Darren Wearmouth - Critical Path

Gregor managed to get the upper hand, driving Denver’s back onto the tanks. The impact winded the younger man as Gregor reached for his head and tried to push him into the fire.

The heat burned Denver’s face as he fought against Gregor’s root-enhanced strength. His eyes felt like they were melting in the heat. Gregor screamed with effort, but Denver wasn’t yet done.

Feeling stronger from drinking Khan’s tea, he managed to twist away, breaking the older man’s grip.

Denver slipped out from beneath, got to his feet, and lashed out a kick to the Armenian’s exposed ribs. Gregor curled into a ball with the impact but held onto Denver’s foot and twisted, trying to snap his ankle.

Grabbing his knife from his belt, Denver fell onto Gregor, bringing the point to his throat. But Khan had grabbed him by the shoulders as Layla and Maria tried to hold Gregor down.

“Stop it!” Layla screamed.

“What did you do with Venrick?” Khan asked.

“Venrick?” the alien said, finally speaking. The words stopped everyone as they all turned toward it.

Denver let Khan lift him off Gregor.

Stalking closer, Denver approached the alien. “You’ve got something to say now, eh?”

“Venrick… my… sister.”

Gregor grabbed the knife from Denver’s hand and brought it to the alien’s throat where the air tubes entered its system. “You better start speaking. Tell us everything you know unless you want to join your sister in whatever Godforsaken afterlife you scumbags believe in.”

Under Gregor’s continued threats, the alien told them everything they wanted.

After twenty minutes of questioning, Gregor turned to the others.

“That’s how you get information from these bastards. Pack up; we’ve got a house party to go to. Oh, and, Den, thanks for the blade. I think I’ll keep this for when we meet up with your old man.”

Khan and Layla grabbed him before he could react, but he just sneered at Gregor, satisfied to leave his comeuppance for another day.

At the very least, they knew Charlie was still alive and where the aliens kept him.

“I’ll enjoy ending your miserable life,” Denver said.

“Likewise, Junior.”

With that, Denver turned his back and prepared to leave.

He’d given everyone enough time to rest and do things their way. From this point on, it was his show regardless of who wanted to go with him.

Two hours passed. Charlie peered out of the cell, hoping Aimee would return. He decided to go with her and at least hear Hagellan out. Since she left, he couldn’t get the image of Earth exploding and shattering out of his head.

The alternative appeared bleak, but Aimee probably knew it and guessed he’d figure it out too. Augustus would find out about her visit as soon as he got back from his meetings. Things might advance at a swift rate from there, and not in Charlie’s favor. He’d be dragged to the arena or murdered by Augustus’ cronies. If that happened, there would be no bomb, no second chance.

Somebody thumped the gate three times. A guard slid across a large iron bolt, pushed the gate ajar and looked through the gap. Aimee hustled past him, wearing a full-length, brown monk’s robe with a black woven rope belt secured around her waist. A croatoan followed her, rifle slung, carrying a bundle of brown clothing.

“Open the cell,” she said.

The guard rapidly nodded, jogged over and twisted a key in the lock. Charlie edged back as the guard shoved open the door.

Aimee stood at the entrance. “Have you made your decision?”

“I’ll speak to Hagellan. But I need some guarantees. My son and friends—”

“They are not in Unity; I can’t give you any guarantees on them. Use whatever resources you need. We’re all in the same fight.” She waved the guard forward. It dumped a robe and belt next to Charlie’s feet. “Put these on. Quickly.”

Charlie picked up the damp, heavy robe. “I thought you ran this town? Who or what are you hiding from?”

“It’s more for Hagellan’s protection. Some of the older croatoans are wary of any senior officer that comes to Unity. His integration will be gradual. There’s also Augustus. I need to explain to him that he’s slipped a place down in the pecking order. I suspect he won’t like it.”

“No shit. He only likes power and causing pain.”

He slipped the robe over his head. It had a musty smell that reminded him of time spent with Pippa. They had gone away for a weekend to evaluate a dig site in 2012. Charlie had left wet clothes in the washing machine to fester for three days. When they got back, the clothes smelled exactly the same as the robe he shuffled over his body. Pippa laughed and said it was his usual odor.

These small connections kept Charlie grounded, reinforcing exactly what he lost, thanks to the aliens and their charlatan human helpers.

“We need to go,” Aimee said. “When I return, I’m taking Baliska as my new champion. You can stay with Hagellan or return and fight him.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the converted barracks at the bottom of the invasion tunnel. There’s a croatoan temple. Most humans don’t go down there, and nearly all croatoans stopped worshipping a few years ago. It’s safe.”

Charlie pointed at Baliska. “You can bring him with us. Besides you, he’s the only other friend I’ve got around here.”

He hated himself for saying it, but after hours of drawing in the dirt, they’d struck an alliance. Baliska loudly clicked and held out a gloved hand when Charlie scrawled a man in a mask and punched it with his fist.

Aimee eyed both of them with a look of suspicion. She briefly left the cell and spoke with the croatoan outside before calling to the guard, “Release the prisoners into my custody.”

Charlie walked out of the cell into the morning sunshine bathing the courtyard. He wondered if Augustus left him out of manacles because he wanted Charlie to fight, taunt or kill Baliska. Whatever the reason, the crazy old fucker wouldn’t be deciding his fate for the moment.

A guard scuttled into the cell, and Charlie heard the clanking of chains. Shortly after, Baliska’s helmet scraped on the underside of the door as it stooped outside in its dusty graphite uniform. The giant croatoan stood in front of Aimee, gently ticking. It flexed its arms and turned to the other alien who accompanied her to the ludus.

After a brief conversation in their mother tongue, the smaller alien pulled out its thigh sword and handed it to Baliska. It swished the blade through the air, practicing two swings before turning to face Charlie and Aimee.

Charlie tensed. A moment of truth arrived for their flimsy pact.

Baliska stood for a couple of seconds, towering over them, and then slid the sword into the scabbard attached to its thigh.

It took a brown robe from the other croatoan and held it up. The thing would never fit. Baliska tore it down one side, as easy as if it were made out of paper, and then extravagantly wafted the robe around its wide shoulders before placing the hood over its helmet.

Aimee raised her hood over the top of her head. “It will do for now.” She turned to the red-faced guard. “You can tell Augustus that Charlie Jackson is under my control.”

He pulled the gate open. “Don’t expect him to be happy about this.”

Aimee ignored him and headed toward the cramped streets of Unity.

“You seem to trust the aliens,” Charlie said, moving alongside her.

“Most of them are sons and daughters of the conscripts sent to far-flung planets to carry out a dirty job. Unity is their home. They have no loyalty to their supposed empire.”

“Jesus, I didn’t know they’d been breeding here. What about Baliska? It’s no stranded son or daughter.”