“Not enough time,” Charlie said. “We’re heading back right away.”
Denver backed away from the three croatoan fighters as Maria and Charlie helped Mike into the back of the harvester. Once inside, Mike took a seat and Maria fetched a first-aid box from a locker within the vehicle. She moved about the place with ease, having grown up in one very similar. She attended to his wounds and wrapped his ankle with a bandage.
“Thanks,” Mike said.
“The painkillers should kick in, in a few minutes. It’s badly swollen, but it doesn’t feel broken.”
“I have him to thank for that.” Mike nodded in the direction of Blinky. The alien sat on his own in a dark corner of the harvester’s mess area. He stared out of a small porthole toward the three fighters.
“What about them?” Mike said. “Shouldn’t we take them with us? Let Unity deal with them?”
“No,” Charlie said. “They stay with the wreck.”
Mike saw that rigid determination in his eye again. There was no talking him out of it. And Mike had to remember just what these aliens did. Sure, Blinky helped him out, but they were still the race that nearly wiped out all of humanity. One small gesture of kindness could never make up for that.
But still—with so little left, for both sides, and a common threat, at some point a line in the sand had to be drawn. But Mike knew Charlie—and Denver—could never do that in their hearts. They’d been too damaged. Suffered too much.
The harvester’s engines came online, and the great vehicle shuddered and shook. They headed back toward Unity, their bounty safely secured.
“Light them up,” Charlie said.
He and Denver stood at the rear of the vehicle, watching out of a window.
Maria squeezed Mike’s hand and gave him an expression of wanting him to do something or say something for those croatoans left behind. Mike shook his head. It was too late for them now.
Denver pressed the button on the remote trigger.
Two explosions roared out, sending a huge ball of flame into the sky. Pieces of shipwreck rained down among the black smoke. Within the smoke, a huge fire burned.
Maria looked away, unable to watch the croatoans.
A tense silence developed in the mess area. Denver and Charlie joined the others.
“It had to be done,” Charlie said.
Maria turned her back and said nothing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Augustus feared the worst as he approached a third farm on the western side of the continent. Smoke belched from a breeding warehouse, and flames licked the edges of its roof. His search for a functioning operation had so far been unsuccessful. The previous two were ransacked and deserted, although this one was still surrounded by flourishing fields of root.
He slowed the hover-bike, drifted over a fenced paddock toward the back of a meat processing unit, and cupped his hand over his nose. Human bodies in an advanced state of decomposition scattered around the grassed area, mostly livestock.
A gust of wind blew from east to west. Something moved on the ground in front of him. He abruptly brought the bike to a halt and hung over a building.
Smoke cleared from the central main square. Two croatoans stood next to six hover-bikes parked in a formal line along the middle. One raised its rifle toward Augustus. Another one bounced out of a barracks building.
He held up and arm and waved, accidentally nudging the bike into a tilt with his other hand. Feeling unsteady, Augustus quickly gripped the handlebars, steadied the bike, and twisted it toward them. He never did like these weird machines. Life was so much simpler during his time as emperor, more streamlined, although he could take the credit for that.
The croatoan lowered its weapon, and all three creatures watched Augustus make his descent. He lowered to the dirt square and peered around. The barracks, production, engineering and surveying buildings looked intact.
The surveyor building’s door creaked open. A gray-haired woman, dressed in a dark blue jumpsuit, squinted through the light smoke toward him. Zoe. The performance improvement manager he’d recruited thirty years ago in one of the ubiquitous concrete jungles spread along the eastern coast. A reliable worker who never questioned his authority.
She took two paces forward. “Is that you, Augustus?”
He turned and shielded his face with his robe. Half because the smoke stung his eyes, half because he still felt embarrassed about losing his mask. “It’s me. What the hell happened here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. Come inside. The croatoans are going to put out the fire after they’ve finished chasing off another attack.”
“Bit of a slaughter in the paddocks?”
“The croatoans panicked after we lost comms, and killed the livestock. We were attacked this morning, again.” She pointed to the warehouse crackling with flames. “And they torched it. We killed most and are sweeping the forest for any others.”
The team sounded organized and still had fight in them. A good thing if he was to serve a generous portion of future justice to Unity. Augustus removed the robe from his face, turned to Zoe and smiled, flashing his yellow teeth. She opened her mouth and took a step back.
He strode across to the surveyor building, the one that childish fool Gregor used to call the chocolate factory, as purposefully as his old limbs would allow. “I’m here to discuss reorganization and future strategy. Open the door.”
Zoe’s expression softened, as if a wave of relief had just washed over her. She pressed against the handle, and Augustus entered into the gloom.
Eight surveyors and a driver sat around a large pile of root at the back of the building. Not the slick operation that this building used to be. Normally, they busied themselves around the front table, checking samples, punching things into their computers, and studying readings. He didn’t blame them for sheltering; the arena proved how useless they were at fighting.
“Take a seat. I’ll bring you some wine,” Zoe said.
Augustus perched behind a small desk in one of the side offices. He pulled the black prism from his chest and rolled it in his fingers. There was no chance that Hagellan poisoned this place. The fat toad sounded too busy trying to achieve the impossible with a bunch of dregs.
Zoe placed a plastic cup of orange wine in front of him and sat opposite.
He took three large gulps and groaned at the tingly feeling in his extremities. “As you may be aware, the ships went down four weeks ago—”
“An alien came here three weeks ago and told us. It went to join a larger force in the south.”
Augustus raised his eyebrows. “Larger force? Any idea of the exact location?”
She shook her head. “No. But we planned to leave in a couple of days. Supplies are running out, and the attacks are coming more frequently. They want to secure a large area of root, create a stronghold, and wait for instruction from the council.”
His pulse quickened. That council member could be him. He could pick up a readymade army and conquer Unity.
The doors flew open and two croatoan guards hopped into the building. They headed straight for the office and stood at the door. One, with human blood spattered on its visor, excitedly clicked and held its weapon forward. Not aiming at Augustus, but loosely enough in his direction to unnerve him. They were all probably in a state of total confusion.
“Augustus,” it croaked.
He rose from the chair and straightened his robe. An air of authority would be needed to pull things into shape, and only one man on the planet could do it. He turned to Zoe. “Do either of these speak English?”
“Not very well. One of the surveyors does.”
“It can act as my translator. Assemble the team around the table. I need to address the group.”