Evolution (2 page)

Beechy turns back to the transport. Uma, the nurse who was stationed in the Alliance compound, is sitting up in the copilot seat. Her shaky arms prop up the limp body of Sandy—Beechy's wife, one of the Alliance leaders.

It's too dark for me to see Sandy well, but I can hear the weakness of her breath as she tries to suck in air. The last time I got a good look at her, the blood seeping from her pregnant belly had already soaked through the cloth Uma was using to keep pressure on her wound.

Sandy took a bad hit back at the compound. I saw her moving into the path of the fire, and I tried to stop her. I wasn't fast enough.

“How's she doing?” Beechy's voice is uneven. I'm amazed how well he's keeping it together, given how badly his wife was hurt.

“She's hanging in there,” Uma says, sounding anxious too, “but she's lost a lot of blood. There's not much I can do for her without any supplies.”

There wasn't time for any of us to grab anything from the compound, not even a medi-kit. I was lucky I still had my gun in my hand, or Dean would've been the only one of us with a weapon.

One of Dean's boots snaps a stick in the grass as he returns from the backside of the X-wing. “There's an infirmary aboard Sam's hovercraft. His medic should be able to stabilize Sandy until we get her to a surgeon in the Core.”

Beechy's body is rigid with worry, and I can tell he's struggling to keep it together. I bet he's thinking the same thing I am: Who knows how long it will be until we reach the Core? If the Mardenites bomb the valley, we might not make it back at all.

But there's nothing we can do except take things one step at a time. First we get to the hovercraft. Then we'll worry about getting off the Surface.

Clenching his fists, Beechy moves closer to the side of the X-wing. “Here, hand her down to me.”

Uma carefully lowers Sandy's half-unconscious form into his arms. She stirs a little, a soft moan escaping her lips, her eyes fluttering open. She looks like she's trying to say Beechy's name, but her lips are having difficulty forming the word.

“You're gonna be okay,” Beechy says, his voice so soft, so fragile, I feel like I'm intruding on a private moment between the two of them. “I've got you.”

Sandy's eyes slowly close again, and her head flops against his chest.

I remember the first time I saw them together, before I knew Sandy was Commander Charlie's daughter, or that she and Beechy were secretly plotting an insurrection. We were in a hallway in the Core maternity ward, and they'd just found out Sandy was pregnant. I'd never seen two people so happy before. They couldn't stop smiling and hugging each other.

Nothing in the Core had turned out the way I'd expected before I was picked for Extraction. The freedom I thought I'd won had turned out to be another series of tests to prove I was strong, intelligent, and obedient enough to be kept alive. I was terrified I wasn't going to pass. But Beechy and Sandy gave me hope things could get better. They've given me hope time and time again, and saved me more times than I can count. I owe it to them to return the favor.

“Clementine, take this,” Uma says from her seat in the X-wing. She's holding out the bloody rag.

Swallowing hard, I hurry forward and take it from her. “What do I do?”

“Put pressure on her wound until I get down.”

I quickly press the rag against Sandy's stomach. But there's so much blood seeping through Sandy's uniform, my slippery hands can barely hold the rag steady. The baby growing inside her … how can it still be alive after an injury like this?

For Beechy's sake, I hope we'll make it to the medic in time to save both of them.

Once Uma climbs down from the X-wing, she grabs the rag from me and takes over. I'm grateful; the stench of blood is making my stomach uneasy. I step back a few feet and inhale fresher air through my nose. But the nausea doesn't go away. My light-headedness is also getting worse.

“Everyone ready?” Dean asks behind me.

“As ready as we'll ever be,” Beechy says. “Let's get this over with.”

Dean draws his weapon, so I pull my copper out of its holster. It's not like a laser gun will do any significant damage in the face of a raider attack, but holding the weapon makes me feel stronger. It reminds me I'm in control of my hands again, no longer a slave to Commander Charlie's orders. Capable of fighting to save the people I care about.

“This way,” Dean says, turning and tramping toward the eastern side of the forest.

Before the rest of us can follow him, there's a
whirring
sound overhead, somewhere in the sky behind us. Panic rushes through my veins like a stream of icy fire.

Raiders.

I whip around, raising my gun. It can't be them. They can't be here already.

A flight pod hovers into view above the trees. Floodlights beam down on us, blinding me.

“It's the others!” Uma says. “The Alliance survivors.”

It takes me a minute to realize who she means: Darren and Fiona. The other rebels who escaped from the Alliance compound. We lost contact with them after the transmitters aboard the Mardenite ships interfered with our comm system. But they shouldn't have been far behind us. They could've seen us land.

Still, I hold my gun steady as the flight pod lowers onto the grass. We need to be sure it's them.

The engine sputters and dies. A few moments later, the side door opens and two figures stagger out: Fiona, one of my old roommates when I stayed in the compound, and Darren, an Alliance pilot. The two of them slowly make their way toward us, Darren leaning on Fiona for support. His pant leg is bloodied and he struggles to keep his composure with every step.

“Don't shoot,” Darren says. “It's us.”

I lower my gun. “Are you okay?”

“We're alive,” Fiona says. Through her helmet visor, her tan cheeks are flushed and strands of her black hair stick to her sweaty forehead. “So I guess we're lucky.”

Their flight pod was nearly out of fuel. We weren't sure they were going to make it out of the compound at all.

Beechy looks past them to the pod. A third rebel was supposed to be with them. “Where's James?”

“We lost him back at headquarters,” says Fiona. “We hoped he was with you.”

Heavy silence fills the air. He's not with us. Unless he somehow made it onto one of the other ships, he went down with the facility.

I hardly knew James, but I was aware of him because he was one of the rebels Beechy and Sandy sprung from Karum prison when they rescued me. I was only locked away there for a few weeks, but James had been there for too many years to count. He'd lost sight in one of his eyes due to the experiments the prison doctors had performed on him. He joined the Alliance to fight the people who'd sent him to Karum—Commander Charlie and the other Developers.

“I'm sorry about your friend,” Dean says. “But the raiders are coming in fast. We need to move.”

The heaviness lingers for another moment. But Dean's right. There will be time to mourn the people we lost, but not until we've escaped Marden's army.

As Dean leads the way into the forest, thunder rolls in the distance. I lift my eyes to the sky. The clouds are moving in steadily over the mountains in thick clusters that can only mean a storm. The dots of Mardenite raiders are growing bigger by the second, still on a course that could bring them close to the valley. The question is whether they'll notice we're here, or whether they'll pass by overhead.

We're dealing with a new enemy, an alien no human has dealt with in combat for hundreds of years. We can't predict their moves, or know exactly what they want from us.

All we can do is try to be ready.

 

2

Light raindrops are pattering on my helmet by the time we spot Sam's hovercraft through the trees. The massive transport looms a few yards ahead of us in the darkness, its curved roof nearly level with the treetops. The shapes of the X-wings Sam and his troops used to invade Alliance headquarters are visible to the left of the hovercraft.

Blood is still flowing from the wound in my arm; the laser must've struck an artery. I touch the tree branches for support, still breathing through my nose to combat my light-headedness and uneasy stomach. We're almost to an infirmary with emergency supplies to treat shock from blood loss. I just need to make it a little farther.

As we near the hovercraft, I make out figures in the rain. Soldiers march between the X-wings and the hovercraft in both directions, some of them lugging cargo, others wielding pulse rifles.

“What's the plan?” Fiona asks, helping Darren limp-walk ahead of me. “We can't exactly fight our way aboard the hovercraft.”

“We're not fighting them,” Beechy says, a bit breathless from carrying Sandy all this way. But his jaw is hardened and his voice is steadier now; he sounds more like the man who broke me out of prison and led the Alliance into battle. A man determined to get what he wants. “We're going to make a bargain. We'll help Sam and his troops evade the raiders in exchange for him treating our wounded.”

“A truce,” Darren says. He accidentally puts too much weight on his hurt leg, and winces. “For how long?”

“Until we're safely in the Core.”

“And then what?” Fiona asks. “We'll be prisoners, won't we?”

“We'll deal with that after we escape the Mardenites,” Beechy says stiffly.

I have no intention of letting Commander Charlie throw us in prison cells upon our arrival. I'll convince him he needs our help to defeat Marden's army. I'll make him release Logan and pardon the other rebels. I'll do whatever it takes.

But Beechy's right—there's no use worrying until we've evaded the Mardenite raiders and made it off the Surface. One enemy at a time.

“And if Sam doesn't agree to a truce?” Fiona asks, holding a hand up to shield her helmet visor from the rain. It's coming down harder now.

“He will,” Lieutenant Dean says, knocking branches out of his way at the front of our group. “He can't let Commander Charlie's daughter go untreated when she's dying. And with the raiders coming, he'll need Beechy's help piloting the hovercraft. Sam will see reason. Trust me.”

I press my lips together, watching Dean tramp through the trees ahead of us. The trouble is, I don't trust him. He hasn't denied that he's on Commander Charlie's side, and he hasn't told us why he's helping us stay alive. There's a good chance he's still following Charlie's orders, working toward some end goal I can't see.

Right now it doesn't matter, though. Trusting him is our only choice.

“Stay close,” Dean says when we reach the edge of the forest. “Put your weapons away and let me do the talking.”

I slip my copper into my holster so it won't be visible. But I keep my hand close in case I need to quickly pull it out. I've dealt with Sam enough times to know there's a good chance this won't go according to plan.

One by one, Beechy and the others step out into the clearing. A fierce wave of dizziness washes over me as I follow them. I stumble a little, grabbing on to the last tree in my path to steady myself.
You're okay. Just breathe.

We're almost to the hovercraft. The boarding ramp is straight ahead, only there are soldiers in our path. Three of them are already running toward us, hoisting their guns to eye level. They must've been expecting us.

“Alliance rebels,” a soldier says. “Halt right there.”

“Stand down,” Dean says. “That's not how you address a commanding officer.”

The soldier's eyes flit to the golden moon pinned to the chest of Dean's armor, and he falters. But he doesn't lower his weapon. “Lieutenant Dean. We didn't know if you made it out of the compound.”

“Take the rebels aboard the ship,” Dean says. “Get the commander's daughter in the sick bay. That's an order.”

“We were given orders to take them to Lieutenant Sam if they arrived, sir.”

“Lieutenant Sam is aboard the hovercraft, correct?”

“That's correct.”

Dean steps forward. He looks menacing in all his armor. “So take them aboard the ship. I'll speak with the lieutenant myself.”

After a long moment, the second soldier nods to the first, and both of them lower their weapons. They move to either side of our group, herding us after Dean toward the boarding ramp.

My vision's blurring around the edges, and I can barely stand up straight anymore.
Just a few more steps.

Someone's coming down the ramp. His lankiness and the golden moon pinned to his armor, displaying his lieutenant rank, tell me immediately who he is: Sam.

He freezes when he sees us. So does the soldier accompanying him. Skylar's helmet hides her blond hair and the lower half of her face from view, but her short stature and the fierceness in her eyes give her away.

The traitor. She used to be a pilot for the Alliance, but she was working for Commander Charlie all along.

“Lieutenant,” Dean says, giving Sam a quick salute. “We have the rebels. I'm taking their wounded to the sick bay, with your permission.”

Sam takes another slow step. There's a limp in his gait and a dark stain on the side of his pant leg that must be blood. Clearly I did some damage when I shot him back at Alliance headquarters. But he's still breathing, so it wasn't enough.

His gaze sweeps over the group of us, cold and calculating, coming to rest on me. “You have permission to take the commander's daughter to the sick bay. Lock the rest of them in the brig.”

He's been looking for an excuse to hurt me again—he told me so earlier tonight, before we entered the Alliance compound with his troops. I'd been turned into the perfect obedient soldier under the control of the Developers' serum, but he still saw me as a threat. He wanted me out of his way. Since he didn't manage to kill me during the fight, locking me up is his next best option.