Darren Wearmouth - The Critical Trilogy Box Set

Gregor closed his eyes and counted to five. If only he’d met Augustus before the aliens arrived. He’d be using his skull as an ashtray.

“Jump to it,” Augustus said. “We haven’t got all day.”

“Yes, Mr. Augustus.”

He led the way through a small group of trees into a wide expanse of open ground. Yet more orange tones blanketed the distant landscape as a sea of root crop grew from the soil. A healthy view—from an alien perspective at least.

Gregor headed right to the croatoan quarter—an area consisting of twelve metallic warehouse-shaped buildings with lightly tinted windows, thrown up in matter of days. Three on each side completed a large square.

In the middle, forty hover-bikes were parked in a uniform row.

The three buildings on the right provided barrack accommodation for the aliens. They were pressurized to allow the aliens to remove their breathing apparatus, the barracks having their own internal atmosphere. Through the window of one, three croatoans lounged in front of a large screen.

The three warehouses on the left were workshops. Croatoan engineers constructed and repaired vehicles and equipment either brought by the shuttles or from the field after malfunction or damage.

The three nearest were for surveying, training and breeding.

Gregor nicknamed the closest building the chocolate factory . Smaller aliens, that he thought looked like Oompa-Loompas, used it to chart the land and test soil samples. He would assist them occasionally when selecting the next slice of land to farm as they worked their way up North America.

The command center took up one corner. One of Gregor’s team always sat at the monitors, tracking the harvesters and areas covered.

The two warehouses next to it were a breeding lab and rarely used training rooms: The training rooms were used to school humans from the farm to bring up others on a harvester, in the belief that they were on a generation ship. It was all Gregor’s idea, and he was proud of it. What is a human without hope? He’d often say. The breeding lab contained pregnant livestock.

The three buildings at the end carried out food production. One was a slaughterhouse and butchery while the middle one carried out meat processing.

The final building packaged the food for consumption.

Nearly everybody ate the product delivered in silver trays. The croatoans, human livestock, harvester crews, and of course: the bastard hierarchy in the ships who would have those on the ground send up large containers of supplies on a daily basis.

The only people who didn’t eat the cream colored slop were Gregor and his team. He liked to keep some sort of personal standards.

This seemed to be the standard camp set-up wherever they went.

He held his door open at the entrance to the chocolate factory. “This way, please, Mr. Augustus.”

Alex came around the side of the building and whispered, “He’s waiting by the paddocks.”

“Thanks. Come with me,” Gregor said.

Augustus walked past a large table surrounded by the helmeted surveyors and acknowledged them with a raised hand. A couple nodded their helmets, clicking excitedly.

The small delegation arrived at the bank of monitors. Vlad swiveled in his chair.

After good results in Russia, Gregor was promoted to North America as the Operation switched during a seasonal change. He took key members of his former gang, or at least, the most subservient. Marek, Alex, Igor and Vlad had all joined him on the shuttle over the Atlantic.

“Vlad, take Mr. Augustus though events as you saw them.”

The small, greasy haired man pushed his glasses toward his face with his index finger. “During the removal of a resource, due to reaching the age of mental deterioration, the harvester took some external damage. The onboard team couldn’t manage to switch to back-up or control the situation, so I ordered them to the rear, for our guard to deal with. After this, we lost all contact. A report is due from the patrol at any moment.”

Augustus leaned forward. “Is this the same as the other two times?”

Vlad glanced at Gregor.

“Look at me, not him. I’m the one asking the question,” Augustus said.

“Very similar, apart from the resource switch, but—”

Augustus turned to Gregor. “It seems you haven’t managed to get a grip of the local situation. Are you capable of handling it?”

“I was going to report to you today, Mr. Augustus,” Gregor said. “We suspect one of our team with collusion. I’m going to personally deal with it.”

“Is this true, Alex?” Augustus said.

“Ye…Ye…” Alex said.

“Stop stuttering, woman. Is this true?”

Alex nodded.

“I’m not sure I believe you. But execute him anyway. Put his body to good use.”

“We’ve got him waiting by the paddocks. Would you like to see it?” Gregor said.

“That’s your business. I’m going to spend the day talking to the croatoans. I want to get a good feel about local progress. You better get focused on sorting things out. If another harvester goes offline, you go offline. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Mr. Augustus,” Gregor said, as he imagined strangling him.

“Meet me back here in three hours. We’ll talk once we know more.”

Gregor left the building with Alex. They cut between the two warehouses and headed toward the farm. Igor waved as they approached. He stood by the eight-foot electric fence that surrounded eight separate paddocks, each forty square acres.

Humans clustered together in the paddocks, like flocks of sheep, dressed in dirty white sheets. Most under the makeshift shelters, some sitting around, eating from silver trays.

“You wanted to see me, Gregor?” Igor said.

Gregor approached and held his arms out. “Brother Igor, we’ve had another harvester sabotaged. Can you believe it?”

“It’s the little wasp, I know it. That piece of shit,” Igor said and spat on the ground.

“Augustus’s pissed. He came down straight away,” Alex said.

“I saw the shuttle. What did he say?”

“That we need to sort things out,” Gregor said. “Have you been speaking to anyone about the harvesters?”

Igor shook his head. “They’re not part of my job. Are you suggesting I’ve been giving their intended paths away? I’m not the one who got caught with my pants down. You need to speak with Marek.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” Gregor said. Igor stood motionless, mouth hanging open. “Do I have to ask you twice?”

“No. You can trust me implicitly to do what’s best for the team.”

That was Gregor’s main concern. What Igor thought was best for the team probably involved him being boss. The individual problems were mounting, but at least he had license to execute the Russian if needed.

BEN SQUINTED at the sudden flash of light.

The place smelled fresh and unfamiliar, a scent rooted in nature and in stark opposition to the sterile smell of the harvester. He breathed it in deeply, the damp atmosphere moistening his throat and lungs. The underground room accommodated the five of them plus Denver’s dog. Shadows gathered in the corners, cast there by a small battery-powered lamp of sorts hanging from an overhead wooden beam, rough-hewn from a trunk.

Ben remembered watching a video of humans of old cutting trees and planking the logs with simple machinery. Agricultural, Jimmy used to say, when denoting something wasn’t hi-tech.

It seemed to Ben that this world, his home that he never had chance to know, was now a mix, but humanity weren’t the ones with the tech anymore.

“Sit down and be quiet,” Charlie growled, indicating a log that had been placed on the dirt floor. Maria and Ethan did as they were told and huddled together. They were used to receiving orders, Ben however refused and remained standing.