Darren Wearmouth - Critical Dawn

“I don’t understand,” Charlie said. “How is that even possible?”

“They were always here, watching us, waiting,” Augustus said. “I’m sure you read about what happened in Adrianople.”

“It was a crushing loss for the Romans,” Charlie said. “Humiliating, in fact. Valens was rumored to have left the field of battle, unable to face the catastrophic consequences of losing to the Goths. Others said Valens was a traitor, a coward.”

The smile on Augustus’s face twitched at the edges and his hand gripped the hilt of the sword tighter. He leaned down until his face was inches from Charlie’s. “I survived, Mr. Jackson. Something you know a great deal about. Doesn’t matter how you do it, you survive, breathe another day.”

“So tell me then, how did you stand the test of time? Was it cryogenics? Cloning?”

“Neither. You remember the pods that rose up from within the Earth? I’m sure you realize now how ancient they were. Put two and two together, Mr. Jackson. It can’t be that difficult to understand. Now, before I run you through, tell me, why come here now? Look out there; you see it, don’t you? The ship that will change the world, remove the human disease from its surface. It’s too late for you now. Your time has come to an end.”

Augustus brought the sword back to Charlie’s throat, pushing the tip in until it broke the skin, pressing against his windpipe, cutting off his air. “I came for one reason only,” Charlie said with a whisper as he squeezed the words out.

He reached up and grabbed the sword, but instead of pushing it away like Augustus was expecting, Charlie pulled it in, driving the sword further into his neck, but at the same moment unbalancing the old emperor.

Charlie capitalized on the move by grabbing his toga and yanking him toward him while simultaneously striking out with his legs, catching Augustus in the calves. The emperor toppled forward as Charlie slid to the side.

Augustus hit the wall with a heavy thud. His mask fell off and clattered to the floor. Charlie held his breath as he pulled the sword free, dropping it to the floor. On hands and knees, he crawled frantically like a cockroach to the backpack.

He reached out and grabbed one of the cut handles, pulling it close to him. Undoing the flap, he reached inside and pulled out the bomb. He spun it over, exposing the touchscreen. He brought his hand down and pressed his finger to the glass screen.

It beeped once for confirmation.

Charlie rolled onto his back as Augustus rose to his feet.

“What have you done?” Augustus said, looking down at Charlie, not understanding what he was smiling about. The emperor’s face was gnarled and twisted, and Charlie realized the truth to him being burned.

A part of Charlie took great pleasure in knowing that he’d destroyed an emperor.

“They all crumble,” Charlie wheezed, coughing out blood between each word.

“Crumble? What?”

“Empires. They all eventually run out of time.”

Charlie coughed once and passed out. The last image he had was of Augustus reaching for his neck with his hands. But like before, he was too late.

The time was now.

Sitting on the steps to Gregor’s office, Denver held Maria’s hand. Together, they watched the skies. A tense quiet had descended since the last of the croatoans were put down. The only noise came from the groaning and shuffling of the now-free humans, led by the now-conscious Alex, into one of their shelters. She’d only taken a glancing blow from a croatoan rifle. Vlad wasn’t so lucky.

Denver blinked, waited, and watched the mother ship’s pink circles, like alien eyes staring down at the Earth. They remained bright, still working. He pictured Charlie stuffed inside the container, the bomb tightly held as he waited for his time.

“What if he was caught before he had the chance?” he said.

Maria squeezed his hand and leaned in. “He’ll make it, I’m sure. I might have been only outside of the harvester for a few days, but one thing I’ve learned is that if your dad wants to do something, there’s no one who could stop him.”

Denver glanced in Gregor’s direction.

The old gangster, Charlie’s nemesis, stood with Layla by the alien hover-bikes. They seemed eager to leave, but Denver didn’t know where they expected to go. Nothing was settled yet. The people on the farm still needed to be cared for.

“Thinking of skipping out on us?” Denver said, raising his voice so they could hear him. He kept the alien rifle close by his side, one hand on the stock, ready to lift it into place within a fraction of a second.

Gregor tutted and looked away, not even trying to hide the disdain on his face.

Layla, however, stepped away and approached him. Her eyes were glossy and red. Dirt stained her otherwise unblemished face. Wiping a rogue hair from her forehead, she stood over him, casting a shadow.

Unlike Gregor, she wore no expression of disdain but rather sympathy, pity even. “I’m sorry for everything,” she said, regarding them both. “I’m sorry about your dad, Charlie. And you, Maria, I’m sorry that you’re the only one left from the harvester crew. I don’t know how much they taught you about grief and death during your education, but I just wanted you to know that I understand what it feels like. I lost everything and everyone I knew during the invasion.”

Maria brought her hands to her face as she sobbed, the pent-up emotion over the last few days finally coming out. “I can’t believe they’re gone,” she said between ragged breaths. “We’ve only just got free, and now Ethan and Ben are gone, leaving me behind. Why me?”

“It has to be someone,” Denver said. “We need the strong to survive, and as far as I could tell in all this, you were the strongest of that group. I’m sorry your friends and colleagues didn’t make it, but we’ve all had to make sacrifices. It’s how the world is now.”

“Holy shi—” Gregor turned to face the ship in the distant sky. Denver and the two women looked up.

The mother ship’s underlights faltered, flickered, and became dull. A fraction of a second later, they heard the boom rip through the sky. The sound pressure hit Denver in his chest, rattling his organs inside.

Debris and hull wreckage blew out of the right-hand side of the round ship near the top where it had docked with the gargantuan new addition. The explosion continued to roar as the cloud of metal and smoke and flame continued to billow out.

All the lights on the various buildings of the farm went out. Maria squeezed Denver’s hand as they both stood to watch the devastation above them.

“Motherfucker’s done it… Goddamn,” Gregor shouted over the noise. Almost half of the ship had blown away, leaving a ragged wound stretching front to the back, bisecting the craft and exposing its innards through the flames.

The whole thing tilted now that its anti-grav projectors were useless. The weight of the terraform ship docked to its top pitched almost ninety degrees up.

“It’s coming down. Oh my God, it’s really coming down,” Layla said.

Throughout all this, Denver had remained quiet, his breath caught in his throat. A single tear fell down his cheek in both joy and an unending sadness at the loss of his courageous father. The one person whom he truly loved had done it: traded his life for a chance of freedom for all.

“He’s done it,” Maria said, hugging Denver around his neck. “He’s really done it.”

The sky turned black with the smoke. Thick, rolling clouds of alien technology melted by the nuke. Tinges of orange compound tainted the atmosphere as it burned up in the fire that had taken hold of both ships. The blast had torn away a huge section across the underside of the terraform ship.