Darren Wearmouth - Critical Path

Denver reached under Maria’s arm and hauled her up. “Come with me. We can’t wait to be attacked. We’ll help her later.”

The driver moved off with the remaining five croatoans in an extended line. Charlie exchanged a knowing glance with Denver before following. They understood each other perfectly. Good luck, see you on the other side.

“Stay behind me, Mike. We need you alive,” Charlie said.

Mike smiled, although it lacked his usual enthusiasm. “It’s nice to be wanted at my age.”

After twenty minutes of picking their way through the undergrowth, a bright light streamed into the trees ahead.

Charlie kept glancing to his left, checking to ensure they didn’t get too far away from Denver, otherwise the plan would prove pointless. In the distance, his son darted between trees, making swift progress.

Charlie paused as he reached the edge of a giant, six-hundred-meter-wide gouge through the forest. Trees flattened in the same direction, interspersed with twisted pieces of metal. Shattered white plastic and other mangled parts of the ship spread across the debris field.

He looked to his left and lowered his rifle and gasped. The cluttered debris trail led half a mile to the downed ship. The rough, dark gray, semi-circular shape punched into the clear blue sky hundreds of feet above the trees at a forty-five-degree angle.

“We move along the edge. Come,” the driver said.

Charlie nodded and turned to Mike. “Not a bad team effort.”

Mike stared open-mouthed at the carnage. He dabbed his brow with a folded white handkerchief. “Seeing it like this…”

“You’ll get a closer look. Come on.”

The lead croatoan returned to just under the canopy and bounced toward the ship. Once the eight of them fanned out over a distance of one hundred meters, they stopped and turned back to face the forest, waiting and watching.

Dark figures moved between the trees, heading toward their former location in the unnatural croatoan way.

“Stay here, Mike.”

“I can help—”

A shot rang out through the forest.

Alien rifles started to snap.

Charlie trusted his son would fire at range before the aliens were on top of him. He looked along the line. All eyes were on him. Charlie took control and crisply indicated forward with a flat hand.

Mike tried to stand. Charlie gripped his shoulder and eased him back down. “Stay. This isn’t your part of the plan.”

The group, minus Mike, collectively advanced. The sound of enemy fire masked their movement.

The enemy croatoans ducked behind trees and took potshots in Denver’s direction. He returned fire and provided a good enough distraction.

Charlie reached within fifty meters before the first alien noticed him. Too late for that one. Charlie’s round smashed through its visor, and it fell to the ground with a twist, dropping its rifle and clutching its throat.

He counted another nine, all in standard uniform. Fired at the closest. Orange vapor hissed from its pack after taking a hit. Charlie’s next round sparked off an armor plate on its uniform, but the thing was already on its way to the ground. He pumped another round into the helmet, just to make sure.

The Unity croatoans screamed and charged, initially surprising Charlie. They ran at speed, bouncing directly at the enemy, firing from their hips.

They must have surprised the aliens attacking Denver. They collectively turned and froze. The Unity croatoans showed little mercy. They fired relentlessly, dropping their opponents, howling, and swarming individuals until the forest fell silent. They collected weapons and piled them in a small clearing.

It was over in a flash.

Charlie scrambled up to the group. They surrounded one of the ship’s croatoans that had taken a hit in the stomach area. It whimpered and tried to shuffle away.

“Need to make sure,” the driver said. It picked up a rock and smashed it into the casualty’s visor.

Other Unity croatoans followed suit. Like a medieval army slitting throats on a battlefield. Charlie had never seen them act like this before and felt pleased they were on his side. If the standard guard acted with such coordinated ferocity, his and Denver’s effort would have probably been extinguished a long time ago.

Mike moved through the forest and joined Charlie. He mopped his brow again and muttered while taking in the scene. Denver appeared from the other direction, vigilantly aiming from side to side, Maria trailing behind him.

“Only small ones now,” the driver said.

“Excuse me?” Charlie said.

“Surveyors. Drivers. Processors. No threat. Only had nine guard signals. All dead.”

“What about the defensive formation?”

“Converged.”

“Do you have any idea what it’s talking about?” Denver said.

“It’s saying that we’ve done the hard work. They form a defensive ring and gather toward any threat,” Charlie said. He turned to the driver. “Isn’t that right?”

It raised a digit, more like a talon than a thumb. Probably a gesture it learned in Unity. Charlie tried not to feel repulsed.

Denver approached the driver. “Two of you bring the harvester up and meet us at the base of the ship. I’m sure that thing can get close enough.”

The driver clicked instructions to a couple of his team.

The ship cast a large shadow over the forest as they approached. They were close; Charlie saw it through the trees. The aliens wanted to go via the debris field and collect anything useful. Charlie refused. Aliens might be able to hop through it with ease, but it would have taken a human all day to tackle the large chunks of ship mixed with smashed trunks and branches.

Maria walked alongside Charlie as Denver scouted ahead. He refused to take a diversionary role again on this mission. Her shoulders slumped and she gazed into the distance.

“You okay, Maria?”

“I don’t belong here. None of this…”

“You’re gonna have to explain. We all belong here.”

“I don’t feel like a real person.”

“Don’t be silly,” Charlie said, although he could see her logic. “You’re as real as Den or me.”

“Do you have a Charlie clone? Imagine seeing another Charlie killed in front of you.”

Charlie vaulted over a large metal beam wedged between two trees and held his hand out to Maria. “Never thought of it like that. At least there’s only one of you now.”

She clambered over and dropped to the other side. “There’s probably hundreds of me. I don’t want to go through this anymore. I can’t offer anything.”

“From what I hear, you’ve already offered a lot. Helping Layla on the farm, coming all the way to Unity with Den. Don’t undersell yourself. None of us find this easy.”

“I mean it, Charlie. I feel useless. Not real.”

Charlie shook his head. “We can talk about this back at Unity. You’ve had a lot to take in recently. I don’t blame you for having doubts.”

She stared over Charlie’s shoulder. He took a few steps ahead of her and gazed at the ship. A section at the bottom peeled to one side, like it had been sliced open by a large can opener. Inside was a scruffy mesh of twisted wreckage. Sparks fizzed from a swinging cable, hanging over the open section. The main hull of the ship rose into the sky, formerly smooth, now dented, charred and imposing.

Denver returned from the front. “It looks all clear.”

“Take the driver back and bring the harvester while the techies do their thing. Every minute we waste, that destroyer gets closer.”

They both instinctively ducked as the structure trembled and groaned like a giant foghorn.

Charlie turned to Mike. “It’s all yours.”