Darren Wearmouth - Critical Path

Denver looked to Layla. She gave him the tiniest of nods. “Okay,” he said, “let me give you the tour of the place.” He stood and held his hand out for Maria. She took it and helped herself up. She carried a shoulder bag as Denver led her into the bedroom. Closing the door behind him and leaning against it, he bent down to Maria and whispered, “What is it?”

She lifted the bag from her shoulder, placing it on the floor. From within she pulled out a modified croatoan pistol and pushed it to Denver. “Here, Mike wanted you or Charlie to have this,” she said with barely a whisper.

“What is it?”

“It overpowers the alien beads—blows them up. It works in short range and has to be directed, but he assures me if you need to kill a croatoan quickly, this will do the job.”

Denver weighed it in his hands. It appeared as though Mike had lightened it, as it felt at least half the weight of a regular pistol. But then, the barrel had a small dish shape on the end, so it appeared there was no need for a magazine. “Thanks,” he said, hiding it under the bed, covering it over with a blanket.

Maria remained in place, poised but seemingly unable to get whatever it was off her chest.

“Was there something else?”

Maria sighed. “I don’t know. It’s this whole thing. It just feels so… overwhelming. Mike and Mai discovered some video from an old harvester. It showed another planet being harvested. There are hundreds of them out there—all branched off from this gate world. It just seems this mission isn’t just about Earth anymore, you know? I can’t help but think of all those other worlds that would benefit if the croatoans couldn’t get there anymore.”

Denver saw the weight of her argument press upon her and heard it in her voice. This extra news, to him, only made him more motivated to do all he could.

“I understand,” Denver said. “But you don’t have to worry. We’ll do the best we can.”

“It’s not just that,” Maria said, coming closer to him.

“It’s what, then?”

“I want to help, but I just feel so useless. I don’t feel like I belong anymore. I don’t even know who I am… there’s these clones, you see, and I—”

“I know,” Denver said, hugging her. She clutched him tight and buried her face into his chest. From over her shoulder he saw the closet door open a few inches and the face of Maria’s clone, the one in the robes, look out. Denver shook his head slightly and mouthed, “go.”

The clone stepped back into the shadows and closed the door.

“I ought to get back to the others,” Maria said. “You do what you have to do,” she said, looking to where he had stashed the weapon.

“I will. I appreciate it, really.”

Denver opened the door to let her out and followed her into the living room. A couple of small croatoans, the engineers working for Hagellan, had arrived. Ryan stood guard by the door, his hands on his rifle as the group discussed the plans.

“So what’s next?” Denver asked.

Mike stood up and clutched the datapad and a number of loose sheets of paper. “A road trip,” he said.

“We’re heading out to get the parts,” Charlie added. He eyed the croatoans with suspicion. These were a pair of small engineer types. Perhaps because of their size, and maybe because of their role, they didn’t generate the same levels of hate, and Mike seemed to be getting on well with them, swapping notes and discussing engineering ideas.

“Make sure our place stays empty, would you, Ryan?” Denver said. “I’ve grown quite comfortable here and wouldn’t want people coming and going.”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Right then, let’s go,” Charlie said. “We’ve got a wreckage to plunder.”

“I’ll be right there,” Denver said. “I’ll just grab a book for the journey.”

He headed back into the room, concerned the Maria clone might have snuck in, but when he checked, the weapon was still there. Packing it beneath an old T-shirt he had found in one of the drawers, he hid the weapon at the bottom of his backpack. Although they took his rifle and other weapons when they caught him spying, they did give him back his backpack and general supplies.

Not feeling confident about leaving the weapon behind, he put his backpack on and left the room, wondering just how long, or frequently, the Maria clone had spied on them.

Denver joined the others outside, climbing into the back of the adapted harvester. He sat next to Layla and Maria, who had agreed to come along to help with the search. Charlie sat up front with Mike and the two alien engineers.

The engine roared and the harvester vibrated as they pulled out of the courtyard and headed for the ramp that led out of Unity’s basin. Denver was pleased to have left his house-prison, but he worried what the clone was up to.

Either way, he would find out, and he was now armed.

Augustus finished annotating another history book with his corrections and sat back in his chair. Sighing, he reached out for a goblet of wine. He needed something to take the edge off his growing anxiety.

Although Gregor seemed loyal and appeared to be satisfied to carry out his new task, Augustus had been on Earth long enough to know that treachery and cowardice were the two halves of many men’s hearts.

The only factor that guaranteed a degree of virtuousness was the promise of power and the belief in a higher creation. The latter, however, had diminished greatly in humanity’s consideration.

Extraterrestrials blew apart many of the religions and myths, leaving humankind wandering in the darkness of their own unexplained existence. Which for Augustus presented an opportunity. Those seeking answers to questions that had none would accept anything with the right delivery of rhetoric.

All it took was for someone to grasp the fate of humankind in his fist and mold it in his vision. All it took was an emperor with strength and the vision to lead humanity once more to cultural and technological new heights. A new republic inclusive of all those who sought the answers that he could deliver would start right here in Unity.

It would just take a little time.

Augustus was used to waiting.

Thanks to the croatoans’ technology and root compound, he had learned to cheat fate of its whims. He would defy the memory of the dead gods and be Earth’s immortal leader.

Unlike the aliens, however, he would not hide in stasis underground for thousands of years, waiting for the moment.

Carpe diem.

The time was now. Once Hagellan was out of the picture, he would unite the disparate groups within the settlement and drive out any dissenters to his rule—including their ally Aimee Rivery.

He could not afford any threads of subversion to remain in his new world to take hold and undermine him.

He drank deeply from the goblet. The wine tasted unrefined and agricultural. Nothing like the superior grapes from Italy and France when he was in Rome, but he wasn’t a man to hanker too much for the past.

The past remained a vacuum of potential.

Memories were but an illusion of things that may or may not have existed in reality. One only had to read the history books that had survived to see how time distorts reality. No, the past held no answers for him. It held no guidance in a world changed far beyond the imagination of anyone from that era.

He looked forward only.

Without the council managing resources on the ground, the remaining croatoans would soon learn independent thought, just as those within Unity had.

But they would still look for direction.

They weren’t bred for agency; they were bred as tools for their superiors to use to achieve their goals. Just as Augustus would use them to achieve his.