“Follow me,” Gregor said. “We’ll set down at the landing strip; it’s got partial cover. We’ll round up the others, deal with the threat, and get the hell out of here.”
“To where?” Marek said.
Gregor mounted his bike and slung the AR-15 over his shoulder. “I’ll think about it on the way. Maybe to a city. They tend to avoid those places.”
“It’s dangerous. They’ll see us turn up without the riders. For all we know, the others are already dead.”
“The next shuttle run isn’t for a few hours. Without the pulse cannon, we’re dealing with the surveyors, which a child could kill, and a few jumped-up security guards. If we faced a squad of croatoan soldiers, I’d agree with you.”
“I’ve known you for too long, Gregor. You’re going kill the aliens.”
Gregor smiled and started his engine. “Every fucking last one of them. Augustus is going to regret the day he ordered our execution.”
Ben looked back. “What if the shit hits the fan as soon as we arrive?”
“We split and come up with something else.”
Marek mounted the final bike and started the engine. He shouted above the humming engines, “If we take out the farm, they’ll come after us.”
“There’s thousands of these farms around the world. They won’t care about one.”
The bike maintained a steady pace, smoothly powering toward the distant farm buildings. Gregor stood at the handlebars once he was comfortable with the balance of the bike. Wind rushed through his greasy brown hair.
He guessed they were traveling at half the bike’s maximum speed. A sensible pace considering Ben nearly fell off his after a shaky take-off, and both he and Marek were out of practice, although the controls came back easily, like riding a bicycle.
Gregor didn’t feel an urge to punch someone or something. Instead, he felt butterflies of excitement in his stomach and as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders. Back to gangster Gregor, answering to no man, liberated.
A mile from the farm, he slowed down and descended to a few feet above the canopy. Marek and Ben joined him on either side. The bikes slapped occasional branches, but it took a lot more than that to down one.
The lack of a patrol in the air was a good sign.
Perhaps the alarm hadn’t been raised just yet.
Gregor hovered momentarily over the landing strip, ensuring the vehicle was steady before lowering down, bumping against the ground with a little less grace than a croatoan rider. Marek and Ben quickly followed.
Nothing moved in the immediate area apart from trees rustling in the breeze.
Gregor raised the AR-15 and nodded toward his office. He had a few weapons stashed in his bedroom. Nothing as good as the rifle, but ammo was limited. Anything they could get their hands on would do.
He dashed across the strip in a crouching run. Straight for the tree line. Marek and Ben had their guns drawn, covering each flank.
Pausing behind a thick old oak, Gregor dropped to one knee and observed his office through the last line of trees.
Marek ducked by his side. “What are you waiting for?”
“We don’t want to run straight into a trap. They’re not the toughest croatoans, but they’re not stupid.”
Something moved in Gregor’s peripheral vision.
He swung his rifle left.
Layla stepped out of her trailer with a small pack on her left shoulder.
Gregor whistled, trying to sound like a bird, hoping to attract her attention. She crept toward the forest in the opposite direction.
To sound more distinctive, but not to croatoans, he decided to whistle a tune. For some reason, “Happy Birthday” was the first thing that came into his head.
Layla paused. Turned. She squinted in their direction. Marek waved his arms above his head. Layla took a few steps closer.
“Layla. Layla, it’s us,” Marek said.
His words seemed to give her focus. She leapt into the trees and ran for their location, her panic-stricken face quickly appearing through the gloom.
She knelt between Marek and Gregor. “Jesus. I thought you guys were dead.”
“Why would you think that?” Gregor said.
“Augustus summoned me for a chat. He said you were being terminated.”
“He was here?”
“No. It was on-screen. He wanted to know who was in the chocolate factory this morning. Said they’re going to receive his justice. Igor saw me. He’s with Augustus. I need to—”
Gregor put his hand on her shoulder. “Calm down. You don’t need to worry about Igor. He’s the one that’s been terminated.”
“You killed him?”
“He used Ben to try and double-cross us. I did what I had to do.”
Ben began to speak. Gregor held up his hand.
“And then our riders tried to kill us,” Marek said. He pointed back through the woods. “We came back on their hover-bikes. Set them down on the shuttle landing strip.”
Layla rubbed her hand though her hair and puffed her cheeks.
Gregor saw clothing stuffed into her backpack. He nodded toward it. “You were making a run for it?”
She sighed. “What did you expect? We’re not surviving on the farm. We’re creating our own deaths. Mine was just around the corner as soon as Augustus worked out it was me who messed with their computers. I thought you were already dead.”
“So we’re all officially unemployed,” Marek said. “Did you get any info on your theory?”
“It’s not a theory. It’s happening. I just can’t work out how they’ll achieve it in the short-term.”
“So we’ve got time?” Gregor said.
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Igor mentioned something about another ship coming to complete the process,” Marek said.
Layla’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. That has to be it. Did he say anything else?”
Gregor looked away, sweeping the immediate area through the rifle sights. Still quiet. Igor’s driver hadn’t returned. They would’ve seen the bike. “Let’s get to more immediate business and talk about this later. We’re getting Vlad and Alex out and leaving. We’ll find a quiet area to regroup, somewhere inconspicuous.”
“What’s the plan?” Ben said.
He tapped the AR-15. “This is the plan.”
“Seriously?”
Gregor cleared leaves and weeds away from the ground with his boot. He picked up a small stick and drew a rough layout of the farm. “Gather round and listen up. This is how we’re going to do this.”
“Seriously, Gregor. Igor’s info, it’s…” Layla said.
Gregor pointed the stick down. “Marek will go through the back window of my office, retrieve guns and ammo from my drawers. I’ll provide cover and keep watch. While you’re in there, Marek, check through the front blind to see if the coast is clear to the chocolate factory.”
Marek nodded. “No problem.”
“We’ll head to the main square. Shoot the barracks windows through; choke the bastards who haven’t got a helmet on. Any alien that comes out is a dead alien.”
“What about us?” Ben said.
“You and Layla move around the other side of the chocolate factory in a right-flanking maneuver to provide covering fire. The surveyors, mechanics, and meat-processing ones are armed. Shoot any that leave their buildings.”
“This sounds like a kamikaze mission. There must be an easier way,” Layla said.
Gregor shook his head. “I thought about it on the way over. If we give them a chance to get armed and organized, we’re done. We take them while they’re not expecting it. There’s not that many croatoans here.”
“Three from today. Igor’s rider and the ones Jackson killed yesterday must leave around six of the bigger croatoans. Unless the shuttle brought replacements this morning?” Marek said.