“Not too bad,” the tredeyan said, his little black eyes focusing with sharp movements as he knelt to inspect the leg. “You’ll lose the leg, of course, but it could have been far worse. Hold for one moment. The rest of you, suit up now.”
Charlie and Layla just stood there in shock. Lose his leg? Charlie was about to say something when Denver held up his hand. “Don’t. Let’s just see this through; then we’ll figure something out.”
Layla’s eyes welled with tears, but she choked them back. She made to step toward him, but Vingo appeared carrying a small graphite case. He flipped the lid and took out a metal cylinder.
“What’s that?” Denver said, pulling his leg back.
“Antivenom. It’ll stop the clusp’s toxins from infecting the rest of your body and reducing your brain to mulch. It’s your choice if you’d prefer I didn’t administer it?”
“For the record, Vingo, I fucking hate your planet and everything on it.”
“That makes two of us,” Vingo replied as he jabbed the cylinder into Denver’s leg, just above the wound.
Denver sucked in his breath and went stiff before breathing out and relaxing. “Okay, that stuff’s good,” he said, swaying.
Charlie steadied his son. “Are you all right?”
Denver looked at his leg then back to Charlie and Layla. “I… think so. The pain is numbed and I kind of feel… gooey.”
“The chemical is binding to the venom proteins. You’ll feel suboptimal for a few units.”
“Units?” Layla said.
“You call them hours,” Vingo said. “Now hurry, I can answer questions on the way. The hunters will be here soon.”
“What about our weapons?” Denver said.
“I’ll give you something better. You may keep your own if you wish, but I don’t know how effective they’ll be in our atmosphere,” Vingo said. He connected a thick flexible tube from each helmet to a pack on the back of the suits and checked the readings on the wrist pads. “You need to put on the helmets first. Just place it over your head and wait a short time.”
Charlie’s pulse quickened, but he realized they had nothing to lose. He took a few deep breaths, released the oxygen system’s shoulder straps, and ripped off the mask. Vingo passed him the helmet and placed it over his head. Two clamps gently rose against Charlie’s jawbone, securing his head in place. A soft rubberlike material sucked against his neck, forming a seal.
Everything outside took on a darker tinge. A luminous green digital display appeared at the bottom left of the visor and the temperature cooled around Charlie’s face. He’d read about astronauts having HUDs, but none were as advanced as the busy display before his eyes, although he couldn’t understand a single symbol or measurement.
Taking a deep breath, Charlie filled his lungs with air, but couldn’t detect any root in the supply. It was growing outside, so he’d just have to go back to eating it to get his hit, especially as it seemed food of any kind wasn’t on the menu for the foreseeable future.
Vingo held his stocky arm out toward the open suit. “The water compartments in the back plates are full and should last two days if you drink steadily. Climb in, please.”
Confident that Denver could provide cover, Charlie slipped into the gap of the suit and leaned against the soft rear section.
Vingo pressed the suit’s arm-pad several times. It closed around Charlie’s body and both pieces clamped together. A soft lining inflated around his body, filling up the loose space. The helmet and armor jerked together, followed by a hollow click.
The thing felt too light to be useful. Charlie raised his hand and his arm shot in the air. Denver half-smiled and picked up a helmet. He and Layla followed the same procedure.
“The shell has pressure pads,” Vingo said after placing on his purple helmet. His raspy voice came through in crystal-clear tones. “You only need soft movements to power the mechanism. I’ve configured the helmets on our own secure network so we can talk without fear.”
Layla moved forward. After a few awkward steps, she moved freely and picked up her gun. “This is amazing. Unbelievable.”
Denver raised the gauntlet, flexed its fingers and turned the hand in front of his face. “Are they good in combat?”
“Good in unarmed combat and protection from small weapons at medium and long distance. My village is in range of the wireless reactor. We should have no problems with power.”
“You power these things with wireless energy?” Charlie asked.
“We power most things with it. It’s nothing new. Test your movements naturally. We have to go.”
Charlie fought the temptation to move like a robot, or a man in a metal case, and walked forward. He couldn’t believe how easily he could move as the balled joints around the knees, ankles and elbows spun to precision with every move. He only felt a slight restriction around his hips.
“What are the readings on the visor?” Layla said.
“I’ll explain later. Follow me,” Vingo said and headed for the weapons compartment.
The tredeyan slung a black pouch over his purple armor and headed toward the opposite side of the warehouse.
Optimism initially flowed through Charlie as he followed. They’d found immediate safety and had a plan. He resisted communicating his relief. Hagellan’s words on the trip to Tredeya ran through his head. Tredeyans are politicians, not fighters. Vingo openly admitted that they kidnapped humans for their own gain. Something told him that this mission was a lot more than just a trek to a village.
Chapter 5
THE UNDERGROUND WORKSHOP seemed quiet given the circumstances, Mike thought.
Next to him, Mai worked with a croatoan engineer who called himself Gib. Neither made much noise as they busied themselves with soldering irons, connecting wires and transistors to a remodeled radio unit.
They were both hunched over a workbench.
Mai wore a pair of magnifying goggles and leaned close to her work. Wires and radio parts were strewn across the surface of the bench.
The smell of the burning solder and flux brought back happy memories for Mike—memories of him and Mai building and repairing devices over the years.
Looking at her now from his stool, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her when so many people had to survive on their own. He leaned back and rubbed a knot from his shoulders. The quiet and the lack of news were making him more tense than usual.
Since the others had left for Tredeya, Mike and his new team had set up a workshop in Hagellan’s old place. Throughout that time, the place had buzzed with frantic activity. Gib, who spoke excellent English, having grown up in Unity, had put himself in charge of the communications team.
They had monitored the tachyon transceiver for any messages from Tredeya, but as yet, only one had reached them: that the croatoan destroyer was, ironically, destroyed, along with the gate. No news yet from Charlie, Denver, or Layla about their chances of returning, or any sign that they were still alive.
Earth, for now at least, was safe from interstellar menaces, but Mike still hated the thought of never seeing his friends again. It didn’t matter that he knew their chances of returning were slim; what mattered was that there was at least a chance, no matter how remote. The longer it went without word, however, the shorter those odds became and the closer Mike would have to come to dealing with the hard truth.
Regardless of what was happening on Tredeya, Mike knew it wasn’t the time to mope about being morose and useless.
Augustus was still out there—up to something.
A croatoan scout had reported an increase of shuttle activity from some of the farms to the south and east—hence the work on the radio. They needed more intelligence.