Darren Wearmouth - Critical Path

With no croatoan ground army left on the planet after they had left before the ice age, there was nothing or no one who could stop him once he had enough resources, once he had collected enough tools.

Having survived that little irritant, Charlie Jackson’s bomb, Augustus knew he had to seize this opportunity.

Free of the croatoan council’s domination, the potential for molding the world to his vision came to him as though it were a gift from the gods he once worshipped.

By now, he knew Jupiter wasn’t a deity, but a discounted destination many miles away in the solar system. None of those celestial bodies truly mattered anymore. They were just one handful of spinning rocks in a universe of infinite numbers.

Earth, however, was the prized gem.

Augustus finished the last of the wine and opened another book that had been salvaged from a destroyed library in one of the nearby towns.

This one was advertised as a ‘science fiction’ novel. He retrieved the scratchy pen and prepared to make his annotations. When he became emperor, the first thing he would do would be to train scribes to rewrite the history books so they were correct, and write fiction that furthered his vision.

Manipulation presented as entertainment was humankind’s greatest discovery, and he was not fool enough to ignore its uses.

Fewer than five pages into this turgid tale of star travelers, Augustus sat up in surprise as one of his spies from the ludus burst in, breathing heavily and attempting to say something.

“What is it?” August snapped, closing the book and standing up. He leaned forward on the desk to peer down at the boy.

“I… saw… Baliska coming this… way.” The boy pointed out of the side window of Augustus’ office.

“When?”

“A… minute or so ago… sir.”

“Stall him. And if you get a chance, kill him.”

The boy just nodded, his eyes wide.

“Actually, no, you won’t stand a chance. Cause a distraction so I can escape. They won’t be expecting me to attack.”

The boy just blinked, trying to get his breath.

“Well, go, then!” Augustus said, shooing the boy out of his office. When he left, Augustus slid the latch across the door and dashed behind the desk. He retrieved one of the croatoans’ pistols from a drawer and waited.

Five minutes later an explosion roared out from the back of the ludus compound. Good!

The boy opened the door and stepped inside. “Baliska’s down, the place is in chaos, go!” He ushered Augustus out and led him through a narrow, twisting corridor and down some steps. A secret passage was hidden behind a locked door resembling a storeroom.

“You did well,” Augustus said. “Lock up behind me.”

The boy nodded and followed the order.

With Baliska out of the picture, that left Aimee vulnerable up there in her manse.

Pulling the hood of his robe over his head to shadow his face, Augustus made his way through the maze of dirt roads and alleys, following a route he had devised that would allow him to reach her stronghold without being seen until he was at the door.

A teenage girl sprang out from a dark doorway of a decrepit shelter, forcing Augustus to sidestep a puddle of crap, and he reached out for her shoulders to stop himself from tripping over.

“Watch where you’re going,” he snapped.

The girl recoiled and stepped back, her face twisting with revulsion.

He reached up and touched his face, forgetting that he no longer wore the mask. He sneered at the girl until she ran off crying. Yes, little girl, you run from monsters, but it will do you no good.

Pulling his hood lower, he set off at a quicker pace, hiding the pistol within the folds of his robe. A few minutes later, his heart rate quickening with effort and anticipation of his next move, he arrived at the doors of Aimee’s stronghold.

A human guard stepped out from the door.

Augustus struck from the shadows.

The single strike on the back of the guard’s head with the solid alien pistol knocked him out with ease. Augustus snuck a look around him. The town was busy as usual. Everyone hurried about their chores.

Above him, two bored aliens leaned over the ramparts, looking down into the town on either side of the stronghold. Neither saw him from their position.

Satisfied he was clear, Augustus dragged the unconscious guard beneath the arch. He opened the heavy doors and stepped into the dark, candlelit interior, hand firmly on the pistol’s grip.

He stayed in the shadows for a moment for his vision to adapt to the drastic differences of light.

The stale air inside carried a chill, due to the thick stone walls, and a pleasant scent of burning incense. The dining area was empty, as was the main meeting hall.

Like a trained dog, he followed the scent of incense, skulking silently through the shadows until he came to Aimee’s bedroom.

Through a gap between the door and the frame, he saw her standing with her back to the door as she put on a dress.

She stopped for a brief moment, her muscles tightening.

Did she know? Could she tell he waited there like a reaper come to claim her soul? Not taking any chances, he barged through the door and dashed across the stone floor.

Aimee spun round, holding her dress to her chest, her eyes wide with surprise and no little revulsion.

Augustus raised his pistol, the barrel just inches from her face.

“Not so confident of your position now, are you, Madam Rivery?”

“What… what is this? What are you playing at?” Aimee looked to the corners of the room.

Augustus didn’t follow her gaze, knowing her enforcers were not here to save her this time.

The rumor among the dissenters within Unity was that Aimee had never had a single person in her bed in all the time she’d been here.

“Your role in this little tragedy has come to an end,” Augustus said. “Don’t feel disappointed, sweet child, this was inevitable. Those in power always become targets—which given your time with the Ottomans, if the books are to be believed, you knew full well.”

Aimee dropped her hands to her sides. Her dress faltered but stayed on. She sighed. “You’re right, of course, Emperor. You would know this firsthand, having lost two empires now.”

“And yet here I am,” he said, sneering, “on the cusp of my third. This is nothing personal; remember that as you take your last breath.”

“You think you’ll be able to rule Unity?” Aimee laughed. “You know nothing about these people. I know all about you and your plans. You think you can hide secrets here? For a former emperor, you still haven’t learned the most valuable of all lessons.”

“Oh? I’ve learned your secrets,” Augustus said, placing his finger on the trigger. “I’ve learned all about you and Hagellan and your pathetic little plans. Didn’t include me in that revelation, did you? You thought you could keep me in the dark and manipulate me? No, I’m afraid not. Your time here is over.”

Before Augustus could pull the trigger, a dark shape darted from his left.

He didn’t get a good look before something solid struck him on the side of the head. He dropped the pistol and fell to the ground. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Charlie gazed out of the harvester’s front window as they rumbled toward the crash site. He had long since gotten bored of watching the croatoan engineer smoothly operating the vehicle. Mike maintained a keen interest, scribbling notes on a pad and talking under his breath. They crossed a parched root field and crashed through woodland with surprising ease.

He wondered if these two aliens thought they shared something in common with him, besides their impending doom at the hands of a planet destroyer. Both croatoans dressed in handmade cotton trousers and sweaters and had tubes running from their nostrils to their backpacks. He would only put up with them for the sake of necessity.