Critical Path

Charlie rolled his eyes and clasped his hands behind his neck. He wished he’d found Unity before he took down the mother ship. The cheeky fucker with the blond hair was crying out to be taught a lesson. They all were here. How could they live alongside the species that all but wiped out the human race? He couldn’t understand that thinking at all. It felt like a betrayal by his own people he fought for. He didn’t go to the lengths he did to rid the world of the croatoan menace to end up living with the damned things.

* * *

The men directed Charlie around the edge of Unity to the ludus. Nearly all the buildings in the central area looked scruffy and medieval, not like the more modern hybrid ones on the steps around the edge of the basin. Despite setting up a new integrated society, it didn’t take them long to build a class system. Some things never change.

The first group that noticed him pass by sat around a barrel, drinking from metal cups. They stared over and whispered to each other.

Just before they came to the ludus, Charlie glanced into what looked like a makeshift bar. The raised chatter stopped as he passed. A man and a woman at a table next to the open entrance glared at him before continuing their drinks.

None of these people appreciated the fact that he saved their lives—they probably didn’t even realize the extent of the threat with hiding up here out of the way. All would have perished without him doing what he did, leaving the croatoans as the sole owners of Earth. And this was how he was thanked.

He passed through the ludus gate into its small courtyard. One of his guards swung it closed behind him. The cells covered three sides of the courtyard, fifteen in all. He stood facing the main building: a two-story structure made from wood.

Augustus walked out of the main entrance. “It’s time we got you reacquainted with an old friend.”

Charlie’s heart raced. He hoped it wasn’t Denver or Maria. Gregor and Layla flipped sides, but they’d spent enough time with the aliens to make their capture more acceptable in his eyes.

Augustus gestured left with his bony index finger. “Put him in number two.”

A rifle muzzle jabbed into Charlie’s back. One of the guards opened the cell door.

He stepped inside and heard chains rattle to his left. A huge familiar-looking croatoan in battle dress thrust toward him but abruptly stopped short, held by its restraints. It had a stomach wound and dried yellow blood on its left leg. The hunter he fought in the forest! He could have sworn he killed the beast.

The cell door slammed behind him. Augustus’ mask appeared in the small window. “This is Baliska. I believe you have history? You’re cellmates now; isn’t that just a wonderful twist of fate? The gods couldn’t have planned it any better.”

Charlie turned to look at the alien. Dust puffed from the wall as it tried to bust out of the chains again, pure hate burned in its eyes.

The feeling was mutual.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The early afternoon sunshine cut through the orange-tinged clouds, bathing the courtyard in a warm glow.

The heat warmed Gregor’s face as he pulled the last rope over the hover-bike’s seat and tied it off, ensuring the pack of ammo and supplies were secure. The movement made his shoulder sore, tweaking the muscle in a way that he hadn’t experienced for years.

Sleeping at Freetown overnight on their hard beds had taken its toll. His back felt every day of his fifty-six years.

Age crept up on him in the night like a thief, stealing his vitality. He needed another shot of root before they left.

The stuff Alex was harvesting back at his original farm wasn’t as good as it was when the croatoans were working with it—the effects just weren’t as long lasting as before, requiring larger, more frequent doses.

The aliens knew its secrets far better than either he or Alex. When they were refining it, the effects were far greater.

But still, with Layla and the other self-appointed assholes deciding to eradicate it and its use, he couldn’t exactly be choosy about it. Besides, even with the inferior human-made product, it put him in a strong position.

He who could control the flow of root would have a lot of power in this new human order. He did it once to build up his crime empire; he could do it again.

One thing he had learned from those days was that there were always customers for the hard-to-get and the addictive.

With a lack of general medical supplies beyond the basics at the farms, when people got sick, or tired, or just wanted to improve themselves, it would be Gregor Miralos they’d come to.

Beside his bike were two others. Each one took two passengers and had space for luggage. He considered sabotaging Denver’s.

Both he and Layla would be travelling together, and it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for him if both of them were to crash into the forest at full speed.

The thought brought a smile to his face.