Critical Path

Aimee sniffed. “Forget about him. Let him run. I’ll have him hunted down like a dog.”

Baliska dragged two corpses up the alley by their necks. Its sword was back in the thigh scabbard. Blood dribbled from the top, along its suit. It dumped the bodies by Aimee’s feet and wiped its gloves on the side of a house. Charlie threw his bucket to one side. Both victims looked like preinvasion survivors and residents of Unity judging by their crudely manufactured shirts.

Aimee smiled. “Well done, my champion.” She turned to Charlie. “I always knew you were a good man, Charlie Jackson. I assume by your actions that we’re fighting on the same side?”

“Don’t be so sure,” Charlie said.

“I’ll be keeping you in my cells until you make a final decision. It’s for your own protection. You’ll be fed and watered.”

“You make me sound like a dog. But I’d rather be there than the ludus. Do you get attacked often?”

“This is the first time in years. I think I know who planned it, but I need confirmation before acting. To keep the peace in Unity, we must have evidence to convict.”

“You don’t need evidence to throw strangers into the arena.”

“Strangers are not citizens of Unity, but they have a choice. The rules of the modern cities you remember have vanished, and you have to adapt.”

“No shit. Is your number one suspect Augustus?”

Aimee turned to Baliska. “When we get back, take Charlie to the cells. Ask one of the guards in my courtyard to show you the way.”

All three walked back to Aimee’s residence together. Charlie didn’t feel under threat despite Baliska having the rifle over its shoulder. He felt a strange connection with the creature. From a desperate fight in the forest a month ago to sharing a cell and fighting together… strange times.

Aimee quickened her pace around the side of town, perhaps conscious that another attack might take place. They passed the pens and rickety houses again. This time, a few people tended the animals. All shot casual glances at the three of them as they walked by. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least for Unity.

The main gate of Aimee’s residence creaked open as the three of them approached. A bald man dressed in filthy khaki shorts burst out, throwing up puffs of dust from the ground as he staggered straight toward them, waving a black tablet in the air.

Baliska rapidly clicked and reached for its sword. Aimee held an arm across the alien, nudging it back. “He’s one of our coordinators. Unless we’re attacked like before, wait for my order.”

Charlie wondered if Baliska could speak English or just understand it. It seemed to be reacting to Aimee’s commands, but didn’t really show any signs of recognition in the cell. Perhaps it felt like Charlie. They were forced together in an inconvenient marriage due to circumstance. Charlie’s only two vows were to not to try to kill it, and to serve up justice to Augustus.

The man stopped short of Aimee and thrust his tablet forward. “One of the patrol…” He gasped for air. “They… they…”

“Calm down, catch your breath, and tell me,” Aimee said.

The man gasped for air and squinted. “One of the patrols in the field is acting strangely. They haven’t reported back, and their position has barely moved in the last hour or two. Do you want me to send part of the northern ring to assist?”

He jabbed his finger against the screen showing a map of the surrounding area, circled with moving dots, apart from the one that he indicated. Charlie had forgotten about the tracking beads, but using them to assist in Unity’s defense made sense if the croatoans weren’t bothered by it.

“Dead, captured or asleep on duty?” Aimee said.

The man swallowed hard. “We don’t know. He’s the only one in zone four. We thought we’d give him a chance to come back.”

“Coordinate a team and scramble the hover-bikes. If it’s a threat, we need to crush it.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mike Strauss yawned as he sank into the old armchair Layla had brought to his office. Situated in the engineering department of Freetown, Mike and his wife had free rein over a group of fifteen eager young students—men and women from the various farms that had either previous engineering skills or showed some proficiency for the craft during their time working under the croatoans’ influence.

Tiredness lurked at the fringes of every muscle and, of course, his brain, which now that he was into his seventies was beginning to slow and lose stamina. He let his body relax into the chair, and he reached over to a small side table, crafted from the pinewood of the nearby forest, and gripped the mug of steaming green tea.

Mai’s perfect blend, his wife called it. She, along with Khan and some of the other trackers, had identified a blend of plants and leaves that when mulched and dried made for a surprisingly pleasant flavor.