Strikeforce (13 page)

25

The land skimmer continued to push forward, moving in a remarkably straight path across the desert. There was no telling when or where it would stop, and Cassius feared it would be too dangerous to sneak another glance outside of his holding capsule.

He lingered on the idea, but eventually conceded that jumping into another senso-cube memory was the best use of his time. There was no telling which cube would hold the answers he sought.

He pulled the next cube from his pocket, allowing the alien coolness of its surface to ease the sweltering heat around him. When his palm felt more relaxed, he held the artifact over his head and closed his eyes, trying to do whatever he had managed with the last one. He focused on unlocking it with his mind—pointing all of his thoughts to what might be inside.

Within seconds, he was standing in the middle of a forest. He looked up to see a sky much like Earth's—dark but colored with the last hints of sunset. He marveled at his ability to use his legs, to be thrust into a standing position from his cramped posture in the capsule.

Trees stretched all around him, tall and straight as if they'd each been created in the same mold. The air was warm, but not uncomfortably so. A panorama of small noises surrounded him—chirps and creaks that could be coming from all sorts of creatures. He wasn't too sure he was eager to meet any of them. After all, who knew what kind of life Haven supported beyond Drifters.

Cassius raised his head to stare at the canopy of trees. He'd never seen so many in one place. The memory must have been recorded prior to Haven's devastation—before the planet had lost most of its resources.

The underbrush rustled behind him. Cassius turned to see a man running directly at him. No, it was more than running.
Sprinting
.

The man's eyes were wild with fear. His hair was wet, matted to the scalp. A thin T-shirt stretched over his narrow body, stained with dirt.

Cassius was about to dive to the side until he remembered that none of this was actually taking place. Even though the cube took over his senses, it was only a memory. He stood his ground, letting the ghost of the guy pass right through
his body.

He spun to watch the man disappear between trees. Another moment and he'd be completely out of sight.

This was an invitation to follow.

And that's exactly what Cassius prepared to do, until he noticed the red energy beaming through the brush behind him.

He froze, remembering the look of terror on the man's face. The guy was being chased. This red light, whatever it came from, pursued him. Cassius's breath tightened as he waited to meet the pursuer.

The red energy grew closer. Soon, it formed the silhouette of a Drifter.

A second figure emerged from the trees. Cassius sidestepped to the nearest trunk. Even though he was perfectly safe, something about this encounter made him feel like he needed to get out of the way.

The red Drifter was unlike any other he'd encountered. For one, it was a woman. Her dark hair billowed behind her as she mirrored the man's path with unerring speed. Crimson energy cocooned her slight frame, like she'd just burst from inside a Pearl.

As she sprinted past, Cassius bolted from the tree and followed her. He couldn't believe how quickly she moved. Even at full speed, he still lagged behind.

The trees rushed past in a blur as Cassius forced his body to move faster. His lungs burned. Muscles shook.

Then, the woman froze.

Cassius ran through her right shoulder before managing to stop himself.

In front of him lay the scared and exhausted man, foot caught in a piece of root that looped up from the ground. He'd tripped and hurt his leg. Bad luck.

Cassius back-stepped, leaning against a tree to watch the woman crouch and pull the man up to her eye level. She held him an inch off the ground, dangling his body in the air. Unreal strength. The man must have been twice her weight, at least. She wasn't winded. She was calm. Assured.

Her red eyes focused directly on the man's terrified face. Her lips tugged into an intense frown.

“Jorbun,” she started. Her voice was lighter than Cassius expected. “Number seven thousand and eight. A pathetic number.” English rolled easily from her tongue. Like Pearls, the senso-cubes processed and translated language.

She removed a hand from the man's shirt, easily keeping him aloft with one slim arm, and retrieved a device from her thigh. Some kind of scanner, from the looks of it. She pressed a button and four prongs popped out from the sides of the small disc, like the legs of an insect. Once finished, she clamped the device onto the man's chest. He howled in pain as the prongs dug into his flesh, burrowing deep until the metallic device melded with his skin like an emblem. The man whimpered, trying to control himself. His legs shook.

“Jorbun the messenger. The great communicator.” The woman smiled. “The Authority heard your broadcast. I'm sure you would be happy to know that. Matigo sends his regards.” She dropped him to the ground, where he collapsed in a heap, unable to right himself. “Unfortunately for the Resistance, we cut the commercial stream fifteen seconds in. All your rousing and nobody beyond the enemy even heard it.” She took a step back. “But there was a benefit to your caterwauling. We were able to trace your safe house and find you. That's a big catch for us, Jorbun. You're a voice. And voices are very important.”

Jorbun looked up at her from the ground. Cassius could tell it was killing him to lift his head. He wasn't sure what the pronged emblemlike device was, but it was clearly messing up his body. He couldn't move his legs. His back slumped unnaturally. Still, he met her eyes. “Just kill me, if that's what you want.”

The woman crouched in front of him. “But Jorbun, that's not what we want. The Authority prizes a voice, especially a defector.”

He forced a smile. “I'd rather die than defect.”

She sighed. “I'm giving you an opportunity. You'd be a fool to refuse.”

“I don't want any part of the Authority. Matigo can go—”

“Shh,” she interrupted. “We don't want to hear that. Just go to sleep, Jorbun. We've already got what we need.”

His eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“The Authority thanks you.” She laid her palm on the disc embedded in his chest, eyes intently focused on his. “And before I kill you, I want you to know this.” She smiled. “We've found them.”

His eyes widened. “Wha-what?”

“Yes,” she said. “Your leaders. Savon and Adaylla. King Matigo has found them. Soon, there will be no more Resistance.”

Suddenly, energy from her hand streamed into his body. Cassius saw it boiling underneath, blistering his skin as it coursed through his torso, into his limbs. Skin began to tear, ripped off from the inside in chunks. He fought back nausea as he watched the man torn inside out. Beams of red poked through holes in his body, arcing into the sky like lasers. His face exploded.

When it was done, there wasn't a body left. It was a pile of scraps, littering the forest floor. The smell was almost too much to bear. Cassius moved away, trying not to breathe in the rancid air.

The woman, unimpressed and unbothered, reached forward and retrieved the device from the center of the pile. After wiping off any remaining residue, she held it an inch from her lips and whispered, “I have seen the error of my ways. I, Jorbun—number seven thousand and eight—have joined our beloved Matigo in the pursuit of a new home. I encourage my listeners to do the same.” She stood and ran her finger along the backside of the disc. Moments later, Jorbun's voice emanated from within, echoing her words.

I have seen the error of my ways. I, Jorbun
—
number seven thousand and eight
—
have joined our beloved Matigo in the pursuit of a new home. I encourage my listeners to do the same.

Cassius understood immediately. Her message would be relayed to the Resistance, disguised as one of their own. The Authority's war was not only a physical one, but mental as well.

The woman smiled and returned the device to her hip. Then, without taking another look at the mess of scraps at her feet, she bent her knees slightly and rocketed into the sky. The canopy shifted as she cut through the forest and disappeared.

Blackness.

Cassius's eyes flew open.

He felt sick as the image of the torn-apart man stuck in his head. But more than that, the woman's words stuck with hi
m.

We've found them. Savon and Adaylla.

Those were the names of his parents, though he'd never met them. The leaders of the Resistance.

It was hard to feel much about either one of them, since he knew so little. Even so, he prayed for their safety. A part of him hoped they'd come down to Earth and help fight against the invasion. They'd know what to do. He'd be rid of the constant guesswork. He needed a leader.

His thoughts were cut short when the skimmer slowed to a stop. He felt the ground come up at them, rattling his chamber.

Wherever they were, they'd reached their destination. In a few moments, the Authority foot soldiers would come to open Cassius's prison capsule.

He took a deep breath. It was time to fight.

26

I awake in the center of fire. A vast whirlwind of flames rushes past me at all angles, so thick that I can't see anything past it. I make out faint outlines, silhouettes moving beyond the burning walls, but I can't tell what they are.

I stand, turning to look for an exit. I expect heat, so staggering that it would burn the life out of me. Instead, there's nothing. No hot, no cold. I feel balanced, at peace somehow. Protected by the flames.

I step forward and reach out a hand, wondering what will happen if I touch the fire. My fingers shake as I extend my arm farther. The fire tenses, as if waiting for my touch. When my skin finally dips beneath the flame, it's like plunging my hand into room-temperature water. I leave it in place for a moment, marveling at my newfound invulnerability.

Then a figure breaches the fire wall.

I pull my hand to my side and turn to see Cassius, barreling toward me. He's already passed through the flames, with only a few yards before running into me.

“Cassius!”

He doesn't respond. He doesn't slow his pace or change his direction. He keeps coming, too fast for me to move out of the way.

Our eyes meet. His mouth stays shut, his expression plain, but focused.

“Wait!” I reach out a hand, as if that'll stop him.

He runs right into me. As soon as our skin touches, his body fizzles to phantomlike transparency. Another moment and he's gone. My hand is still outstretched, stopping nothing.

The flames continue to loop and twist around me, but something's different. Something's changing.

I lower my hand and watch the color spread through the cyclone.

Green. Pearl green.

––––

A detonation wakes me, this time for real.

My father's hand wraps around my waist. I lie slumped over his shoulder, carried through the Fringes like cargo, bumping up and down with every footstep he takes. My head spins. My heart pounds like it's about to explode. I don't know what's going on or why we're running.

Another explosion, closer this time. A hailstorm of dust shellacs my face. I manage to shield my eyes, but swallow some of it. I cough, struggling to see the landscape around me. I don't see the cruiser, but I do notice the silhouettes of soldiers. They sprint by too fast to make out details, and move in all different directions. I can't tell if they're chasing us, surrounding us, or something even worse.

Savon hoists me farther up his shoulder, but this time I'm awake. I reach out with my leg, accidentally kicking him in the thigh. A moment of surprised exertion on his part sends me toppling over his side. He holds firm to my bottom half, but the rest of me dangles. My hands touch the ground and support my torso, dragging in the dust for a painful, disoriented moment. When Savon realizes that I'm conscious, he allows me to right myself.

I topple onto the ground and land unceremoniously on my butt. The pain and nausea catches up to me, but there's no time to dwell on it.

I push up, trying to get back to a standing position amongst the chaos. The outlines of soldiers zip by overhead, flying like Savon and I had a few short hours ago. Are they the ones dropping bombs? Are they shooting at us? There's no way to tell. The Fringe dust, kicked up now to storm-like levels, obscures most details around me.

Just as my leg feels like it's about to collapse, a figure darts by and grabs my hand. As my arm's hoisted around her neck, I realize it's Avery. She supports me going forward, though says nothing.

I glance at her face, but can't see much as my vision fractures. She's covered in dirt from the cloud around us. That much is for sure.

I don't see Skandar anywhere.

The air around us burns so hot that I know it won't be long before we all collapse from the exertion in such extreme temperature. Avery'll be first, having to help me along as well as care for herself. I can't let that happen. I don't know what happened after I was knocked unconscious, but now that I know I'm alive—if barely—I have to do something.

And there's only one thing a guy like me can do.

I close my eyes, hoping that Avery's got enough strength left to support the both of us.

We're on the ground. That, at least, will help me. I've been able to draw Pearls to me before, though never under such beaten-up circumstances.

I try to ignore the explosions and choking dust, even though I could be hit from any angle, and lock in on any Pearls that might be near. I haven't seen or felt one since Portland, which is a bit alarming, but they must still be falling. And if they're within reach, I can use them.

The first Pearl pops up in my consciousness almost immediately. I feel it shifting course as it speeds toward me. I keep all my attention focused on it, even as the ground war rages around me.

It comes hurtling toward me so quickly, I'd imagine no cruiser or ship could keep up with it. I reach out my hand, even as the other arm tightens around Avery's shoulder, and bring it to my fingers. I watch as the green orb cuts through the dust cloud, muted but undeniably awesome in its power.

This is going to have to be different. Savon said I could control the energy much better than I had before. There have been times when I was able to channel it certain directions, even mold it into razorlike fragments.

I don't think I need to be that specific here, but I don't want to hurt any of my friends, either. Savon could probably take it, but a blast in Avery's direction would surely finish her off. And I don't even know where Skandar is.

I stop the Pearl, mere feet from my fingers. A volley of blasts hits the ground beyond it, fired off from an unseen soldier.

I spread my fingers slowly, imagining a hole in the Pearl that I can pry open.

The orb crackles in front of me. The Drifter inside whispers, but I ignore it.

My hand tenses on Avery's shoulder. She stops as she notices what's happening with the Pearl.

I pull away, then step in front of her, using both hands to control the energy. Bands of it snake their way toward my fingers, instantly empowering my body from the inside.

I don't have a lot of time. This needs to happen now.

I mirror the hand movements I saw my father do when he controlled the Ridium stream. My fingers touch as I stretch my arms out in front of me. The Pearl pulses.

Then, I release it.

The Pearl explodes in a spider web of green strands—a million lightning bolts fired in all directions.

I watch as soldiers fall from the air like dead flies, crashing to the ground with thuds and snaps.

The green energy fires full strength for only a moment, but while it's happening, it looks dangerously like the green bolts of flame at the end of my dream.

I watch as a Drifter blossoms from the middle, then bursts through what's left of the dust cloud, into the sky.

The explosion calms, replaced with an eerie silence as the cloud begins to dissipate, pushed away by the force of the energy.

My chest heaves as my shallow breathing threatens to force me to the ground. But inside, I feel renewed. I needed that.

I sink to my knees, and turn to see Savon come toward me from the left. He grips a fist in one hand, cracking his knuckles. I notice blood drip down one cheek, though the patch over his eye remains intact. He, like all of us, is covered in dirt.

“That's how you fight,” he says, stopping inches from my side.

I glance up at Avery. She rests her hands on her knees, coughing. I don't think she can talk. Not yet.

“Skandar!” I stand, spinning to try to find him.

His cries of pain eventually draw me to him. He lies on his back several yards to my right, cradling one arm with the other, shouting in anguish.

Despite my exhaustion, I run over and drop down on my knees beside him. His entire body's caked with dirt,
though the whites of his eyes are wide with panic.

“My arm!” he shouts, so loud that I'm afraid th
e Authority will hear him and come back to finish what they started.

I look down at his left arm. He grips it with his right hand, clutching tight so that it won't fall into the dirt.

Then I notice it. The sheen of the blood is dulled by the dust, but it pours from him all the same. A mangled hand lies in the distance, sliced cleanly from the rest of him. He lost it. I don't know how, but it's been chopped off completely.

“Skandar.” I grab his shoulder, panicked. The blood continues to flow into the Fringes, pooling beside him. He's in shock. It won't be long before the wound turns fatal.

I grit my teeth, looking around for help. Our cruiser's so far in the distance now that I can't even see it. There's nothing I can do. We're stranded, and he doesn't have much time.