“I would,” she finally said, giving in to a sob.
Augustus went in for the metaphorical kill, pulling her close to his body, and wrapped his arms around her. She clung to him and sobbed into the crook of his shoulder. He rubbed her back and whispered comforting words into her ears before finally saying, “Tell me everything you know about Mike and Mai.”
THE TRACKER LED his croatoan ally through the woods, both of them stalking Freetown like a fox hunting a rabbit. He noted that the short burst of gunfire had stopped. He didn’t expect it to put up much resistance, sadly. There were good people there, but they just didn’t have time to react any quicker.
Khan reached the edge of the trees and kneeled at the base of a redwood. The woods were hushed as though the remaining animals had decided to keep quiet so as not to risk Augustus’ wrath.
The only movement he could detect was the soft, deliberate footfalls of his partner. Khan looked over his shoulder and nodded toward a tree opposite him. The alien, like Khan, wore one of Unity’s handmade ghillie suits. The shadow the croatoan cast, however, was significantly larger than Khan’s.
Baliska spoke little English, but he knew enough to understand Khan’s general intent and questions.
“Bal, how you doing?” Khan asked.
“Grrr,” Baliska said, which was his shorthand for ‘great.’
Khan had to give it to the big hunter; he was as durable as any living thing Khan had ever seen before. Baliska had now effectively died twice; once at the hand of Charlie Jackson and the other time by Gregor, the latter using Augustus’ poison. They didn’t count on it having an expiration date, however. Baliska’s immune system had shut him down for twelve straight hours in order to expunge the poison.
A full course of root transfusion had seen the hunter up and running again within a day.
Khan, however, wasn’t so lucky. He took a shot to the ribs during the fight at Aimee’s. The wound still plagued him with soreness and restricted movement. With a combination of recovered drugs from nearby hospitals and special application of the croatoan root, he managed to heal enough to do this mission, though he could feel himself getting increasingly more tired. Still, they were here now; they just had one more thing to do before they could retreat.
Looking toward Freetown, the sun nearly setting, casting the place in monochrome tones of dusk, Khan noticed the workshop building was on fire. In the main square, three shuttles stood with a handful of humans and croatoans huddled around one.
Dozens of bodies lay strewn across the complex. Khan shook his head. Such a waste of good people.
He brought his backpack around to his feet and checked inside for his bombs. Three croatoan plasma bombs were packed in it, ready to drop and go. Baliska carried four others on a belt around his muscular waist.
Both of them carried carbine rifles slung over their backs. Khan had a bandolier across his chest containing a mix of smoke and EMP grenades. He tested their fit to make sure they would come loose when he tugged on them.
All seemed in place.
He turned to Baliska. “Ready, big guy?”
“Yeah,” Baliska growled, his eyes narrow and focused on causing maximum destruction. Khan detected a hint of alien glee in those eyes of his.
“We hit ’em hard and fast, take out one of their shuttles and as many troops as possible before heading for the hover-bikes on the other side of the complex. If we get separated or one of us is killed, we don’t stop, you understand? We must return to Unity. The scout will be here soon with the false information I fed him. That means Augustus will be eager to leave as soon as possible. The margins will be tight, but the plan will work if we don’t fuck up.”
Baliska just blinked at him as though he were an idiot. Of course the hunter knew what was at stake and the order of the plan. Through a translator, it was he who had devised the strategy.
The hunter held out his large fist. Khan bumped his against it.
“We go,” Baliska said, spinning out from behind the redwood trunk and sprinting across the square in long, loping strides, his shifting form virtually invisible in the dusk.
When Baliska dropped the first bomb near two of Augustus’ hover-bikes, Khan sprinted toward the square ahead of him in an arcing run that took him around to the left, following the edge of the woods.
By the time Khan pulled the smoke grenade and threw it across the square to obscure the view of anyone in and around the main complex, Baliska’s first bomb exploded with a thundering crack, sending the hover-bikes flying into the woods with a ball of flame.
The boom echoed around the open square.
Men and croatoans dashed in all directions. Baliska withdrew his sword and cut down half a dozen of them as they wandered about, not knowing what to do in the panic.
Khan used the panic to his advantage and planted two of the bombs from his pack at the base of one of the shuttles.
He set the timer and sprinted back to the line of trees.
Using an adapted radio Mai had made for them, Khan warned Baliska and he watched as the shifting, stealthy form of his ally sprinted past the shuttle toward a gaggle of aliens trying to free their weapons from their holsters.
Putting his hands over his ears, Khan watched as the bombs went off with a sound like god himself had cracked the sky in two. The shuttle buckled, the panels bulging from the bottom upwards. The roof splintered up before the entire craft flew ten feet in the air as it split apart into a hundred smaller, burning fragments.
The bodies of those inside slumped to the ground, charred and smoking. Some twitched before becoming still.
Stage one complete, Khan pulled the carbine rifle around from his back and stormed into the square.
The heat of the flames seared his flesh and made his eyes water, but he just focused on Baliska’s swirling form as his sword cut through human and croatoan flesh as though they were made of nothing more than dried twigs.
Two men burst out from one of the other shuttles and fired their pistols at Khan.
One shut buzzed by his ear, making him twitch away.
Another struck the ground near his foot.
He stumbled and rolled forward, but controlled his momentum and came out of the roll onto his knees, where he drew his rifle up and emptied half a magazine in an arcing spray, cutting down the two men in a volley of hollow-point rounds.
“To the bikes,” Khan said over the intercom, receiving a grunt in reply.
The young tracker reoriented his position and headed to the east of the complex for a copse of trees. Buried under leaves were a pair of bikes that Denver had stashed for emergencies.
The main square was a scene of smoke and fire and utter carnage: just what Aimee wanted. The smell of roasting flesh made Khan want to gag as he ran across the square, following Baliska’s large shape.
Khan caught up to him and pointed through the trees. They just reached the tree line when Khan fell face-first into the gravel ground, his right leg giving way underneath him. His heart lurched and he spun over onto his back, not sure what had happened.
He took a breath and screamed when the pain hit him. “I’ve been shot,” he cried between clenched teeth. His leg pulsated as though it too were on fire within the thigh muscle.
“No time,” Baliska growled, tossing his carbine over his back. He loped back to Khan, reached down, picked him up, and slung him over his shoulder. “Don’t die yet,” Baliska barked with his raspy voice.
Khan’s vision swam as the hunter carried Khan to the hover-bikes. Baliska found them easily enough with Khan’s directions. Within minutes, Khan found himself strapped to the back of a hover-bike and ascending through the trees until they broke out of the canopy and headed north to Unity. Baliska hunched over the controls and gunned the engine to maximum.