

             
“Do
n’
t I know it
.”
Dax breathed on his hands to heat them
.
“
‘
Mild winter
,’
they said.
I’
m freezing
.”
He shivered
.“
Was that Cameron? Ho
w’
s he doing
?
”