Critical Path

The driver moved off with the remaining five croatoans in an extended line. Charlie exchanged a knowing glance with Denver before following. They understood each other perfectly. Good luck, see you on the other side.

“Stay behind me, Mike. We need you alive,” Charlie said.

Mike smiled, although it lacked his usual enthusiasm. “It’s nice to be wanted at my age.”

* * *

After twenty minutes of picking their way through the undergrowth, a bright light streamed into the trees ahead.

Charlie kept glancing to his left, checking to ensure they didn’t get too far away from Denver, otherwise the plan would prove pointless. In the distance, his son darted between trees, making swift progress.

Charlie paused as he reached the edge of a giant, six-hundred-meter-wide gouge through the forest. Trees flattened in the same direction, interspersed with twisted pieces of metal. Shattered white plastic and other mangled parts of the ship spread across the debris field.

He looked to his left and lowered his rifle and gasped. The cluttered debris trail led half a mile to the downed ship. The rough, dark gray, semi-circular shape punched into the clear blue sky hundreds of feet above the trees at a forty-five-degree angle.

“We move along the edge. Come,” the driver said.

Charlie nodded and turned to Mike. “Not a bad team effort.”

Mike stared open-mouthed at the carnage. He dabbed his brow with a folded white handkerchief. “Seeing it like this…”

“You’ll get a closer look. Come on.”

The lead croatoan returned to just under the canopy and bounced toward the ship. Once the eight of them fanned out over a distance of one hundred meters, they stopped and turned back to face the forest, waiting and watching.

Dark figures moved between the trees, heading toward their former location in the unnatural croatoan way.

“Stay here, Mike.”

“I can help—”

A shot rang out through the forest.

Alien rifles started to snap.

Charlie trusted his son would fire at range before the aliens were on top of him. He looked along the line. All eyes were on him. Charlie took control and crisply indicated forward with a flat hand.

Mike tried to stand. Charlie gripped his shoulder and eased him back down. “Stay. This isn’t your part of the plan.”

The group, minus Mike, collectively advanced. The sound of enemy fire masked their movement.

The enemy croatoans ducked behind trees and took potshots in Denver’s direction. He returned fire and provided a good enough distraction.

Charlie reached within fifty meters before the first alien noticed him. Too late for that one. Charlie’s round smashed through its visor, and it fell to the ground with a twist, dropping its rifle and clutching its throat.

He counted another nine, all in standard uniform. Fired at the closest. Orange vapor hissed from its pack after taking a hit. Charlie’s next round sparked off an armor plate on its uniform, but the thing was already on its way to the ground. He pumped another round into the helmet, just to make sure.

The Unity croatoans screamed and charged, initially surprising Charlie. They ran at speed, bouncing directly at the enemy, firing from their hips.

They must have surprised the aliens attacking Denver. They collectively turned and froze. The Unity croatoans showed little mercy. They fired relentlessly, dropping their opponents, howling, and swarming individuals until the forest fell silent. They collected weapons and piled them in a small clearing.

It was over in a flash.

Charlie scrambled up to the group. They surrounded one of the ship’s croatoans that had taken a hit in the stomach area. It whimpered and tried to shuffle away.

“Need to make sure,” the driver said. It picked up a rock and smashed it into the casualty’s visor.

Other Unity croatoans followed suit. Like a medieval army slitting throats on a battlefield. Charlie had never seen them act like this before and felt pleased they were on his side. If the standard guard acted with such coordinated ferocity, his and Denver’s effort would have probably been extinguished a long time ago.

* * *

Mike moved through the forest and joined Charlie. He mopped his brow again and muttered while taking in the scene. Denver appeared from the other direction, vigilantly aiming from side to side, Maria trailing behind him.

“Only small ones now,” the driver said.

“Excuse me?” Charlie said.

“Surveyors. Drivers. Processors. No threat. Only had nine guard signals. All dead.”

“What about the defensive formation?”

“Converged.”

“Do you have any idea what it’s talking about?” Denver said.

“It’s saying that we’ve done the hard work. They form a defensive ring and gather toward any threat,” Charlie said. He turned to the driver. “Isn’t that right?”

It raised a digit, more like a talon than a thumb. Probably a gesture it learned in Unity. Charlie tried not to feel repulsed.

Denver approached the driver. “Two of you bring the harvester up and meet us at the base of the ship. I’m sure that thing can get close enough.”

The driver clicked instructions to a couple of his team.

* * *