Darren Wearmouth - Critical Path

“That’s good, Zoe. You’ll make a good officer.”

He smiled, not hiding away his face, enjoying how uncomfortable it made her.

Soon, it wouldn’t be his inspiration that would hold people in line. It would be fear.

In the Order of Things, Earth would be his.

Through blurred vision, Charlie watched Hagellan manipulate the holocube.

The pain in his ears felt like he was twelve feet underwater and hadn’t equalized. A second loud bang and flash of light ripped through the cabin. He squeezed his eyes shut. A high-pitched tone whistled in his ears.

The ship’s engines thrusted, and the sensation of flying in atmospheric conditions returned. Charlie rubbed his face as his splitting headache quickly receded. He glanced at the high-definition starboard screen and gasped.

A setting sun peeped over a dark gray jagged mountain range, which stretched into the distance. The foothills were covered in dense green and pink foliage. Croatoan root grew on the long thin plain at the bottom of the hills.

The ship banked to its left, giving Charlie a sweeping view as it turned. Cone-shaped volcanos and mountains dominated the geography. Root grew on undulating hills and the few flat areas. From what he could see, they managed to farm around thirty percent of the land. The sky had an instantly recognizable orange tinge.

“Jesus Christ,” Denver said over his shoulder. “We made it.”

Layla gazed out of the opposite window and shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

“This is Tredeya. We land near the gate,” Hagellan said.

Charlie reached under his seat and brushed his hand over the bomb. As interesting as this place may be, he hadn’t come for a sightseeing visit. “You made contact with your force yet?”

“No contact. But I am picking up activity on the other side of the range. The location of our barracks.”

“Wouldn’t you expect there to be somebody at the gate?”

“Yes, but I haven’t been here in two thousand years. Things change. Your own history should tell you that.”

“How long have we got ’til the destroyer arrives?” Denver said.

“One of your hours. We need to be quick.”

The ship continued to turn full circle. Charlie got his first view of the gate.

A huge, thick stone circle reached a mile into the sky. Two luminous green rings flashed around the inside. A series of small, cream-colored buildings perched on a small ridge to its left.

“What did they use it for, until you showed up?” Charlie said.

Hagellan unbuckled and turned in his seat. “The Tredeyans used it to explore the galaxy. They are manipulators rather than fighters. You may call them politicians.”

“Until you got your grubby hands on it and came to destroy us,” Denver said.

“They regularly came to your planet and perhaps influenced a great number of things. How do you think we got the coordinates?” Hagellan retorted.

“Do you expect us to believe that?” Layla said.

“I read their logs, inside that building.” He gestured to the closest windowless structure. “There are many things you don’t know. We will have time to talk after destroying the gate.”

Hagellan turned back to the holocube. The ship slowed and lowered toward a flat brown strip of land bathed in the shadow of the mountains. It landed with a bump, and the three croatoans talked to each other in their mother tongue.

Denver gave Charlie a nervous look and fished his rifle from below his stool. “What do you think they’re saying?”

Charlie leaned next to his ear. “Be ready for anything.”

“We landed behind this hill to give the ship protection from the blast,” Hagellan said. “It would be foolish to land by the gate.”

Charlie unfastened his harness. “Let’s get this over with. Are you sure it’s safe for us to go out?”

“Atmosphere as expected. Temperature good. Wear your tanks and mask and you’ll acclimatize. The gravity is a close to that of Earth, but you may feel heavier for a while until your muscles adapt,” Hagellan said. “We go now.”

Charlie, Denver, and Layla pulled their small facemasks on. Charlie took a deep breath of the air. It tasted stale and thick. It had root extract within it, which he was thankful for. He didn’t doubt he would need the strength and vitality.

A rumbling came from below. The ship’s door punched out and slid open. A warm draft rushed into the cockpit. Hagellan told Mike that the croatoans targeted planets in what human astronomers called the Goldilocks Zone. They were the most conducive for farming root. The temperature and atmosphere didn’t feel alien, which only aided Charlie’s tense mood.

Hagellan spoke to his two alien brethren. They grabbed rifles from a rack above the stools and clambered down the hatch at surprising speed. “We secure the immediate area.”

Charlie slid out the bomb. Denver helped him sling it over his shoulder. The thing weighed over a hundred pounds.

Layla continued to be mesmerized by her surroundings and gazed open-mouthed at the scenery outside.

The holocube compressed to a small green dot and vanished. The podium lowered back into the floor of the cockpit. Hagellan turned to the hatch. “Follow me. You plant the bomb in the first building. That’s where the technology controls the gate.”

“What if a local force is inside and tries to stop us?” Layla said.

Hagellan grunted. “I am a council member. If any are there, they will be minions.”

Its leathery uniform squeaked as Hagellan squeezed through the hatch and disappeared.

“You ready, Dad?” Denver said.

Charlie admired how easily Den took this in his stride. Maybe it was because he had only ever witnessed a post-invasion world, battling advanced technology and aliens. Nothing seemed to faze him.

“Go for it.”

A trickle of sweat rolled down Charlie’s temple. Hagellan and the other two croatoans had bounced to the top of the sixty-foot dirt hill and surveyed beyond.

The gate towered above them in the distance.

Charlie peered down at a clump of lime-coloured flowers poking out of the dirt and back across the root-covered plain toward the mountain range. The sun had set behind one of the jagged summits, and light began to fade. Charlie wondered how long their days and nights lasted, and if he would ever see a sunrise again.

He trudged up the hill, feeling like weights had been strapped to his legs. Every step he took, his foot slid back down a few inches in the fine surface. Halfway to the top, Charlie stopped and rested his hands on his thighs to catch his breath.

“Slightly different atmosphere here, Charlie,” Layla said through their connected intercom embedded into their facemasks.

“Tell me about it.”

“You want me to take a turn carrying the bomb?” Denver said.

Charlie waved him away. “You carry on, Son. Don’t worry about me, my old legs have got strength in them yet.”

He took a deep breath and grunted out the last thirty feet.

Hagellan looked toward the small cluster of cream buildings to the left of the gate. All five of them were square in appearance, about the size of an average bungalow, with a metallic door facing the gate.

“That’s it?” Charlie said.

“The walls are thick to protect from Tredeyan storms,” Hagellan said. “They can be fierce compared to your weather systems.”

The croatoan moved down the hill with ease, flanked by his two, smaller allies.

“Are we going back to their barracks?” Denver said, motioning his head to the three aliens. They stood by the metallic blue entrance door to the closest building and gaped up.

“When that destroyer turns up, there’s gonna be some pissed-off Croatoans,” Charlie said. “We should keep our distance until Hagellan comes up with a plan to get us back home.”