Darren Wearmouth - Critical Path

Gray-beard lit a root cigarette and took a deep drag. He leaned further in. “You want us to join your rebellion? Why should we risk our lives? We’re in no danger here.”

“Coordination will eventually happen. History teaches us that. When an army sweeps through this town, do you think they’ll show you or your family mercy? You’ll be seen as croatoan collaborators. I’m saying we take the lead. Free our planet. We start by taking out the biggest local problem. Aimee.”

Scar-face signaled to the barwoman to bring over more drinks. He turned to Augustus. “Aimee commands loyalty. The fallout could be messy.”

“Why don’t you do your own dirty work?” Gray-beard said.

“I need to appear clean. After she’s been dispatched, as the most senior person in Unity, I’ll call a parade in the arena to brief the croatoans on our next moves. We’ll arrange a force to massacre them once and for all.”

“Not a chance. It’s way too risky,” Gray-beard said. “You won’t be able to convince them to leave their weapons outside.”

Augustus tried to avoid irritation creeping into his voice. Gone were the days when he could just issue orders, and people would obey. He needed to offer an incentive. “I want to make you three my senators. You’ll hold senior positions and have access to the finest things in our new human-only society. But to get there, I need you to be my prefects first.”

The youngest-looking of the three, staring intensely at Augustus, spoke for the first time. “You talk big, but we’re the ones with the most to lose. I don’t even know what you mean by prefects…”

“Senior officers in my new army. Once in control of Unity, we build a force that will sweep the country. We won’t struggle for volunteers once people realize that momentum is on our side.”

“We’re simple farmers. Why don’t you get your people at the ludus to kill Aimee?”

The barwoman brought over a ceramic jug and topped up all of their cups. Augustus pretended to drink before saying, “My staff already have jobs. I keep my ear to the ground and know about your extracurricular black market activities. You know what Aimee will do if she finds out?”

Gray-beard scowled. “Are you trying to blackmail us?”

“No. To me it’s a normal state of affairs. But I’m easygoing compared to the alien-loving, deceitful whore.” Augustus paused, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. These three had already sealed their own fates, whether they decided to help or not. “We all know what the world was like before the invasion. Wouldn’t you like a slice of that back? You’ll be remembered by future generations as heroes. The men who took a stand and liberated Earth from tyranny.”

All three looked at each other. Scar-face nodded to the others and returned his attention to Augustus. “Give us a few minutes to discuss it.”

Augustus sighed. “Very well. I’ll be at the bar. Let me know when you’ve made your decision.”

He swiped his cup off the table and returned to the bar. People shot glances at him as he passed. Under his robe, he slipped his dagger out of its sheath and gripped the handle, ready to stab any potential attacker. People often went missing in Unity, usually after a night at the tavern. His spy, the barwoman, told him that men or women who spent time socializing with croatoans would usually be the target.

Augustus leaned over the bar, keeping his voice low. “Make sure those three are watched like a hawk. I want to know who they talk to and where they go. If they head for Aimee’s building, inform me immediately.”

“I’ll put one of my girls on them. We can trust her,” she said.

“Very good. There’s a leg of ham waiting for you at my ludus. Collect it at your leisure.”

Augustus observed the three men still in discussion. If they successfully managed to carry out their job, all would be charged with murder and have a public bastinado, a foot whipping, before being marched to the arena to be stoned to death. It would be an excellent way of showing Unity’s population that they could rely on him for swift justice.

Gray-beard looked over at him. Augustus returned a nod, held up his cup, and said to the barwoman, “Send them some more drinks, with my compliments.”

She headed over to the men, but Gray-beard gestured her away. He trudged over to the bar like a Neanderthal.

“Have you come to a decision?”

The old man cupped a hand around his mouth. “We’ll kill Aimee. Then we talk again. I’m not convinced you’ll get the response you’re looking for. There’s plenty in the town who like her. God knows how the croatoans will react.”

Augustus grinned. “Things will fall into place. You can trust me that you’ll get everything you deserve. When can you do it?”

“Tomorrow. We’ve noticed that she’s been going down the sinkhole every day for the last couple of weeks. We’ll ambush her when she’s coming back through town.”

“Interesting. This activity within the sinkhole hasn’t been reported to me.”

Augustus knew a strange and small alien-worshipping cult lived in the tunnels and caverns constructed below the sinkhole, the previous barracks of the croatoans before they sprang the invasion. But the harmless fools were generally left alone. They didn’t bother Unity citizens and kept to themselves, only appearing to trade items. Aimee was up to something, and he wanted to know what.

“She dresses in one of their brown cloaks and avoids the main track through town,” Gray-beard said.

“Useful information, thanks. Report to my ludus after you’ve ended her—bring proof, and we’ll discuss our next moves and your remuneration.”

Gray-beard nodded and returned to his allies.

Not wanting to spend a minute longer than necessary in the shithole tavern, Augustus pushed open the rickety door and walked along a dirt road toward the edge of town. As the buildings thinned out, he enjoyed the fresh air while thinking about his future.

The root wine made him feel strong. He powered away from Unity, back and forth up the switchbacks until he reached the upper edge of the basin. He rested his hands on hips and surveyed the town. Twinkling lights came from the main cluster of buildings and from the houses built on the five large steps around the east edge.

Glowing pink rings of a hover-bike shot over his head, going in the direction of Aimee’s residence.

Soon, this would all be his. And that would just be the start.

Denver adjusted the pack’s straps on his shoulders and lifted the rifle to his chest as he led the way through the dense forest with Venrick and Gregor by his side. Khan, Maria and Layla were close behind.

Even though it was real early, approximately 0600 hours if his instincts were correct, he felt wired and alert like his old self again.

They had travelled through the night, following Venrick’s map coordinates on the hover-bike’s computers for over seventeen hours, only stopping twice for short breaks.

The others wanted a longer rest, but Denver pressed on, wanting to get to Charlie as soon as possible.

If Venrick’s version of events were to be believed, Denver didn’t want to wait around. There was no telling what would happen to Charlie if another group of aliens had taken him.

Especially after what he did.

The root in his system helped him blaze forward with no lack of energy.

Even Venrick with her three-toed feet and long limbs had trouble keeping up. The forest this far north, into Canada in what used to be Ontario, had grown dense and thick. They had left their bikes back at an old ruin town, safely hidden in a tumbled-down factory.

Venrick assured them they were just a few kilometers away from the site of the battle.