Resolute Victory (The War for Terra) Page 3

  Something was very wrong. He was not supposed to have regained consciousness in the stasis pod. It was inhuman to burn a man to death while he was awake. He thought about the trial and the face of Banu Rao as the sentence was passed. He concluded that it was Rao who had done this to him. The man was not satisfied with killing him, he had to burn him alive first. It was this thought that kept him from noticing that the bucking had stopped. The liquid which had begun to burn him alive had started to cool.

  It was a lifetime of muted moments before he realized the capsule had stopped moving. There were sounds now, the metallic clang of something beating against the outside of the pod floated through the liquid. His bruised head offered up images of demons with great hammers beating the small, fragile tube.

  Light blasted his eyes as the side of the capsule was ripped away. Lee blinked in the fluid, struggling to get away from the painful glare. He splashed against the side of the tiny pod, sending fluid across the sky and onto the demons assaulting him. A set of powerful hands gripped his shoulders and lifted him from the tube. He tried to look at his attacker, but the light was still too bright. Voices imposed themselves into his head, screeching words into his skull.

  Something grasped his face hard and pulled. He heard a sucking sound. A mask was pulled away from his face. The taste of air had been from a tube supplying oxygen directly to his nose. A strap had held his jaw closed, preventing him from drowning in the thick, clear liquid in the capsule. He was able to breathe, but now coughed spasmodically as his lungs tasted clean air again. A single voice, deep and powerful, sent memory back into Lee’s rattled senses.

  “Captain?” the voice said. “Captain, you are alright. We’ve got you.”

  Lee blinked his eyes and tried to focus on the brilliant white shape in front of him. The image was fuzzy, but growing clearer by the second. A short, powerful snout grew from a clean, white face. There was a tall crest that rose over the furred head between two long ears. The face of his friend could not be described as smiling, because he lacked the muscles to do so, but Lee saw that Farthing was excited to see him again. He tried to croak out some words.

  “What took you so long?”

  3

  Earth

  Humans stood two-by-two in a line that stretched for nearly a hundred feet. The stockade wall that surrounded the factory complex offered little relief from the muddy gray rain. Ch’Tauk centurions with short rifles patrolled the wall, keeping the bedraggled survivors in line.

  There wasn’t much left to keep in order, however; the humans were defeated. Some wore the remnants of much finer clothes stuck to their unwashed bodies by the rain and the dirt that seemed to cover everything. They shuffled through the ever-present puddles of mud and sludge that surrounded the factory. Even the Ch’Tauk, with their shiny black bodies, looked bored with shepherding the broken remnants of the inhabitants of this world.

  It seemed like an eternity before the klaxon alarm sounded and the main gate began to creak open. Another line of workers, their eyes just as hollow as the drones waiting to enter, began to march out of the building. They were also accompanied by black-armored overseers, who trudged along the muddy path towards the gate. The whole operation had been repeated exactly the same for years and it showed. The humans showed no sign of fight and the Ch’Tauk shared an equally disinterested look. The factory was simply a fact of life for both guard and prisoner.

  As the last two humans stumbled from the gate, the waiting group began to move. There was no signal to the movement, just the lurching forward of pure habit. The guards barely glanced at the humans as they began to enter the complex. The other group took their places along the wall in an orderly, quiet movement. No glances were exchanged between the groups, only the tired, resigned shrugs of people waiting to die.

  As the line shambled inwards, one of the humans stumbled on the cracked, muddy pavement. He fell to his knees, collapsing from either exhaustion or clumsiness. The line halted. A few humans who still remembered what it was like to be curious looked to the fallen man. The curiosity turned rapidly to pity as the centurions rushed to intercept the man. The prisoner raised his right arm, signaling that he was about to rise, but the Ch’Tauk had already brought their rifles to bear. The other humans, standing next to their fallen comrade, backed away in fear. The prisoners wanted to give the man a wide berth, expecting the blast of short range plasma from the alien guards.

  “Wait!” the man cried out. His voice was hoarse, but strong. He was wearing a dark shirt that might have once been red, but was now a grayish mass of wet fabric. He had a hood pulled over his head that covered his features from the Ch’Tauk. The strength of the voice startled some of the other prisoners. They had not heard a raised voice in so long. “Don’t shoot. It won’t do any good.”

  The guards held their rifles towards the man. They had been given basic translator circuits so they could understand and give commands to the humans, but what the man said was unusual and confusing. A click on alien box signaled a Tercero from the factory. They had standing orders to shoot any human too infirm to work, but this one seemed to be gaining strength as he rose from the ground. He kept his hands held above his head, but held his head high, different from the rest of the prisoners.

  “I’m telling you, firing those things will only bring you disappointment,” the man said. “And maybe death. I’m just warning you now, that’s all.”

  The guards looked to each other and chittered. The human was sputtering nonsense and they began to wonder if their translators were broken. If the devices were intact, then the man must be insane. Either way, they would wait for the Tercero to give them orders. It would be only a few moments. The shift change meant that the building was occupied by centurions conducting a security sweep and the Tercero who oversaw the operation.

  The flash of light that erupted from the building slammed into the crowd and threw nearly everyone to the ground. The guards kept their feet, but were stunned by the roar of the explosion. They turned to the building to see a fireball rolling into the sky. The prisoners who had managed to get closer to the building were sprawled on their backs, covering their heads with their arms and trying not to be hit with debris. Further away, the humans had ducked into the mud and were trying to back away from the light and sound. The guards covering the defiant human looked around in confusion at the chaos from the factory.

  The man leapt onto the nearest alien and knocked it to the ground. He grabbed the rifle from the startled creature and pointed it to the other. The guard, startled at the sudden act, raised his own rifle in time and pressed the firing stud. Nothing happened. There was no flash of energy or recoil as there should have been. He pressed again and again with no results. The human looked back at the guard. He wore an expression the guard had not seen on a human face before. The sides of his mouth were pulled back and he was showing bright white teeth. A bark came from the man’s throat that the guard took as laughter.

  “I told you so,” the man said above the noise of the explosion.

  The guard felt a sharp pain in his back that lanced through to his chest. He felt suddenly out of breath as his grip on the rifle loosened. The useless weapon fell into the mud as the guard looked down. He was surprised to see the end of a jagged piece of metal protruding from his chest. His knees buckled and he fell. There was a tug at the metal in his body. Whoever had stabbed him was still holding the makeshift sword. He was eased to the ground. There was another tug and pain exploded throughout his body. It took only a few more moments for him to die. The guard’s last thought was how peaceful the planet seemed when he could no longer hear his hearts beat.

  “Henry!” the woman shouted, bringing up the scrap of metal.

  The man dropped. Instinctually, he spun on his right foot, lashing out his left as he turned. He impacted an armored leg just below the knee. The alien hissed as it fell backwards. It was the creature who had given up its rifle. Henry Moore followed through with the sweep and lashed out with his arm.
His wrist cracked into the creature’s neck, shattering the thin bones and causing a gurgling series of clicks from the alien.

  “Emma,” Henry Moore began. “How much longer is that thing going to work?”

  The woman held up her hand, in which a small metallic sphere blinked. She examined the device and the lighted display in it. The cold metal reflected the orange glow from the nearby fire, illuminating her dark skin.

  “Ten seconds, maybe?” she said. “Not enough time. We’re going to have company.”

  Henry looked around at the surroundings. Although the explosion had caused many of the Ch’Tauk guards to rush towards the building, several were converging on the prisoners, herding them together. Two had broken away to investigate the circle of people surrounding Henry and his partner. The humans began to shrink back away from the two as the guards approached, rifles held high.

  “Let’s shoot first, then,” Henry said. He picked up the rifle he had dropped in the mud during the sweep. Emma reached for the other weapon.

  As the guards parted the way, Henry stood facing the woman. She smiled at him with a half-grin that he found oddly attractive given the circumstances. As the first guard clicked out a cry for them to halt, Emma stepped to her left and turned. The sphere beeped just as Henry pressed the button. Twin beams of plasma lashed from the weapons. Emma’s gun blasted the nearest guard while Henry’s tore a hole through the chest of the other. The humans that surrounded them quickly leapt back into the mud, frightened of the sudden violence in their midst. The move gave the two a clear shot at the remaining guards. Startled by the plasma beams, the Ch’Tauk guards froze. It gave Henry time to take aim and minimize his targeting choices. Emma was less subtle in choosing her victims, spraying red-orange blasts towards the alien guards.

  “Get moving!” Henry shouted at the other prisoners. The humans, unused to defiant behavior, began to stand but did not move away. “North! Get your asses north!”

  The prisoners stared back at him. It occurred to Henry that in the months he had been on Earth, he had rarely seen the sun through the thick, muddy clouds. He glanced at his partner and pointed.

  “Get them out of here,” he said, pointing away from the burning factory. “It’s that way.”

  “I know which way it is, you damn fool,” Emma said in a thick South African accent. “I’m with the resistance too.”

  Henry smiled at the woman as she moved off, shouting at the slow moving humans. He had never met a woman quite like Emma before, and hoped she would be alright. They had gotten very close during his introduction to the resistance movement in Wyoming. He watched for another few moments before moving closer to the fire. The other guards would be returning soon and he needed to cover the escape.

  There were three shifts of humans who typically worked the factory. In between each shift, the guards swept the two-kilometer building for explosives. Henry and the other members of the resistance had planted elements of the explosives over the last month. The chemical formula would have been undetectable by simple scanners until integrated last night. Henry had chosen to join the day’s work crew to supervise the mixture himself. The other crew would be liberated by other fighters even as he covered the escape of this group.

  A dozen guards came from the rubble of the factory, some dragging the bodies of other Ch’Tauk. Most of the bodies were missing limbs or even heads, but the guards continued to pull them away from the fire. Henry began to take aim. He needed to fire enough shots to confuse the guards and make them think he was more than one man. He fired into the body of a dead guard, throwing it several meters. The other guards stared at the smoking body, apparently astounded at the sudden violence. As he fired two more shots, Henry finally got the response he was looking for.

  The guards began to run for cover, leaving bodies behind and rushing behind pillars or concrete walls. Henry ran a dozen meters to his left and fired again. The guards tried to get a bead on him, but the rain made aiming quickly very difficult. Henry reversed direction and ran to his right, moving even closer to the gate. He started to yell, changing his voice as often as he could and yelling orders. The guards tried to fire at his voice, but the rain and after-explosions kept his voice from being tracked. He fired more shots at the panicked guards, killing one outright and exploding a piece of wall into another.

  A distant explosion signaled the destruction of the barracks that housed the other shift. It meant the plan was proceeding as scheduled. The Ch’Tauk guards looked around to see if the building behind them had exploded again. Henry fired more shots. He left cover and ran back to the left, trying to reach the other wall. His foot slipped in the mud and he sprawled across the open space of the gate. The gun slid from his hand and he tried to recapture it. Plasma bolts slammed into the ground near his hand. He rolled backwards, avoiding a searing burn by centimeters. He tried to sit up, but more bolts popped the ground around him. He decided to lie very still, and hoped the mud would conceal him.

  It took nearly a minute for the first guard to venture from cover and approach the gate. Henry could feel himself sinking into the mud as the gray deluge made the world around him melt into the ground. He dared not move for fear that the action would reveal his location. The guard moved cautiously, approaching the gate, sweeping his rifle back and forth, looking for any sign of the attacker. A second guard appeared from the haze of rain to follow his comrade. Henry shivered as the wet and cold seeped through the layers of clothing and stealth suit he wore. He suspected the Ch’Tauk could see heat, and prayed the mud and rain would hide him.

  The Ch’Tauk guards closed on him. Less than a meter from his position, the nearest guard halted and held up an armored arm. The other guards stopped as the lead swept his rifle over the ground. A green square moved over the muddy ground, searching for a target. Henry’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the square stop over his heart. He thought of his wife and daughter, lost so long ago, and of Emma, as the alien took one step closer.

  A spray of red light and gore peppered the other guards as the lead Ch’Tauk exploded from a plasma blast. More bolts threw the other guards back as Henry rolled up and out of the mud. He tried to regain his feet, but a hail of plasma kept him low to the ground. Whoever was firing knew he was there and was keeping their fire a meter from the ground to give him cover. Practically crawling in the mud, Henry reached for the fallen guard’s rifle. As his hands closed over the firing stud, he heard a human voice cry from the darkness.

  “Get up, Henry!” called Emma. “There ain’t any of them left.”

  Henry pulled his legs under him and stood. He surveyed the area to see the remains of the guards. He was covered in mud and Ch’Tauk viscera, and he ached from lying in the mud. A hand slammed to his shoulder, causing him to whirl and raise the gun.

  “I’m the one who saved your sorry ass, Henry,” Emma said. “Try not to shoot me until we’re home.”

  Emma’s dark face smiled back at him from under her wet hair. She had kept it tightly braided in rows, but the rain and exertion had freed some wild strands. She looked back at him for a long moment, sharing in the relief of the moment. Henry turned back to the wall and stared at the burning factory.

  “They’re going to come looking for us,” he said. “We better get moving.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replied. “And I agree. Move that cute bum of yours before the rest of them stops dragging bodies and start looking for their friends.”

  The two turned and ran back into the night. The humans would have moved away from the burning factory by now and closer to the caves, where the resistance had been hiding. Despite the cold, rain and danger, Henry could not help thinking about what Emma had said.

  “Do you really think my butt’s cute?”

  4

  The line of escapees had finally narrowed as the cave became smaller. Near the front, Henry and Emma found the small protrusion that marked the entrance to the larger cave complex. Henry pressed a small outcropping and turned sharply to the
right. A grinding sound of gears and pulleys signaled the activation of the door mechanism. The rock wall, solid at first glance, rolled away from the cave with a grinding shudder. A gasp of astonishment sounded in the narrow space as the humans peered into the resistance headquarters for the first time.

  The narrow entrance was one of many into the large underground complex. Apparently built in the early twenty-first century, the hardened bunker had been carved from the granite of the mountains to withstand the destructive power of nuclear weapons. The opening threw electric light into the cave, temporarily blinding several of the freed humans and causing several to stare in wonder.

  Henry motioned for the nearest people, a young couple who looked as if they had never seen dry ground before, into the entrance. Emma led a few more in, holding hands with some of the older ones and whispering reassuring words to others. A group of uniformed men aided the remainder into an adjoining corridor towards the processing center. Henry and Emma, finished with their end of the operation, moved off to a different area. One final wave at a teen who wanted to thank them and the two were moving towards the residential quarters two levels down.

  The operation had been a success, with only a few of the rescued humans being killed and none of the freedom fighters. The resistance had established a system of hiding places through the ruined town nearby and up into the mountains. The group had been divided into smaller divisions in case any of the whole were caught or captured. Emma had chosen some of the worst off to escort, so she and Henry were the last to arrive. They were wet and cold and had not eaten for at least twenty-four hours, but each were buoyed by the success of the mission.

  “Are you going to get some food?” Henry asked his partner. “I think it might be Thursday. Thursday is supposed to be steak night, right?”

  “First,” Emma replied, turning and planting a hand on her soggy hip. “I don’t consider those mushroom things steaks, especially since there isn’t a decent bottle of chutney anywhere in this whole country. Second, it’s Friday morning. We might be able to still get some eggs if the new arrivals haven’t been seated yet. Finally, I need to wash up before I eat. I smell like a wet dog and I think I still have bug guts in my hair.”