Darren Wearmouth - Critical Path

“High-level reconnaissance, like a spy plane. Hagellan told me they didn’t deploy many here. They’re mainly used for more densely populated planets.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “More densely populated than here?”

“Indeed. The mind boggles.” Mike held out a small black rectangle with an antennae protruding from the top. “The bomb is radio controlled. Hit the left switch to prime it, the right to let it rip. It’s got a mile range. If you have problems, there’s a manual detonation switch behind a guard on the casing.”

“I hope we don’t need the last option. Where’s the bomb?”

“Follow me. I’ll show you.”

Mike waddled back up the ramp and turned left after entering.

Charlie followed him into the gloom and up a ladder into the cockpit. A row of four basic-looking stools, with harnesses dangling above them, wrapped around the back of the cockpit. Two larger chairs, most likely for the pilots, were positioned in the middle of the cockpit. The windows were all shielded, but a light blue strip of lighting ran around the upper part of the area, providing ambient light. The thick air carried a croatoan fishy odor.

“Looks pretty basic in here,” Charlie said.

Mike smiled. “Just wait ’til you get going, amigo. You’ll be blown away.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Mike stooped and grunted. He reached under the stool on the far right and patted a black case. “Make sure you take this seat. You’ll be right on top of it.”

“How long have I got after flicking the switches?”

“Two seconds. I figured you needed a quick option.”

Smart planning from Mike. If things went downhill rapidly, Charlie didn’t want to give anyone a chance to deactivate the bomb.

Footsteps banged against the metal floor below, and the stair rungs clinked as somebody ascended. Hagellan’s bulbous head poked through the hatch. “Time to say goodbye to your friends. I’ll prepare for launch.”

It climbed into the cockpit and strapped itself into one of the pilot chairs.

Mike shuffled past Charlie and descended. He looked down the hatch at his old friend wheezing to the bottom. Over three decades and he hadn’t let him down once. Always carried out the work with a smile.

Mike glanced up. “You coming or what?”

“I’ve never been one for goodbyes. You know that. Just tell them I’ll be back.”

Mike leaned around the door and looked back up. “Aimee’s here. You should say farewell to Mai at least?”

Aimee meant nothing to Charlie. Mai did, but he’d said all he wanted to say to people on the ground. “You haven’t seen the last of me, Mike. Count on it.”

Mike smiled and shook his head. He climbed a few rungs up and extended his hand. Charlie leaned down and gave it a firm shake. “I don’t doubt it. You’re like a cat with nine lives,” Mike said.

A whirring noise distracted Charlie, and he looked over his shoulder. A podium smoothly rose from the floor in front of Hagellan, and high-definition screens around the cockpit flickered into life.

He glanced back down at Mike. “Looks like the show’s on the road. Tell the others to get their asses up here.”

Mike stared up at Charlie but didn’t say a word. He wiped his left eye. This was one of the reasons Charlie hated the farewells. Outside, this was probably happening on a larger scale. Two croatoans in gleaming uniforms nudged against Mike. One pointed to the ladder and clicked.

“Keep yourself out of trouble, Mike,” Charlie said.

Mike squeezed between the two aliens and peered up from the doorway. He opened his mouth to say something, paused, lowered his head, and slipped back through the entrance.

The two aliens, visors glinting in the thin blue light, climbed the ladder. Charlie went back to his stool and tried to work out the harness.

“You would have made a good croatoan,” Hagellan said.

“And you would have made a good suitcase,” Charlie replied. The mere suggestion disgusted him and also told him that Hagellan didn’t have a clue about human thought process.

The first alien joined Hagellan by the controls and strapped itself in. The other approached Charlie and went to sit on the stool next to him.

Charlie pushed it away. “Sorry. That one’s reserved for Denver.”

It maintained its position and tried to sit down again. Hagellan let out a few rapid clicks, and all three aliens made a strange grunting noise. Were they laughing at him? Charlie wished he had a translation device. The croatoan in front of him shuffled across to the far stool, fastened its harness, and turned to look at him.

A green holographic cube appeared above the podium. Hagellan maneuvered it around and tapped its gloved hand against some of the symbols. The screens fizzed and cleared to show a brilliant two-hundred-and-seventy-degree view of the sky. The engines rumbled into life, and Charlie felt his whole body vibrate.

Denver appeared through the hatch. “What the hell is that?” He stared at the cube and glanced across to Charlie.

“Must be how he controls the thing. Everyone okay outside?”

Denver heaved himself up and sat next to Charlie. “I thought you might not come back out. Seemed to put Aimee’s nose out of joint.”

“Does she expect me to kiss her feet?”

“She said we were welcome back if we found a way home from Tredeya.”

Layla climbed through the hatch and looked at the final free stool between Denver and the croatoan.

“Thought I’d save you the seat next to the turtle,” Charlie said.

“Whatever, Charlie,” Layla said.

She gave Denver a disapproving look. He shrugged and gestured to the stool. “Looks like we’re going any minute now. Better buckle up.”

The engine noise grew louder. The ship shuddered. Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw Layla grasp Denver’s hand.

Hagellan twisted in his chair. “Now we go.”

It spun the holocube around and pressed several symbols. Charlie looked at the high-definition display on his right, showing a starboard view of outside. The ship jerked, like a plane hitting a spot of turbulence, and lifted from the ground. Seconds later, it picked up speed and powered toward the sky.

The g-force pinned Charlie in his seat. He watched through the window. Unity became a speck on the landscape.

As they climbed higher and higher, he viewed more of the continent. Huge areas of dark brown smoke covered hundreds of square miles. Hopefully where the remaining population had started burning the root fields. He still needed it to remain agile, but wouldn’t mourn its passing if it meant a planet clear of croatoans.

The ship violently rocked.

“Preparing to leave the atmosphere,” Hagellan said. “I’ll engage the jump drive to activate as soon as we get through.”

The rocking grew fierce. Charlie felt like he was inside a tennis ball being dragged quickly through a sack of stones. The force pulled his cheeks back, and a bolt of pain shot through his skull.

Denver and Layla both had their eyes tightly shut and clung to their harnesses.

Outside he could see the curvature of the Earth.

The planet looked like a giant blue and green marble smeared with thin light orange streaks. Charlie had seen footage from space and pictures on the Internet, but he never dreamed he would be here. He never wanted to be here. But now, he had to be here.

Just as he thought the ship would break up, for no other reason than their size compared to the violence of their ride, the rocking quickly subsided, replaced with a feeling of weightlessness and near silence, apart from the moaning engines.

Denver comforted Layla. The ordeal looked like it had nearly broken her.

“Still no communication with the gate on Tredeya, but systems are working,” Hagellan said. It clicked a few times, probably relaying the situation to its two cohorts.